Page 12 of Awoken
Silence followed this admission, and when Carr frowned, Ross knew he’d gone too far.
“It was grief,” Carr replied, a warning edge in his voice now. “Her death came as a shock to him, that’s all.”
Ross didn’t reply. His tongue was too loose as it was tonight—if he kept talking. he was going to land himself in trouble. Nonetheless, he didn’t share Carr’s conviction.
5
Trapped
LEANNA AWOKE TO a pain in her side and a breeze feathering across her face. For a moment she merely lay there, disoriented. For a blissful instant, the events of the last day eluded her, and then they hit her with the force of a charging boar.
Her father’s death.
Her journey back to Duncaith.
The attack.
Her capture by MacKinnon’s men.
Leanna sucked in a pained breath and clenched her eyes shut. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could go back to sleep, return to oblivion. But such wishes were useless. She was awake now, and the weight of sorrow settled upon her breast once more.
Stifling a groan, Leanna sat up and rubbed her flank. Somehow, she’d rolled over onto a sharp stone during the night. It had dug into her while she slept. However, she welcomed the pain—it distracted her from the fog of hopelessness that now rose around her.
A few yards away, Carr Broderick was saddling the horses while Ross Campbell kicked dirt over the ashes of last night’s fire.
Meeting her eye, Campbell favored her with a cool smile. “Ready to go?”
He reached out a hand then, offering it to her.
Leanna ignored his hand. Instead, she glowered at him and pushed herself to her feet. They’d released the bonds on her wrists while she slept, and she wondered whether they’d bind her again. She guessed they would refrain from doing so. It wouldn’t look good—bringing her into Dunan as a prisoner.
“I need some time alone,” she informed him, shoving her grief behind an icy tone. And when Campbell gave her an incredulous look, she compressed her lips. “I need to relieve myself … and then I must conduct my morning prayers.”
“No prayers this morning,” Campbell replied, his expression irritatingly neutral. “But ye can empty yer bladder before we leave.” His gaze flicked to his companion. “Carr … can ye accompany her?”
“I’m saddling the horses,” the warrior grumbled.
“I’ll finish them off … go on. Nature calls Sister Leanna.”
Balling her hands at her sides, Leanna tensed as her temper flared. How dare this cur mock her?
“Come on then, Sister.” Broderick left the horses and approached her. “There’s a boulder behind ye … let’s visit it.”
Ross turned from tightening the pony’s girth, to see Carr and Lady Leanna emerge. As often, his friend’s expression was impossible to read, while Leanna’s face, framed by that austere white wimple, was stony. Grief strained her delicate features; she was doing her best to hide it, but the cracks were showing.
“Let’s get going,” he greeted them. “Dunan isn’t far … if we ride hard, we can reach it by noon. Ye’ll feel better once ye arrive at the broch, milady—ye’ll see.” In truth, Ross thought it highly unlikely, but telling her so wasn’t going to help things.
“I told ye … I can’t go anywhere until I’ve completed my morning prayers,” Leanna countered, folding her arms over her breasts.
Ross suppressed a sigh. He should have anticipated this; the lass was spoiled and used to getting her own way. “And I told ye that we don’t have time. Ye’ll just have to conduct yer prayers on horseback.”
To his surprise, Leanna marched up to him. Tilting her chin, she fixed him with an imperious stare. Not for the first time, Ross was struck by the loveliness of her face. The shapeless habit and enveloping veil and wimple did her looks no favors, yet there was no denying this woman was a beauty.
No wonder MacKinnon fell for her.
She had smooth, milky skin; large, expressive, hazel eyes; and a small, lush mouth. He remembered her from that gathering two years earlier—under that veil her hair was a pale ash-blonde, like her father’s.
“Ye won’t get away with this.”
