Page 14 of Awoken
Leanna straightened in the saddle, her breathing now coming in short, shallow gasps. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Right now, she should be with her kin at Duncaith, not here.
Ma will be wondering where I am.How long before Uncle Bard sends out riders to look for us?
The thought of the grim scene they would find in the forest glade made her feel queasy. Evan had been a good man, and he’d died protecting her.
She felt as if she’d strayed into a night terror—one there was no waking from.
They rode into Dunan along a road flanked by fields. This river valley was fertile indeed, and the spring greens grew riotously. Men and women, weeding in amongst the vegetables, glanced up at hearing the tattoo of hoof-beats. Their gazes widened in curiosity at the sight of two of the clan-chief’s men accompanying a nun.
Leanna’s fingers clenched around the reins. The urge to cry out to them for help reared up within her. She could throw herself off the pony and run to those strangers, begging them to assist her. She opened her mouth to cry for help, yet the words choked in her throat.
All she’d achieve would be utter humiliation. These folk wouldn’t help her. Just like Campbell and Broderick, they’d merely throw her to the hungry wolf who waited for her in his lair.
Calm yerself.Leanna sucked in a deep breath, and then another, to quell her the clawing panic.Hysteria isn’t going to help ye now. Ye need to think.
Leanna knew she wasn’t goose-witted, yet fear could easily render her foolish. She needed to master her feelings, bide her time, and look for a chance to make her escape. She’d observe her surroundings and scrutinize every person she met, searching for someone who might help her.
Even so, as the high dun-colored walls of Dunan rose before her, swallowing the sky, Leanna found it hard to cling to hope. Right now, it felt as if she was riding into her tomb.
6
We Must Make the Best of Things
DUNCAN MACKINNON WAS exactly as Leanna remembered him. Tall and handsome with wavy peat-brown hair and slate-grey eyes, he cut a striking figure. The clan-chief wore braies of the muted red, green, and blue MacKinnon plaid; hunting boots; and a black léine open at the neck.
MacKinnon strode into the solar, a leggy charcoal-colored wolfhound at his heel—and upon spying Leanna, the man stopped dead in his tracks. His dog sat down next to him, its heavy tail thumping upon the flagstone floor.
The clan-chief’s gaze swept over her, devouring her. His eyes hooded in a way that made Leanna suppress a shiver of dread. He’d looked at her that way at the clan gathering: a charged sexual look that had stripped her naked before him.
Yet his stare was even more intense today, and his lips parted, his broad chest rising and falling in excitement. His voice, when he eventually spoke, was husky. “Lady Leanna … how pleased I am to see ye.”
Leanna swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. “Does this mean I am a guest here, MacKinnon?” she asked, deliberately keeping her tone low and gentle. “Am I free to leave whenever I wish?”
Duncan MacKinnon watched her for a heartbeat before smiling. It was a hungry smile that revealed perfect white teeth. “No, mo chridhe,” he murmured. “Ye have come to Dunan for good.”
Leanna inhaled deeply, clenching her fists against her thighs.My heart.He addressed her like a lover, even though she’d never once said a word to encourage him.
Nausea rose within Leanna, and she took an unconscious step back. She’d told herself that she’d master her fear—but panic, as wild as a trapped bird, wheeled within her. The urge to explode into hysterics, to plead, weep, and even try to flee, all vied for dominance within Leanna.
“I don’t want to be here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Please let me return to the abbey.”
MacKinnon ignored her; instead, his iron-grey gaze flicked to his two henchmen. Campbell and Broderick stood silently, flanking their captive. “Ye have done well,” he said, his mouth lifting at the corners. “I knew ye wouldn’t disappoint me.”
“Did ye not hear me?” The words burst out of Leanna. She hated being ignored. “Ye can’t keep me here against my will!”
MacKinnon smirked, his gaze focusing on Campbell. “Was she difficult to find?”
“Not really,” Campbell replied, his voice as impassive as his face. “Her father’s men came to fetch her for the burial. We merely followed. However, a group of outlaws attacked her party, before we had a chance to catch up with them.”
MacKinnon’s smirk faded at this news. “Outlaws?”
Ross Campbell nodded. “Not the men ye are looking for … but a band of ragged men bearing MacDonald colors. All of them are now dead.”
The clan-chief appeared to relax at this news. “Good,” he grunted. “How fitting though … that men who once served Niall MacDonald would attack his own warriors.” MacKinnon’s attention swiveled back to Leanna. “Yer father self-righteously blamed me for the problems with outlaws I’ve been having of late. However, it seems he too has made enemies of his own people.”
The urge to argue, to defend her father, reared up within Leanna, but she choked it back. MacKinnon was trying to provoke her, yet she wouldn’t rise to the bait. If he chose to ignore her whenever it suited him, she could play the same game.
As such, she remained in stony silence.
