“Dammit, Gray. Dinna make this any harder than it already is.” Colum cinched his sword belt tighter and snugged it around his hips. “I have to marry the woman. Now. She is mine and I would have all witness it without a doubt, but I have no way to provide for her.”
Gray clapped a hand on Colum’s shoulder. “Ye are the brother I never had and ye be as prideful as any MacKenna ever hoped to be.”
“Aye—and my damn pride came close to costing me everything.” Colum closed his eyes, knuckling his fist hard against his temple. “I canna wait ages to marry Kenna, but for the life of me, I dinna ken what to do.”
“Ye will honor yer chief by accepting the role of Clan MacKenna’s war chieftain and reside here at the keep with yer wife. Ye are a brave man, and none can best ye when it comes to the skills of a warrior. Ye will stay here and help me lead this clan—make it stronger than ever before.” Gray bowed his head and blew out a heavy breath. “My only regret is that I didna make this offer to ye sooner. Much pain couldha been avoided. And for that, my friend, I apologize and beg yer forgiveness.”
Gray’s words vanquished the knot of frustration centered in Colum’s chest. An almost overwhelming sense of gratitude and hope replaced it. “There is nothing to forgive.” Colum took Gray’s hand and gripped it hard. “The Sinclair women have oft said that all things happen for a reason. Perhaps, the Fates decided I needed a bit of testing afore they would grant me this most precious woman as my own.”
“Aye.” Gray nodded and pulled Colum toward the door. “Come. There is much to be done if we are to have a wedding this afternoon.” He paused, fixing a sideways glance at Colum. “I assume ye wish to marry the lass this verra day. Aye?”
“Aye,” Colum repeated. “And I would be most honored if ye would be the one to oversee our vows.”
“The honor is mine, brother.” Gray winked. “I shall set the Sinclair women to fetching yer bride and bringing her to the reflecting pool this afternoon. Now, come—we have but a few hours to prepare.”
CHAPTER40
“Up with ye now. Ye are not going to be sleeping this day away.”
Kenna opened her eyes to Coira’s stern expression and an even sterner shaking of her shoulder. She pushed the maid’s hands away. “Okay—I’m awake. Don’t get your knickers in a knot.”
Coira rolled her eyes and shook her head as she pulled Kenna upright to a sitting position. “I dinna ken what knickers are but I’m quite certain yer bathwater is cooling so ye best be getting yer arse in it if ye wish to have yer wash in warm water.”
A bath. Warm water. Sounded like pure heaven—and maybe Trulie was right. Maybe once she relaxed with a good long soak, a proper plan of attack to manage Colum’s pride might make itself known to her. Or at least maybe by the time she got out of the bath and got dressed, Trulie and Granny might have come up with something.
She eased down into the tub, then rested back against the cloth Coira had layered in thick folds across one end. Eyes closed; she breathed in the steam. The floral scent of rose water wafted across her senses. Rose water? That was Granny’s prize possession and only used on special occasions. “Did you put some of Granny’s rose water in here?”
“Aye.” Coira’s voice came from the bedchamber, where a series of sharp thumps and bumps interrupted the hurriedpat-pattingof the maid’s boots on the wood flooring. “Wash quickly, mistress. I be gathering yer things to dress ye good and proper.”
Just before Kenna submerged completely to wet her hair, Coira’s panicked voice came from the bedchamber doorway. “Dinna get yer hair soaked. We’ve not time for it to dry.”
“What do you mean we’ve no time for it to dry? We’ve got the rest of the day.” Kenna waited for Coira’s response.
Nothing but more thudding of cabinets came from the other room.
She had too much on her mind to battle Coira. It was easier to just go along. Obediently, she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head, then wrapped the twisted ends around the base of the bun and snugged it in tight to hold it in place well above the level of the steaming water.
“Never ye mind.” Coira bustled across the room, arms overflowing with clothes. She threw the clothes across the back of the settee, then turned and sharply clapped. “Lore a’mighty, ye have the speed of a salted slug today. Up with ye now. Time to dry and get ye dressed.”
“I just got in here.”
“And ye will just be getting out, as well.”
“You’re naggier than usual today. Are you feeling all right?” Kenna reluctantly stepped out of the tub, scooped up the drying cloth, and hurried to stand in front of the fire. Now she knew something was up, because Coira hadn’t even scolded her about drying herself rather than allowing the maid to do it. Instead, the harried servant was busily sorting through the clothing she had laid out across the settee.
“Fine and fit as can be.” Coira snatched the drying cloth out of her hands and tossed it to the floor beside the tub. She sniffed in a deep breath and smiled her approval. “Ye smell as sweet as a rose garden—just as ye should on this day.”
“This day?” Kenna obediently held her arms up over her head and closed her eyes as Coira yanked the linen underdress down into place.
Coira didn’t answer as she pulled a pale green overdress over Kenna’s head and smoothed it down her body. “Dinna breathe in—I wish to get the laces good and tight.”
Kenna yelped as Coira yanked the bodice laces so hard, she nearly lost her footing. She ran a finger along the seams and pulled. “I can’t breathe. Loosen them up.”
Coira smacked her hands away. “Nay. There is not a thing wrong with the laces. Ye will leave them be.” She rolled a thin white stocking between her hands and knelt in front of Kenna. “Give me yer foot.”
Kenna obediently lifted her skirts and held out her foot. She was surprised at the softness of the thin white stocking. “These are nice. Have you been holding out on me by making me wear those itchy ones instead of these?”
“Other foot.” Coira jerked her head down at Kenna’s other leg and waited.
