Page 16

MAKENNA BLINKED. “YE haven’t?”

He nodded, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

Warmth flushed over her. “Well … neither have I.”

He pulled another face. “That’s expected, Makenna … ye are a woman.”

She studied him, noting the faint flush that rose upon his high cheekbones. And in that moment, compassion stirred in her breast. It took courage to admit he was a virgin, and she found herself admiring him for it.

“It’s not an affliction, Bran,” she replied gently, surprising herself by using his first name. “Although, by the way ye kiss, I’d never have known.”

He harrumphed, his blush deepening. “Aye, I’ve never had a lass,” he muttered. “But I’m not a bloody priest.”

Makenna couldn’t help it; she giggled. “And so, how is it … that a braw man of three and twenty has never tumbled anyone?”

He cut his glance away and took another, large, gulp of wine. “I never intended it to be that way.” He paused then, clearly rallying himself. “When I was sixteen, my father took me to Tobermory one eve and dumped me in a brothel … telling me that it was time to ‘wet my prick’.”

Makenna didn’t wince at the coarse language. She’d heard far worse amongst the Guard. “But ye didn’t?”

“I had my coin purse on me, and I paid the lass well for her silence.”

She inclined her head, intrigued by his response. “Ye weren’t tempted then?”

His brows drew together. “Of course, I was … I was sixteen and randy.”

“So why didn’t ye tumble her?”

He swallowed before lifting the cup to his lips and draining it. A long pause followed as if he was steeling himself to continue. “Because my father ordered me to … and I’d be damned if I’d let the bastard control every aspect of my life.”

Makenna took these words in, weighing them. There was no mistaking the resentment in his voice. “Ye didn’t like him much then?” she asked, softening her tone once more.

He snorted. “No … but I minded him for the most part.” Leaning forward then, he stretched out a hand, and the thin silver scar she’d marked a couple of days earlier gleamed in the firelight. “This was from when I told him he should put his lust for revenge against the Macleans aside.”

She studied the scar, surprise arrowing through her. “He stabbed ye? ”

“Aye, he slammed his eating knife through my hand … pinning it to the table … and asked me if I had any other opinions.”

Silence fell, the air turning weighty between them, before Makenna pursed her lips. “I take it, ye didn’t?”

Her husband withdrew then, leaning back in his chair. His expression veiled now. “No.”

She took another sip of wine, considering what she’d just learned. He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier about the lack of warmth in his family. His father had been a bully. Growing up under such tyranny would have been awful.

Moments slid by, and she considered whether to tell him that she’d befriended his sister during her time at Dounarwyse the year before, to reveal that Tara deeply regretted their estrangement.

Something checked her. Tonight was difficult enough without her bringing Tara up.

Instinct told her that he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Thank ye for telling me that,” she said after a long pause. “I feel as if I understand ye a little better now.”

He pulled a face at that. “We have barely scratched the surface with each other, Makenna.”

Her fingers tightened around her cup. He was right. A couple of confidences didn’t make them friends. Hades, it was awkward now. She wasn’t sure what to say. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. “It’s been difficult for ye … since ye stepped into yer father’s boots … hasn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought he’d tell her to mind her own business. But then he huffed a sigh. “At times. ”

Silence fell, and she refrained from filling it. She wouldn’t pepper the man with questions. If he wanted to tell her more, he would.

His gaze dropped to his cup, and he swirled the wine within, a rueful look flickering over his features. “Sometimes, I think my people would have preferred I’d defied Loch Maclean.”

“But he’d have killed ye for it.”

“Aye … but then they could say I’d died defending the Mackinnon honor.”

Makenna couldn’t help it; she snorted.

Bran’s attention snapped up. “Ye should understand such a sentiment … yer clan’s honor matters greatly to ye.”

Their stare drew out, and she shifted in her seat, uneasiness fluttering in her belly. “Ye think that’s all I care about?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I know ye’d die to defend Meggernie.”

Her breathing grew shallow. She would—although soon she’d be taken from this place, from her people.

“I admire yer loyalty to yer clan,” he said then, surprising her. “Ye’d never kneel before an enemy.”

Not like I did . The words were unvoiced, yet they shivered in the air between them.

Her skin prickled at this observation. Somehow, he’d managed to compliment her and cast a slur upon himself.

It struck her then that it wasn’t so much his clansmen’s disappointment in him that galled him—but his own decisions.

Her chest tightened. The man was far too hard on himself.

Of course, she’d thrown those things in his face during that meeting with her father.

She wished she hadn’t now .

“Maybe not,” she said softly. “But I’d be wiser to bend sometimes … it would make for an easier life.”

His sensual mouth tugged up at the corners. “An easy life would bore ye.”

Surprise jolted through her once more before she gave an unladylike snort. “Aye … probably.”

Another pause followed. Talking about herself made her uncomfortable. She needed to bring the focus back on him. “Yer father’s been dead a while … why haven’t ye taken a lass to yer bed in that time?”

Mackinnon growled an oath, reached up, and dragged a hand down his face. “Christ’s bones … can we leave this be?”

She flashed him an arch look. “Ye brought it up, remember?”

“Aye … the wine must have turned me witless,” he replied with a grimace.

She laughed, appreciating the wry edge to his humor. “It’s good ye are being honest with me,” she replied. “It will make things easier between us.”

Their gazes locked then and held, silence swelling between them.

“I felt ye should know,” Mackinnon answered finally. “That way, if I fumble … ye’ll understand why.”

Nerves fluttered in her belly, and she glanced away. “Since I’m not experienced … I probably wouldn’t notice anyway.” She swallowed then, embarrassment sweeping over her in a hot, prickly wave. “We shall learn together.”

“Aye.”

“There’s no need to rush things … we have all night.” She broke off then, flushing. “And I can teach ye what I like as we go.” He r mouth snapped closed then. Dear Lord, what had she just said?

His gaze hooded in a way that made her heart flutter. “Ye will?”

She nodded mutely, even as her face burned like a hot coal. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted out such a thing. What must he think of his MacGregor bride?

Her pulse thumped in her ears while he stared at her for a few moments. And then, to her relief, his lips lifted at the edges into one of his rare smiles. “Ye never fail to surprise me.”

“I do?” Frankly, she’d shocked herself. She was starting to sweat now, suddenly far too aware of him. They were seated a few feet apart, but it felt too close.

He nodded. “Yer boldness is something to behold.”

She pulled a face, not sure whether his comment was meant as praise or a rebuke, before taking another gulp of wine.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” she blurted out, heat flushing over her once more.

“Ye don’t have to scratch far beneath the surface to discover much of my confidence is bluster. ”

Her heart slammed against her ribs then. What was wrong with her tonight? Deliberately avoiding his eye, she put her cup down next to the hearth. No more wine for ye!

Resisting the urge to fidget, she eventually forced herself to look at him. A groove had etched between his eyebrows, although he now watched her in a way that both exhilarated and frightened her.

Makenna’s breathing hitched. Somehow, he made her feel … seen .

“We all wear masks,” he admitted with a wry smile. “It’s how we survive.”

Their stare drew out—the air between them heavy with tension now. Once again, a sense of kinship flooded over Makenna. Despite the fiery start to their relationship, there was something about this man that made her want to trust him.

She exhaled sharply. “So … what happens now?”

His gaze met hers, challenge flickering in his eyes. “Now … we go to bed.”