Plaids and tunics flapped in the wind as the men turned as one and rushed back out the gate. Their ailments forgotten, the men headed toward the stable, shouts and curses rumbling like distant thunder.
Colum scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, rocking forward on the bench against the fury burning within. How could he have been such a fool as to let them take her? How could he not have seen what they were plotting?
Hurried footsteps pattered up the flagstones. Skirts rustled through grasses and leaves and whispered murmurings broke Colum’s heart even more. What he wouldn’t give to hear Kenna’s sweet voice this very minute. A soft cool hand pressed fingers gently against his face. “Colum. Can you lift your head? I need to look at you to see what I’m dealing with here.”
Slowly, Colum lifted his face from his hands and forced his eyes open the barest bit against the pain of the blinding sunlight. “Hurry, Lady Trulie. Hurry and heal me. I must be on my way”
Her eyes reflected his own pain. The concern on her face shouted that she was just as afraid for her sister’s safety as he was. “I am going to heal you, Colum. Close your eyes against the light. I know it causes you pain.”
“It nay compares with the ache tearing at my heart.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in his lap. “Is Mother Sinclair here yet? I need her to search for a vision—anything to help me find Kenna.”
“She is here, Colum.” Trulie’s soothing voice sounded behind him now. “She is already searching for anything she can see about Ronan Sutherland.”
“And the Lady Kenna,” Colum choked out. “She must search for my dearest Kenna.”
“You know she can’t do that.” Trulie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Kenna is too close, and so are you now. Granny’s visions are always limited when it comes to family. I am sorry, Colum. It is the way of our gifts.”
It gave Colum some small comfort to learn he had grown so close to the Sinclair women that their powers considered him blood. He remembered how Kenna had told him the premonitions followed a strict code set by the Fates about what could and could not be seen.
The blessed three controlling fate and time were very particular about just how much the Sinclair women were allowed to meddle with their own personal destinies. The Fates had their own plans when it came to the women’s fate, and they would never allow those plans to be altered.
A glimmer of hope sprouted within him as he remembered that Mother Sinclair could look down specific strands of the web of time and see what any number of futures might hold, depending on the choices made by the individuals. She could look down Kenna’s path. Surely the old woman could discover the best way for Colum to get Kenna back and send Sutherland to the hottest level of hell.
“I will not do that, Colum.” Mother Sinclair’s firm voice came from in front of him. The Sinclair matron must have broken her own rule of never peering into another’s mind unless they threatened her. Or had he spoken his worries aloud? He was so confused—so wretched confused. How had things come to this?
Mother Sinclair’s trembling hand rested on his head as she spoke again. “I am sorry, Colum. But if I err and look down the wrong strand, it could be disastrous to our efforts in saving Kenna. We must follow our hearts this time and trust in fate to lead us where we should go.”
“Hurry and heal me, Lady Trulie. I can stand this idleness no longer.” Colum’s stomach churned as he swayed from side to side, cursing the spinning ground. “Ye best jump aside and shield yer skirts.” He lurched forward and dry-heaved between his knees. “Lore, my head hasna pounded so since I got clubbed during a bit of cattle lifting. The bastard what hit me must have used a damned axe.”
“Take a deep breath, then blow it out. It will all be over in a minute.” Trulie settled both hands gently on the back of his head.
He kept his head down between his knees while sucking in a deep lungful of air through his nose and blowing it out between pursed lips. The aching throb at the base of his skull gave way to a not-entirely-unpleasant sting. The strange sensation itched its way around his scalp. He clenched his fists against the growing urge to scrub his fingers across the burning tickle and scratch it away.
“Almost done,” Trulie said. Her soothing tone washed over him as she ran her palms down the back of his neck and out across his shoulders.
As she spoke, the nausea faded away, and he risked opening his eyes. Sunlight didn’t pain him anymore, and his vision was once again clear. “’Tis much better, my lady.” He straightened from the pain-filled crouch of moments ago and rose from the bench, then bowed and touched his fist to his chest. “I thank ye, Lady Trulie.”
“Just find my sister and bring her back.” She rested a hand on his forearm. Her worried eyes glistened with unshed tears. “And you come back safe too.”
“I willna come back without her, I swear it.” He pushed past Gray, then stopped and looked back when he reached the gate of the garden. “Keep the men here, my chieftain. I ask as yer man-at-arms, and even more so, as yer friend. Alone, Rua and I can make up lost time. Alone, I can steal her back, and alone—I can restore my honor.”
Gray inclined his head in a solemn nod. “As ye wish it, old friend. May the gods speed ye on yer way and may the bite of yer blade hold strong and true. But know this—I will only hold back a few days, ye ken?”
Colum nodded, vowing to himself that in a few days, the MacKenna forces could help him celebrate the return of his lady love by dancing around Ronan Sutherland’s remains.
CHAPTER21
The wagon groaned to a stop. Kenna lifted her head and elbow-walked through the tangled wad of pillows and blankets Sutherland’s men had stuffed around her for the ride. She sank her teeth harder into the silk gag as she wallowed against the yardage of twisted skirts wrapped around her.
Damn this stupid dress.She hooked her elbows over the side of the wagon, lifted her knees, and wiggled more slack into the fancy gown that had miserably failed at getting Colum any closer to the altar.
The fine lace Granny had sewn into the hem of the delicate layer of linen worn beneath the gown snagged in the buckle of her boot. She ground her teeth harder into the gag and kicked her bound ankles free. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of her favorite jeans right now.She lurched upward one last time in a frustrated hopping wiggle. The heavy skirt of her dress and her under-slip finally cooperated and fell into manageable folds.
Thank goodness.She rolled her shoulders and flexed some of the tension out of her neck. She’d be lucky if she didn’t hang herself with her own gown before it was all said and done.
A steep hillside dotted with low-growing clusters of weary-looking bushes stretched up as far as she could see. Where were they and how long had they been on the road? Time had more or less lost all meaning since Ronan’s men had dumped her in the back of the wagon. Fitful sleep, stolen between bouts of cursing, uncontrollable sobbing, and staring bleakly up at the starless sky, had turned her world inside out.
Supporting herself against the wagon, she twisted around and studied the landscape on the other side of the road, hoping it would look a bit more familiar. Her spirits sank as bits of sky peeped back at her through the thick green brushy tops of towering pines. No. She didn’t recognize this place either.
