The Kindling Heart (25 page)

Cautiously, Bree slipped from under the plaid and discovered Isobel had fallen asleep on her watch. Ruan hadn’t moved and he appeared much the same. Merry snored, nestled on his shoulder.

Bree glanced around. The horses were grazing a short distance away, their forms large, moving shadows in the mist. All was silent. If Tormod had followed, he’d have to be extremely fortunate to find them in this fog

She breathed deeply in relief and then shivered. It was growing colder. Ruan needed shelter and warmth. A fire would help, if she could even start one in these conditions.

Searching for something dry to burn, she scouted around the edge of their camp and came across a small gully with several old trees at the bottom. Hoping to find some fallen branches, she moved toward them. Loose stones slipped and slithered under her feet as she descended and arrived at the bottom. As her first step sank rapidly into the mire, she scrambled back in alarm. She’d heard many tales of unfortunates happening upon a bog. Their deaths were gruesome, sinking slowly before they disappeared entirely, never to be seen again. Reluctantly, she decided the trees were impossible to reach.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. She turned quickly to see a form flitter through the mist and up to the opposite side of the gully. Suddenly uneasy, she lifted her muddy skirts, climbed the wet heather to the top, and ran back to the camp.

Ruan was awake, leaning on Merry’s shoulder as Isobel paced frantically in circles. Upon spying her, they all exhaled in overt relief.

“’Tis dangerous here, lass!” Isobel exclaimed, rushing to her side and clasped Bree in a bosomy hug. “There are steep stones and bog pits all about! I feared the worst!”

“Aye,” Merry chimed.

Ruan opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost, as his brows rose in surprise, and his attention focused over her shoulder.

Whirling, Bree found herself staring into the curious gaze of a young woman with intensely blue eyes and white skin sprinkled liberally with freckles. She was short and slender and her blonde hair was twisted in a loose braid that fell down the length of her back. One of her arms was thrown around the shoulders of a boy about ten years of age, and a smaller child peeked cautiously from behind her skirts. Both children shared her complexion and build.

“Ach, lad,” the woman squeezed the boy’s arm. “’Tis nae cause for alarm here, methinks. ‘Tis just a few weary travelers, by the looks of them, love.”

“Reenan!” Ruan’s deep voice called out.

The woman jerked in surprise, craning past Bree, and her mouth fell open. “Ruan! Why, ‘tis a wee surprise to see ye! What brings ye here, man?”

Ruan’s lips cracked into a smile, but it caused him to break into a bout of coughing. He winced in pain and leaned hard against Merry.

Reenan rushed to his side.

He managed a weak grin as she guided him to the nearest boulder. “Aye, but your bonny face is a wondrous sight!” he said.

“What are ye doing here, lad. Ach, yer hurt!” Reenan touched his shoulder, but withdrew her hand as he exhaled sharply.

Shaking her head, she ordered the boy, “Laddie, bring the cart. We’ll get this daft one out of the rain! I never would have seen ye if it hadn’t been for the lass poking by the bog, and even then, with all the mist, ‘tis a miracle!”

“Bree, love, ‘twas dangerous there,” Isobel clucked, shaking her head.

Bree felt her ears redden.

“Aye, but I’m pleased she did,” Ruan grunted, struggling to his feet.

Looping an arm of support around his waist, Reenan frowned. “What happened, lad?”

The gesture was an intimate one and Bree wondered just who, exactly, this Reenan was. She was quite fetching and Ruan was obviously happy to see her. She found herself frowning.

“I thought of coming to ye,” Ruan was saying through clenched teeth. “But, with Sean gone, I’ll nae be wanting to cause ye trouble, and trouble is sure to follow me.”

“There is nothing unusual in that,” Reenan said with a husky laugh. “Though ‘tis well Sean is up north, he still wants yer blood for that last kiss.”

Ruan snorted with a crooked grin, “I was drunk; I dinna ken who ‘twas.”

“Ye shouldn’t hurt a woman’s pride so,” Reenan teased in reply. “Well, ye’ll be staying whilst ye get yer strength back and there’s an end to it. I’ve missed ye so, though, ye’d best know that Lorna is with me now.”

Ruan’s brows tightened and he fell into another bout of coughing.

Reenan chuckled, “Aye, well, there’s a bed ye regret lying in, no? I told ye, time and again, lad, that–”

“Ye’ll be meeting Bree,” Ruan interrupted, nodding in Bree’s direction. “My wife.”

The shock was apparent in the woman’s expression. She belatedly masked it with a smile. “Wed! Ruan wed! Heaven knows how many tried to accomplish that! To think I would live to witness the mighty Ruan in love!”

“I’ve said naught of love,” Ruan gave a deep-throated growl.

Bree didn’t know what irritated her more, the fact that she was hearing of a Lorna and the many women trying to wed him, or that he’d just announced that he didn’t love her. Of course, he didn’t love her. She knew that, but it was hurtful to hear just the same. She whirled and stalked after the horses, no longer wanting to observe their reunion.

The horses hadn’t strayed far. She grabbed their bridles, but they ignored her feeble attempts to move them. Placidly chewing the dry stalks of grass, they eyed her for a few moments before shaking their heads free and stepping away. She shot them a poisonous glare.

“I’ll help,” a small voice chimed.

Bree turned to find a girl, slightly younger than Merry, grinning at her. She possessed the same shock of blonde hair and the brilliant blue eyes as her mother, and Bree wondered just how many children Reenan had.

It took the girl no time at all to have the horses obediently following and Bree found herself trailing behind with a grimace.

A rickety cart rolled into view, already loaded with their belongings and Ruan settled amongst them. Reenan leaned over to murmur something in his ear as she tucked a plaid under his chin.

His temper suddenly exploded. “Will ye have done, woman!” he roared. “Above all others, ye know I’m incapable of love and I’ve naught to my name! The past is dead and buried.”

“Ach, things like women rarely stay buried,” Reenan sniffed.

Ruan choked again.

“Her husband died three months past, and she’s my cousin. I can scarcely turn her out.”

Ruan growled.

“Ye’ve nae told me what brings ye this far out,” Reenan switched subjects. “By the look of ye, ‘tis nae good news.”

“Nay,” Ruan replied, blanching a little. “’Tis ill tidings of the worst sort. Robert is dead.”

She stared at him for some time and then wordlessly patted his shoulder. Motioning to her son, the cart lurched forward. Isobel joined Reenan to sit in the front and Bree followed with the children.

The cart creaked so much that further conversation was impossible, not that Ruan appeared as though he wished to speak. He lay in the back with his eyes firmly closed, and mouth shut tight.

Bree’s thoughts wandered to Lorna. She was obviously his lover, or had been. She frowned deeper. Lorna would almost assuredly be beautiful. Her jaw tightened, wondering why it bothered her. She had no real claim on the man. They were riding as fast as they could to Cameron, where Ruan’s first action would be to seek an annulment of their marriage. She glanced away.

The fog was so thick it was difficult to see. At times, the mist lifted to reveal they were traveling away from the mountains, passing by rugged rocks and grassy slopes. She could see the trunks of slender birch and the occasional pine.

It was not long before a large croft arose unexpectedly out of the mist. The acrid smoke of a peat fire billowed from the roof. The door flew open and out popped several more children, all of them chattering in excitement.

Encompassing them into a sweeping hug, Reenan bundled the entire lot into the croft.

They had scarcely entered the croft when a tall, willowy woman stepped forward from the shadows.

Bree sighed.

Lorna was far more beautiful than she had imagined. She was the kind of woman who reduced others to the status of dowdy with a mere look. Her fiery, red hair framed a flawless, creamy face. She shared the same radiant, blue eyes as the rest of her kin. As those luminous eyes fell upon Ruan, her face suffused with pure joy, and she launched herself into his arms.

It was simply too much.

Not entirely sure why, Bree spun on her heel and slammed the door of the croft with guilty pleasure. The pleasure was short-lived. Her heart felt oddly heavy.

The mist had parted to reveal a short line of trees next to a low, stone building not far away. Moving toward it, she berated herself. She was jealous. Somehow, she had let the man under her skin. How could she?

She headed toward the small stone building, and rounded a corner to nearly trip over a flock of geese. The birds scattered, squawking and flapping their wings. Bree mumbled an incoherent apology their direction and plodded ahead.

A shadow fell across her path, and she glanced up to see Ruan’s inscrutable face. He blocked her path.

“Wait,” he said hoarsely. “’Tis nae what ye think. Well… some might be… I should explain, I think.” He licked his lips and added, “Perchance.”

If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought him nervous. He seemed inordinately self-conscious. And then, the image of the beautiful woman in the croft crossed her mind. No doubt, he wished his wife gone so he could be with Lorna. That thought hurt.

Angry, she attempted to charge past him. The scuffle was brief. As her knee headed for his groin, he swung her about with consummate skill, pinning her arms behind her back and against his chest.

Panting with exertion, she stopped struggling, brown curls covering her face in wild disarray. Let him think he’d won; he’d have to loosen his grip soon. He was still weak. Growing angrier, she blew at the hair from her face. Images of him kissing Lorna paraded unbidden in her mind. Wanting to banish the thoughts, she stamped her foot in frustration, inadvertently grazing his shin.

Ruan swore under his breath. “I’ll thank ye to hold still,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Not quite knowing what possessed her, she tossed her head back against his chest and deliberately attempted to push him away.

He twirled her again to face him, there was something in his expression that made her pause, but then she shook her head, regaining her anger. “Let me go! It is best not to keep your lovely Lorna waiting!”

Ruan’s expressive eyes shuttered instantly as his grip tightened about her wrists.

She winced.

“Ach, now, lass,” Reenan’s voice startled them both. “Ruan never loved that beastie. She was a blunder he’ll nae repeat and that was over three ago!”

Ruan swore under his breath.

“He’s mended his lustful ways, lass.” Reenan continued blithely. “Ye’ve nothing to fret over.”

“Be done, Reenan!” Ruan frowned in her direction.

“She should know Lorna and the others mean nothing to ye,” Reenan replied stoutly. “They were a scheming lot, foolish lad. Ye still canna see how much of a victim ye truly were, ye blind fool!”

“Others?” Bree murmured, rankled.

“Reenan!” he barked. “Ye’ve said plenty!”

“Ach, nae nearly, and ‘tis only right she knows. She’s yer wife,” Reenan snorted. Then, her voice lowered, teasing, “I’ll have ye know, I almost believed ye, ‘I’ve no time for love-’”

“Keep your tongue behind your teeth, woman!” Ruan thundered.

Reenan clucked her tongue, raising a wicked brow. “Only if ye speak with Bree, ‘tis only right.”

He gritted his teeth. “I’ve had precious little chance! Ye gab worse than a fishwife!”

“No need to fash yerself,” Reenan hummed, unperturbed, and with a pert grin.

“Fires of Hell!” Ruan lost control and shouted. “’Tis no small wonder Sean leaves at every chance!”

“I’ll be running along,” Reenan continued as if Ruan hadn’t spoken. “Now, don’t be shy telling him what he deserves to hear. I’ve long warned him he’d pay the price of his folly.”

“By the Saints, woman!” Ruan pleaded. “Away with ye!”

Reenan puckered her lips, and with a decided sparkle in her eye, she gathered her plaid close and set off back toward her croft.

To Bree’s relief, he abruptly let her go. She took a step back and rubbed her wrists.

“Forgive me.” The softness in his voice startled her, and she looked up, surprised.

“I…did nae mean to hurt ye,” he grimaced, indicating the red marks on her skin with a slight nod. He reached out.

She turned her head away.

“Aye,” Ruan’s brow darkened. “I’m a man of all manner of sin, beyond redemption. I’ve no desire to remember the past and there’s naught I can do about it now. ‘Tis done.”

Bree held her breath. It didn’t sound as if he were eager to rush into Lorna’s arms. The thought was pleasing, even as she was struck by jealousy that he had rushed into her arms in the past. She frowned, lifting her chin a little.