Page 29 of Awoken
Hope speared through Leanna once more. Was this Lady Drew’s bed-chamber?
The servant pushed open the door and motioned for her to enter before him. “Go on, milady … ye are expected.”
Leanna moved forward, her gaze sweeping the interior of the space as she did so. It was indeed a bed-chamber, although one far bigger than her own. However, the moment she stepped inside, Leanna realized that it didn’t belong to a woman.
This was a purely masculine space, sparsely decorated save one deerskin upon the floor. A huge bed dominated the room, covered in dark furs and blankets.
Leanna’s throat closed, her blood suddenly roaring in her ears.This isn’t Drew MacKinnon’s room … but her brother’s.
Leanna turned to leave, but at that moment the door slammed shut behind her. Grappling with the handle, she found it locked.
Heart galloping now, she turned, back pressed against the door, and watched as a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the chamber.
Stripped to the waist and barefoot, clad in nothing but a pair of braies, Duncan MacKinnon moved unsteadily toward her, a wolfish smile stretching his face.
“Good eve, mo chridhe,” he murmured. “Long have I awaited this moment.”
14
Obsession
ROSS KNEW HE should probably retire for the night. However, as he sat in the Great Hall of Dunan, staring down at the tankard of ale he’d barely touched, he realized he wasn’t sleepy at all. His conversation with Lady Drew earlier had merely stoked the fires of unease within him, turning his mood strangely inward. He wasn’t a man given to lengthy brooding, yet the events of late had started to make him question everything.
A rot had set in at Dunan, long before Lady Leanna had arrived here. It had begun years ago, Ross realized, from the moment Duncan MacKinnon had taken over from his father. Old Jock MacKinnon had been a brutish man, yet he’d known how to rule these lands, and unlike his son, he hadn’t carried the torments of hell inside him.
After she’d asked him to shift allegiance to her, Lady Drew had told him a few things about her brother’s past. Her story had put Ross on edge, for it bore an eerie similarity to his own unhappy upbringing—although he was grateful not to have had a mother like theirs.
Neave Campbell was a meek woman who was incapable of dominating others, but apparently MacKinnon’s mother used to beat and shame Duncan as a bairn—his only crime being that he was born a lad. She’d been angry that she’d wed a harsh, unloving man, who made no secret of the whores he kept—and she’d taken that fury out upon her young son.
MacKinnon carried a hatred within him, a need to prove himself to the world that drove each decision.
Ross traced a knot of wood upon the table before him with a fingertip. He’d reached great heights here at Dunan, yet he had the sinking feeling it was all about to come to an end.
Lady Drew was right. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stomach serving MacKinnon. How much longer could he stand by without lifting a finger to help those the man hurt?
Ross’s thoughts shifted to Lady Leanna then. She’d accused him of being a rogue, a man without morals or decency. At the time, he’d brushed her insults aside, but somehow they’d wormed their way under his shield and cut deep all the same.
With a jolt, he realized that Leanna’s good opinion of him mattered.
Like the man he served, Ross’s childhood had shaped him. His brutal father and bullying brothers had made him tough, determined, and ruthless. But if he continued on this path, would he end up like MacKinnon?
Ross muttered a curse and ran a hand over his face. What a mess this all was.
“Campbell … what are ye doing up?”
Ross glanced up to see a wiry figure standing a few feet away. Hume, MacKinnon’s manservant, twitched like a nervous hare, his dark eyes flitting around the hall nervously. A few of MacKinnon’s warriors slept in here, their gentle snores lifting up to the rafters.
“I could ask ye the same question,” Campbell replied, his gaze narrowing.
“MacKinnon called for me,” the manservant muttered, his thin hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, “and so I did his bidding … Ialwaysdo his bidding.”
Something in the man’s voice made Campbell tense.
Wordlessly, he rose to his feet, took Hume by the arm, and led him from the hall. In the entrance room beyond, he turned to him. The light of the burning cressets around them illuminated the lines of strain upon the older man’s thin face. Hume’s mouth trembled. Something was definitely amiss with him.
“What is the matter?” Ross demanded. “Ye look as if ye have seen a wraith.”
“I’ve done a terrible thing,” Hume replied, his voice turning querulous now. “The Lord will send me straight to hell.”
