The MacKinnon’s Bride(69)

His “brows collided into a fierce frown. Dinna fash yourself’o’er me,” he snapped. His gaze skidded away. “Go away now, and leave me be.”

Moody wretch. Page glowered at him, but didn’t persist. She moved again toward the gathered crowd, thinking that ’twas no wonder these Scots were forever at war. Churlish beasts.

“Christ, but he stinks to Heaven!” Kermichil swore, grimacing. But he didn’t look away, Page noted. He stared, seeming fascinated by the body before them. It seemed morbid curiosity kept them all rooted to the spot.

“He doesna e’en look like Ranald anymore,” Lagan lamented, shaking his head in a gesture of regret. And yet his eyes revealed nothing of the sentiment as they shifted to Page. Only the depths of his anger lingered then. He not only blamed her, she realized, he loathed her.

She didn’t know why, but he disturbed her somehow—for more reason than that he simply didn’t like her. It was something more. She shuddered, unnerved by the look he gave her, and turned away.

“Poor damned Ranald,” Angus answered gruffly.

“Damn but he’s no’ riding wi’ me either,” Kermichil interjected.

“Poor bastard,” someone chimed in.

“Aye, poor damned bastard,” came the echo.

There was a long interval of weighted silence as they all stared, nodding in agreement.

“Och, Iain... mayhap we should leave him,” suggested Dougal.

Iain’s brows drew together. “Nay,” he declared at once. “He’s deservin’ of a proper funeral! We’ll no’ be leaving him here to rot!”

“Weel...” Dougal put forth, a little fretfully. He scratched his head. “I’ll no’ be ridin’ wi’ him, that’s for certain.” He peered nervously up at Iain. “I dinna think I could stand it!” he added quickly.

Page didn’t particularly blame him, as she didn’t think she could either. Her brows knit. Jesu, but someone would have to take him. Iain intended to ride with his son, and he’d given her Ranald’s mount to use for herself—against his men’s wishes, it seemed. Nor did they appear overly appreciative of the fact that he’d given her his saddle and harness after Ranald’s had been rendered unusable in the fall. They said nothing over the fact, but she knew by the looks upon their faces that the decision curdled in their bellies.

“Nor I,” Kerwyn joined them in saying.

“Nor me,” Kerr said, grimacing.

“Nor Broc either!” Angus announced with no small measure of disgust. “Och, but look at him over there, pukin’ his guts like a wee bairn! For a muckle lad he has the weakest damned belly this auld man’s e’er seen!”

“Ranald’s coming wi’ us,” Iain maintained.

Lagan remained silent, staring at Page.

“Och, Iain!” Dougal began, and stamped his foot like a petulant child. “I dinna want to ride wi’ him!”

“What would ye have me tell his minnie, Dou-gal?” Iain asked. His jaw tautened in anger—the muscle working there the only evidence of his carefully controlled temper. “Mayhap ye would like t’ have the pleasure of explaining how we forsook her only son to the wolves and the bluidy vultures?”

Dougal’s face reddened. He shook his head, hanging it shamefully, and stared disconcertedly at the foot he stabbed into a trampled patch of muir grass.

Page could see in their faces the aversion they felt over riding with a dead man—she couldn’t blame them. It was a loathsome prospect, one she wasn’t particularly keen upon herself, but she certainly didn’t wish to see Iain angry. Years of trying to avoid her father’s tempers made her yearn to speak up. One look at the putrid body kept her tongue stilled.

“Och, but we’re a miserable lot!” Angus began, the tone of his voice making Page cringe where she stood. “A miserable lot o’—”

“I-I’ll ride with him!” Page suddenly blurted, startling even herself with the offer. She regretted the outburst at once.

Every gaze snapped up and trained upon her.

Jesu, but his state was partially her responsibility, she reasoned frantically. And mayhap she would please Iain by keeping the peace for him? Perchance even gain his men’s acceptance by saving them Ranald’s undesired company?

Though these were not her people, she rationalized, she would need endure their company only until her father showed himself to claim her. And he would come, she told herself. He had to come.

Mayhap he was rallying his men even now?

“I... I... do not... mind,” she lied with difficulty. Jesu, but the disgust was surely there to be seen upon her face!