Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 (4 page)

Movement to his left caught his attention. The hem of Freya’s gown was visible just underneath a tapestry. He glanced around. Allain was still face and eyes into his trencher, and the servant attending him had all her attention drawn there.

Ronan crept toward the tapestry and, pulling it aside, realized it hid a corridor. He turned and caught Allain’s sidelong grin.

The corridor was narrow and led to a short, winding staircase ending in a small chamber with narrow slats on the walls backing onto the great hall. A guard’s hideaway. Dunrobin had one just like it, as did most castles. During large gatherings in their great halls, spy-holes cut through the stone wall allowing the guards to watch the crowd for trouble and stop mayhem before it happened. He envisioned many of these chambers surrounding the great hall at MacKay House as they did in his home—former home. His chest tightened at the reminder.

He spotted Freya standing in the far corner of the small chamber looking down upon the hall. He cleared his throat, capturing her attention.

“My lord,” she said placing her hand over her heart. “You startled me.”

“No, I did not. You knew I would follow you. Just as you know I will always follow you.”

Her flushed cheeks complimented her flaming hair. Freya had always been the most captivating woman he had ever seen; her blue eyes now flashed with a heat his body remembered. His loins tightened. He needed a taste, just one, then he would walk away.

He moved forward until his body caged hers into the corner. Her lips had parted with her silent gasp, and his entire attention had focused on her pert and luscious mouth.

“You are killing me, Freya. You always have.”

“I do not mean to,” she said, frowning.

“I know about the betrothal.”

Her gaze flicked up to lock with his. Her surprise evident. “I did want you to follow me so I could tell you.”

Ronan leaned toward her and placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head. “Then tell me,” he whispered.

“I—”

He closed the distance between them, stopping when his lips were a mere breath away from hers. “Let me taste you once more.”

Her gaze dipped to his mouth. She looked more than ready to comply.

He had just brushed his tongue across her bottom lip when a boisterous cacophony of voices from the great hall broke the spell. Freya gasped and then ducked under his arm, fleeing from the chamber.

Ronan bumped his head against the stone wall. His body was on fire. One taste? What had he been thinking? There was no way an eternity of tastes would ever satisfy his craving for her. Alexander Sutherland was now only one of his problems. He needed to break a betrothal between two clans without starting an all out war.

But break it he would. He had to, for she was, and always would be, his.

Chapter Three

Freya closed her chamber door and leaned against it, panting heavily. She was in far more trouble than she could have ever imagined.

She breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. Standing so close to him, she captured his scent—leather and sea air. Her pulse quickened . He was everything she remembered, and so much more now. There was an air of danger about him that she had never sensed before, like he could snap at any moment.

She sat on the edge of her bed and rocked. What could she do? The betrothal between her and Rorie had been agreed upon for a long time. Would breaking it dissolve the bond forged between her clan and the MacKenzies?

A knock sounded at the door just before her sister-in-law, Nessia, poked her head around the door.

“What are you doing up here, Freya? Are you unwell?”

“No. Aye. I cannot say.” Freya urged her inside. “Nessia, did you happen to see our guests?”

The woman’s brows knit together as she stroked her heavily pregnant belly. “Of course, I saw them. We greeted them yesterday.” Nessia placed the back of her hand on Freya’s forehead. “Are you certain you are well?”

Freya lightly swatted her hand away. “Not those guests. The ones who arrived just a short time ago.”

Nessia shook her head. “Who is it?”

Freya opened her mouth to speak but could not bring herself to say his name. Had it really been two years since his name escaped her lips?

“Freya, you are scaring me. Who has come?”

Freya held onto Nessia’s shoulders. “Ronan is here,” she whispered.

Nessia pulled back. While Fergus and Freya had long absolved Ronan of his father’s crimes and their affair, she knew Nessia never had.

Nessia paced back and forth then stopped, only to add each new question or point.

“What is he doing here, Freya? What about tomorrow? Did you know he was coming? Do you know what this will do to the bond between us and the MacKenzies? A broken betrothal is not to be taken lightly.”

“I have no intention of breaking my promise to Fergus, or to Rorie.”

Nessia paused. She should understand Freya’s situation, having been intended for Fergus’s brother and married to him before he was killed and eventually marrying Fergus. She had later confessed to Freya she had had feelings for Fergus all along, though never would have acted on them.

“Oh, Freya. I am so sorry. I cannot even imagine what this is like for you. I know you loved him.”

Freya did not want to think about it. Nessia was one of the few people who knew that Freya had become pregnant from her affair with Ronan. She had never fully recovered from the loss. Add losing Ronan to that sorrow, and she had taken a long time to heal.

At least she had thought she had recovered. If she had gone the rest of her days and not encountered him, she could have convinced herself it was true.

Nessia placed her arms around her shoulders. “Freya, you must ask yourself what you want. You are a woman grown.” She squeezed her tighter. “What do you want?”

What did she want? That was easy. She wanted Ronan. But she did not want to disappoint Fergus or Rorie. It was not like she had a say in the matter anyway.

“I still love him.”

“Then you should talk to Fergus. Tell him the truth and let him help you find the best way forward.”

Freya shook her head. “You know, as well as I do, Fergus will explode if I tell him this.” Her brother did not like complications. “And look at how he handled the situation with you, which had been complicated from the start. He knew he wanted you, but he let you marry William anyway.”

“It had been the honourable thing to do, Freya.”

“Aye, and how is my situation any different?”

Nessia did not say anything, but Freya knew what she had to do. She moved to the door and reached for the latch.

“What will you do?” Nessia asked.

“What is honourable.”

Freya left her chamber and made her way to the great hall with Nessia in tow. When she entered, it was to find dozens of MacKenzies, including Rorie and his father, Kenneth, the laird of the MacKenzies, and a formidable man with his great size and fierce countenance. Rorie was almost as tall and well built, but his face was kinder. He had a humorous way about him that was pleasing. If only he stirred the same kind of feelings in her that Ronan did.

Just the thought of his name brought a fresh flutter to her belly. She did not even have to look for him to know he, too, was in there.

She moved to the side of the large table to where her brother, Fergus, and Nessia’s brother, Colin, were gathered with maps laid out.

Fergus looked up and noticed their approach. His brows knit together when his gaze landed on Freya, but then softened when he saw Nessia behind her.

“Freya, I have bad news,” he said.

She could not even fathom what he meant and so she said nothing.

“We all have agreed that a quick strike is necessary to stop a new threat to the east.”

“What new threat?”

Ronan’s voice was solemn. “My father’s formerly exiled brother, it seems, has found a way to strip me of my titles and lands”

“Is that why you are here?” She dared to ask the question she had wanted to from the moment he arrived.

“Aye.”

His expression gave away nothing. None of the heat appeared behind his eyes from earlier, and he showed no sign there was anything more at play. Very well then. Her earlier inclination to go through with the betrothal had been the correct one. He had not come for her.

“I see,” she said turning to Fergus. “And what is the bad news?”

“We must delay the betrothal ceremony until we are certain Alexander Sutherland does not march here to burn us all.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, his other reaching for Nessia, who slid her arm around his waist. He reached around her body to settle his hand on her belly.

“You are leaving?” Nessia asked.

“Aye, but it will take some time to gather enough men. The spring has been easy on us so the ground will be easily covered. Ronan is already here, so he can show us the best route to take with the numbers we will need.”

Fergus leaned down and whispered something in Nessia’s ear. She blushed crimson.

“Aye, Fergus,” she said.

“When do you leave?” Freya asked.

“A fortnight. And every moment must be taken up with preparation and training. We cannot take any time to properly celebrate, lass. Are you terribly disappointed?”

Freya did not know what she was with Ronan standing so near and everyone else watching her every move. She had to admit she was troubled by her reaction to Ronan after so long, but she had made a verbal commitment to Fergus that she would honour the betrothal, and honour it she would.

Ronan coughed.

Freya lifted her chin. “I am disappointed, Fergus. I have made a promise to you, and I intend to see it through.” She looked around until she met Rorie’s gaze. “And to our neighbours, we have waited this long, and as all parties are in agreement, know that we will all meet back here to celebrate once this deed is done.”

Freya turned back to Fergus who smiled.

“That is a smart lass,” he said.

Freya noticed from the corner of her eye how Ronan’s countenance had now broken into a scowl. He had been somewhat passive before; now his brow and mouth were drawn downward.

The MacKenzie came forward, along with Rorie.

“Thank ye, lass, for understanding,” he said. “Some women throw fits and insist on having their feasting time.”

“You did not know her a couple of years ago,” Fergus said. His gibe earned him a jab in the ribs from Nessia. “Ow!”

“He is right,” she said, her heart pounding. Back then, she had been reckless and put herself and others in danger for the intense passion she had shared with Ronan. She would have walked through fire for him then. “I am not the same foolish girl I was then.”

She locked gazes with the man who knew her better than she knew herself, and watched a barrage of emotions cross his face. Surprise. Hurt. Anger. They were all there.

Rorie came to her side and placed his arm around her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Freya.”

Why did his kiss have to feel cold? It should have sent butterflies loose in her gut, but instead it only made her stomach knot. She glanced over at Ronan again whose fists were now clenched by his sides. What did she want from him? A declaration before everyone? If he did, the new threat to the east would not be their only worry. No. He had to let her go, and she needed to find a way to convince him of it.

* * *

Ronan watched the MacKenzie whelp slobber over Freya. She was
his
woman, and while he would do nothing to cause trouble in Fergus’s home at this critical time, he vowed to find a way to remind her that she could never, ever belong to another man.

He stared at her, with her gaze downcast and her hands wringing around and around. She looked miserable. Did she feel the strain of the sticky web they were caught in as much as he? If she did, it appeared she had already made her decision as to which path she would take. Well, let her think she could decide. There was no way she would end up married to anyone but him.

A large body moved in front of him, blocking her from his view, fierce eyes boring into his. “Is aught amiss, Ronan?” Fergus asked.

Ronan shook his head. “No, nothing is amiss.” He could not let Fergus guess his train of thought or else he would be run through before the sunset. “I am just thinking about my uncle and the mess we are in.”

“Is that all?”

Ronan looked deep into the man’s eyes. Did he know how Ronan struggled? He opened his mouth to ask, but thought better of it in front of the current company.

“Aye, Fergus. That is all. I will feel much better once we have a firm plan in place to deal with him.”

The great man’s little wife placed her hand on his arm, softening his stance. The two appeared to share a very strong bond; it was something Ronan ached for as well. He had to bide his time. Fergus had said a fortnight and much could happen in that span. Perhaps a proper solution could present itself, and in the meantime, he had get the support he desperately needed to regain what was his. Uncle be damned. He had lived at Dunrobin and put up with too much to walk away from it all now.

“Good. Then let us make our plan.”

Fergus turned toward the table and the maps. The MacKenzie and his clansmen joined him. When Ronan turned again, Freya was retreating from the hall. She glanced back over her shoulder and locked gazes with him, frowned and then left the hall.

Ronan turned back to the maps Fergus had laid out. They were well sketched and had more detail than he could have imagined.

“If we take this road,” Ronan said, tracing his finger along a thick line, “we will run into trouble with our great numbers. But if we take this one, we will be travelling a little longer, but will have better road to work with. While a more southern route is the usual path to take, tracking east first, and then south, would be better in the long run and we can expect less trouble. There are many in Caithness who would certainly support our cause. I have spent much time helping rebuild the damage there that my father caused.”

“‘Twill take us at least three more days going that route, lad. Are ye sure?”

“Aye, I am, Fergus. My uncle will anticipate an attack straight on. He will not see it coming from the north or from the sea.”

MacKenzie stepped in closer. “The sea you say?”

“Aye. Dunrobin is perfectly accessible from the sea and I know where we can find a ship.”

Fergus looked back and forth from Ronan to the map. “The sea,” he whispered.

“It makes good sense,” the MacKenzie said. “I have men who have been to sea many times and can navigate well.”

“Myself and Allain as well,” Ronan said.

“I am not worried about navigation,” Fergus said. “We have all spent our fair time at sea. But I wonder if we should go by land at all. Why not just sail from here?”

“How many ships do you have?”

“The one, but she is a beauty. Had her built this past year, and she is quite sea worthy. She will only hold two dozen men, though.”

“I can solve that problem,” MacKenzie said.

“We can be back on our lands in a day. We have ships aplenty and can be back here in three beyond that. Will that give ye enough time to gather your men, Fergus?”

“Aye, most of them.” Fergus glanced back over the map. “If we take so many by sea, and send so many by land, we have a better chance of success, do we not?”

Ronan had to give the man credit. He possessed a solid strategic mind.

“By land and by sea it is then,” Ronan said.

For the first time in days, the weight pressing on his heart lifted. At least one of his problems had potential for resolution.