No longer kneeling, he bent over her, his stone cradled against his chest. “Free the raven,” he pleaded, the words seeming to catapult her into the air, sending her spinning upward and away from him.
Free the raven. . .
She heard the plea again and again, the three words accompanying her as she spiraled ever higher until, at last, she began falling again, once more hurtling through darkness, but this time landing on something soft and warm.
Her eyes snapped open andhewas still there.
He leaned over her, looming close, just as he had a moment before, but his stone was gone and the bright glint of gold shone at his neck.
They were no longer in the tight and musty confines of a cold stone-lined room. Now she lay secure in the enclosed silk-and-furred safety of her own dark oaken four-poster.
But her breath hitched and through the gap in the bed’s brocaded curtains she spied at least a dozen fine wax candles flickering in iron wall brackets.
The Raven’s bedchamber, she’d bet her life, though she searched the shadows, needing to be sure.
Familiar wall tapestries and her husband’s own bearskin rugs greeted her, not to mention the untidy pile of her well-packed MacKenzie strongboxes.
On the far side of the room, a birch-and-peat fire blazed on the hearth and Buckie sprawled in its glow. At ease, though still wholly alert, he’d rested his head on his paws and was staring at the bed, his rheumy gaze unblinking.
Gelis’s heart squeezed seeing him there, some memory she couldn’t quite place making her eyes water and burn.
But the man bending over her and stroking her hair so lovingly was the true reason a tear spilled free to track down her cheek.
Hewascaressing her lovingly.
And the look in his eyes said everything.
“Ronan.” Her voice cracked on his name. “I thought you were going to die.”
“And I feared you had!” He drew a great breath, his eyes dark. “Sakes, lass, but you scared me.”
He shoved a hand through his hair then and glanced over his shoulder at Buckie, his own voice a bit huskier than usual. “You frightened us both.”
His ears perking on the words, the old dog pushed to his feet and hinked across the room to join them, his hips swaying and his claws clicking wherever the floor rushes proved a bit thin.
“I’ve ne’er seen Buckie enter this room.” Ronan looked down when the dog bumped against him.
He dropped a hand to rub Buckie’s ears, but the dog took no heed. Pressing closer to the bed, the beast thrust his head past the curtaining to nudge Gelis’s arm with his nose.
Ronan stepped aside when Buckie’s tail began to swish enthusiastically.
Gelis smiled, certain the world was melting.
The Raven grunted and — she was sure — tried to appear unmoved.
“He hasn’t left your side since you fell to the rushes in the hall,” he said then, speaking above the popping of the fire’s birch logs. “If you’d hear the right of it, he prowled back and forth in front of the bed until his legs wouldn’t carry him anymore and then he went to rest before the fire.”
“He . . . ach, fie on me!” Gelis lifted a hand to swipe the dampness from her face. “MacKenzies never cry!”
“Neither do MacRuaris, but you brought me close.” He looked at her, his expression dark, almost desperate. “ I — damnation, lass! Whate’er have you done to me!”
With a groan, he flung back the bed drapes and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her hard against him. He kissed her roughly, digging his fingers into her flesh and squeezing tight, holding fast as if he feared she’d slip from his arms any moment, disappearing into nothingness.
“Dinna e’er do that again.” He drew back to breathe the words against her lips, his heart pounding so fast, she could feel its furious beat through his plaid.
She appeared to be naked.
Something she only now became aware of, with his arms tightening around her and the slightly scratchy wool of his plaid rubbing against her nipples.
