“I don’t see anything. Is your sight becoming as bad as mine, old friend?” Mother Sinclair rubbed the cat one last time, then straightened with the help of her staff. She peered up at the sky before turning back to Kenna. “Are you ready to go back, gal, or do you need more fresh air? It’s getting close to bedtime.”
Kenna pulled the hood of her cloak up and settled it over her head. She glared up at the moon, scowling at the blue-white orb. “You’re right, Granny. It is getting late. Might as well call this day a wash.”
Colum released the breath he held. Good. ’Twas best the women returned to the keep and the safety of their chambers. He measured the moon’s climb in the sky. It was late, but not so late that a fighting man wouldn’t still be about the business of enjoying a wee drink. Perhaps he would mix with Sutherland’s men and see if a few swallows of fine MacKenna whisky would loosen their tongues about their master.
Mother Sinclair and Kenna paused not too far from the shadows where he hid. Kenna gently rubbed a hand across her grandmother’s bent shoulders and glanced back at the keep. “On the other hand, why don’t you go ahead and go back? I’d like to stay out here just a bit longer if you don’t mind. Maybe the moonlight will soothe my soul and brighten my current outlook on life.” She motioned at the muted nightscape of the silent garden. “As you can see, there are no evil males lurking to relieve me of my virtue.” A sad smile tensed her face. “I think I’ll be safe enough without you. Don’t worry. I’ll be up in a bit.”
Leaning heavily on her staff, Granny straightened and took one last look around the garden. “I wish Karma had come with us. I would feel better about leaving you out here alone if that big black beast were guarding you.”
Kenna laughed. “Now you knowthat big black beastis completely besotted with tiny Chloe. He’s not going to leave her side unless he’s forced—not even for a romp in the garden.”
Colum shifted his weight and rubbed his shoulder against the knobby grain of the stone wall.Hie back to the keep with yer grandmother, my love.He was anxious to join their visitors. This trip to the garden had been a waste of precious time. The remainder of the night could still be fruitful, mingling among Sutherland’s men to learn more about their strange master and what the man might be plotting.
Colum eased toward the outer gate, stretching to see across the grounds to the stables. Golden torchlight flickered from between the cracks of the loosely shuttered windows. Good. Their visitors still stirred. They were more than likely checking their mounts before retiring for the evening. There was still time to put a skin of whisky to good use, a wee dram or three shared with the travel-weary men. He nodded again, a sense of certainty settling in his gut.Aye. Their tongues would be loosened in no time.
He glanced back into the garden just as Granny and the cat disappeared through the archway leading into the keep. He quickly scanned the rest of the moonlit grounds, his gaze settling on Kenna. Dammit, to hell.There she was. Why had she not gone inside with her grandmother?
Kenna sat on the low stone bench beside the reflecting pool, staring down at the shimmering surface of the water, sadly engrossed in trailing a crooked stick through the sparkling ripples.
Dammit straight to hell and back.He raked a hand through his tangled hair. Helpless frustration tightened like a band around his chest. His love looked so sad—so all alone—staring down at the reflections dancing on the water.
Guilt punched him in the gut. The forlorn look on Kenna’s face broke his heart. His behavior had put that sad curve on her soft, sweet mouth. Surely, she knew how much he loved her? Surely, she had to know they would be together soon? He should go to her. He had to make this right.
“Why, Lady Kenna, I understood ye to say ye were too weary for a bit of air in the garden?” Regal and dark, Chieftain Ronan Sutherland stepped out from behind a freestanding stone arch covered with a tangled veil of dark green ivy. His silver hair glinted like precious metal in the glow of the swollen moon.
Kenna jerked, dropping her twig into the pool. Her pale, trembling hand flew to her throat. “You startled the bejeebers out of me.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as soon as the words cleared her mouth.
Colum sank back into the shelter of the shadows. He sidled around a row of evergreen shrubbery, drawing as close as he could without risking discovery. Without a sound, he slid his dagger from its sheath and readied it against his side. Sutherland’s behavior would decide whether he allowed the man to live to see the sunrise. Colum held his breath as he strained to peer through the sparse evergreen foliage and read the man’s expression.
A deep chuckle rumbled free of Sutherland’s dark form. The shiny black linen across his shoulders rippled in the moonlight as his body shook with mirth. “Ye have quite a way with words, Lady Kenna. It pleases me to learn the rumors are true.” He slowly eased closer, like a great black cat stalking its prey.
Kenna rose from the bench and nervously adjusted her cloak around her shoulders. She sidled backward with an uneasy, hitching step and put more distance between them. “What rumors? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rumors of how the Sinclair women are like no other in Scotland.” Sutherland held out his hand and bowed slightly. “Forgive me for catching ye unawares. Ye have my word, I mean ye no ill will.”
“No ill will my arse,” Colum grumbled under his breath. He would lay odds the bastard was up to no good. He felt it in his bones.
Clouds skittering across the moon danced thin shadows over the ground. Colum glared up at the shining orb. Now was not the time for the moonlight to grow fickle. He needed to see everything. Movements spoke louder than words and often held their own subtle warnings.
Kenna’s shoulders rose and fell as though she struggled to shake free an unseen weight. She remained silent, staring down at Sutherland’s outstretched hand. Her mouth tightened into a determined line and her delicate form moved with what appeared to be a deep intake of breath. Whatever struggle went on within her must have finally ended. A calm look settled across her as she slid her hand into Sutherland’s palm. “You have my forgiveness—this time.”
Colum bit back a growl as she fell in step beside the man and he curled her arm up into his. What the hell did Sutherland think he was doing? How dare he take Kenna’s arm as though they were already matched and headed toward the altar.
As Kenna and Sutherland meandered closer, Colum squeezed the worn leather haft of hisbiodagtighter. Something was about to happen—he felt it in his gut—and he and his dagger would be ready. The air crackled with anticipation. A shiver raked across him as every hair dusting his arms stood on end. A burning tingle flashed across his flesh.
Colum crouched low behind a hedge. He had to get closer. He had to follow as close as possible once Kenna and Sutherland passed. Something ill was afoot and he would be damned if he allowed it.
A sharp pain exploded at the base of his skull. Nauseating darkness, fractured with bursts of light, closed in around him. A muffled scream echoed nearby, then everything went black.
CHAPTER19
Kenna screamed against the calloused hand clamped across her mouth. Ronan’s arm tightened like a steel band around her waist, locking her back against his hard chest.
“Quiet now, lass. I dinna wish any harm to befall ye. ’Tis foolish to struggle so.” Ronan’s deep voice took on the patient tone of a master quieting his pet. “Ye must calm yourself now. This will not be such a chore if ye settle yer mind on that which canna be changed. Quiet yerself and accept yer fate.”
Canna be changed my ass! I’ll make you think canna be changed. Wait ’til I get through with your mind.Kenna forced herself to relax back against the man’s chest. She smoothed her palms up into the loose sleeves of hisléineand spread her fingers across the corded muscles of his arms. Time to clear her mind.She forced her eyes to close and imagined Granny’s gentle voice guiding her through the ordeal.You can do this, gal.Breathing came easier as her heart rate slowed.
Her hands warmed as she focused her energy into her palms. The subtle rattling of a wagon came from the direction of the stables. The muffledclip-clopof horses’ hooves against hard earth grew louder, charging another burst of adrenaline through every nerve ending.
