The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3) Read online

  “She is eating for two,” Ada reminded them.

  “Two what?” Arik asked, his eyes crinkled with laughter. “Horses? Oxen?”

  Ada grinned. Anice did consume a lot of food throughout the day. Still, she meant to chide the big man for his playful disrespect but heard Anice behind them before she could speak.

  “I heard that, Arik.”

  As one, all heads on Ada’s side of the table, her own included, turned to find Anice staring at them, even as her loaded knife was held before her face. Because her own eyes were lit with mischief as she shoved the food into her mouth with a saucy look, everyone laughed.

  Except for Ada. Her eyes had lit on Jamie MacKenna. He’d been watching her. It was the heat of that gaze that had drawn her eyes from Anice. A small gasp welled within as a result of his stony, unfathomable eyes on her. Ada faced forward again, settling both hands upon the table to steady herself. A man’s scrutiny, no matter how sharp or compelling, should not perturb her so.

  Just as she believed herself composed again, she found Sim’s eyes resting with great sympathy upon her shaking hands. Ada met Sim’s gaze only briefly before lowering her eyes and her hands into her lap, under the table.

  Drat him! Jamie MacKenna could not leave soon enough. He’d been here only several hours and already he’d disrupted the serenity she’d found at Stonehaven. If not for Anice’s begging her not to disappear while he visited—which indeed had been Ada’s first instinct—she’d have kept to herself for the next few days.

  She tried, with a fair amount of concentration, to ignore his presence, or the very ridiculous idea that he stared often at the back of her head throughout the meal. Yet, there was no other reason the hairs at the nape of her neck had repeatedly risen with a prickling awareness.

  Most at the table had only barely finished their meals when Ada begged of Arik to allow her to exit the bench. Unless she wished to climb off the bench in some unladylike fashion, she needed the big man to slide off the end. Arik did not question her early departure but stood up and Ada scooched along the wooden bench seat to the end.

  She said good night to the men, thankful none questioned her early leave-taking, and stood. She sensed a presence very close to her. She knew it was him, didn’t need to turn to confirm this. In a split second, she elected —for Anice’s sake, for surely she watched—to not pretend she had no notion of his presence and run from the hall. Drawing a deep breath and straightening her shoulders, she half turned to face him, curling her fingers into her skirts.

  “Might I have some of your time, lass?”

  Now, she knew the color of his eyes. They were blue, cold as the waves of the sea, fringed with tawny lashes. Surely, he was out of doors more often than not, his skin darkened by the sun, the planes and hollows of his very pronounced cheeks shadowed by a few days’ growth of stubble.

  She would have said no. There was nothing she wanted to hear, nothing she wanted to say to this man. But for Anice, who had been so unbelievably generous since the very first moment they had met. A chance glance confirmed Anice watched them intently.

  Ada swallowed and nodded tightly.

  Jamie MacKenna lifted his hand, as if to take her elbow. Ada squeezed her arms against her sides and swept past him, thinking the always busy bailey a fine place to give him no more than two minutes to say what he felt he needed to.

  To her dismay, the bailey was unusually empty, owing to the dinner hour, she belatedly realized. She turned, just outside the door to the hall, crossing her arms over her chest, against him and the cold.

  “Let us find some warmth,” he said, and he did now take up her elbow and turn her toward the tunnel. His hand was firm but gentle upon her arm, or she was sure she would have protested his manhandling. Two things prevented her from making a fuss over this: first, she thought she would be at a disadvantage, if she stood before him, body shivering and teeth chattering, the early summer air was that cool; and, perhaps more importantly, she could not deny that she had been intrigued by Anice’s claim that she would want to hear what he had to say. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon rejecting any interest, and then wondering what Anice might know, what he had told her.

  He did not direct her into the tunnel, but opened the door next to it, the very one she used often to find peace and sometimes just a spectacular view, atop the battlements. Gently, he steered Ada ahead of him, up the dark stairs and onto the walkway above the yard and the space outside of Stonehaven. A few sentries milled about, gathered near the metal-barreled fires that were lighted every evening, while several others patrolled the walls, ever watchful. Jamie MacKenna directed her to a fire barrel where no other persons gathered.

  Ada lifted her hands to open them over the flames, to avail herself of its warmth, but stopped herself, her fingernails still pressed tightly into her palms. As smoothly as possibly, she lowered her arms, held them at her sides. She would show him no weakness.

  “Step closer to the heat, at least,” he said, letting her know—intentionally or not, she would not know—that he was aware of her intent to put on a brave face. In her mind, she chanted, I do not care what he thinks of me.

  Ada did not move. “What did you want to say?” She tried to hurry along this discussion, hoping that aside from simmering glares and false promises, he also practiced brevity.

  Fairly surprised to see him all but shuffle his feet in indecision, Ada waited until he finally met her gaze again, across the barrel, the flame shadows licking at his face, lending a golden hue to his eyes.

  “Ada,” he said, making loose with her name, “I need to know what happened. When I could no return...I—I’m asking you to tell me how—” he stopped, ran a hand over his stubbly jaw while a muscle ticked in his cheek. “I have only bits and pieces.”

  Ada could only stare at him, rather taken aback.

  She’d expected that he wished to defend his actions—or lack thereof. She’d thought he’d requested an audience to relieve his mind of whatever culpability might live with him, if any at all. She had not—not at all—imagined he would ask this of her.

  “You’d make me relive it? To...what? To give you peace? To make you feel better?”

  Straight brows slanted over stormy eyes. “You think me hearing how awful it was for you, and what they actually did to Will before they killed him will be easy for me?”

  “I do not know what kind of person you are, so I cannot answer that.”

  “The fact that you entertain the possibility that it might be easy for me to hear this tells me what kind of person you believe me to be.”

  She only shrugged, not of a mind to allow for any benevolence toward him.

  One day she would talk about it. Both Ada and Torren had hinted, over the last few weeks, that it was necessary, if she desired to move on from it. Perhaps one day, she would even think Jamie MacKenna needed to suffer through an accounting of it. But it wasn’t now. She barely knew him, and she wasn’t ready herself. True, it would lie between them until it was said, until he knew, but this was no hardship to Ada. He would be gone from Stonehaven soon. Maybe one day soon, she would be as well.

  They stared, eyes locked over the barrel of fire. “I owe you nothing.” Ada clamped her lips, felt her breaths now rush out through her nose.

  His own nostrils flared, but his tone was level. “Aye, you do no. And aye, if you dinna want to share the tale with me, I canna force you. I can only say I am sorry.” When Ada said nothing, remained motionless even, he added, “I owe you that. More, if you feel the need to claim it.”

  She would never know what prevented her from accepting this, his apology. He seemed genuine enough, she supposed. Perhaps Anice had the right of it, there was much sorrow in the man.

  But she could not absolve him, couldn’t give him any trite words she did not mean.

  For so long, she’d lived with her hatred of him, and of John Craig, and for her father, and everyone else whom she’d known before, who had sent her to Dornoch or left her at
Dornoch. She was unwilling to give up something to which she’d become so attached, the very thing that now defined her. Maybe if Will had lived, maybe...something would be different, maybe she’d be able to forgive.

  “Three people live because of you,” he said, she did not know why.

  “Three people died because of you,” came quickly to mind, and out of her mouth.

  His entire face seemed to harden, became like stone, until he said to her, “I dinna need reminding of that, lass. Everyday, it is with me.”

  She’d had enough. Giving him one last look, pooling all her hatred into her stare, she turned and walked away.

  Chapter Six

  “Favorite color?”

  “Blue, as the sky,” Ada answered, tilting her head back. Today’s sky was wonderfully cloudless and bright. She disliked immensely gray and rainy days.

  She and Kinnon walked toward the little town of Stoney—Stonehyve, properly—the lad excited to show Ada the stained glass window in the church. She’d never seen one before, had only been given descriptions, which Kinnon promised would pale in comparison to the real thing.

  This morning, with a hope to avoid Jamie MacKenna while seeming to Anice to not be doing so, Ada had begged prettily of Kinnon his company into Stoney.

  “Favorite food?” Kinnon asked, swatting at some flying thing that buzzed near his face.

  “Sweet cakes, of course.”

  “Favorite...person?”

  “Presently? Or ever?”

  Kinnon shrugged. “Presently.”

  “Lady Anice.”

  “I knew you’d pick her.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Kinnon stretched his lips, so that what little color they did possess, faded. “Aye, or the laird.”

  Ada allowed, “He seems nice. Fair. You don’t mention Torren, though he’s your captain?”

  The lad tossed his head and groaned comically. “If you spent one day training with us, lass, you’d no be throwing his name into that lot.”

  Ada grinned at this while the basket that Anice had made for her swung over her arm. She twirled around, gave some appreciation to how beautiful Stonehaven looked from here, halfway to the village, in the glen between rolling hills. The castle appeared as if it floated above the spare line of trees at the bottom of the knoll upon which it sat. They were far enough away that she could only make out movement of the sentries on the wall, but not really their faces or forms.

  “My turn, Kinnon,” Ada said, ducking off the dry, packed earth of the road, into the spring grass, likely not as tall as it would be when summer was fully upon them, and brown yet, showing only hints of green. Occasionally, the brown and sparse green were broken by bursts of color, summer flowers blooming. Ada plucked at more than a few pink and round-headed thrift flowers, laying these into her basket, alongside the frothy spears of meadowsweet. “Favorite food that you haven’t had in a long while?”

  He didn’t answer, and Ada looked up from picking her way through the grasses, thinking he hadn’t heard her. Kinnon had stopped in front of her, standing in the middle of the empty road. One hand gripped the sheath at his hip and the other reached across his front to wrap around the hilt of his sword. He was completely still, watching the road where it entered the deeper span of trees that separated Stonehaven from the town.

  “Kinnon?”

  “Stay close to me, Ada,” he said, without turning toward her. Ada did as he instructed, coerced by his voice, suddenly less youthful, sounding very manly and stern. When she stood on the road, a few feet behind Kinnon, while he stared still at the trees, Ada felt it. The earth beneath her rumbled. She looked down, at pebbles bouncing on the ground.

  A horn sounded behind her. Ada guessed it was Stonehaven’s alarm. No sooner had she acknowledged the noise, plaintive and low and drawn out, than the trees before them erupted with so many horses and riders, Ada squeaked out a cry at the sight. The horde charged at them, the hooves of a hundred horses pounding against the dirt and grass.

  “Turn and run, Ada! Run and don’t look back!” Kinnon called loudly, drawing his sword and planting his feet apart.

  Ada whimpered, whipping around just as the gates of Stonehaven opened. She would never make it. She might be halfway between the coming army and the gates, but she would be quickly run down while on foot.

  “Give me your dagger,” she pleaded with Kinnon, coming to his side.

  “Nae!” He shouted loudly, angrily. He shoved Ada away. “Go on, lass! Git!”

  She would have never imagined such ferocity from the always pale and affable Kinnon. Seeming to have no other choice, Ada picked up her skirts and ran toward Stonehaven. It was impossibly far, and truth be told, the speed at which she ran reflected her belief that she would be cut down before she was even halfway there. She chanced a glance back at Kinnon, still holding his position. It was an eerie picture, the silhouette of a lone boy standing so straight and still against the coming mass, awash in dust and grime and shiny steel.

  Tears stung her eyes. Facing the castle again, she cried with relief when she saw Kincaids charging out through the tunnel, dozens of riders intent on meeting the enemy. She ran toward them, aware that more Kincaids came from the north side of the castle, from the training field. Leading these was Gregor Kincaid himself, his sizeable outline easily identified.

  Those coming from the castle were closer and Ada focused on them, beginning to believe she now stood a chance, that she might reach them before it was too late. Tears fell as she ran, thinking of Kinnon, afraid to turn and know or see his fate, even as the sound of those in pursuit closed in on her, meaning they had already met or passed the boy. She was belatedly aware that missiles flew overhead; the Kincaids on the wall sent arrows out to assist.

  Ahead of her, the riding soldier closest to her stretched out his hand as he neared. Panicked, Ada realized he meant to grab her up while the huge destrier still moved. She slowed, stumbled really, seeing that it was Jamie MacKenna who reached for her. He leaned forward in the saddle, his feet kicking furiously at the steed’s flanks, his eyes the most savage thing Ada was sure she had ever seen. She lifted her hand, and squeezed her eyes shut, sure she was about to be trampled by his horse. In the next instant, his hand met hers, his grip strong and sure, and Ada was lifted off the ground and swung up behind him. She yelped and was barely able to swing her leg around the back of the huge beast. But his hold was firm, and he did not let go of her hand until she was safely perched behind him. MacKenna had slowed the racing horse after all, but only minimally. Her instinct toward self-preservation bade her to wrap her arms around his middle while he charged forward. Without thinking, Ada held him tightly and pressed her head against his broad back just as the sounds of steel meeting steel found its way to her.

  “Kinnon?” She cried out, too afraid to lift her head.

  “On his feet still,” Jamie MacKenna advised her, his voice as harsh as his entire battle mien.

  With her left cheek pressed against the MacKenna’s broad back, Ada saw only what was presented to her from the right side. As they seemed to be just in the thick of the fighting, she had to assume Jamie MacKenna had reached her just in time. She felt every part of him move with each lunge and swipe of his sword. He jerked the horse to a quick stop and Ada saw the reason, another steed on the ground in their path, missing two legs, a man trapped and howling beneath him. MacKenna directed them quickly left just as Ada caught sight of close movement out of the corner of her eye. She screamed, digging her fingers into the leather of his breastplate at his front, wincing with the expectation of a coming blow or sword thrust. But MacKenna’s war horse was amazing, stopping dead as the MacKenna tugged the reins hard, as told by his leaning so far back into Ada. The assailant then overshot his plunging sword, which glanced off the MacKenna’s, raised in time to deflect the blow. Two more parries and he sliced the brigand’s arm off just as it lifted to come at them from a different angle.

  He urged them forward, directing the huge beas
t to jump over bodies on the ground. A lane must have cleared, and he dug in his heels, spurring the horse faster. And then Ada saw Kinnon, amazingly still standing. She pulled her head away from MacKenna’s back, about to alert him of Kinnon’s position, when he turned right, toward the lad. Kinnon’s back faced them, shoulders sagged, the point of his blade dug into the ground. He seemed to be leaning on the sword, having no more strength to lift his weapon even as he stood in one man’s charging path. She didn’t fear for him; they were already closer, and she’d just been witness to what the MacKenna and his mount could achieve in battle. It seemed only a jousting move, the MacKenna charging into the pathway of the coming warrior, both men raising their swords. The infidel hadn’t the strength or speed of the MacKenna and he was quickly dispatched, and they pivoted again, coming to a full stop just near Kinnon.

  “Let go,” the MacKenna ordered, even as he began to slide out of the saddle. Ada released him and he bounded off, yanking Kinnon by the collar, steering him toward Ada.

  “Get up there,” Jamie MacKenna directed the lad, “and get her back.”

  Kinnon did not argue, his battle-weary gaze meeting Ada’s terrified one for just a second before he took Jamie’s place on the horse. Ada clung to him just as she had the MacKenna, turning her head as Kinnon steered them out of the battle, to watch the MacKenna. He met another of the enemy, using only one hand to raise his sword and deliver the killing blow, his arm and his blade being so much longer than most men.

  When they reached the outskirts of the skirmish, Ada breathed easier, as Kinnon navigated the destrier through the same grass and flowers through which Ada had traipsed only a short time ago. With one arm still around Kinnon’s much narrower frame, she turned fully in the saddle to witness the atrocity that had sprung out of nowhere. Considering the whole of the wide open field between Stonehaven and Stoney, the fight consumed only a tight and small circle of space, though there must be hundreds of men, alive or not, in that diameter. She tried to find the MacKenna’s brawny figure in the crush, but could not, the air all around steeped in dust and clouds of dirt.