Kismet’s round golden eyes glowed in the candlelight, seeming to float just above the whisky barrels. Her inky black fur perfectly melted into the murky darkness of the shadows. As Colum reached for the tap, The cat’s glowing eyes narrowed and seemed to float toward him. A high-pitched growl followed by a hiss echoed through the darkness.
“Off with ye now.” He flapped the empty skin toward the cat and reached for the tap again.
Kismet’s battle yowl whined through the darkness as her claws raked across the back of Colum’s hand.
“Dammit, cat! What the hell is wrong with ye? Get off with ye now!” He brushed her away from the barrels. Warm wetness seeped across the back of his stinging hand. “Wicked demon. Ye brought blood. Be gone now, vile beastie.”
After wiping his hand on his plaid, he feigned a lunging hop toward the still hissing cat. “Get now, afore I decide to brave Mother Sinclair’s wrath and skin ye.” Damn animal. The evil thing acted hell-bent on keeping him from his drink.
He turned back to the kegs, jammed the neck of the skin up onto the tap, and flipped the peg with his thumb. Just as the liquid began to flow free and cool the quickly filling leather in his hand, Kismet exploded with another battle yowl and attached herself to his calf.
“Son of a bitch!” He hopped sideways, kicking as best he could to free his bad leg from the cat. The whisky skin plopped to the floor and gurgled out its contents. His shoulder whacked against the still dripping tap and toppled the nearly empty barrel off the back of the stack. Colum hit the puddled alcohol, slid across the wet stones, and crashed to the floor.
“Kismet. Well done. Come now. Time for Colum to gather himself and return to his room.” Mother Sinclair stood in the doorway. A blazing torch flickered in one frail hand held high above her silver head. She gripped her walking stick in the other.
Kismet immediately retracted teeth and claws, treated Colum’s bleeding leg to a single swipe of her rough tongue, then scampered out the door.
Granny smiled and nodded down at the feline before rapping the floor with her cane. “Up now, Colum. ’Tis late and time you sought your rest. A pitcher of mead waits in your room. That is all you need for tonight.” She stamped her staff again. “Self-pity is a useless, crippling emotion. Man up, Colum. Fight for the woman you love.”
“Ye dinna ken a damn thing about this. Stay out of it, old woman.” Colum rolled until he was able to grab onto one of the barrels, then pushed himself up from the floor. He ripped the second skin from his belt and turned back to the barrels. He’d be damned if went back to his rooms without the whisky. He wasn’t some lad to be ordered about, not even by Mother Sinclair.
A deafening crack split the air. The sound reverberated, harsh and bone-shaking like the splitting of a massive stone. The crystal tip of Mother Sinclair’s staff hissed and flickered, then took on an eerie blue-white glow. The raw gemstone of the gnarled cane shone like a star plucked from the sky.
“Do not test me, Colum.” Her voice echoed through the shadows like a whisper through a tomb. “I am tired and it’s late. And even worse, my granddaughter is miserable from this mess the two of you have gotten yourselves into. Don’t make me lose my temper. I promise you will not like it.”
A chill stole across Colum’s flesh as the leather flask slipped out of his hand and dropped to the floor. He squinted against the painful brightness shining from the tip of Mother Sinclair’s staff. “Ye dinna have the right—”
“Enough, I said!” The room shook with the force of her voice. Dust rained down from the rafters after another crackling thump of her cane. “To your rooms. Now.”
His heart nearly stopped as an unseen icy grasp nearly squeezed the air from his lungs before shoving him toward the door. As the force pushed him past Mother Sinclair, she connected her staff across his buttocks with a sharp upward swing.
Colum stumbled forward. The woman had hit him? She’d brought her stick across his arse as though he were a mere lad? He started to turn back, but Mother Sinclair’s next warning changed his mind.
“Don’t think I won’t send you to another patch in time, Colum. Perhaps a visit to Kenna’s future would show you what happens when civilization loses the ability to make good choices. Now, you have a choice. Learn your destiny’s lesson here in this now, or learn it in another time.”
To hell with the whisky.Colum didn’t look back, just hobbled with a hurried hop toward the safety of his room.
CHAPTER34
Curls of steam wafted up from the rich brown gravy oozing through the flaky crust of the vegetable pie. Kenna swallowed hard and halfheartedly poked at a golden chunk of carrot. She lifted a corner of the buttery pastry and fished out a plump juicy pea. After inhaling a deep breath, she set the fork back on the edge of the platter. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t eat. Poor Cook would be so upset. The grandmotherly woman had fixed her favorite meal and now she couldn’t force down a bite of it.
“Ye must eat.” Ronan leaned forward, steepling his fingers over his own untouched food.
“I can’t.” Kenna rose from the small table that the MacKenna keep servants had carefully set with the private meal for two. She rubbed her arms against a nervous shiver and moved closer to the hearth. She did her level best to ignore the open door to the bedroom chamber. Kenna knew if she looked inside, she would see the bed turned down—the big four-poster bed, with extra pillows and a privacy curtain hanging from the heavy oak frame. The perfect place for a bride and her new husband to . . . she shivered again and stretched her hands toward the crackling fire.
A chair scraped across the floor. The slow, steadily approaching steps ratcheted her heart rate up to breathless level. She inhaled deeply through her nose and slowly eased out the breath through tensed lips. She had to get a grip and calm down. Surely, it wouldn’t be all that bad. Of course, if she hyperventilated and passed out, she might postpone the eventual. She ducked her chin, but the dreaded thought refused to be silenced. If she passed out she might postpone tonight’s consummation of her agreement, but it would still happen at some point in time.
She didn’t have to turn around to know Ronan stood mere inches behind her. His heat warmed against her back hotter than the blazing hearth before her. She tensed as he barely brushed his fingers across her hair. Now she knew how a snared rabbit felt waiting for the killing blow.
“Yer hair shimmers like the finest dark silk.” He lifted the weight of her still damp curls off her neck. The heat of his breath tickled against the back of her ear as he leaned in closer. She closed her eyes and begged for guidance. How in the world was she going to get through this?
When he brushed the lightest of kisses along her bare shoulder and up the nape of her neck, she nearly squeaked but managed to stop it. Hold her breath, keep her eyes closed, and think of something else. That would do it. Granny always said the mind was the safest refuge.
His hands slid to her shoulders and he slowly turned her to face him. “Do ye fear me?”
“N-no,” she stammered, then cleared her throat and stood taller. “No. I do not fear you.”
The steel of his eyes had grown dark. His thoughtful expression shifted to an unreadable mask as he pulled her closer. His muscled chest flexed hot beneath her hands as she steadied herself in his arms. She held her breath.
