The Kindling Heart (32 page)

The door flung back and Merry trudged in, kicking it shut and yelling, “Ye fobbing, mewling, beef-witted maggot!”

In spite of the shock, Bree’s lips twitched.

Merry glowered in response.

“You are so much like him,” Bree finally said.

The little girl folded her arms and scowled.

Bree’s smile widened.

For a moment, the little girl seemed as if she’d leave, but then she sidled to the edge of the bed, hands twisted nervously behind her back.

“He loves you more than anything, Merry,” Bree said softly. As the little girl’s eyes lit, she knew she’d guessed the source of the problem. She sighed. “He just doesn’t know what to do with me. He has a kind heart, and he’s … stuck with me.”

“See that he doesn’t love ye,” Merry whispered. Her words were harsh, but her tone pleading as she lunged, wrapping her thin arms about Bree’s neck.

There was a shrill whistle from the bottom of the stairs.

“Isobel wants us,” Merry murmured. Taking Bree’s hand, she pulled her down the steps.

The common room was empty except for Isobel. She pointed to two bowls of porridge, watching Merry cling to Bree with a pleased twinkle in her eyes. Her lips wisely remained sealed. They had almost finished eating when the door opened and Ruan entered. He didn’t notice her at first, striding over to give the Innkeeper and his wife a warm farewell, but then he turned and spied her. An expression crossed his face that curled her very toes as he took in the blue dress and the leather shoes. Then, Merry jumped up, moving to block his view and Bree bowed her head.

When she looked up, he was gone.

Sighing, she followed Merry out of the door, wrapping her plaid close.

The two horses were saddled and ready. Isobel mounted with a groan. “I’ll be grateful when this day is done.”

“Why canna I ride my own?” Merry grumbled, stomping her feet. She squawked as her brother caught and easily tossed her behind Isobel.

“Ye’ll be riding with Isobel, lass.” Ruan cut her complaints short. “That’s an end to it.”

At his dark scowl, Merry snapped her mouth shut, but her brows drew into a scowl of her own as he swung easily into the saddle behind Bree.

Bree swallowed a sigh. It promised to be a miserable journey, not for the weather, which was perversely bright and beautiful, but for Merry’s venom and Ruan’s disturbing nearness. Even though the beast had been the spawn of evil, she suddenly regretted the loss of her horse. Almost anything would have been better than suffering the intense hatred radiating from Merry while perched in Ruan’s lap.

They set out in the crisp, morning air. A heron flapped lazily overhead, long legs trailing, as it followed them curiously for a time. They left the trees and headed into the barren wilds, and she saw nothing for leagues save the lonely tracks of rabbit and deer.

“Aye, ‘tis a bleak place,” Ruan said, seeming to sense her thoughts. “But bonny in its own right.”

Bree furrowed her brow, inspecting the wide expanse of brown heather and mud for shreds of beauty as the cold wind bit her face.

Ruan laughed, “Your silence seems to disagree.”

“What is so amusing?” Merry called from behind, craning around Isobel’s girth for a better look.

Ruan didn’t reply. Instead, he kicked his horse forward and upon reaching even ground, broke into a canter to cover a great distance. By evening, they had left the barren moors, traveling alongside a river for a time that eventually drained into another loch. The terrain here was green with pine trees and little snow.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon when they reached a small village; several cottagers raised their hands in greetings as they arrived. An elderly man called Ruan’s name as they reined in before a large croft.

“’Tis right glad I am to see ye, lad,” the man said with a grin, revealing several missing teeth. “’Tis been far too long.”

“Aye.” Ruan laughed as he dismounted and slapped his arm around the man’s shoulders. They walked to the side of the windowless croft as several young girls emerged from within. Bree slid stiffly out of the saddle, staggering a little as her feet hit the ground, but Isobel’s ready hand caught her elbow, providing support.

“Step inside, love.” The woman nodded encouragingly. “’Tis my kinfolk.”

The evening passed in a haze.

The humble croft filled with family members spanning three generations; there were so many that Bree lost count. One of the girls passed bowls of porridge made with oats and a little meat and Bree dutifully swallowed a mouthful between yawns. She allowed her heavy lids to close, just for a moment, and awoke sometime later to a pleasant burr beneath her ear.

“Aye,” Ruan laughed heartily. “’Twas nae my grandest moment, to be sure.”

Isobel and several others attempted to stifle their laughter.

“Ach, ye’ve woken the lass, love,” Isobel said. She leaned forward to brush a lock of hair from Bree’s cheek.

Bree blinked and slowly sat up. She was on the floor next to Ruan and had been sleeping with her head upon his chest. She frowned in sleepy confusion.

“We’d best rest.” Isobel struggled to her feet. “We should leave at dawn, though I’d love to stay a spell, mayhap next time.”

Ruan yawned, placing a gentle hand on Bree’s shoulder and pulling her back to his side.

She tensed a moment, unused to the intimacy of his gesture, but gradually felt drowsy and safe. She nestled closer, sliding her hand over his chest, unaware her fingers had slid under his shirt until she felt the heat of his bare skin. Her eyes popped open as he audibly caught his breath, but he didn’t move her hand. She could feel his heart quicken beneath her fingers, and it was strangely comforting to discover he was not all that much different than herself. Neither spoke, nor moved, and finally, her lids closed once again, and she succumbed to the irresistible call of sleep.

As dawn painted the morning skies, Bree was yet again on the back of a horse, with Ruan planted solidly behind her. Merry’s mood had blackened even further. For the fifth time that morning, she had kicked Isobel’s horse forward, forcing the animal to quicken its pace to edge in front of Ruan, thereby allowing her to twist and send him a poisonous glare.

“Be done, Merry,” Ruan’s deep voice resonated.

Merry didn’t reply, instead she tossed her hair and lifted her nose in disdain. A few minutes later, she glanced over her shoulder again, sending Bree a black look.

“Merry!” Ruan warned.

“Ye don’t have to hold her like that,” the little girl observed waspishly.

“I’m not … holding her any special way,” Ruan growled in reply, even as his fingers slid slowly back and forth over Bree’s hip. “And, even if I were, ‘tis no concern of yours.”

Merry’s nostrils flared.

They plodded in silence for a time, Isobel’s horse gradually slowing until they were abreast. Without warning, Merry’s foot lashed out in a spiteful kick, this time striking Ruan squarely on the shin.

“Ye bloody wee beast!” he shouted.

Merry smiled, practically purring.

Snorting in exasperation, Ruan urged his horse faster, out of his sister’s reach. They pressed forward, traveling south over moors and down steep ravines. Bree forced her attention to the landscape in the attempt to avoid the disturbing heat of the man behind her. After several hours, what she’d found dull and gray before became more interesting in a rustic, wild sort of way. The smell of the damp leaves, the rustle of the evergreens, was almost comforting. She smiled at herself. She must be falling ill from boredom.

Then, Ruan began to speak, asking her about her childhood, and the things she liked. She was shy at first, but as time wore on, their conversation became easy and warming to her heart. They stopped several times to rest the horses and eat bannocks and apples, laughing, and each sharing parts of themselves the other found surprising.

Merry glared, chewing her apples in silence.

As the afternoon wore on, the wind began to howl, and icy droplets of snow occasionally stung her cheeks. Pausing on the shores of a small loch, Ruan briefly considered making camp, but he gave into Merry’s insistence that they move on, so great was her fear of the kelpies in the water.

The sun hung low on the horizon before they finally halted before a tiny stone cottage nestled amidst the dim shapes of rustling pines. The elderly couple greeted Ruan like a son, attempting to press their meager supper into their hands, but Ruan would have none of it. After seeing the women safely bundled into the small barn nearby for the night, he spent several long hours gathering peat and mending a fence until the night made it impossible to see.

As darkness fell, Isobel spread her plaid in the hay near a large cow softly chewing her cud, and sank down upon it with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

Exhausted, Bree dropped next to her, curling in her plaid, and Merry burrowed close. She could not help but smile at the little girl; she displayed no signs of jealousy the instant Ruan was out of sight. The thought of Ruan triggered a host of other thoughts, few of them unrelated to his powerful kiss and fiery touch. Ashamed to be dwelling on such things, she forced her eyes shut, but she found sleep elusive.

It was late when Ruan finally stumbled in, disturbing several of the hens from their slumber. They squawked, ruffling their feathers as he stretched and settled next to Bree, throwing his plaid over them both.

He was asleep in moments.

Bree waited until his breathing fell into a slow rhythm before surrendering to the temptation to turn his way. The sky had cleared and dim moonlight filtered through the open door, illuminating the man who occupied her thoughts with increasing frequency. She stared, a little guiltily. He was unusually handsome. She propped her chin on her hand, indulging in her curiosity, wondering what it would feel like to be the object of his desire. His carved lips beckoned her touch. Finally giving into the temptation, she timidly touched one with her finger.

Gradually, she grew aware his eyes were open.

Suddenly ashamed, she moved away quickly, but he caught her hair and twisted her face back towards his. Sliding his hand around the base of her neck, he pulled her slowly down. Her resistance melted with the first touch of his lips.

The kiss was slow, different from the passionate invasion of before, and having an even more powerful effect. Her heart beat wildly as his lips embraced hers with extraordinary tenderness and her mouth opened of its own accord, inviting him deeper. He took his time, exploring her lips, and she lost herself completely to the wealth of sensations rippling through her. As his hand slid down her spine, she shivered involuntarily, and she could feel his lips smile into hers.

It was enough to break the spell.

With flaming cheeks, she pulled back.

Ruan sat up, resting his forearm across his knees. He stared at her for a time before whispering, “’Tis just as well, lass. ‘Tis the wrong time and place for this.”

She watched him step outside, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. Her mind was still racing sometime later when he returned to her side. After encircling her in a possessive arm, he fell asleep. To her astonishment, her lids grew heavy, and she quickly followed, feeling secure.

Bree awoke with a gasp.

The shock of the water was so cold it made her skin burn.

Ruan sprang to his feet, flinging his wet hair. He drew his dirk in one swift motion, only to shove it back when he spied Merry standing with an empty bucket dangling from her hands.

“Fires of Hell!” Ruan shouted. “Why? Why, Merry? Why?”

“Ye overslept,” she piped cheerfully, but with brows drawn in a disapproving line. “Dawn has come and gone.”

It was not quite true, the sky outside had barely begun to lighten.

Bree began to wring her skirts, having mercifully avoided most of the water, she observed brother and sister from the corner of her eye. Ruan glowered, shaking his wet hair. He was soaked, having endured the brunt of the onslaught. Then, he lunged toward his sister.

Merry valiantly stood her ground much longer than any other would have done in similar circumstances, but as Ruan reached her, she hurled the bucket his way and bolted. Easily deflecting it, Ruan dashed after her and scooped her up with one strong arm.

“Be done!” he barked. “I’ll nae have ye behaving this way!”

“I would ye’d never met her!” Merry hissed, clenching her fists. “From the beginning ye only noticed her and now ‘tis worse. The rest of us are thrown away!”

Her chin was shaking, her eyes large with unshed tears and Ruan’s frustration visibly evaporated. With a heavy sigh, he enveloped her in his arms.

“’Tis nae true, Merry,” he finally said. “I’ll always love ye, I’m just a bit… ye’ll have to be patient. There are times when ye need to let me be, lass.”

Merry’s back straightened and she kicked his shin once again. “Then, ye don’t really care! Ye don’t think ye are wrong!”

“I’m not!” He howled in pain.

“Aye, ye are!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “I’m still your sister! Ye wouldn’t even notice if the MacDonald came and snatched me away, ye only see Bree!”

Ruan paled, he said nothing as Isobel entered the barn.