Page 9

MACKINNON DIDN’T SHOW his face in the great hall.

Makenna couldn’t blame him. She too wished to hide—anything to avoid her father’s crowing.

Around her, Makenna’s sisters and mother listened wide-eyed as the clan-chief regaled them with the tale of how she turned a desperate situation around.

The pride in his voice was evident, yet she just felt queasy.

Likewise, Rae and Alec were riveted, and when her father finished his story, Rankin gave a low whistle. He then flashed Makenna a wry smile. “With skills like that, ye are wasted as a wife.”

“Alec!” Liza elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“I mean it,” Alec replied, rubbing the side of his chest, his smile turning contrite. “Makenna’s talents would be of great use to our king. He could send her to negotiate with the English.”

“Aye, she’d have the bastards cowering in no time,” Makenna’s father agreed .

“Ye did well,” Rae rumbled, eyeing her. “Yer love for yer clan clearly knows no bounds.”

Makenna’s belly started to burn. How she wished the lot of them would stop blethering. No one here seemed to understand what that meeting had cost her. She wanted to remain here. To protect her clan. But no one cared about that.

“Our wee sister is indeed the fiercest of us,” Alma said, with a proud smile. “But none of this nonsense about her working for the king. Instead, she will make a fine clan-chief’s wife.”

Makenna swallowed. Lord, the biliousness that had followed her downstairs was worse now. She feared she wouldn’t be able to take a bite of the fine grouse pie the serving lads were carrying to the table. Hopefully, the meal would distract her companions and give them something else to talk about.

“And where is Mackinnon?” Alma’s husband, Rory, spoke up then, a glint in his eye.

“Likely cowering somewhere, licking his wounds … and nursing his bruised balls,” Connor MacFarlane, Sonia’s husband, replied, and the two men shared a meaningful look.

“Can’t say I blame him. No man likes to be outwitted by a woman.

” Sonia shot her husband a withering look at this, yet Connor ignored her.

Instead, he shifted his attention to Makenna—and the glint in his eye made her want to punch him.

She’d never warmed to Sonia’s husband, nor Alma’s, for that matter. And despite that she disliked Mackinnon, she didn’t like the way the two men were speaking about him. He didn’t deserve such humiliation.

Suddenly, she’d had enough of this, enough of the teasing and smug expressions. If she had to weather any more of it, she’d explode .

Stomach churning, she pushed herself up from the table. “Please excuse me,” she muttered.

Makenna’s mother frowned. “Is all well, lass?”

She forced a nod, even as her heart started to pound. “I just need some air.” With that, she turned and fled the great hall. Someone called her name as she departed, but she ignored them. Let them congratulate each other without her presence. They didn’t need her anyway.

Jaw bunched, she pushed her way out through the throngs of MacGregor, Mackinnon, and Maclean warriors who were still making their way inside for the meal. But once out in the entrance hall, she kept going.

The walls were closing in on her. She had to get out. She had to find a place where she could hide for a while and put herself back together.

“Makenna.” Captain Lloyd Walker greeted her as she rushed out into the bailey.

He was approaching the tower house, his stride brisk, for he was running late.

Walker was even busier than usual at present.

When she’d gone up to the walls at dawn, Makenna had noted he’d put more men than usual on the Watch.

Meggernie continued to remain on the lookout for trouble.

“Ye are going in the wrong direction, lass.”

“No, I’m not.”

He slowed his long stride. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, drawing to a reluctant halt to face him. “No … Everything is.”

Concern shadowed Walker’s blue eyes. “Do ye wish to talk about it? ”

Makenna’s chest started to ache. Walker had taught her to fight, had never doubted or demeaned her. But his kindness now made her feel wretched. “Later,” she gasped. “Can we spar together this afternoon?”

He inclined his head. “I thought yer father didn’t want ye to train with me any longer … not with yer intended in residence.”

Aye, he didn’t—but that didn’t mean she’d obey him.

“One last time, Lloyd.” She wished she didn’t sound so desperate, but she couldn’t help herself. Her breathing came fast and shallow now, panic bubbling up. “Please.”

Walker huffed a sigh, his leathery face creasing into a rueful smile. “Go on then … meet me by the armory once the shadows lengthen.”

“I will.” She gestured to the tower house then. “Ye’d better hurry up … they’re serving the pie now, and with so many hungry warriors in there, ye risk missing out.”

Then, not bothering to wait for the captain’s reply, she side-stepped him and set out across the bailey.

It was an effort not to break into a run.

Urgency beat inside her like a Bealtunn drum now.

The wide courtyard was empty at this hour, save for the row of guards on the walls.

Often, Makenna would have joined them, but not any longer.

Nor did she retreat to the roof, as she sometimes did when she needed to be alone for a while.

The orchard wouldn’t do either. No, she had to get out of the castle.

She needed silence and solitude, to be far away from the prattle of others.

As such, she hurried toward the gates, passing under the portcullis moments later. Her boots thudded on the lowered drawbridge that spanned the River Lyon. The water sparkled in the sunlight and skylarks trilled, while lapwings waded amongst the rushes.

Usually, she’d have slowed her step and taken in the beauty of it all, but today, she barely saw any of it.

Hands clenched at her sides, she marched across the drawbridge and crossed the well-trodden road beyond, before stepping onto the meadow that stretched south of the castle.

She strode across the grass then, toward the woodland to the south.

She’d find refuge amongst the sheltering trees.

The rich scent of greenery embraced her as she left the meadow behind, the soft ground springing underfoot as she wove through the dark sycamores and under spreading oak and beech.

Presently, she came to where a small burn bubbled over grey rocks, and there, she lowered herself onto a moss-covered rock.

Surrounded by the gentle babbling of the burn and the whisper of the breeze amongst the trees, she covered her face with her hands. She wanted to blot the world out, but she couldn’t, even in this quiet place.

No man likes to be outwitted by a woman.

Connor’s words taunted her then. Satan’s cods, she’d just made life even harder for herself. She’d already given her husband-to-be plenty of reasons to dislike her, but after this morning, he’d despise her. And soon they’d be married, and she’d have to lie with him.

Reaching up, she massaged her aching temples. Nausea still burned the back of her throat. She felt thoroughly wretched.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Breathing deeply, she tried to master herself. She needed to calm down—or she wouldn’t get through the next few days .

Eventually, her pulse slowed, and the queasiness subsided. The peacefulness of the woods wrapped itself around her, distancing her from everything that waited for her back at the castle. Here, none of it mattered.

Maybe I should stay out here a little longer . Her sisters were expecting her in the lady’s solar after the noon meal, yet she wasn’t in the mood to talk to any of them—not even Liza and Kylie. Aye, she’d linger here until her training session with Lloyd.

“Ye can’t hide from them all forever though,” she murmured aloud. “Ye can’t flee from the fate ye’ve woven for yerself.”

The snap of a twig underfoot had her reaching for the dirk at her side then. She whipped around to see a tall, red-haired man standing behind her.

Bran Mackinnon looked as if he’d been in the process of backing away—as if he’d just stepped out of the encircling beeches and discovered her sitting near the burn.

Makenna’s heart jolted. Cods! Had he overheard her muttering to herself like a madwoman? Had he seen her leave the castle and followed her into the woods?

However, one glance at his face and it was clear he wanted to see her as little as she did him.

When he’d left her father’s solar earlier, he’d been stunned, yet now his silver-grey eyes were sharp.

He cut a fine figure though, standing in the glade with the breeze ruffling his wavy flame-red hair.

The quilted gambeson he wore over a dove-colored lèine was the same silver-grey hue as his eyes. His clothing molded his lean frame.

Aye, he was comely. It was a pity he had all the charm of a buck goat .

Rising to her feet, Makenna sheathed her dirk. Her pulse, which had only just settled, started to thud in her ears once more. The bastard had just shattered her peace.

Ironically though, there was an odd camaraderie in meeting him like this. He too would be licking his wounds. Makenna’s chest tightened then; it wasn’t usually her way to demean others so. She was sorry for it.

“Good afternoon,” she said huskily.

“Afternoon,” he replied.

An awkward pause followed.

“It’s peaceful in the woods, isn’t it?” she murmured lamely.

“It was ,” he replied, his tone clipped. They eyed each other in silence for a few moments before he spoke once more. “That was quite a performance earlier.”

She swallowed. “Aye.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is that all ye have to say?”

“I’ve said more than enough … don’t ye think?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Was it worth it to ye then?”

“Worth it?”

“Aye … ye could have rid yerself of me.”

She pulled a face. “I’m well aware of that. But my clan is too important to me. I could see ye were trying to get out of yer bond … and I couldn’t let ye.”

Silence followed this admission before Mackinnon’s frown deepened. “So, instead, ye made the agreement between us ironclad.” To her consternation, he moved toward her then, in a long, stalking stride that made her want to draw her dirk once more. “There’s no escaping me now.”

“No.” Her pulse quickened. “I try not to think about that. ”

He snorted. “Well, ye will have a lifetime to repent … I know I will.”

Lord, how resentful he sounded. He’d stopped before her now, and Makenna had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. Up close, his glare burned into her.

She started to gnaw at her lower lip then, something she only ever did when agitated.

However, when his gaze lowered to her mouth, she abruptly stopped.

Heat washed over her. “What are ye doing out here anyway, Mackinnon?” she asked, drawing herself up and lashing out to disguise her discomfort. “Lurking?”

His auburn brows drew together. “ Lurking?” He reached up and raked a hand through his hair. A gesture that left it mussed and spiky. “I’m out here trying to escape my fate … if only for a short while.”

Makenna’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. “I didn’t plan for things to go so far,” she admitted, cutting her gaze from his now. “I only wished to prevent ye and Da drawing yer dirks and going for each other … but then I got carried away.”

“Ye did,” he agreed roughly.

Makenna’s cooling temper flared hot once more. He had the gall to blame her for this mess. “It wasn’t all me,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t have needed to intercede if ye hadn’t tried to slither free of the agreement.”

His jaw muscles flexed, high spots of color appearing on his cheekbones. “Yer father tried to deceive me. I’m sick of all the lies. I’m tired of being used .”

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

“ Do ye have any idea how bitter ye sound? Ye made the decision to come here.” He actually flinched at that, but she plowed on, the bit between her teeth now.

“Watch out … or one day that scowl will fix itself upon yer face. Ye won’t be so pretty then! ”

He made a hissing noise through his teeth.

“And ye need to get a hold on that vile temper too,” she added, chin kicking up. “I pity yer household. I’d wager all yer servants cower under yer miserable glare.”

“Ye shall find out soon enough,” he said hoarsely. “Although they’ll need to brace themselves for ye … a woman with a mouth that won’t stop.”

She stifled a gasp at his rudeness. “Not everyone is threatened by a lass with something to say for herself,” she hit back. “A real man wouldn’t be.”

“There ye go again,” he replied with a sneer. “I’m surprised no one’s tried to sew yer flapping lips closed.”

Her hand strayed to the hilt of her dirk. “Just try.”

His gaze glinted. “Is that a challenge?”

“Aye.”

His eyes widened for a heartbeat, and then, to her surprise, he barked out a laugh. “I’m not fighting ye again.”

Makenna inclined her head, even as the urge to wipe that condescending look off his face pounded through her. “Afraid, are ye?”

He stilled then, his gaze narrowing. “No.”

“Liar.”

What are ye doing? A shrill voice intruded then. Are ye trying to make him yer enemy? She’d never dared goad a man so. It was foolhardy, yet she’d passed the point of no return now. Something had ruptured within her. She couldn’t keep her anger, disappointment, and frustration leashed any longer.

Mackinnon made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded very much like a growl.

Unintimidated, she continued to stare him down. “Go on then. Teach me some manners.”

Something feral flared in his eyes at this, and in response, a strange, fluttery sensation awoke in her belly. It was both exciting and unsettling, although she quickly pushed it aside.

Mackinnon stepped back then. Her gaze tracked him as he took off his dirk-belt and tossed it aside. “Very well … I shall.”