Page 62 of The Chief's Wild Promise
“Ye loved him, didn’t ye?” he said softly.
“Aye,” she whispered. “The world feels … wrong … without Lloyd in it.”
His hold on her shoulders tightened. “He died bravely.”
Makenna swallowed. Aye, he had. She needed to remember that.
Meanwhile, Alma and Sonia swept across the bailey and welcomed Connor and Rory back. Voices echoed off stone, the noise assaulting Makenna’s ears. Suddenly, the full weight of everything that had happened in the past days slammed into her. They were safe now. There was no risk of the Campbells coming after them. All the tension she’d been holding dissolved then, and her legs started to tremble.
Bran’s arm tightened slightly in response, and she leaned into him; his body was her rock. This was how it would be from now on. He would be her strength, and she his.
“Makenna!” Kylie disentangled herself from Rae and his sons and headed across to her. “Are ye hurt?”
“No,” Makenna croaked, as her throat constricted once more.
A few yards away, Liza left Alec explaining what had happened to Craeg and moved toward her. Bran released his wife then, shifting back so that Makenna’s sisters could both enfold her in a crushing hug.
“Thank the Lord, ye are home,” Liza said huskily. “Safe.”
Hiccoughing, as a sob clawed up, Makenna clung to her sisters. She wanted to appear stoic, but their concern made her crumble.
Makenna sank into the hot water with a groan. Never had a bath felt so good.
Beyond the screen, Bran made a noise in the back of his throat.
“What is it?” she called out.
“Nothing,” he replied, although his voice was slightly strangled.
“Do I need to thump ye between the shoulder blades?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
Her brow furrowed. “Aye, well … leave some of the supper for me, mind.”
He snorted. “I haven’t yet touched it.”
Makenna raised an eyebrow. Really? It had sounded like he’d just choked on a mouthful of something. Servants had brought up a meal of fresh bread, cheese, braised onions, and blood sausage. It now sat on a table behind the screen.
However, before eating, Makenna wished to bathe. And once she was done, Bran would take his turn.
Her belly fluttered then.
It was intimate, bathing in the same chamber as him—knowing that he was just a few feet away. Most married couples wouldn’t bother to put a screen up, but when they’d retired, shyness had stolen over her.
They’d been naked together before, although their wedding night seemed to belong to another life. Another person. Indeed, she’d been on edge as servants had lugged up pails of steaming water to fill the bath and put up a screen for her.Even the heat of the water, seeping into her weary, aching limbs, couldn’t dissolve the tension that now tightened under her ribcage.
Trying to ignore it, she picked up a cake of rose soap and began to wash. The sweet scent enveloped her, a familiar perfume that she would always associate with Meggernie. Her mother ordered this fine soap from France; one of the many things her husband indulged her in.
It had been a fraught and emotional return home, and so everyone had retired to their quarters early. The following day at noon, they would bury the fallen warriors, whose bodies they’d recovered from the woods where they’d been left by the Campbells. However, there could be no burial for Lloyd Walker.
Sorrow tugged deep in her chest at the reminder. She closed her eyes, letting the pain rise and flow through her. Mother Mary, it hurt to think of him.
“Makenna?” Bran’s voice reached her once more. “Ye’ve gone very quiet in there. Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she replied huskily.
Her gut twisted then. Allwouldbe well—after she got even with Black Duncan. Aye, both he and his son were injured, and they’d slain several Campbell warriors, but it wasn’t enough. How she longed to burn Finlarig Castle to the ground.