Read Online The Kindling Heart by Carmen Caine - Free Book Online Page B

hearing nothing, she gripped the rope that spanned the length of the tower with cold fingers and crept down.
    Her mind worked at a feverish pace. Water surrounded the castle, but she remembered that land hadn’t been far off. In the flickering torchlight upon their arrival she’d seen the dim shapes of trees and the black shadows of hills. Perhaps she could steal a boat and chance the moors. She could find her way back to England, to Afraig.
    She clenched her fists a little at the thought of Afraig’s betrayal. Afraig had always known her dream had been to live in a cottage by the sea without the danger of a husband. She had led her to believe it was possible.
    She took a deep breath. Going back to England was a preposterous scheme, and the voice whispering in the back of her mind coolly informed her it was a ridiculous one at that. She had already traveled across the wilds of Scotland. It had been an excruciating journey. Alone and on foot, with winter approaching, it would be nigh on impossible to return to England. Brushing the voice aside, she convinced herself anything was preferable to remaining in Dunvegan, as the wife of that disturbing stranger called Ruan. He was a huge man. She would never survive a beating.
    She was on the bottom step when she heard the actual voices. There was no time to react, and she didn’t see the door swing open. She only heard the shattering thud as she collided with the wood.
    Pain exploded in her nose, and she fell, ears ringing.
    “My lady, what are ye doing here?” an apologetic voice asked, floating in the gloom above her.
    Strong arms pulled her to her feet and swept under her knees, lifting her easily as if she were a child.
    Fingers gently prodded her nose.
    “Tis broken,” a deep voice observed, dispassionately.
    It was Ruan’s.
    Then, her father snorted, “By the saints, she’s bleeding like a stuck pig!”
    A torch appeared and she could dimly see the young man carrying her back up the stairs. His hair was blond, his eyes brilliantly blue. When he noticed her scrutiny, he gave her a wide smile.
    “I’m Ewan!” he introduced himself with a cheeky grin. “And I’m right pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
    Domnall’s loud voice sounded from nearby. “Aye, lass. Ewan’s a trustworthy lad.”
    Bree swallowed a gasp of pain as Ewan set her down gently on the bed, in the very same chamber she’d just escaped.
    Isobel appeared, gingerly probing her nose and agreeing that it had, indeed, been broken. Faces swam into view. The young Ewan’s, her father’s, Isobel’s once again, and lastly, she saw the forbidding figure observing them all with a brooding scowl, as he leaned against the door.
    It was the man, Ruan.
    His dark eyes burned through her soul, and she quickly looked away, wishing he’d disappear.
    “Ruan’s a gentle lad, Bree,” Domnall patted her knee. “Ye’ll see soon enough.”
    Bree’s grimace of doubt abruptly turned into a howl of pain. Lifting her lashes through the haze of the tears, she saw once more the towering form of her new husband still framing the door. He looked less than pleased. He stood with arms folded angrily and brows furrowed. He was huge. One blow would smite her dead. Her heart fluttered.
    “She’s a bairn!” Ruan announced, glowering at Domnall. “She’s too young, scarce older than Merry! What have ye done?”
    Domnall placed an arm about his newly made son’s shoulders, “She’s of a proper age to wed, lad,” he assured. His voice dropped as he slipped softly into Gaelic.
    Burying her head in her hands, Bree willed them all to be gone. When silence finally greeted her, she cautiously lifted her head to find her wish granted.
    Once again, she was alone.
    Immediately, thoughts of escape possessed her once again. She threw back the coverlet, but her feet had scarcely touched the floor when Isobel entered, bringing a steaming bowl and a cup.
    “Let me see the nose now, lass,” the woman ordered. Her