Page 68 of The Chief's Wild Promise
He’d remember the MacGregors.
Makenna’s gaze shifted then, sweeping across the curtain wall that surrounded the tower house. Guards stood watch there. Blair had increased their number for the moment. Just in case there was any trouble.
Sighing, Makenna murmured an oath under her breath.It’s not yer responsibility anymore … ye need to let go.Aye, she did, although that was easier said than done.
“That is a weary sound for such a bonnie eve.”
A familiar voice made her turn, her gaze alighting upon the tall figure who moved along the narrow walkway, between the doocot and the crenelations that ran around the roof of the tower house.
“Ye found me then?” she greeted her husband with a smile, deliberately not answering his observation.
He flashed her a boyish smile, one that made her belly do a wee flip.
The more she spent time with Bran, the more she wanted him. They were both surviving on little sleep these days, as their nights were spent tumbling. They were ravenous for each other.
“I thought ye’d be in high spirits after learning of Black Duncan’s demise … I know I am,” Bran continued, clearly determined not to let the matter drop. “Why the sighing?”
Makenna pulled a face. Sometimes, she wished her husband wasn’t quite so observant. There was very little that got past him. “I still feel guilty about leaving Meggernie,” she admitted finally. “I keep thinking I need to be here … just in case.”
Bran’s gaze roamed over her face, and she braced herself for him to try and reassure her, to tell her that the Meggernie Guard had defended this castle before she served amongst it and would continue to do so after she departed.
But his response, when it came, surprised her. “Ye don’t want to leave the familiar behind … that’s understandable.”
“It’s not that,” she replied, a trifle defensively.
His lips lifted at the corners. “Isn’t it?”
“No. I just worry about my clan’s future.”
“And yer loyalty does ye credit … but I can’t help but think ye use it as a shield.” Makenna’s gaze narrowed at this, yet Bran wasn’t done. “Ye know every inch of this castle … and the meadows, woodlands, and hills beyond. Ye feel comfortable here … safe … just as I do at Dùn Ara.”
Discomfort flickered up, although Makenna masked it with a frown. How was it that Bran could see such things about her? She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but the words stuck in her throat.
“Ye understand then?” she asked finally, even as her skin prickled. Leaning up against the battlement, she placed her hands on its top, taking comfort from its solidity. Would he think her weak for wanting to remain in a place where she felt in control? She didn’t like revealing a chink in her armor.
“More than ye realize,” he answered, moving close. They stood side-by-side now, their shoulders touching. Bran reached out then, his finger tracing a pattern over the back of her hand atop the battlement. “It was part of the reason why I waited so long to travel to Perthshire and claim ye.”
Makenna cast him a sidelong glance. “I thought it was because yer father had made ye a betrothal ye didn’t want.”
He huffed a rueful laugh. “There was that, aye … but there was fear too. I know Dùn Ara, even though its people don’t yet respect me.”
Makenna stiffened, yet Bran merely shrugged. “It stings … but it’s the truth. I’m a clan-chief, but compared to the likes of yer father, who has ruled his lands for over two decades, I’m young … untested.” He broke off there, his gaze shifting out to where tiny shapes flitted around them. Bats. The wee pipistrelles were stretching their wings now that dusk was nearing. “I worried I’d be mocked for my inexperience … or reminded about my failure at Dounarwyse.” He shook his head, even as Makenna’s chest tightened—she’d done just that once. “And ye can imagine how pleased I was to discover Rae and Alec were amongst our wedding guests.”
Makenna observed him, momentarily forgetting her own defensiveness and niggling guilt. Bran’s candor made something squeeze under her ribs. “Ye have the respect of both those men … ye realize that, don’t ye?”
He glanced her way and nodded. “I doubt the Mackinnons and the Macleans will ever be fast friends … but at least now, there is an understanding between us.”
Their gazes held then before she let out another sigh. “The devil’s turds … I hate it when ye are right.”
His mouth curved. “It brings me no pleasure.”
“Liar.” She nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow. “What ye said struck home though … here, I know what my role is and how others will respond to me.” She paused then, swallowing. “In truth … I struggle sometimes. My father has never really understood … but Lloyd was always there for me.” She didn’t add that Tormod’s attempted rape had rattled her far more than she cared to admit. In the aftermath, she’d lost confidence, and shame had dogged her ever since. She’d always thought of herself as strong, yet Tormod had taught her she wasn’t invincible.
However, facing the Campbells at Finlarig healed that wound—and Tormod MacDougall was now dead.
“And now,Iam here for ye,” he reminded her softly.
Warmth rose to her cheeks. “And I will not forget it.” She paused then. “I suppose Dùn Ara will be good for me. I could do with toughening up.”