He thoughtfully slid the back of one finger along the curve of her jaw. The furrow deepened between his dark brows as he tilted his head to one side. “Ye must breathe, lass. I assure ye, ye will need to breathe before all that is about to take place this night is said and done.”
Damn him.She exhaled in such a controlled breath she thought her lungs would surely explode. “I’m not holding my breath.”
The corners of Ronan’s mouth rose in a faint sad smile that didn’t reach his unreadable eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that she thought would never end. Then he stepped away, clasped his hands behind his back, and lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Go to our bed, Kenna,” he said quietly. He glanced toward the bedchamber, then returned his attention to the floor.
She tensed her hands into clammy fists buried in the folds of her skirts. So, this was it. He wanted her to go in there, strip down, and get ready for him. Her stomach flip-flopped with an anxious gurgle. Well, maybe it would be better that way. After all, wasn’t foreplay just for lovers?
She rushed past him. After she was through the door, she closed it just enough to have a little privacy as she undressed. Her hand trembled on the latch as the sound of Ronan’s steady pacing thumped like the slow rhythmic ticking of a doomsday bomb. Maybe he wanted to get this over with as much as she did.
She pulled open the door of the wardrobe, then froze. Either Trulie or Granny had placed the sheer nightdress Kenna had painstakingly sewn for her wedding night with Colum on the peg inside it. Hot tears stung her eyes as she closed them and turned away. With an angry swipe of her hand across her cheek, she clenched her teeth against the threat of the emotions spilling down her face. No. She had made the right choice for the right reason. She would be damned if she made herself even more miserable by rehashing all she had lost.
With shaking hands, she yanked free the laces and hooks running along the bodice of her dress. She loosened the shoulders enough to push it down around her waist and undo the remainder of the laces. The hot coals shimmering in the hearth across the room did little to dispel the chill settling through her. Her skin flushed pink and gooseflesh rippled across her arms as she shook out the dress and hung it in the wardrobe.
A pang of uncertainty stayed her hands as she reached for the delicate nightdress. She finally released a shuddering sigh, dropped her hands to her sides, and stepped back. No. She couldn’t wear the gown she had envisioned Colum admiring and smoothing away from her body with an exciting caress. It would be just one more reminder she didn’t need right now. She would face this emotional battle as bare as the day she was born.
Kenna pulled free the delicate hand-carved combs holding back her hair and set them on a small table filled with flickering candles. She frowned at the thick white pillars and the golden glow of each dancing flame. Maybe she should blow them all out now. She really didn’t want to be able to see what was about to happen. She wet her fingertips and pinched out the flames of all but one. There. Much better. With the light of the hearth and this one candle, Ronan would be able to find his way to the bed, but everything else would be pretty much hidden in the shadows. Perfect.
She clambered across the fluffy expanse of the monstrous bed.Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find her in this thing.She squelched the wishful thought with a despairing sigh, scooted back against the mountain of pillows, and pulled the covers up to her throat.
“Ronan. I’m ready.” A hysterical giggle almost broke free. Who was she kidding? She would never be ready for this.
A golden path of light widened across the floor as the bedroom door slowly swung open. He stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the latch. She couldn’t quite make out his expression in the shadows, but she got the distinct impression that his face was filled with sorrow. He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, staring at her from across the room.
She chewed the corner of her bottom lip. What was he waiting on? The quicker he got on with it, the quicker it would be over. Hopefully. The horrifying thought of him dragging this thing out for hours tightened another set of knots in her stomach.
“I will never take from ye more than ye are ready to give. Sleep well, my Kenna.” He quietly backed out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.
CHAPTER35
The sun crested the farthest peak as he lunged forward, swinging the heavy blade in a deadly arc. His guttural roar shattered the stillness of the morning, then he buried the sword deep in the practice pole. The solid impact shuddered through him, embracing him as the deadly warrior he had once been and was quickly becoming again.
He had lain awake for most of the night, pondering Mother Sinclair’s words and pairing them with the Lady Trulie’s reasoning about his slow-healing injuries.“Self-pity is a crippling, useless emotion. Man up,”the old woman had said.“Only you can heal your heart and soul,” Lady Trulie had advised.And so, he’d decided to test their wisdom, see if their words were true. Hefting the sword free of the pole, he effortlessly swung it above his head, spinning the weapon back and forth between his hands with fluid ease. Aye. He would be whole again. He would regain his strength.
Colum rolled his shoulders and flexed both arms as he circled the worn caber in the center of the practice field where MacKenna warriors learned how best to use their weapons. A cold sense of determination filled him as he worked the muscles of the arm that was once so stiff. Aye. The Sinclair women kent the truth of it.The elbow now bent as though never injured.
Releasing his fury into an enraged growl, he spun on one foot, then kicked upward with his scarred leg, landing the sole of his boot hard against the practice pole. Wood splintered and groaned as the caber slowly teetered to one side. A satisfying pop sounded as he landed a second kick that sent the heavy column of wood bouncing across the ground. He was whole again. His muscles burned, and it felt damn good.
He slaked the sweat from his forehead as he turned and headed toward the stable. Sutherland had said they would leave at first light, head back to Draegonmare keep. Colum pumped his arms across his body, flexing the fire of determination through his veins. The bailey was too quiet this morning. If they had already left, he would have to ride hard to circle around them and wait at the narrow passage between the twin ridges. There, with God and the Highlands as his witness, he would serve justice to Ronan Sutherland for all the man had taken from him.
He shoved open the stable door. A quick glance down the far side of stalls returned him to the cold dead calm of the practice field. Sutherland’s horses were still there.
Good. He and Rua would make it to the pass in good time. It would still be on MacKenna land, but it wouldn’t stir nearly so much trouble as it would if he killed the man inside the walls of the keep. Gray was like a brother and a good and fair chieftain. Honor forbade Colum from bringing trouble down upon the clan. He would end this in the Highlands—alone.
“Are ye ready for a wee bit of a ride, my friend? ’Tis time we leave this place and seek our peace and resolution in the Highlands.”
Rua rumbled with a disgruntled shake of his shaggy head and stepped out of reach. Each time Colum reached for his bridle, the horse sidestepped away.
Colum thumped his fist on the opened stall door. Damn the stubborn horse. Now was not the time for the beast’s foolish games. “Rua. Come to me. Now.”
Rua tossed his head with a teasing up-and-down bob. He huffed out a daring snort, then scraped the ground with a slow meaningful stomp. His glistening black nostrils flared wide as he bared his teeth and nickered again.
“If ye snot me, I swear I’ll skin ye. Now come to me, Rua. ’Tis time we left MacKenna keep.”
“So, you’re a coward then? Afraid to fight for what is rightfully yours?”
The quiet voice from the shadows of the tack room stood the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Mother Sinclair. Colum sucked in a deep breath. He was damned tired of her meddling in his life. “’Tis none of yer affair, old woman. I advise ye to leave me be.”
