Page 41 of Awoken
Likewise, the priest dismounted. Father Crannog winced as he rubbed his posterior and glanced around him. He was a portly man with a gleaming bald pate and a sharp gaze. This eve, he looked tired and vaguely irritated.
Carr had deliberately not told the priest the truth about what had happened to Father Athol. As far as Father Crannog knew, the man had choked on a fishbone and died. Carr didn’t like keeping the news from him, but he risked the priest refusing to come with him otherwise.
The image of Father Athol crumpling to the ground in front of the altar, while MacKinnon stabbed the life out him, flashed before Carr then. A chill feathered down the back of his nape. Any man capable of murdering a priest in cold blood had to be watched.
And yet, Carr couldn’t turn his back on MacKinnon. He’d pledged fealty to him at the age of sixteen, had knelt on one knee before him and promised that he’d serve the MacKinnon clan-chief for the rest of his life.
Carr Broderick wasn’t a man who broke his promises.
“Take me to the clan-chief then,” Father Crannog muttered. “We’d better not keep the man waiting a moment longer than he has to.”
There was no mistaking the acerbity in his tone. He resented MacKinnon demanding his presence here.
“This way,” Carr grunted. With a nod to the stable lad, he strode across the bailey, heading toward the steep stone steps that led up to the great doors.
He had nearly reached them when a figure swathed in grey appeared in the doorway above.
Lady Drew MacKinnon had come out to meet him.
Carr’s step slowed at the sight of her. The lady now descended the steps, and so he waited at the bottom for her. An elegant figure, her brown hair piled up high upon her head, Lady Drew captured Carr’s eye as she always did—as she always had.
Carr had been barely old enough to grow his first whiskers when he’d arrived at Dunan, and ever since that day, he’d been fascinated by MacKinnon’s sister. Not that it mattered to her. To Lady Drew, he was nothing more than her brother’s servant—a cur that rushed to do his bidding. As he had this time too.
But today something was different about Lady Drew. When she neared him, Carr saw that she bore a raised red welt upon her left cheek.
He went still. “Lady Drew … what has happened here?”
“Much, I’m afraid,” she replied. MacKinnon’s sister glided down the stairs, stopping before she reached the bottom step so that their gazes were level. For a moment she merely held his eye.
“Yer face … what—”
Lady Drew waved his concerns away with an impatient hand. “My brother had enough of my viper’s tongue … but unfortunately that’s not the worst of it. Ye should know that Campbell has run off with Lady Leanna … Duncan is incensed.”
Carr stared at her, struggling to take the words in. The knowledge that MacKinnon had dared raise a hand to his sister made ice-cold rage seep through his belly. Carr wasn’t a man quick to anger, yet right now he could have shoved the clan-chief’s teeth down his throat.
But he couldn’t focus on that. Instead, a chill washed over his body at the lady’s news about Ross and Lady Leanna. He merely stared at her stupidly, wondering if he’d misheard.
“What do ye mean?” he finally managed. “Surely, Ross couldn’t have—”
“He did,” Lady Drew cut him off, irritated now. “And not only that, but he interrupted Duncan when he was about to force himself upon Lady Leanna.” Her glance flicked to where Father Crannog stood silently behind Carr. “Duncan grew overly impatient and sought to consummate the union before the wedding ceremony could take place.”
Lady Drew’s voice was carefully impassive, yet her grey eyes carried a flinty look that Carr knew well—the lady was displeased and rightly so.
Carr’s chest constricted. This entire situation was a colossal mess, one that he was ashamed to be part of.
“What now then?” he asked, his voice flattening. Suddenly, he just felt weary and heart sore. He couldn’t believe that Ross had betrayed them like this. He’d just signed his own death writ. MacKinnon would never stop hunting him for stealing his bride away.
“My brother awaits ye in his solar,” Lady Drew replied. “Ye had better go to him before his temper sours further.” Her attention flicked back to the priest. “Apologies for this, Father,” she said coolly, “but it looks as if ye will be a guest in Dunan for longer than ye planned. My brother has to catch his bride before the wedding can take place.”
Carr entered the solar to find the clan-chief seated by the window. One glance at the man and Carr could see he was in pain. His face was ashen and strained, and he sat awkwardly. MacKinnon’s wolfhound curled at his feet, for once ignored by its master.
Once again, Carr tried to make sense of what had happened. Lady Drew hadn’t given him anymore details about the incident. He would need to question her about it later.
Warmth settled in the pit of Carr’s belly at the thought. Despite the circumstances, he welcomed any opportunity to converse with MacKinnon’s sister. He lived for those rare moments.
“I have brought the priest,” Carr greeted him, “although I hear that we are too late … yer betrothed is gone?”
“Aye,” MacKinnon growled. “But she’s not gone for good … she will be found again. I have men out hunting for them. They won’t get away.”
