My Highland Bride (19 page)

“Hurry and heal me, Lady Trulie. I can stand this idleness no longer.” Colum’s stomach churned as he swayed from side to side.
Curse the spinning ground
. “Ye best jump aside and shield yer skirts.” Colum leaned forward and dry-heaved between his knees. “Lore, m’head hasna pounded so since I got clubbed during a bit of cattle lifting. The bastard what hit me must ha’ used a damned axe.”

“Take a deep breath, then blow it out. It will all be over in a minute.” Trulie settled both hands gently against the back of his head.

Colum kept his head down between his knees. He sucked in a deep lungful of air through his nose and blew it out between pursed lips. The aching throb at the base of his skull gave way to a not-entirely-unpleasant sting. The strange sensation itched its way around his scalp. Colum clenched his fists against the growing urge to scrub his fingers across the burning tickle and scratch it away.

“Almost done,” Trulie said. Her soothing tone washed over him as she ran her palms down the back of his neck and out across his shoulders.

As Trulie spoke, the nausea faded away, and Colum risked opening his eyes. Sunlight nay pained him anymore, and his vision was once again clear. “ ’Tis much better, m’lady.” He straightened from the pain-filled crouch of moments ago and rose from the bench, then bowed and touched his fist to his chest. “I thank ye, Lady Trulie.”

“Just find my sister and bring her back.” Trulie pressed a hand against Colum’s forearm. Her worried eyes glistened with unshed tears. “And you come back safe too.”

“I willna come back without her, I swear it.” Colum pushed past Gray. He stopped and looked back when he reached the gate of the garden. “Keep the men here, m’chieftain. I ask as yer man-at-arms, and even more so, as yer friend. Alone, Rua and I can make up lost time. Alone, I can steal her back, and alone—I can restore m’honor.”

Without a smile, Gray inclined his head in a solemn nod. “As ye wish it, old friend. May the gods speed ye on yer way and may the bite of yer blade hold strong and true.”

Chapter 21

The wagon groaned to a stop. Kenna lifted her head and elbow-walked through the tangled wad of pillows and blankets Sutherland’s men had stuffed around her for the ride. She sank her teeth harder into the silk gag as she wallowed against the yardage of twisted skirts wrapped around her.

Damn this stupid dress
. Kenna hooked her elbows over the side of the wagon, lifted her knees, and wiggled more slack into the fancy gown that had miserably failed at getting Colum any closer to the altar. The fine lace Granny had sewn into the hem of the delicate layer of linen worn beneath the gown snagged in the buckle of her boot. Kenna ground her teeth harder into the gag and kicked her bound ankles free.
Lordy, what I wouldn’t give for a good old pair of jeans right now.
She lurched upward one last time in a frustrated hopping wiggle. The heavy skirt of her dress and her under-slip finally cooperated and fell into manageable folds.

Thank goodness.
Kenna rolled her shoulders and flexed some of the tension out of her neck. She’d be lucky if she didn’t hang herself with her own damn gown before it was all said and done.

A steep hillside dotted with low-growing clusters of weary-looking bushes stretched up as far as she could see. Where the heck were they? How long had they been on the road? Time had more or less lost all meaning since Ronan’s men had dumped her in the back of the wagon. Fitful sleep, stolen between bouts of cursing, uncontrollable sobbing, and staring bleakly up at the starless sky, had turned her world inside out.

Supporting herself against the wagon, Kenna twisted around and studied the landscape on the other side of the road; maybe that would look a bit more familiar. Her spirits sank as bits of sky peeped back at her through the thick green brushy tops of towering pines. No. She didn’t recognize this place either.

The blue-black emptiness of the cloudy night had given way to the dismal faded gray of early morning. The sky looked like an old flannel blanket that had been washed one too many times. Kenna vainly searched for the position of the sun. It had to be just past dawn. A warning kind of cloudy sky promised inevitable rain or maybe even snow flurries. Kenna shivered. They must have traveled a lot higher up into the mountains. Winter grudgingly surrendered to spring’s warmth at this altitude in the Highlands. The wind was like a cold damp rag sliding across her skin. Kenna sagged back down into the nest of pillows and curled into a trembling ball among the blankets.
Great.
The weather matched her frame of mind perfectly.

She forced a swallow around the gag knotted between her teeth. The distant rumble of muffled conversation and quiet laughter echoed somewhere up ahead. The happy sound triggered a visceral surge of burning fury through her.
This is bullshit!
She’d be damned if she’d lie here and wait like an animal bound for the slaughterhouse.

Kenna stretched out and pushed her bound body upward. With hopping kicks, she grunted and rolled until she succeeded in propping herself in a seated position near the end of the wagon. Ronan Sutherland would rue the day he had trussed her up like a freakin’ turkey ready for the oven.

And there he was, standing in front of several men looking to him for instructions. Kenna glared at the back of Ronan’s head as he barked out orders and pointed to several different locations around a cleared bit of ground surrounded by good-sized boulders and pines. She bit down hard on the gag and forced her will back to the doorway of his unbreachable mind. She might not be able to access his memories, but she could damn sure shout her thoughts into his awareness.

If you think this is the way to get an obedient wife, you’re in for one helluva surprise, buddy. Ever hear the saying, “Be careful what you wish for”?

Ronan immediately stopped speaking to his men, turned to her, and grinned. “And tha’s why I was sent to ye, m’dear. I believe we are perfectly matched.”

Not bloody well likely. Can you tell what I’m thinking now?
Kenna narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth into the knotted cloth. She propelled her fury into him with the coarsest language she could possibly use, describing quite colorfully and explicitly what Ronan could go and do to himself.

Ronan’s dark brows arched nearly to his silver hairline. The corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth as he threw back his head and roared with laughter. The men around him stared at one another, confused expressions on their faces. Even the horses turned and stared as Ronan’s deep guffaws echoed down the rugged hillside.

“Ah, ye bring joy to m’heart, lass.” Ronan wiped the corners of his eyes with the heels of his hands as his laughter diminished to a snorting chuckle. He sniffed and shook his head as he leaned against the wagon’s side.

“I havena laughed like that in many a year.” He turned to her and made a gallant bow. “I thank ye, m’lady.” Then he straightened and twirled a finger in the air. “As much as I enjoy hearing yer thoughts, if ye will turn just a wee bit, I shall remove that dreadful gag from about yer lovely face.”

Kenna twisted and scooted back enough for Ronan to reach the knot tied at the back of her head. As soon as he pulled the cloth free, Kenna held up her imprisoned wrists. “And now these?”

Ronan shook his head. “Sorry, lass. I think not.” He motioned toward the wooded ravine sloping down from the road’s edge. “We still sit on MacKenna land, albeit the farthest border. I willna release the rest of yer bonds until we are well away from yer family’s reach.”

“How am I supposed to…” Kenna jerked her chin toward a clump of thick bushes higher up the hillside. “I do have needs, you know.” She wouldn’t goad him by accusing him of being inhumane—at least not just yet. She had to figure Ronan Sutherland out before she plotted the full extent of his torture.

Ronan frowned as he scrubbed the day’s growth of stubble shimmering silver on his chin. “I have an idea.” He rapped his knuckles against the boards of the wagon as he turned away. “Ian. Bring me the chains ye use for training the wolf pups.”

Animal chains?
Wolf
pups? Was he serious? Kenna stopped mid-scoot toward the edge of the wagon’s opening. “What the devil do you think you’re gonna do with chains?” She suddenly realized she’d snagged the ropes of her tied ankles on an iron peg jutting out from the rear hitch. “Crap!” Kenna braced herself for face-first impact with the ground as her body pitched forward.

Strong hands locked around her shoulders and swept her up through the air. With her knotted wrists tucked to her chest, Kenna found herself nose to nose with Ronan.

“Take care, lass. Such a tumble could break yer lovely neck, and what a terrible waste that would be.”

His warm breath tickled against her face as she glanced up into his eyes. The smile slowly left Ronan’s mouth, and his gaze lowered to her lips. The tip of his tongue flicked along his bottom lip as he tilted his head and eased a bit closer.

“Put me down.” Kenna shoved her clenched hands up between them and turned her face aside. Her kisses belonged to Colum alone. The sooner Ronan realized that, the better.

“Aye, lass. As ye wish.” Ronan huffed something unintelligible in a resigned tone as he lowered her to her feet.

Ronan turned and called out to a young man rubbing down one of the horses. “Liam.”

Liam’s head immediately popped up from behind the chestnut back of the first mount tethered along the line stretched between two trees.

“Help Ian with the length of chains, and bring a blade for these ropes ’round Lady Sutherland’s wrists and ankles.”

The grim-faced youth bobbed his head with an obedient jerk and trotted out of sight.

“Lady Sutherland.”
Kenna suppressed a shiver. He’d called her that just before dumping her in the back of the wagon. Why? Why did he insist on calling her that? “My name is Kenna Sinclair,” she corrected. “And ropes or chains—what’s the difference? You’re still treating me like some kind of criminal. Is that how you always woo your wives?”

Ronan didn’t answer—just slowly paced up and down the roadside with a self-satisfied expression that only deepened Kenna’s black mood.

Damn him.
Kenna hugged her bound hands against her waist and hopped to the moss- covered trunk of a fallen tree at the edge of the dirt road. Big mistake. Now she needed to pee even worse. She lowered herself to the log and glared across the way at Ronan. “Well? Are you going to answer me or just stand there and piss me off even more with that stupid grin on your face?”

Ronan’s
grin
widened exponentially. He fanned her fury further with a teasing wink as he motioned Ian and Liam forward. “Take care, lads, and be quick about it. Yer mistress grows weary of waiting.” Ronan tapped the end of the lightweight chain in Liam’s hand, then pointed in Kenna’s direction. “Latch one end of the chain snug about the Lady Sutherland’s waist. Lock the other end to the back of the wagon for now. Later, we’ll move her to a tree closer to the fire. Once ye have the chain secured about her, then—and only then, mind ye—ye may remove the remainder of her bindings. Remember what a fighter she is and how she wounded Dougal at the onset of our trip back to Draegonmare.”

As he turned away and headed toward the small group of men gathered among the horses, Ronan paused and glanced back over one shoulder. “The light chain will allow ye just enough freedom to tend to yer private needs but will create enough noise to let us all know yer still bound to us. But dinna think ye will slip away and find a way to remove it. I gi’ ye m’word, ye willna be allowed to escape.”

Kenna glared at Ronan’s back as he walked away. What she wouldn’t give for the ability to shoot daggers with her eyes. Ronan chuckled and wagged a scolding finger in the air without looking back.

Kenna bit back a stream of expletives and turned her scowl to the gangly youths edging toward her with the chain. She couldn’t overcome them physically, but maybe she could guilt the two into helping her escape. If that didn’t work, surely she could erase their minds and plant her wishes inside their heads. But first she’d give the guilt route a try. “What would your mothers think if they saw you right now?”

The pimply-faced youth Ronan had called Liam shook his head and shrugged. “Me mam would be proud the chieftain entrusted me wif the gettin’ of his wife. But it dinna really matter none—Mam’s been dead a long time. She took sick right after they buried Da.”

Well, that tactic certainly backfired.
Kenna shrugged aside her natural empathy as she hitched an awkward penguin walk forward with her loosely bound ankles. No more hopping until she’d had a chance to relieve herself.

There had to be another way to get to the boy. Granny always said she had the ability to charm a dog off a meat wagon—time to put the charisma into high gear. Kenna wiggled across the dirt road faster after Liam. “Liam. I’m very sorry about your parents. I understand completely. I lost my parents when I was just a little girl.” And she did feel bad about the boy’s loss. But that didn’t change the fact she had to find a way to escape and head back to MacKenna keep.

Liam didn’t bother answering—just plodded along. The lad hummed an off-pitch tune as he went about his duties. He didn’t seem overly upset by Kenna’s reminding him about his loss.

Kenna raised her voice above Liam’s annoying song. She’d get through to him yet. “So do you think she’s looking down from heaven right now and smiling with pride that you just kidnapped an unwilling woman away from her home and her family?”

Liam hummed louder.

Kenna struggled to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs. She was going to make headway with this kid one way or another. She had no other choice. “Your mother would be proud of you for stealing a woman just so your chieftain could have a wife?”

“Oh, aye,” Liam agreed with a quick bob of his head. He glanced up with a shy grin as he untangled several yards of rattling chain.

Kenna glared at the boy. His sense of calm infuriated her. Liam obviously considered kidnapping a wife as normal a task as tending to the horses. She knew cattle-lifting was considered a fine art in the Highlands, but wife abduction? Seriously? Perhaps she should’ve paid more attention to Granny’s advice about brushing up on Scotland’s history. At least then she would’ve had a faint idea what to expect before she jumped smack dab into the middle of this rugged era.