Page 11 of Awoken
Neither man conversed with her. In fact, they appeared to have little interest in her at all.
Leanna glared at Campbell’s back as he unsaddled one of the horses. “We shouldn’t have left Evan and the others like that,” she said finally. She knew her voice had a high, querulous edge, but she didn’t care. “They were charged with protecting me … they deserve a proper burial. My father would have given them one.”
Campbell glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark brows drawing together. “There wasn’t time for that.” He paused then, watching her for a heartbeat. “They’re dead now anyway … whatever becomes of their corpses now, it won’t matter to them.”
The harshness of this comment made Leanna’s heart start to hammer against her ribs. “Evan was one of my father’s most loyal warriors.” She gasped out the words. “He deserves better.”
Campbell turned away. “He probably does.”
Heat exploded within Leanna, spiraling up from her belly. Anger felt good—it chased away fear and sorrow, it made her feel strong. When she finally spoke again, her voice had a raw, harsh edge. “So, MacKinnon sent ye to fetch me … to steal me away?”
“Aye.”
“He wishes to wed me, I take it?” Even as she said the words, Leanna’s already racing pulse sped up to a gallop. She couldn’t believe MacKinnon had stooped to this; it was unthinkable.
“I believe that’s his plan, milady.”
“Stop addressing me as ‘milady’,” Leanna snarled, panic causing her temper to fray. “In case ye hadn’t noticed, I am aSisterof Kilbride.” She drew in a sharp breath, in an attempt to master the wobble in her voice, before continuing. “I won’t wed him.”
Ross Campbell turned to face her properly this time. Strangely, he didn’t answer her. His dark-blue gaze was veiled.
Leanna drew herself up, outrage bolstering her courage. “I’m anun,” she spat out the word as if speaking to a halfwit. “I have taken vows.”
Campbell’s mouth compressed. “Ye are yet a novice. Ye have done nothing that cannot be undone.”
Leanna stared at him, shocked by his callousness. “If those outlaws hadn’t attacked us, ye would have killed my escort, wouldn’t ye?”
“Aye … but fortunately it didn’t come to that,” he replied. Did she imagine it or had his gaze shadowed slightly at her accusation?
“Ye are MacKinnon’s hound,” Leanna snarled. “What ye are doing is wrong. Have ye no will of yer own?” When he didn’t reply, she balled her hands at her sides. “My uncle, Bard, will be enraged when he hears of this … he’ll rip out yer guts!”
Campbell didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reply. He merely bestowed her with a withering look, before he gave her his back once more and resumed unsaddling his horse.
“The lass has some spirit,” Carr murmured, poking the glowing embers of the fire pit with a stick. “Unfortunately for her.”
Ross glanced up and frowned, before he looked across the fire at where Lady Leanna slept. The woman had curled up into a ball, and Ross had lain his cloak over her. Her face peeked out; illuminated by the fire’s glow, the nun looked young and vulnerable in slumber. It had been a tense evening. They’d attempted to share their supper of dried meat and bread with their captive, but she’d refused to eat anything.
“Aye … MacKinnon likes his women biddable,” Ross replied, deliberately keeping his voice low lest they wake Leanna.
“I don’t understand it really,” Carr said, his expression genuinely puzzled. “Is meekness that attractive?”
Ross’s mouth quirked. “What? Ye would prefer a shrew … like Drew MacKinnon?” The comment had been deliberately aimed. The two men had known each other many years, having arrived at Dunan at about the same time—long enough for Ross to have caught Carr staring at MacKinnon’s blade-tongued sister on more than occasion.
He’d expected Carr to look embarrassed, yet he merely shrugged. “Lady Drew is a survivor,” he replied, his expression unreadable.
Disappointed at Carr’s lack of reaction, Ross glanced back at their captive’s sleeping face. “Let’s hope Lady Leanna is,” he said softly. “MacKinnon’s not easy on his wives.”
As soon as the words were out, Ross regretted them. Although he and Carr were friends, he was still wary of being too open with him. Both of them were the youngest sons from large families. Both had been set on carving a new life for themselves elsewhere. MacKinnon had given them the future they’d craved—and as such their loyalty was primarily to him, not each other.
However, Carr didn’t appear irritated by the veiled criticism of the clan-chief. Instead, he raised a blond eyebrow. “I take it ye speak of yer cousin?”
Ross nodded. As always, his mood shadowed when he thought of Siusan. She’d deserved so much better than the life she’d been given. Wed to MacKinnon, Siusan had died the previous summer. An exhausting pregnancy culminated in a grueling birth that had claimed the lives of mother and bairn.
“She was gentle and quiet … an ideal match for MacKinnon,” Ross said finally. “But I didn’t like how his manner cooled toward her as soon as he got her with child … or that he started frequenting whores again.”
Carr frowned at this, although he didn’t contradict him. They both knew it was the truth.
“I liked even less how he raged when she died … how he blamed her,” Ross continued.
