She said she did it to save him. Save him for what? Why the hell could she not back out now that she had gotten what she supposedly wanted? Women changed their wee minds all the time. It was their nature. Why the hell could she not deny Sutherland and return to where she belonged?
But nay. The woman swore she must keep her word. He tightened his hold on the arm of the chair until it splintered in his hand. Perhaps it was not just her word she kept. Perhaps she had just decided she had bettered her life, saved herself from wedding a pathetic cripple.
His hand fisted, he rubbed his knuckles across his forehead. It had taken Kenna little time to shed herself of a penniless, useless man and claim the lofty place of a Highland chieftain’s wife. Colum growled against the thought. Nay. Not his Kenna. Surely, he had it wrong. How could it be so? Aye . . . but if not so, then where the hell was she at this verra moment?
The heavy oak door to the outer hallway slowly creaked open wide enough for a nervous maidservant to peep inside. Her head bobbed once in a jerking, satisfied nod before she wormed her way in through the narrow opening and scurried into the room. A tray laden with a cup, a small ewer, and a platter covered with a bit of linen was balanced between her hands.
“Cook sends meat and drink,” she said as she slid the tray onto the small round table beside Colum’s chair, then hurriedly backed out of the room.
Colum leaned away from the table on his weak side and stared down at the tray. A humorless snort escaped him as he slowly shook his head. The nervous maid had forgotten that his left arm still rested in a sling until the mystically knitted and healed muscles strengthened—if they ever did. Lore a’mighty. Why had they not just let him die?
He lurched up from the chair and hobbled across the room to the only window. The narrow portal stretched from nearly the height of his knees to well above his head. The well-built arrow slit faced the rear of the keep. The perfect place for a man skilled with a bow to stand and keep watch. His place. The place where he used to protect those within from the danger of those who would do them harm. He clenched his teeth. Never would he feel such satisfaction again for a great while—if ever. His bandaged arm ached at the thought of pulling back a taut bowstring.
He yanked aside the heavy tapestry hung across the narrow opening. The brisk air sweeping in from the sea rushed in as he leaned forward and peered down into the torch-lit gardens. The distant memory of watching Kenna many times from this verra spot unsettled him and shoved him back into the room.
“What the hell happened back in that wood, Colum?” Gray stood just inside the open doorway.
Colum allowed the tapestry to fall back in place over the window. Disgust curdled deep in his gut. He was already useless. His keen perception had already dulled. He hadn’t even heard Gray enter the room.
With a shake of his head, he shuffled with a slow hitching gait back to the chair in front of the hearth. “Damned if I know,” he said with a shrug of his good shoulder. “It was over before it truly began.” He snatched the tankard from the tray, turned it up, and drained it. Raking the back of his hand across his mouth, he closed his eyes against all his life had become.
A slow sweet burn trailed down his gullet. The pity in Kenna’s eyes filled his mind. He slammed the cup back onto the tray and reached for the pitcher. It would take many more drinks than the tray held to wipe her image from his mind.
“Had Kenna already agreed to be that bastard’s wife by the time ye found her?” Gray slammed the door shut and strode over to the hearth.
Colum stared into the flames. Bits and pieces of all that had happened during that damn journey spun through his foggy memory. He scrubbed a hand across the thick stubble covering his chin. Nay. She had not agreed to be Sutherland’s wife before he saved her. She had not agreed until she was unable to pull him free of the earth after that damnable mudslide.
He closed his eyes, clearly remembering it all in such detail his heart could hardly bear it. Kenna. Sleeping alone. Chained to a tree. The stolen axe. The sweetest kiss he had ever tasted when he broke her free. “It was after I freed her from the chains. It was after we had nearly escaped the bastard and his men.”
“Chains?” Gray rumbled the word with a low-pitched growl. “The bastard held her in chains?”
“Aye.” Colum scowled down at the floor. Lore a’mighty.Struggling to remember all that had happened over the past few days made his head ache as badly as his heart. “A weak chain. One used for pups. I broke it easily with an axe.”
Gray gawked at him openmouthed as if he thought Colum had lost his mind.
A cold mixture of rage, disbelief, and betrayal shot through Colum all when he relived the exact moment Kenna agreed to be Ronan’s wife. “She gave her oath to him after the accident, when she couldna pull me free of the landslide by herself. She said she did it to save my life. But perhaps there was more. Perhaps she knew I would be crippled and she wanted no part of a life with a useless pauper.”
“That canna be.” Gray shook his head. “Kenna is not like that. The woman loves ye to the point of distraction. Think back, man. Had she not been nettling ye for weeks on end to get on with a wedding?” Gray paced back and forth across the room, rubbing at the back of his neck as though his head was about to become unscrewed. “The Sinclair women are all the same. Neither their loyalty nor their love is won easily—and once won, ’tis never lost.”
“I know what I know.” Colum almost choked on the angry hopelessness burning in his throat. He raked his arm across the narrow table beside the chair and knocked its contents to the other side of the room. Staring down at the mess, his voice cracked into a low rasping hiss. “Ye canna deny what ye saw with yer own eyes.” His breaking heart choked off his air as he jabbed a trembling finger at the narrow bed back in the shadows of the room. “Look, man. There stands my bed. Do ye see it? Do ye see the emptiness of it? Can ye not feel the chill in those dark shadows? Kenna made her choice of the bed she would warm, and it damn sure wasna mine!”
CHAPTER32
The soothing scent of lavender wafted across her face as a cool damp cloth pressed against her temple. Kenna inhaled a deep breath and fluttered open her eyes.
“I knew lavender would coax you back.” Granny smiled and bobbed her head with a satisfied nod. She returned the cloth to the earthenware bowl sitting on the side table, then patted Kenna’s arm as she lowered herself to the stool beside the bed. “Trulie and Coira are here. Do you feel up to telling us what’s really going on with this mess that’s landed on our doorstep?”
Kenna glanced down at her filthy tattered clothes and bruised and bloodstained arms. “I can’t believe you put me on the bed as nasty as I am.” She wrinkled her nose as she shifted sideways on top of the rough blanket spread across the bed. The delicate lavender scent did nothing to hide the stench of her unwashed body. Once she was clean, she would feel like talking . . . maybe. “I really need a bath. Is the tub ready yet?”
Trulie leaned against the footboard of the bed, frowning down at Kenna as though she were a disobedient child. She jerked her head in the direction of the oversized tub waiting in front of the hearth. “You’re not getting a bath until you tell us what’s going on. What is this foolishness about you being Ronan’s wife?”
Coira plopped an armload of linens down on the bed, then folded her hands on top of them. Her concerned scowl mirrored Trulie’s frown. “Perhaps the cur forced himself on her when there were none there to defend her.”
Granny’s voice took on a cold hollow tone. “Is that what happened, gal?” She crossed her thin arms over her chest and peered over the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid to the end of her nose. “There is no shame in admitting the loss of one battle, Kenna. If that’s what happened, you must tell us so we can take care of winning the war. Out with it, gal. All of it. Now.”
So much for being nurtured after a life-changing ordeal. Granny never had been one to coddle. Kenna scooted to a sitting position and elbowed more pillows behind her back. “I think I would feel more up to this interrogation if I could get my bath first.” She cringed as she peeled away a layer of soiled linen stuck to one arm.
“I told you.” Trulie rounded the end of the bed. “Talk first. Bathe later . . . while Granny and I are deciding what to do about whatever you tell us.”
