Chapter Eighteen
Kristina paced in her guest chamber. She, Anna and Maili had left the high table so they could retire early and rest from their long journey. But Kristina could not relax. She'd refused to allow the maid to help her undress. First, she needed to speak to Colin. She'd only said a few words to him when they'd arrived, and none during supper because he sat so far away from her.
How could she get him away from the other men? They were no doubt still discussing battle strategies. With good reason, of course, but she needed a few minutes of his time to let him know the main reason she'd come here.
His manner toward her had been less than friendly. She could understand his anger and knew she deserved it, though surely he realized she hadn't meant to hurt him.
When she heard men's voices in the corridor, she hastened toward the door and silently opened it a crack. Though the corridor was dim and blurry from her vantage point, she could easily tell 'twas Neacal's and Colin's voices. Once Neacal disappeared into the room where Anna had gone to bed earlier, Kristina opened the door and stepped out.
"Colin." She tried to keep her voice low.
He halted and turned. She squinted, trying to see him better in the low light. His face was mostly in shadow, but the light from the candle sconce glinted off his square jaw. Looking at him quickened her blood just as touching him did. She had always been powerfully drawn to him, but seeing him now, she was even more attracted to him. She could not have even dreamed up a more perfect man for her—mind, body and spirit. But she had almost destroyed any chance she had with him.
"Aye?" he asked.
Dare she grab hold of courage and go after what she wanted, or should she flee back into her room and cower in the dark? She had never been one to cower, even when standing before a yawning abyss.
The fact that she could see him—in addition to his chilly demeanor—made him seem almost like a stranger to her.'Tis Colin, she told herself.
"Could we talk?" she asked.
He hesitated, and she feared he would say nay. In that moment of silence, she felt something powerfully intense emanating from him, but couldn't put her finger on what it was.
"We can go into the solar." His voice was cool and detached, so unlike the Colin she'd known intimately only a fortnight ago. How she missed the warm and affectionate tone he'd used with her at Bearach.
She approached him and he motioned her forward, down the poorly lit corridor, then walked beside her.
Pausing, he opened a door and held it for her. She entered a dark-paneled and stone room lit only by a low-burning hearth fire. A large table and wooden chairs sat upon a woven rug. Two cushioned chairs sat near the fireplace.
She nervously smoothed her skirts. "I thank you for agreeing to talk to me."
"I'm hoping you will do most of the talking."
His words stung. What the devil did he mean by that? He no longer wished to talk to her at all? Was he even interested in her apology?
After he'd closed the door, he moved toward a small side table and poured a small glass of amber liquid. "Whisky?" he offered.
"Nay, I thank you." She clenched her hands, willing them to stop shaking. Somehow she had to get him to listen to her, but knew not what to say first.
He picked up another bottle, removed the cork and sniffed. "Mulled wine?"
Although her stomach was too knotted to want anything, mayhap a few sips of wine would help her relax. "A wee bit."
He poured the red wine into a crystal goblet, then handed it to her. Even though the room was dim, when he drew near, she could easily see the anger and pain in his gaze. It sliced her to the core.
"Colin, I'm—" Her voice caught within her tight throat.
"Drink first," he urged in a slightly less acrid tone, then took a long swallow of his whisky. He turned away and added two pieces of wood to the fire.
She forced herself to take a sip of the wine, barely noticing the cinnamon and clove flavors. 'Twas delicious, but she was too upset to enjoy it. Her hands were so unsteady she feared she might drop the valuable crystal glass. She gulped another sip for courage, then placed the goblet on the large table.
He was still crouched at the hearth, jabbing at the wood and embers with a fire poker, causing the flames to burn brighter.
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing herself to plunge ahead before her courage fled. "Colin, I want to tell you how sorry I am for all that's happened."
"What do you mean?" His voice remained unfriendly. His question was only slightly less than a demand. Over his shoulder, he sent her a brief glance.
"First of all, the loss of your father is devastating, and I want you to know I'm here for you. Also…" She drew in another deep breath, her heart pounding. "I want to apologize for saying nay to your marriage proposal. 'Twas never my intention to hurt you, merely to spare you—"
