Page 52 of Awoken
Ross considered the question. In the soft morning light filtering into the hut, his face was achingly handsome. He wore a whimsical, almost boyish expression, the dawn sun glowing upon the dark waves of his hair.
His dark léine lay open at the neck, revealing a light covering of crisp, dark curls. Leanna’s lower belly clenched with desire as she remembered how she’d run her hands over his chest the night before, how she’d traced the contours of his chest with her lips.
How she wanted to do that again.
“I once believed I wanted to rule a broch of my own,” Ross replied finally. “I wanted lands and a loyal following of warriors like my father … but I’m not sure I desire that anymore.” He paused then, his gaze swiveling to the view outdoors, where cloaked figures moved by. “Many of my clansmen are farmers … sometimes I imagine having land and sheep, fertile fields, and a home that I built with my own hands.”
Ross glanced back, and their gazes met. The look that passed between them was so intense that Leanna suddenly forgot to breathe. “All my life I’ve striven for what was never worth having,” he said huskily. “Meeting ye has made me realize just how empty it’s all been. If I could go anywhere, I would take a boat to some forgotten isle with ye, Leanna, and build a new life there for ourselves … away from the noise and strife of the rest of the world.”
Warmth filtered through her at these words. “Then that is what we should do,” she murmured.
Their gazes held, and she watched his throat bob and his dark eyes glisten with sudden emotion. “I promise ye that if we survive the coming days, we will,” he replied.
24
Betrayal
“CRAEG ASKS THAT ye both join us for the noon meal.”
Seated upon a mossy log, where she’d been making a wildflower posy, Leanna glanced up.
Fenella stood before her, hands on hips, her gaze narrowed. The woman’s attention slid down to the stalks of heather, bluebells, and primroses upon Leanna’s lap. Her mouth thinned, and Leanna’s cheeks warmed in response. No doubt the woman thought her a witless goose of a woman. Making a posy seemed like a frivolous act, but since the entire camp had appeared busy this morning, she’d gone looking for something to keep her busy. After breaking their fast at dawn, both she and Ross had been at a loose end.
They’d passed most of the morning talking. She’d told him of her childhood, her time at Kilbride, and about the things she missed about Duncaith.
Likewise, Ross had talked of his past. She already knew his childhood hadn’t been pleasant, but there had been light-hearted moments. As a wee lad, he’d collected frogs, which he used to frighten his mother and sister with. He’d been close to his uncle, who’d died in battle when Ross had been around twelve, and the man had taught him how to hunt, how to shear a sheep, and how to shoe a horse. After his death, Ross had felt alone amongst a family that didn’t understand him.
Ross now sat a few feet behind her, sharpening the blade of his claidheamh-mor with a small whetstone he’d brought with him.
“He’s remembered we’re here, has he?” Ross asked, a rueful note to his voice. “I imagined he might have some questions for me?”
Leanna tensed. They’d discussed that very subject over their bannocks earlier. Ross was sure that Craeg hadn’t let them stay in the outlaw village purely out of generosity. He was bound to want something from them.
“Craeg’s been … preoccupied this morning,” Fenella replied coolly. “But now, if I can drag ye away from yer tasks.” She cast Leanna another pointed look. “He wishes ye to join us.”
Cheeks burning, Leanna put aside her posy. Upon her arrival here, she’d thought she might warm to Fenella, but she was hurriedly revising her opinion of her. Leanna twisted around then to see that Ross had risen to his feet. He winced as he stretched out his long back.
She too got up, dusting off her skirts, and they followed Fenella through the village. It was a murky day. The light levels were low; a morning mist had given way to overcast skies.
Around them the outlaw village bustled with a surprising amount of industry. Women were bringing in washing, and children were tending oatcakes over a nearby fire pit; while at another, two men turned haunches of venison over the glowing coals.
Leanna’s belly growled as the delicious aroma of roasting meat wafted over her.
It was then that she noted there was more to the busyness than just the day-to-day routines of the settlement. A group of women sat near one of the fires, deftly fletching arrows and fastening on iron tips. The odor of hot iron drifted through the village, as did the clang of a smith’s hammer. Men strode past, carrying spears and dirks.
Leanna’s belly tightened. It looked as if they were preparing for war.
Glancing at Fenella, she saw that the woman wore a scowl. She clearly wasn’t happy about something. Leanna had thought it was likely their presence here that was bothering her, but now she suspected there was something else.
At the heart of the outlaw settlement was a large central fire pit, where a haunch of venison was being sliced up and served onto wooden platters. A scattering of men sat around it.
The nervousness in Leanna’s gut fluttered like a cage of butterflies when she saw they were all armed.
Craeg sat among them, as did the red-haired outlaw, Gunn. Craeg’s expression was shuttered as he raised a hand and beckoned Leanna and Ross over, motioning for them to sit down at his side.
Sharing a wary glance with Ross, Leanna did as bid. However, tension rippled through her. It didn’t matter how she steeled herself, every time she set eyes on the outlaw leader, her breathing constricted. At first glance he looked so much like his half-brother. But as his green eyes settled upon her, her pulse calmed.
This isn’t Duncan MacKinnon, she assured herself.
