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20: CONSEQUENCES
DAVINA GLANCED UP, her gaze following a diving swallow.
The sky was a pale-blue from one horizon to another this morning, and the air was sweet with the smell of grass—yet also contained the salty tang of the sea.
They’d left Inverneil far behind now, traveling south upon a dirt road that hugged the coast.
The sun was on her back, and thistles waved in the breeze upon the surrounding hills.
After the wonderful night she’d just spent with Lennox, Davina’s muscles were loose.
However, their conversation at dawn had put her on edge.
She couldn’t believe he’d proposed to her.
What was the man thinking?
They’d gotten up shortly after, washed, and dressed, before going downstairs to break their fast with fresh bannocks, butter, and heather honey.
They’d said little as they ate and set out shortly after.
It was reaching noon now, and they’d barely exchanged two words since their departure from Inverneil.
Lennox had been polite toward her, and considerate, but there was a tension between them that hadn’t been there before.
Davina’s brow furrowed.
She was to blame.
She hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings, for his offer was kind.
Lennox surprised her.
Just days earlier, she’d have sworn he wouldn’t put himself out for anyone unless there was something in it for him.
But she’d misjudged him.
Lennox was far more honorable than she’d realized.
Yet this morning, he’d unwittingly crossed a line.
Like most men, he thought that by taking control of her destiny, he was helping her.
On the contrary, he wasn’t.
And despite that she’d tried to explain her motivations to him, she wasn’t sure he understood why she wished to remain unwed.
Nonetheless, the rift between them—especially after what they’d recently shared—upset her.
She’d thought he’d be the sort to bed a lass and then let her go.
He hadn’t seemed the kind of man to try and take responsibility afterward.
And yet, he’d proposed.
I did him a favor by refusing , she told herself.
When Lennox takes a wife, it should be to a sweet, easy-tempered lass, not a troublesome, disgraced lady.
Like her, he could be reckless.
But had she accepted his offer, he’d have regretted it.
Nonetheless, the thought of Lennox taking another woman to his bed, of him looking at anyone else the way he did at her, made her stomach twist. Shoving her ridiculous jealousy aside, Davina cleared her throat, breaking the brittle silence between them.
“I have offended ye, haven’t I?”
Like the previous days, she was seated behind him.
As such, Davina couldn’t see his face.
Even so, she felt the tension in his back.
Lennox huffed a laugh.
“No.”
“I’m sorry … I was blunter than I intended. My father has always despaired of my plain speech.”
“I like it,” he replied.
“Do ye? That must be why we constantly tangle horns.”
He gave a soft laugh.
“I like that too.” The admission made warmth steal across her chest. He did?
“Ye know yer own mind … and aren’t afraid to speak it. There is something admirable in that.”
Davina didn’t know what to say to such a comment.
Not for the first time, the man took her aback.
She’d expected him to be sore about her rejection, and she did sense his hurt, yet he was determined not to let it show.
His decency made guilt constrict her chest.
As if sensing her inner turmoil, he shifted his hand to where one of hers loosely held onto his waist. He then squeezed gently.
“Fear not, lass … I’m not offended.”
“The Mackays are having problems with their tenants again,” a merchant at the next table told his drinking companions.
“They’re fighting amongst themselves … and poaching each other’s livestock too.”
“Iver Mackay won’t stand for that,” another man rumbled.
Davina tensed, glancing over at Lennox.
They were eating supper together downstairs in the busy common room, squeezed in next to fishermen and merchants.
“No, although ye know as well as I, Duncan, that ye can’t stop feuding clans so easily,” the merchant replied.
“It’s a pity for Mackay that both the MacAlisters and the MacDonalds dwell upon his lands … for they hate each other.”
Davina noted that Lennox had gone still, his brow furrowed.
After another long day on the road, they’d stopped at the tiny fishing hamlet of Claonaig.
The road had brought them south, down the peninsula, before taking them inland for a spell.
Then, they’d headed southeast once more.
And as they stabled their horse behind a guesthouse near the quay, Lennox had assured Davina they would reach Dun Ugadale the following afternoon at the latest.
She’d met this news with mixed feelings.
Relief, for it was wise that she and Lennox didn’t prolong their time alone together, and disappointment—for the days she’d spent with him had unfurled something within her.
She felt like a flower after a long period of grey skies and rain, turning its face to the sun once more.
Lennox had made her smile again.
They’d been enjoying a delicious meal together too, until talk of problems farther south began at the next table.
The conversation between the other patrons shifted then, while Davina leaned close to Lennox.
“Did ye know there was unrest?” she murmured.
His mouth thinned. “The MacAlisters and the MacDonalds have long caused trouble on our lands,” he admitted.
“But my father managed to end their quarreling.” He paused then, heaving a sigh.
“However, over the past years, Iver paid little attention to the goings-on around him, and the old arguments have resurfaced. This news comes as little surprise to me.”
Davina watched Lennox, noting the lines of tension that now bracketed his mouth.
“Ye are worried about seeing yer brother again … aren’t ye?”
Lennox pulled a face before leaning back on his chair and cupping his fingers about the tankard of ale before him.
“Not worried exactly … more like wary. As I told ye, we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“Ye think he’ll humble ye?”
Lennox snorted.
“Who knows?” His gaze held hers across the table.
“But I’ll weather whatever humiliation he serves me … if it means ye are given a home.”
Their stare drew out for a few moments before Davina eventually broke it.
Looking down at her half-finished bowl of fish stew, she hurriedly composed herself.
“I don’t want ye punished because of me,” she said quietly.
“Don’t worry, Iver won’t be harsh,” he replied.
She glanced up to see him still watching her.
His gaze was veiled, although a wry smile played upon his lips.
“He’ll just enjoy being proved right.”
She inclined her head.
“About what?”
“That Dun Ugadale is where I belong.”
They finished their suppers shortly after that and retired to their separate chambers.
Davina didn’t venture into Lennox’s room this evening, and to her relief, he didn’t invite her.
Part of her longed to follow him inside, to close the door on the rest of the world.
That foolish part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms, to seek his hungry mouth, and lose herself in him.
But the pull she felt toward this man would only get her in trouble.
Their conversation at dawn had made that clear enough.
No, the wise thing to do was to avoid lying with him again.
Even so, a hollow sensation settled in her belly when she stepped into her small chamber and listened to the ‘thud’ of his door closing opposite.
Her chamber seemed empty without his company.
She already missed the low timbre of his voice, the masculine warmth of his presence.
Goose. Walking across to the nightstand, Davina started to undress.
She then poured water from a jug into a wash bowl and went through her ablutions.
Haven’t ye learned by now that every action has a consequence?
The night before, both of them had thrown caution aside.
But their conversation in the morning had warned her she needed to be more careful.
She needed to look out for herself.
Nervousness tightened Davina’s throat then.
Tomorrow they would reach Dun Ugadale, and if Lennox’s brother discovered that they’d been lovers, he might force them to wed.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She would speak to Lennox on the morrow and ensure he would keep their secret.
They were cantering across rolling, windswept hills, north of Dun Ugadale, when Lennox spied horses, riders bent low over their necks, streaming over the ridge ahead.
There were around half a dozen of them, fleeing as if the devil himself, with a fiery pitchfork, were after them.
Drawing up his gelding, he squinted at the horizon.
His gaze was sharp, yet they were too far away for him to make out their identities.
Nonetheless, judging from the horses’ flat gallop, they were in a great hurry.
And as he watched, another group of riders appeared over the brow of the hill.
They were giving chase.
“Trouble?” Davina was peering around him and had seen the riders.
Lennox grunted. “Looks like it … hold on.” With that, he gathered the reins and urged his horse into a canter, turning it after the two parties.
He wasn’t sure what was afoot, but this close to Dun Ugadale, it would involve the Mackays.
He had to know what had happened.
They followed them toward the coast, the gelding’s heavy hooves churning up the turf behind it.
Davina clung lightly to his waist, keeping her seat easily.
As the hills smoothed and Lennox spied Kilbrannan Sound glittering in the distance, he saw that the second group of riders had caught up with the first.
And as he’d suspected, there was trouble—for both groups of men had leaped down from their horses and were now fighting each other.
Lennox slowed his gelding, his gaze sweeping over the skirmish.
Warriors clad in leather, with pine green and dark-blue plaid sashes across their fronts, bore down on men dressed in braies and sweat-stained léines.
All the men wielded dirks, although the warriors wearing sashes fought with more skill.
One of them, a tall man with shaggy white-blond hair that fell to his shoulders, was clearly in charge.
His shouts rang across the hillside as he rallied his men.
Drawing up his horse, Lennox watched from a safe distance.
“Who are they?” Davina asked, her voice tight.
“The Dun Ugadale Guard,” he replied.
“Dealing with rustlers, I’d wager.”
“What should we do?”
“Nothing, lass … the guard has things in hand.”
Indeed, they did, for as he finished speaking, the skirmish ended.
One of the men they’d pursued lay dead on the ground, while the others, most of them bloodied, had thrown aside their dirks and dropped to their knees.
The blond warrior pointed the tip of his dirk at the throat of one of them and appeared to be speaking to him.
Satisfied he wasn’t going to ride into a melee, Lennox urged his horse forward.
And as he drew closer, the leader of the guard spoke.
“Did ye think ye would get away with it, MacAlister?”
“I was only taking what was mine.” Despite that he had a blade held to his throat, the individual, a huge man with short brown hair and a pugnacious face, didn’t cower as some of his companions did.
“Ye shouldn’t interfere in our business.”
“This is Mackay land,” the blond man replied, his voice cold.
“Therefore, it is our business. Ye were warned before, and ye knew what the punishment would be if we ever caught ye thieving livestock again.”
The big man’s belligerent expression slipped just a little, his face paling beneath his deep tan.
“Last time ye were whipped … but this time, ye shall lose a hand.” The captain’s cool gaze shifted to the other rustlers they’d subdued.
“ All of ye shall.”
To their credit, none of the men uttered a sound.
Nonetheless, Lennox marked how their gazes widened, the whites of their eyes gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
“Ye don’t decide that,” the first man spluttered.
“The laird does.”
“Aye, well, let’s get ye back to Dun Ugadale, so Iver Mackay can wield the ax himself.”
Lennox cleared his throat.
“Not bandying words as usual, I see, Kerr.”
His brother’s broad shoulders tensed.
Stepping sideways, his dirk still trained on the rustler, he turned his attention upon where Lennox sat astride his horse, Davina silent behind him.
A heartbeat passed, and then Kerr Mackay’s stern face split into a wide grin. “Lennox!”
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