She lifted her chin, let the tears go where they would, and strode out the large keep doors without looking back.
By the time she heard him shout, she was through the inner gate.
“Kenna!” he shouted.
She didn’t look back.
“Kenna, ye’ll come back here, or I will drag ye back!”
She turned, fighting the sharp pang in her chest, and shouted back. “My name, my lord, is Fia.” Surely, he would let her go now. If there was any mercy in the man, he would leave her be.
With her smallsack of clothes, no horse—and he was certain, no food—the woman carrying his heart walked away from him. If he let her go, his loneliness would last the rest of his life.
And while he debated his happiness against hers, the organ in his chest threatened to burst if he did not run after her with all haste! When he stopped thinking altogether, his feet flew toward the stables, much to the relief of those of his men glowering at him.
Kenna shook her head vigorously,nearly throwing herself off balance as she hurried beneath the outer gate before someone thought to close her in. But all the notice she received from the guards was a vague salute. Did they wish her well or good riddance?
She didn’t care. She had a long walk ahead of her and she had better think of something besides Tearloch’s final words to her or she would never make it out of sight of Lochahearn before dissolving into a loathsome, sobbing mess on the ground.
Why had he questioned her name? What mean-hearted clansman suggested she was not who she claimed to be? She must not have meant much to him if he would take someoneelse’s word against hers. If he had so little trust of her, such a lack of affection, he should be pleased to be rid of her.
The woods in the distance should be her worry now…and whatever might lurk within, for she had no weapons but an eating knife.
She berated herself for not asking more questions in the kitchens. Was there a town or village close by? And in which direction? If she believed God would listen, she would pray that some kind soul would come upon her on the road and take pity.
Freedom would prove much more vaunted with a horse.
The safest place to go was back to Carlisle Folly. Perhaps Agatha need not know she was there. The Clarks, the reeve and his wife, had gifted her with the blue gown, shift, and boots. They would take her in, hide her, help her start her quest to find The Macpherson.
At least she was headed in the correct direction. Was it just ten days ago she came this way?
She raised her head to watch the trees in the distance sway to the bidding of a breeze that pushed at their peaks but never reached the lower branches. She felt terribly insignificant in comparison.
Just as she was wondering why her left eye produced far more tears than her right, she heard the approach of a rider from behind. Her heart leapt when Tearloch passed her, stopped his horse just ahead, and dismounted. She kept walking, determined to ignore both him and his mount, despite how her body betrayed her.
“Forgive me,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Ye hurt me deeply when ye said ye were leaving, and I wanted to hurt ye in return.”
His deep voice and strong burr rattled her bones. His nearness poured bubbles into her blood. She walked on.
“Fia, my love, I would offer ye a kerchief, but alas, I have never been given one.”
She looked at him sharply. Another woman’s name on his lips only chilled her, but she couldn’t admit that.
“Remember me asLass. That way, if you call out my name while you are bedding’ your new wife, she will never know.” Her voice was choked with tears, but he heard her.
He threw himself in front of her, dropped to his knees, and hugged her around the thighs. “Lass, please. I dinnae wish ye to go, ever. Please come back with me. I’m sorry I must marry another, but I was pledged to this woman by the king himself. I must obey my king.”
“Aye, ye must. And I must obey my vow.”
He cursed. “Ye and yer vow.” He rose to tower over her. “If I prevent the man’s murder and save yer soul, perhaps God will forgive me for doing as I wish now.”
He grabbed her to his chest and kissed her hard. When her arms wrapped around him he eased his hold but deepened the kiss. A distant roar, mixed with whistles, reached their ears as the outer wall of Lochahearn was covered with a mob of cheering onlookers.
When the embrace ended, she took a few deep breaths, then asked coldly, “Now, will ye allow me the horse?”
“Nay! Ye’ll not be leavin’ Lochahearn, even if I must keep ye under lock and key!”
He picked her up and slammed her backside onto his saddle, then vaulted up behind her. He held her against him with one arm as he rushed her back inside the safety of his home.
