Page 20 of Awoken
“Aye.” Reaching up, Ross traced a finger down the raised welt upon his cheek. It still stung. “Can’t say I blame her though … not after everything we’ve put her through.”
Carr raised his own tankard of ale to his lips and took a measured sip. “Careful, Ross … sounds to me like ye are growing sympathetic toward the lass.”
Ross tensed at his friend’s observation. The scene with Leanna had rattled him. The fear in those wide hazel eyes, the desperation in her voice. He’d been tempted to reveal his concerns to Carr. But something in his friend’s voice warned him from doing so.
Aye, they were close and would always watch each other’s backs. Yet their first loyalty was always to the man they served—Ross would do well to remember that. Checking his impulse to confide in Carr, he took a deep draft of ale.
There are some thoughts a man should keep to himself.
9
Not a Happy Woman
“I WANT THE hunt for my brother intensified.” Duncan MacKinnon’s voice cut through the dew-laden air. Riding at the clan-chief’s side, Ross glanced across at him. MacKinnon wore an expression he knew well: a look that was a blend of anger and dogged determination. They’d been out early, stalking deer in the valleys to the south of Dunan. MacKinnon had been quiet earlier as they’d ridden out in the predawn hush.
Ross realized now that he’d been brooding, and their lack of success at bringing down a deer had worsened his mood. The gibbet they passed on the roadside, where a dead brigand hung by the neck, had spurred MacKinnon to speak up.
“How exactly?” Ross asked, looking away from the grisly sight. A crow sat upon the corpse’s shoulder and was pecking at its rotting flesh. “We’re doing everything we can … and all the other chieftains and clan-chiefs have been keeping an eye out for him.”
“Aye, but he’s still on my lands … I know it in my gut,” MacKinnon growled back. “MacLeod and Fraser both report that the outlaw problem has lessened of late in their territories … but it hasn’t in mine. Neither of them have a bastard brother intent on ruining them. I don’t care if ye have to get the entire Dunan Guard out combing the land … I want ye to find him.”
Ross frowned, considering the clan-chief’s orders. The two men rode side-by-side, leading the hunting party east along the road into Dunan. The broch rose before them—a dark, solid mass in the midst of the wreathing river mist.
As much as he sympathized with MacKinnon about his brother, Ross had been silently impressed by the outlaw over the years. He was as cunning as a stoat and elusive as a wraith. Time and time again, he’d attacked the clan-chief’s supply wagons and couriers before disappearing into the wilderness.
Ross had led the search for ‘Craeg the Bastard’—the result of the old clan-chief’s dalliance with a whore—over the years, but he’d never been able to get close to him. MacKinnon knew that he already had men out searching for the outlaw band, but it clearly wasn’t good enough.
“As soon as yer wedding has passed, I shall widen the search,” Ross said finally.
“Aye, see that ye do. I want Craeg’s neck in a noose by summer’s end.”
The veiled threat in MacKinnon’s voice caused Ross to tense. Glancing over his shoulder, his gaze briefly met Carr’s. He could see by his friend’s pursed lips that he’d overheard the short exchange.
Like Ross, Carr knew that capturing the outlaw leader was no easy task—if it had been, they’d have accomplished it already. MacKinnon had made himself unpopular throughout the territory due to his harsh treatment of folk and increasingly high taxes. As such, locals were uncooperative with Ross and his men—and had even gone as far as to harbor outlaws.
A heavy sensation settled in Ross’s chest when he turned back and urged his courser toward the North Gate—Dunan’s main entrance. MacKinnon’s threat was a blunt reminder that it didn’t matter that he was the clan-chief’s right-hand and Captain of The Dunan Guard. His position here was still precarious.
Duncan MacKinnon had reminded him that as he’d had the power to raise Ross up, he could bring him low just as easily.
“Ye are fortunate, milady … the apple blossom is particularly beautiful this year … it looks lovely in yer hair.”
The servant’s high-pitched chatter echoed through the bed-chamber, yet Leanna ignored it. She sat still, her gaze focused on the opposite wall while Tyra fussed over her hair.
“And that gown suits yer coloring … it used to belong to Lady Siusan, ye know. The seamstress didn’t need to adjust it much, as ye are of a similar build. I do believe Lady Siusan wore this same dress to her wedding.”
Leanna swallowed.Wonderful … they’re dressing me in the dead-wife’s wedding gown. The pressure under her breast-bone increased, the sensation feeling as if a giant hand was gripping her ribcage. With any luck, it would stop her heart before the ceremony took place.
“Enough prattle, Tyra. Lady Leanna doesn’t need to hear all that.” A cool female voice interjected.
Leanna tore her attention from the wall, to where Drew MacKinnon stood in the open doorway. As always, the widow looked impeccable in a dark blue gown that suited the rich brown of her hair. Her tresses were swept up into an immaculate coil. She had a regal way of carrying herself, an elegance that Leanna hadn’t seen in anyone else. It made her feel gauche and bumbling in comparison.
She wished she had Drew MacKinnon’s composure, her strength. Somehow, the woman had lived under the same roof as Duncan MacKinnon all these years and hadn’t been broken by him.
That’s because she’s as heartless as he is.
The women’s gazes met and held for an instant. “Tyra is right though,” Drew said with a small smile. “Ye are lovely. I’m glad we had the extra time to dress ye properly. My brother will be delighted.”
A sickly lump rose in Leanna’s throat. She didn’t want to delight MacKinnon. The thought of standing at his side in the kirk made her belly roil. She wasn’t sure she could endure this.
