Page 25 of Pretty in Plaid
“I canna.”
“Why?” She cocked her head to the side in question.
“Because I promised ye that I’d let ye speak to your uncle first.”
“And? What has that to do with kissing?”
“I’ve told ye my feelings, sweet Kenna. I want ye for my wife. And if I canna have ye forever, then I canna be kissing ye whenever I want.”
She frowned, then nodded, understanding his feelings. “Fair enough.” Her arms fell back to her sides, and she stepped away from his embrace. “Then let’s hurry to Dunvegan so that I might make up my mind.” And though she said those words, she’d already decided she couldn’t let him go.
Barring her uncle having any major misgivings about the match, Kenna would be Sorley’s wife.
By nightfall, they’d arrived at Dunvegan. Laird MacLeod and his men greeted them in the bailey, and he rushed forward, tugging her against him in what must have been an unusual show of affection, for it seemed to startle nearly everyone in proximity.
“Lass, ye’re the spitting image of your mother.”
“Thank ye,” she said. “I miss her, too.”
Uncle MacLeod stared down at her with a nostalgic smile on his lips and water in his eyes. “Come, let us feast.”
In the great hall, tables lined the room, and a place was set for all who’d gathered. Kenna was seated beside her uncle and Sorley on the other side of her. Her cousins, Joseph and Kyle, twins her age, sat across from her. She’d not seen them in so long that she barely recognized them.
As they feasted, her uncle asked her what it was like growing up with the Forbes side. She answered his questions easily enough, though what she wanted to do was ask him questions of her own. At last, there was a lull in the conversation, and she said, “Uncle, why now?”
The table quieted, and she realized she ought to have waited and asked him in private, but her tongue had already let slip the words.
Uncle MacLeod put down his fork and reached forward, taking her hand in his. “I’m verra sorry it’s taken me this long, Kenna, my dear lass. When I lost your mother and father, I was in agony and despair. I couldna bear the thought of losing ye too.”
“So ye sent me away?” Kenna wanted to pull away, to cross her arms over her chest for protection. But she stayed where she was, his older, rougher hand on hers. This was the connection and the truth she needed.
He shook his head. Regret etched in his features. “No’ like that. I thought ye’d be safer with your father’s brother. The man was in tight with the redcoats, friends with the lords who still have the ear of King George. I thought—wrongly—that if he raised ye, ye’d no’ have to worry about the redcoats.”
“What changed?”
“We heard rumors that the redcoats had been tasked with ferreting out any rebels and their descendants. If ye were to be found out, I didna know what would become of ye. Ye’re safer here behind my thick walls on the isle, where we’ve plenty of time to escape, should the drums of our enemies be heard.”
Kenna nodded slowly, squeezing her uncle’s hand. “Your retriever arrived just in time.” She glanced at Sorley. “He saved me moments before I was likely to be arrested or worse.”
“And for that, I will be ever in his debt.” Uncle MacLeod nodded at Sorley.
“And I to ye both,” Kenna added.
As the meal was cleared, several men took up lutes, drums and pipes, playing songs that had the clan singing and dancing.
Uncle MacLeod stood by the hearth with Kenna, who watched the group, feeling lighter than she had in years. These were her people. Uncle Duncan would have never allowed such music or dancing in his grand house.
“I’ve got to ask ye a question, Kenna, and I know ye’ve only just returned, but it makes no difference if I ask ye now or I ask ye later.”
She slanted her gaze toward him, already feeling as if she knew him better. “Ask away, uncle.”
“Do ye want to join the rebellion? Or would ye rather go back to Inverness?”
His question was one she’d been thinking about since they arrived on the ferry several days prior. “I would verra much like to be a part of what my parents believed in. I want to stay.” She bit her lip and regarded the crowd, watching Sorley dance and jest with the men. “And I want to marry Sorley.”
Her uncle chuckled. “I hoped the two of ye might bond. He’s a good man, Kenna. And the both of ye will get on just fine. If ye were asking for my blessing, ye have it.”
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