Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

She wouldn’t wait. Knowing he would do nothing to harm her, she pushed at his chest until he relented and stepped aside. He didn’t allow her to pass, though. He cupped her elbow and took her hand in his, tucking it around his arm.

“At least allow me to escort you. I would not want you to fall on the stairs.”

She nearly yanked her hand from his, so great was her frustration. But she was getting what she wanted and she didn’t want to risk him forcing her back to her chamber and summoning Caelen, who’d likely burst a blood vessel over her apparel and the fact that she was out of bed.

When they reached the bottom, she retrieved her hand and hurried away from the warrior. She had no clear direction in mind, only that she wanted to be away from Gannon.

Fresh air was top on her list of priorities, but she couldn’t go into the courtyard. Caelen was there training with the men. She opted to go through the kitchens and out the side where the distance between the keep and the stone skirt was greater and she could see the mountains in the distance.

Ignoring several of the women’s surprised exclamations on her way out, Rionna breathed deep as soon as the crisp air hit her in the face.

It was heavenly. Freeing. Her throat and lungs seemed to open up and loose the horrid constriction she’d lived with for so many days.

She stepped into the snow, enjoying the loud crunch and the coldness seeping around her toes. Finally, she felt alive again. Reinvigorated.

The wind whipped at her hair and sent a shiver down her spine. She’d completely forgotten her cloak, so in a hurry had she been to get out of her chamber.

Clutching her arms around her waist for warmth, she walked along the wall of the keep, leaving small footprints in the fresh powder.

As a child, she had lain in the snow and made shapes with Keeley. They’d pretended to be snow princesses waiting for their prince to rescue them. He wore only the warmest furs and the finest clothing. His steed was unmatched in beauty and speed. He’d ride in, wrap her in his furs, and bear her away to a land where it was always warm and sunny.

Rionna laughed softly. Such imaginations she and Keeley had. Always with their heads in the clouds. The worst day in Rionna’s life had been the day her father had attacked Keeley. And then Rionna’s mother had cried Keeley a whore and banished her from the clan.

Keeley had been her only friend. The only other girl who’d understood Rionna’s odd tendencies. Keeley had encouraged Rionna’s practice with a bow. She’d applauded every time Rionna had struck the center of the target. She’d exclaimed over Rionna’s skill with a knife, swearing that Rionna could hold off an entire army just by wielding a dagger.

Rionna had tried to teach Keeley those skills, warning that lasses needed to know how to protect themselves. But Keeley had laughed and said she was hopeless in such matters and that she would one day have her prince to protect her anyway.

Well, Keeley had gotten the prince, and Rionna had gotten the skills to protect herself. She wasn’t sure who had come out ahead in the bargain.

She found a large bolder and eased down onto the cold surface. Her arse would freeze if she stayed long, but she wasn’t quite ready for the confrontation that must be forced with her husband.

Caelen walked through the kitchens, his expression grim. Rionna shouldn’t be below stairs yet. Hell, she shouldn’t even be out of bed. He intended to keep her there at least another fortnight.

But what worried him more than her being out of bed was her state of mind. The attack had deeply affected her. She’d been quiet, reserved, timid even. And Rionna was not a timid lass. He feared that the attack had irrevocably changed her or damaged her in some way. And he was helpless to change it.

He stopped at the doorway leading outside, after the women in the kitchens reported that she’d not paused on her way out. As he stepped into the snow, he looked up to see her sitting in the distance, her back to him as she stared up at the mountains.

The knot he suffered so frequently since his return from the hunt clutched his throat as he watched her hair blow this way and that in the breeze.

She seemed so slight. Fragile. It was a word he kept coming back to over and over, but it aptly described her appearance.

She looked alone and vulnerable, as if she had no one in the world to protect her. No one had protected her when she’d needed it the most. It was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life.

“Laird, do not be angry. What she wears is a comfort to her. She needs that right now.”

Caelen turned in surprise at Sarah’s words. The woman stood behind him, watching Rionna with worried eyes.

“Think you I give a damn what she wears? I’m more concerned with her well-being.”

Sarah nodded approvingly and Caelen gestured her away.

He stepped softly through the snow, not wanting to frighten or disturb Rionna. He thought she resembled a doe, poised to run at the slightest sound or provocation. But as he drew closer, he could see the vacant, distant look in her eyes as she stared away from the keep.

Had the attack damaged her permanently? Would she never be right again? It was early to worry over such possibilities, but he couldn’t help but wonder at how deep the scars would run.

“Rionna,” he called softly.

He heard her quick intake of breath as if he had indeed startled her. She whirled around, her eyes a little wild until her gaze settled on him and then she quieted.

She went so still and continued to stare at him in a way that unsettled him. It was eerie. She studied him as if she were about to announce judgment on him and find him lacking. Perhaps ’twas his own guilt speaking volumes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was angry. Very, very angry.