Page 15 of The Chief's Wild Promise
“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 …Everythingis.”
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.