Page 37 of Awoken
“My uncle, Bard, will be chieftain now,” she reminded him. “He’s probably still got men looking for me … and he’s got no more love of MacKinnon than my father had.”
“Good to hear … with any luck we’ll cross yer uncle’s path. That way he can set his dogs on MacKinnon and send him back to his own lands.”
“What will ye do, Ross … once ye have delivered me to my kin?”
Ross didn’t answer immediately. Her abrupt change of subject and the use of his first name threw him. Few called him ‘Ross’ these days besides Carr. At Dunan he was simply known as ‘Campbell’. And, in truth, he’d given little thought to the future.
“I don’t know,” he replied, deciding that he might as well be honest. “I’ll tackle that once ye are safe at Duncaith.”
“Ye won’t return to yer kin on the mainland?”
Ross snorted. “Ye heard the sorry tale of my upbringing … would ye?”
“But there must be other Campbells throughout Scotland?”
“Aye … but none that I like well enough to impose upon.” Ross paused there. “Maybe I shall go to the capital.”
“What will ye do there?”
“I hear that a man named Edward Balliol has laid claim to the Scottish throne. Perhaps I shall join his guard and make a name for myself there instead.” Even as he said these words, they depressed Ross. All his life he’d been ambitious, had fought to climb up through the ranks so that he might lead men instead of merely follow them. Suddenly, he was exhausted at the thought. He patted the leather pouch he wore under his vest. “Or since I carry a purse of silver—all my wages over the past decade—maybe I’ll just find myself a wife in some sleepy backwater and make a living as a farmer.”
Leanna went quiet for a spell after this admission, and when she spoke once more, her tone was reserved, slightly shy. “And do ye wish for a wife, Ross?”
An unexpected smile stretched across Ross’s face. “Aye … I have even wooed a few ladies in the past years, but to no avail.”
“Really … who?”
He could hear the curiosity in her voice, and his smile widened.
“Lady Caitrin MacLeod for one,” he replied. “After she was widowed, her father became desperate to find his daughter another match. “I was one of three suitors who traveled to Dunvegan to vie for her hand … but in the end, she chose none of us.”
“I heard she wed her dead husband’s brother,” Leanna replied. “There were whispers about it all over the isle afterward … I’m surprised ye were one of her spurned suitors?”
Although he knew Leanna couldn’t see his face, Ross raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
“Ye are a handsome man … I can’t imagine a woman resisting yer charms.”
Ross actually laughed at that, the sound rumbling across his chest. It felt good to laugh after such a fraught night; it lightened his heart. “Not all women think as ye do, Lady Leanna. But fear not, my pride is intact. Lady Caitrin cast me aside in favor of Alasdair MacDonald … a man she secretly loved. And I’m now glad she did.”
“And why’s that?”
Ross’s smile faded, and his mood suddenly sobered. “Because if I’d wed Lady Caitrin, my path would likely have taken me away from Dunan. Ye and I might never have met.”
As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. What was it about Leanna that made truth pour from him like an unstoppered barrel of mead? They’d been having a light-hearted exchange, something that was sorely needed after their conversation at dawn, but he’d just ruined it.
Leanna’s arms were loosely looped around his waist, yet he felt the tension in them nonetheless. She fell silent and didn’t question him further about Lady Caitrin. It had all happened nearly two years ago now. Ross had been in a position to look for a wife, and when MacLeod had sent word throughout the isle that his lovely widowed daughter sought a new husband, he’d thought to try his luck.
However, he hadn’t been at Dunvegan long when he’d realized that Caitrin’s heart was already spoken for.
The tense silence between Ross and Leanna drew out, and Ross was considering how best to break it, when the snap of a twig underfoot tore him from his thoughts. His chin jerked up, his instincts suddenly on the alert. The courser snorted, its nostrils flaring. Ross’s ears hadn’t deceived him; the horse had heard it too.
“What’s wrong?” Leanna asked, her voice low and tense. “Is there—”
She never got to complete her sentence, for at that moment, figures emerged from the trees around them. Ross drew up the courser, his gaze swiveling left and right.
A circle of leather-clad men emerged from the shadowy undergrowth, drawn longbows at the ready.
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