My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 4

  Gray sat tensed on the edge of a low wooden bench as though ready to leap at a moment’s notice. He’d positioned the seat directly in front of the door leading to the inner

  bedchamber. He leaned forward, forearms balanced atop both knees. His hands were clenched into a single knotted fist, knuckles white with the pressure of his grip. His face frozen in a mask of deep concentration, Gray stared at the patch of floor between his boots. Nothing else existed for the man but those he loved on the other side of the closed door. Colum ached for his suffering chieftain.

  “MacKenna,” Colum called out again.

  Gray barely stirred, then finally lifted his gaze and turned to Colum.

  “May the gods watch o’er Lady Trulie and the child. May they both be well.”

  Gray nodded once and returned his attention to the patch of stone between his feet.

  Colum strode down the narrow hallway, then raced down the steps to the bailey, hopping down two blocks at a time. Mother Sinclair had no’ claimed a need to hurry. But as far as Colum was concerned, he couldna be shed of the tension in the keep fast enough.

  He stepped outside and sucked in a great lungful of the fresh spring air. Let the child and Lady Trulie live. Shield m’chieftain from further sorrow. The sun shoved a line of clouds aside and shone full upon his face. Colum smiled up into the warm, blinding light. ’Twas a good sign. Perhaps the gods would show the MacKenna mercy this time and give him nothing but happiness.

  Colum gathered up the reins to a docile mare, then mounted his own waiting horse. After ensuring he had enough slack in the leather lines, he tied the mare off to the rear of his saddle. He’d taken care to select the gentlest mare in the MacKenna stables for the sister of his chieftain’s wife. Surely the visiting lady would be pleased…and impressed.

  Colum chuckled to himself. I wonder if the lass be anything like the Lady Trulie. May the gods protect them all if this newest Sinclair woman possessed the same fire that had already singed several arses about the keep courtesy of the Lady Trulie and Mother Sinclair.

  Colum patted his mount’s great shaggy neck as he headed toward the outer gate. “Come, Rua. ’Tis time we fetched Lady Trulie’s sister. Be on yer best behavior, lad, or there’ll be hell to pay wi’ Mother Sinclair.” Rua rumbled out what sounded like an agreeable nicker, then obligingly trotted beneath the welcoming arch and clip-clopped across the stone bridge spanning the channel of razor-sharp rocks and crashing waves guarding MacKenna keep.

  The horse cantered amiably down the dirt path, tossing his head in the warm gentle breeze. Colum smiled. Aye. Rua had the right of it. ’Twas a fine day to ride through the Highlands.

  As soon as the seasoned warhorse reached a little-used road splitting off the main thoroughfare, he veered away from it, snorting and tossing his head. Colum nudged with his knee and urged Rua back toward the overgrown path. The beast argued with a grumbling nicker, shook his head, and danced sideways back to the other side of the road. Colum kneed him again and firmly pulled on the reins. The stubborn beast yanked his head away from the path leading up to Tamhas’s old cave. Rua refused to turn, expressing his opinion with an angry whicker and a huffing stomp.

  “Now, lad…I know ’tis the way to the old demon’s cave, but we must go there.” Colum leaned forward and rubbed Rua’s neck with a consoling pat. He lowered his voice to the calm, gentle tone that always worked magic on horses and ladies alike. “Ye know yerself how old Tamhas has grown better-natured since Mother Sinclair returned from the future and joined with him. There’s nothin’ left to fear from the old devil or the cave that once housed him. Come, Rua. We canna have our chief’s good sister arrivin’ to nothin’ more than a pile of stones.”

  Rua snorted hard, shook his head, and backed up another step.

  Poor beast. He obviously couldn’t get past the last time the mountain shook and the sky split open to spew forth Lady Trulie and Mother Sinclair. Colum couldna really fault the horse—

  he was none too anxious to revisit the experience himself. But duty was duty, and any others who might be trusted with the task were busy ushering the newest MacKenna into the world. “Are ye no’ goin’ to budge then?” he asked the horse.

  Rua backed up another step and turned his hindquarters toward the mountain trail. The patient mare amiably turned with him, swishing her tail and calmly waiting for whatever came next.

  Colum shook his head as he slid off the horse’s back. “Yer a grand coward, Rua. And in front of a trusting lass as lovely as Geal, no less.”

  Rua glared at Colum, bared his teeth, and flattened his ears.

  Colum knew that look. Rua would bite if that’s what it took to make his point. “Fine. Yer a vile wicked beast. Stay here until the storm passes. I’ll fetch the lady m’self.”

  Rua flicked an ear, meandered over to the edge of the path, and took to stripping silvery gray leaves from a cluster of young saplings Chieftain MacKenna had ordered planted to celebrate the announcement of his wife’s second pregnancy.

  Colum shook his head and started out on foot up the mountain. At least Rua and the mare would stay put. Stealing tender young leaves from the clan’s carefully propagated plants was Rua’s favorite pastime.

  The closer Colum drew to the clearing, the darker the sky became. He scrubbed a hand up and down his forearms. Och, I hate the verra feel of the air. ’Twas just like before. There was no wind, but his hide stung as though he’d rolled in a patch of burnin’ nettles.

  Colum eyed the ominous black cloud blotting out the blue of the sky and swelling into a swirling mass of grays and blacks. The boiling darkness of the storm flickered and rolled with erratic flashes of lightning. ’Twould no’ be much longer afore the Lady Kenna arrived; he best hie to the marker. Soon the earth would move like an ancient shifting beast rising from the depths of hell.

  Colum swallowed hard as a dull roaring vibrated up into the soles of his boots and the ground began to roll. He staggered sideways and fell to the earth beside the rattling chunks of limestone piled into the small cairn Mother Sinclair and Tamhas had carefully placed as a marker for the Lady Kenna’s arrival.

  The swirling black mass overhead centered on the stack of glistening white rocks. Colum raised an arm against the stinging debris as the wind picked up and howled all around him. Soon. He silently promised himself. ’Twill all be over soon. Colum flinched against the increasing pressure and covered his head with his arms. Lore a’mighty, why the hell is it takin’ so long? Had the chaos shook the bowels of earth and sky this long the last time?

  The air split with a deafening explosion, then all went silent.

  A muffled thud hit the ground in front of him, followed by a cough and a strained “Son of a bitch!”

  Colum cautiously raised his head above the shelter of his arms, and found himself facing the finest round arse he’d had the pleasure of viewing from this particular angle in quite some time. His bollocks tightened in immediate appreciation, and his cock perked with interest.

  He had completely forgotten about the revealing trews Lady Trulie had worn on her arrival. But this sweet lass’s arse—in his humble opinion, of course—was a damn sight finer than her sister’s by far.

  The woman with the mouthwatering curves crouched on all fours atop a cluster of odd- looking black bundles. Her lovely bottom was paired with an equally lovely top, which from this current angle was completely revealed by the sagging front of the odd bit of shirt stretched across the lady’s shoulders. The thin white material was bunched up nearly to her armpits, revealing the flimsiest bit of silk and lace he’d ever seen cradling a woman’s breasts. Colum wet his lips. He must remember to thank Mother Sinclair for choosing him for this particular task.

  The sleeves of some sort of faded blue garment were knotted about the strange-looking straps of one of the lady’s bags. The dark-haired lass floundered forward. She stretched over the pile of bundles, and retched so hard she shook from the shining dark ringlets escaping her braid to the delectable curves
of her sweet arse.

  “Son of a bitch,” she gasped again. “So much for the no-puke patch.” She peeled something off the skin behind one ear and flipped it across the clearing.

  “Be ye Lady Kenna?” Colum rolled his eyes at his stupidity. What a numpty. Who the hell else could the woman be? She’d just fallen from the sky and lived to tell about it.

  The woman squeaked, spun around on her knees, and grabbed a fist-sized chunk of limestone that had rattled free of the cairn. She raised the stone, readying it to throw as she staggered to her feet and yanked her shirt down into place. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

  “Easy now.” Colum slowly rose to a crouching position, both hands open in front of him. Damnation. The green-eyed beauty was even more fetching from the front. Colum stood and held out a hand. “Here now. Let me help ye steady yerself.”

  “I can steady myself just fine, thank you very much. Now answer my question: how do you know my name?” The disheveled woman teetered sideways and swiped the back of one hand across her forehead. “Well…you sort of know my name. I’ve never been called Lady Kenna before. Who are you?” She kept the stone raised behind her head, cocked and ready to throw.

  Colum beamed his most beguiling smile. He’d have this fine lass won over in no time. Wait ’til Diarmuid saw him walk into the keep with this woman on his arm. “I am Colum Garrison, man-at-arms to Chieftain Gray MacKenna.” He politely bowed, then took a step forward and bent to scoop up the lady’s parcels.

  Kenna yanked the jumble of bags out of his reach and stumbled backward as she struggled to sling them all across one shoulder. “I’ve got’m.” Motioning with the hand still clutching the rock, she waved Colum back a step. “Gray MacKenna. Trulie’s husband, right? Did my sister send you to meet me?”

  Colum scowled down at the lass. A wave of irritation washed over him. Did she no’ trust him with her wee bags? Had she failed t’notice how grandly he treated her? “Yer grandmother, Mother Sinclair, sent me. Yer sister is busy bringing forth her child.”

  “The baby’s coming?” Kenna’s face brightened, and she staggered sideways, wrestling with the tangle of heavy-looking bags. She switched the chunk of stone to her other hand and grunted as she swung the bags up and across her back.

  “Here now—pray gi’ me the bags, Lady Kenna. And surely ye know by now ye can part with yer wee rock.” Colum looped a hand through the straps of the bags and lifted them free of Kenna’s crooked arm.

  Kenna arched a brow while tossing the rock up and down in one hand. “Never underestimate a woman with a ‘wee’ rock. Just so you know, I can nail the ‘o’ in a stop sign at sixty miles an hour.”

  He had no idea what the lass meant, but he had to admit, he liked the way she looked when she said it. He ne’er could resist a sweetling with a bit of fire in her eyes. Life at the keep suddenly held infinite possibilities. “Aye, m’lady, I’m sure ye can.” He slung her bags across his shoulder and gallantly offered his arm. “If ye still feel a bit uncertain of yer footin’, I’ll be more than happy to help ye to the base of the hill, where I’ve a fine sweet mare awaitin’ ye.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. And you’ve got a what waiting for me? I’m sorry but I’m really having trouble with your accent.” Kenna stared up at him with the same perplexed look Galen always gave him when he had no idea what the hell Colum had said. “What part of Scotland are you from? I don’t usually have this much trouble understanding a Scot’s rolling of his ‘r’s.”

  What the hell was wrong wi’ the way he talked? “I am from here.” Colum jabbed a finger toward the ground, then raised it and pointed down the hill. “And I brought ye a mare,” Colum said the words slowly. No one else e’er had any trouble kennin’ what he said—most especially not the ladies. Colum edged his bent arm a bit closer for Lady Kenna to take. Lore a’mighty. He’d ne’er had this much trouble with a woman. “Come. Allow me t’help ye.”

  The lady’s face still showed no sign of recognition as she completely ignored his proffered arm and wandered over to the edge of the clearing. She stretched up on tiptoe and peeped past the swell of hillside blocking the path from view.

  Damnation. What blasted place had the woman come from? Did they no’ have horses in the future? Nor any proper manners so a lady knew when a man was tryin’ to help her?

  “No thanks. Really. I’m fine and I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know how to ride a horse—at least that’s what I think you said.” Kenna turned slowly, glancing about the rolling landscape. “Anyway, are we close enough to walk to Trulie and Gray’s house? I see smoke just beyond that tree line. Is that where they live? Granny mentioned the keep would be down the hill from where I landed.” The lady paused, a teasing smile brightening her features as she rubbed both hands up and down her delectable backside. “I really need to walk if that’s okay with you. I kinda had a rough ride getting here.” Kenna nodded politely at Colum’s extended arm, then turned and started down the path. “This way—right?”

  “Aye,” Colum said through gritted teeth, his arm still stuck out in the air. Women never ignored him. No lass ever passed up the offer to walk at his side. As the back of Kenna’s head bounced down out of sight behind the crest of the hill, a growing sense of determination kindled in Colum’s gut. Lady Trulie’s sister or no’, this woman would acknowledge him and come to realize what a fine man was standin’ at her side.

  “Are you coming or not?” Lady Kenna’s voice floated back to him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take one of those bags? I packed them pretty heavy.”

  “I feel certain I can manage.” Colum yanked the bags higher on his shoulder and stormed down the path. MacKenna keep must surely be cursed. What else could explain the continued invasion of such impossible women?

  Colum rounded the turn at the head of the path. Lady Kenna bounced a few feet ahead, arms swinging, braid flying, and lovely round arse swaying from side to side. Colum pursed his lips and slowed a bit. At least when the gods had cursed them with headstrong women, they’d tempered the suffering with a verra pleasant view.

  Chapter 6

  Kenna skidded to a stop halfway down the hillside. Oh my…The majestic vista spread before her took her breath. How could the past seem so much more…more what? Vibrant? Was that the word? Kenna blinked hard, then opened her eyes wider. Yes. “Vibrant” was definitely the word.

  Kenna slowly turned in a half circle, awestruck by the beauty of Scotland dressed in the heart-stopping hues of spring. Deep rich greens subtly bordering the lighter chartreuse of new growth reached toward the sunlight and the promise of warmer days. Clouds as wispy as combed strands of cotton skittered across the brightest blue sky she had ever seen.

  Suddenly, she clearly understood the legend of Scotland’s flag and how the cherished Saltire might’ve come to be. When King Óengus saw those startling white clouds forming a cross against the stunning blue of the sky, his dream of Saint Andrew must have felt so real it inspired him and his forces to reign victorious over their enemies in that long ago battle. No wonder they’d memorialized the omen with a flag fashioned after the sight—or so the story went.

  In the distance, blue-gray mountains stretched across the rolling horizon like the glorious curves of an ancient giantess lounging on her side. Granny had said there was no beauty anywhere on earth like that of the Highlands. Kenna took in a deep breath of the clean cool breeze and lifted her arms toward the sun. Granny was right: the land of their ancestors was stunning.

  Thudding footsteps came to a stop slightly behind her. Kenna didn’t bother turning, just grinned to herself. She already had this Colum Garrison all figured out. Mr. I-am-gift-to-all-women was probably still pouting because she hadn’t fluttered her eyelashes and fawned all over him when he’d held out a muscular arm attached to a body that would’ve made Atlas look like a stick figure.

  Well, Mr. Muscle needed to learn up front that Kenna Sinclair never fawned. Yeah, but I damn sure fluttered. Kenna rubbed her palms against the s
ides of her jeans and took off down the path again. Hell yes, she had fluttered. What healthy, damn-it’s-time-to-lose-this-virginity girl wouldn’t flutter when faced with a man who looked as good as Colum Garrison? She’d always been drawn to gingers, and this sexy cinnamon hunk could’ve stepped right out of a Viking legend. The man was definitely made to be climbed, then slid down like a fireman’s pole. Kenna coughed to cover a nervous giggle. Um-yeah. She was still fluttering over that walking panty-dropper.

  Kenna glanced back over one shoulder. Colum the walking mountain had decided to move forward and was currently stomping down the path a few steps behind her. Jaw locked and eyes narrowed, the man looked as though he could bite through a piece of steel. Kenna stopped walking. Maybe she should at least try to be a little more appreciative. After all, according to Granny, this time and place was now home, and she needed all the friends she could get. It was time to make peace. “Thank you for coming to meet me and also for carrying all my bags. I know my arrival was a bit…different…so, I really do appreciate it.”

  Colum graced her with a curt nod, then flexed a massive shoulder to resettle the bags higher on his back. He came to a stop beside Kenna and held out his arm again, this time with a stiff jerk that dared her not to take it. “Yer most welcome, Lady Kenna. Here—on MacKenna land—we treat our women wi’ respect and honor.”

  Kenna bit the inside of her cheek. Her lips almost cramped as she struggled to keep from grinning. Lordy, he looks so…determined. Apparently, she’d seriously wounded his pride and now he felt she deserved a scolding. An uncontrollable shiver zipped up her back as Kenna eyed the muscular arm waiting for her hand. What harm could come from playing along and soothing Mr. Muscle’s ego?

  “Thank you again.” Kenna smiled up into Colum’s stern face as she slid her hand across his forearm. She wasn’t prepared for the sharp tingle that surged into her palm and flashed a deliciously hot sensation through her body.