“Ignore that.”
“I’m done ignoring your needs, all of them, of which feeding you now comes first.” Chuckling, he lobbed the cloth toward the basin where it landed with a splash then scooped up her bag and set it on the bed. He pulled out a clean shift and tugged it over her head.
“Aye, well, I am most certainly famished, wouldnae mind finding my basket which I left behind in Mary’s room. There are treats aplenty within it.”
“I’ll go and fetch it after I gather us a tray from one of the maids.” He pulled on a clean white tunic and donned his great plaid at his waist, laced his boots, strapped his weapons in place and strode to the door, his black hair mussed and dark stubble shadowing his jaw. “I’ll ensure hot water is ordered for our bath. Dinnae move, no’ an inch. I shall no’ be long.”
“Now I truly do feel like a wicked wench awaiting the return of her lover.”
“You are more than my lover, Fiona.”
“Aye, I’m a dear friend too.” An admission she’d dearly love to forget he’d mentioned.
“Stay here.” A murmured answer as the door clicked shut behind him, his footsteps drifting away down the passageway.
Under her breath, she whispered back, “You’re far more than my lover, Coll MacKenzie. You are my mate, whether you wish to admit it or no’.”
Beyond the window, the thundering of horses’ hooves pounded toward her and she snuck out of bed and tiptoed to the sill. Pushing the window wide, she leaned over the edge. Below in the tavern’s inner courtyard surrounded by leafy elm trees, a score of riders galloped in and hauled their mounts to a stop near the stables.
The warrior at their party’s head leaped from his war horse, his brown beard flecked with gray and his unmistakable MacRae plaid fastened around his waist and hooked over one shoulder. A thick brown leather vest flapped loose over his tunic. She’d seen him once before, when he’d visited Duncan and Ella at Ardan House during one of her own visits there two months’ past. The emblem engraved on the pin of his plaid at his waist held the MacRae clan chief’s arms. He was the Chief of MacRae, John MacRae. One of his sons had even wed a lass from the fae village and she’d given birth to a child who held an intensely strong fae ability, that of the “power of thought.” The MacRae’s son had brought his wife and child to Ardan to see the seer and his sister, to ensure the young lad received the necessary training in his burgeoning skill. She’d even witnessed what the lad could do.
John MacRae strode toward a young woman mounted on the horse behind him. The lass’s rich auburn hair, so similar in color to her own red locks, fluttered down her back. She must be Elizabeth, although this lass she’d never met.
In an emerald woolen riding habit, she smiled at her chief. “Why must we stop now, Father. We’re almost at Carron Castle. I wish to see my betrothed.”
“I’ll send a rider ahead and inform Coll of our coming arrival. We’re expected, although you might like to freshen up first afore we complete the last leg of our journey. We’ll partake of a meal and continue on once we have.” He hoisted the lass down from atop her horse and she kissed her father’s cheek affectionately, her love for him clear to see in her eyes.
Soon that love would be gifted to her mate, and that realization sank in bone deep and heart-wrenchingly hard.
The young woman pulled her brown fur cloak tighter about her to ward off the chilly morning air, her nose and cheeks glowing a healthy shade of pink and her breath puffing in a fog from her mouth.
The last thing she wished to do was witness the lass fawning over Coll when she discovered him downstairs. She pulled the drapes closed, her chest so heavy and her very soul tearing in two. Mayhap she shouldn’t have allowed Coll’s touch this morn, only he’d been impossible to turn away from, and the memories from their time together would be ones she’d always treasure.
Aye, her future was once again set, and unfortunately it still wasn’t with Coll. The Isle of Iona beckoned, as well as the high walls of the abbey where she’d seek refuge and mayhap eventually find some healing for her own heart.
She unfolded her royal blue gown from her satchel and shimmied the soft velvet over her head then with the long sleeves draping over her wrists, added her favorite golden tasseled girdle before lacing her riding boots on. With her red gown gifted from Coll tucked safely away in her bag, she fastened her fur-lined black cloak over her shoulders and with all her belongings in hand, opened the door.