Page 26 of The Chief's Wild Promise
In the moonlight, ‘Black’ Duncan Campbell’s long face and prominent nose appeared carven out of marble, his deep-set eyes dark pits. His long brown hair was pulled back and tied at the nape and his beard neatly trimmed.
Tormod observed him for a moment before shifting his gaze back out across the waters of Loch Tay. They were still a full day’s ride out from Meggernie, but close enough to their destination that the Campbells had grown wary. This mission was bold, dangerous, but Tormod had insisted on being included. It was his chance to show his loyalty to Duncan Campbell, while at the same time ensuring that Makenna was captured.
He’d turned up at Finlarig Castle barely a month earlier, announcing that he too was an enemy of the MacGregors, and that he wished to swear fealty to the Campbells and help bring them down. He’d been honest with Duncan—it was best to, for the man was sharper than a boning blade—revealing what had happened at Dounarwyse, and how Bruce MacGregor’s daughter had knifed him in the cods. He hadn’t mentioned Makenna though.
Some of the Campbell men had guffawed at this tale, and Tormod marked which ones—for he’d pay them back one day—although Duncan hadn’t.Instead, he’d allowed Tormod to kneel before him and swear upon his blade. And then, over the days that followed, Tormod had proved just what an able warrior he was, just how ruthlessly he wielded a dirk or broadsword. Campbell didn’t give much away, but Tormod had sensed he was impressed with him. And now, here they were, on a raid together.
“Ye trust the man who brought word from Meggernie then?” Tormod asked after a pause.
Campbell nodded. “I sent him north to live among the MacGregors a few years ago … waiting for this moment.” He paused, his mouth twisting into a thin smile. Tormod observed him, impressed. In Campbell, he’d met his equal when it came to cold-blooded ruthlessness. He wasn’t a man one crossed. “And my hounds now hunger for MacGregor blood.”
Tormod glanced over his shoulder then, at where the pack of massive liver-colored dogs with long ears and heavy jowls slept near the men: bloodhounds that had been trained to hunt MacGregors. Duncan Campbell’s son, Robbie, who sat drinking by the fire with two other warriors, had bred the dogs. The chieftain’s son boasted that he’d weaned the pups on the milk of MacGregor women, although Tormod could not help but believe that tale was an exaggeration. Nonetheless, the Campbells were convinced these hounds would help them hunt their enemies.
“And ye believe we’ll be able to catch the clan-chief?” Tormod asked after a pause, focusing on the chieftain once more.
“Aye. Bruce MacGregor loves nothing better than a stag hunt … and my spy tells me that it’s a family tradition to take any new son-by-marriage out … the day after any wedding celebrations.” Campbell’s hawkish features tightened. “I can’t prevent this wedding that will unite the MacGregors and the Mackinnons … but I can ensure the couple’s union is a short one.”
Tormod’s pulse quickened.Makenna will ride with them.
Aye, the lass wouldn’t want to be left behind—and when they captured her father, he’d take her as well.
12: THE KISS
“OH, LASS, YE look a picture.” Carmen bustled forward, gently nudging Sonia and Kylie out of the way so she could get a proper look at her youngest daughter. Her dark eyes glistened as she reached out and brushed some lint off Makenna’s shoulder.
All the MacGregor women were inside the lady’s wardrobe—a room adjoining the clan-chief’s chamber, where Carmen dressed each morning—and were fussing around Makenna like a clutch of excited fowl.
Makenna favored her mother with a tight smile before she glanced over at the long looking-glass that stood to her right. “It is a bonnie surcote,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Aye, and it fits ye like a glove,” Liza added.
“Yer husband-to-be won’t be able to keep his eyes off ye.” Alma flashed her a grin from behind their mother.
Makenna scowled. She didn’t want Mackinnon to stare at her. She just wished to get through today without disgracing herself. But then, traitorously, she recalled the way he’d looked at her two days earlier in the stairwell.
She’d thought the man despised her, but it wasn’t hate that she’d seen in those smoky eyes.
“My youngest,” Carmen murmured huskily. “I can’t believe that soon ye will all be gone from Meggernie.” Her throat worked then as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “How fast time passes. It seems like just yesterday I was carrying ye at my breast, lass.”
Makenna stiffened. Despite her resentment toward her mother and sisters—as they fussed around her—she suddenly felt sorry for Carmen. Family was everything to her. After her other daughters had flown the nest, there had just been the two of them at Meggernie. How many long afternoons had they passed together, seated in the lady’s solar, sewing and gossiping?
This marriage would be a wrench for them both.
Their mother’s hand strayed to the iron crucifix she always wore about her neck, her fingers fastening around it. It was a gesture Carmen made when she was making a silent prayer.
Makenna’s chest tightened. She’d miss her. “Stop it, Ma,” she said huskily. “Or I shall start bawling.”
Carmen snorted, her full lips curving into a smile as she knuckled away a tear that escaped. “We don’t want that, do we? Turning up to the chapel with a blotchy red face won’t do. We don’t want ye looking like a freshly dug neep.”
Sonia and Alma laughed at this joke, although Liza and Kylie both grimaced.
Meanwhile, Makenna ground her teeth, her sadness fleeing. “Christ’s blood,” she growled. “Don’t any of ye understand how hard this is for me?”
“Of course, we do,” her mother soothed, putting a hand on her forearm.
Makenna shook it off. “No, ye don’t.” She cast a vicious look around the solar, at where her sisters looked on, their faces stiffening in surprise. “I may have locked myself into this marriage … but that doesn’t mean Iwantit. Protecting Meggernie … and my people … is mylife.” She broke off then, anger pounding in her chest. “Go ahead and enjoy yerselves today … throw some rose petals, feast, drink, and dance … but don’t expectmeto smile about it.”
Sunlight bathed the sandstone bricks of the chapel, turning them a dull gold. It was a bonnie spot, on the edge of the apple orchard, and an excited crowd of well-wishers had gathered, baskets of rose petals in hand.