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The MacKinnon’s Bride(97)

By:Tanya Anne Crosby


Like a wild woodland nymph, she lay bare beside him, naked and wholly revealed to his eyes—even her heart exposed to him this instant. Och, but he sensed her soul, and it was beauteous beyond imagination. Like a wary sculptor disrobing his long-guarded creation, she’d dared unveil herself to him with this loving, and his heart was filled near to brimming with emotion.

Emotions he couldn’t quite disentangle, so jumbled were they together in this twisted mass that was his heart.

And yet he knew they were significant, for never in his life had he felt such a buoyant sense of bonding. Christ, but if he could remain with her together... the way they were this instant... for the rest of their lives.. . Iain thought he might.

And so when the knock sounded upon the door, he was loath to respond. He lay there, muttering silent curses and willing the intruder to go away. The summons came once more, and he growled in disgust. Drawing the sheets up to cover Page from greedy eyes, he lifted himself from the bed as quietly as he was able, leaving, her to sleep while he answered the door.

“Broc,” he said, frowning as he opened the door to find the youth standing there. Naked though he was, he stood barring the view within.

“Laird!” Broc began, looking suddenly sheepish. “Pardon, but och! Seems ‘tis my duty today to be the bearer of bad tidings.”

Iain peered back over his shoulder at the sleeping form within his bed, and sighed. “What now?” he asked, returning his attention to a red- faced Broc.

“Well,” Broc began. “’Tis Glenna...”

“What about her?” Iain snapped.

“Well,” he began again, fidgeting under Iain’s impatient stare. “She didna see to the evenin’ meal... We went to find oot why... but she willna come oot o’ her croft.”

Iain’s face screwed. “Guid God, mon!” It wasn’t like Glenna, but she was certainly entitled to a moment’s peace. He needed only see how weary Page was to know that Glenna was like to be the same. “Ye’re grown men,” he admonished. “Dinna ye think she—”

“She’s weepin’,” Broc interjected before Iain could reprimand him further.

“Weepin’?”

Broc nodded. “Loudly. Ye can hear her clearly from outside the door. She says she doesna wish to talk to anybody, and willna open the door.”

“Where is Lagan?”

Broc shrugged. “We’ve looked everywhere, but it doesna really matter as she says she doesna wish to see him either.”

Iain was certain his surprise was manifest in his face. “She willna see her son?”

Broc shook his head. “It isna her way, I know..”

Iain’s brow furrowed. “Nay,” he agreed, deliberating over the facts. And it truly was not. Glenna had never been one to indulge in tempers. Not in all the years he’d known her. “Go on, then. I’ll be there anon.”

“Aye,” Broc said, and turned to go.

“But do not tell her I am coming,” Iain charged him.

The last thing he wished was for his stalwart aunt to prepare herself to face him—to put away her sorrows and her worries. If there was aught plaguing her, he would know it. After all that she’d been there for him, it was the least he could do for her.

He only wondered why it was that she would not see her son. When he thought on it, Lagan had been acting strange of late, as well, although Iain attributed the fact to his quarrel with auld mon MacLean, and then to Ranald’s death. And yet his cousin had been conspicuously absent at Ranald’s wake—neither had he offered to carry his longtime friend on the voyage home.

Had Iain not been so preoccupied with finding the traitor in their midst, he might have taken notice sooner. But something was amiss between them, and he would set it to rights at once.

Better late than not at all.





Time was his enemy now.

His final chance had presented itself, and he knew he must hie to take advantage.

Nightfall would come soon enough, and knowing Malcom would never disobey his da by wandering out to the Lover’s Bluff alone after twilight, he’d been forced to lie to the lad, telling him Iain awaited him upon the cliff top. The little whelp had gone without question.

But Malcom wouldn’t remain there long once he discovered his father was not there, and once the light began to fade he would come scurrying back as fast as his wee legs could take him.

Aye, he would need plan carefully now... in order for all to go as it should.

He hadn’t intended to do a bluidy thing this eve, but he’d been watching... and waiting.

’Twas a good thing, too, for Broc had, at long last, managed to draw Iain away from his Sassenach whore.