Page 46 of Fallen
“Aye … he used his fists on me … did vile things to me,” she whispered. “And finally, one day, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I fled Dunan to Kilbride … and started a new life.” She halted, sucking in a deep breath. “But MacKinnon knows where I am now, and he has given me an ultimatum: return with him to Dunan or he’ll slaughter everyone at the abbey.”
A hollow silence filled the tent as her voice died away. Coira’s belly twisted. It occurred her then that she might have already put the sisters’ lives in danger. Had her act in running away made MacKinnon turn on Mother Shona and the other nuns? Had he already taken his revenge?
Coira clenched her jaw, her gaze remaining upon the fur beneath her feet. She couldn’t bear the thought.
Craeg didn’t answer immediately, yet when he did his voice was barely above a whisper. “No one should have to endure what ye did,” he said, his grip upon her hands tightening as he spoke. “No one.”
Coira lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his eye. She expected to see disgust written upon his face, yet she didn’t. His face was taut, and a turmoil of emotions in his eyes had changed them from moss-green to dark jade. But there was no revulsion.
Suddenly, Coira felt as if she were standing naked before him. “Will ye still let me stay with yer band?” she asked softly. She needed to bring the conversation back to safer ground. “As ye can see … I can’t go back to the abbey.”
Silence stretched between them, and finally Craeg broke it. “Do ye remember what I said to ye that night … the night I left Kilbride?”
Coira’s pulse started to gallop.Dear Lord. This wasn’t the time to bring that up. However, when she didn’t answer, he continued.
“I said that if things were different, I’d do everything in my power to make ye mine.”
“Stop, Craeg,” Coira gasped. She tried to pull her hands free, yet he held her fast. “Things aren’t different … they’reworse. How can ye even say that … after what I’ve just told ye?”
He scowled. “None of what happened to ye was yer fault. I care not about yer past. My own isn’t a rosy tale as ye well know.”
Coira shook her head. Her belly now churned. Her eyes burned, and it felt as if an iron band was squeezing her throat. “But I’m broken,” she whispered.
His eyes shadowed, and he stepped closer to her. He then lifted one of her hands to his lips. The kiss he bestowed upon the back of her hand was feather-light, reverent. “So am I, Coira,” he said, a rasp to his voice. “Why don’t we heal together?”
19
Let Me Have Mine
I’M GOING TO enjoy killing him.
Cold, splintering rage pounded through Craeg as he watched Coira leave the tent. Whispering a curse, he raked his hands through his hair. The urge to storm out of this ravine, go straight to Kilbride, and rip Duncan MacKinnon’s heart out almost overwhelmed him. The look on her face as she’d recounted that tale, the shadows in those beautiful eyes, would haunt him forever.
Cursing once more, Craeg scrubbed his face with his fist. An edgy, twitchy sensation swept through him. His hands clenched and unclenched as he imagined them around Duncan MacKinnon’s throat—as he squeezed the life out of him.
The man had to die, and he would enjoy ending his cruel, perverted life. MacKinnon scorched anyone he came in contact with. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Heart hammering, Craeg left his tent and made his way back to the far end of the ravine.
Gunn still sat by the fire, staring sightlessly into the dancing flames, whereas Coira was nowhere to be seen.
“Have ye seen Coira?” he asked his friend.
Gunn glanced up, his gaze struggling to focus. “She’s gone back in to attend Fen.”
At that moment a slight figure emerged from the larger of the two tents, where the two men had been tended. Flora—a woman who’d lost her husband earlier that summer when MacKinnon raided their camp—was pale and tense.
“They’re both dead now,” she announced, her voice flat. “There was nothing to be done.”
Craeg nodded, his already racing pulse quickening further. The lives of all the souls in this ravine were his responsibility. If the sickness took more of them, he’d feel to blame.
The bodies of the dead men would have to be burned, but there would be no time for that tomorrow. They would have to wait.
Craeg’s hands fisted. Battle had to come first. He had to have his reckoning against his brother—especially now that he’d discovered what Coira had suffered at MacKinnon’s hands. He’d make him suffer before the end, and how he’d enjoy doing so.
Events were set in motion now; they couldn’t have turned back even if they’d wanted to. MacKinnon was after him too.
Craeg knew his brother wouldn’t have wasted any time in sending out scouts; it was likely he’d discovered their hiding place by now. Craeg would need to leave a group of warriors behind to protect the camp, and he’d make sure the war party left a little earlier than planned, just in case MacKinnon decided to launch a dawn raid.
