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‘No matter, for I am done with this dance, and I’m done with you.’
Conall rose from the bed and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sleepless and tearful, Kenna spent a long night going over and over what she had done wrong and, in the morning, headed out for a long walk to ease her mind. Surely it wasn’t her fault if Meyrick kissed her, and Conall, hot-headed, as usual, had given her no chance to explain. She was so angry with him. She had hurt him, yes, but only because she didn’t want to be the sort of woman who trapped a man in marriage just to be rich and comfortable and because it was the easy way out of her problems. Meyrick’s kiss was unwanted. He had forced it on her, and Conall had seen it for more than it was. It was all so unfair.
The day was completely at odds with the storm raging inside her. Summer had blessed Dunslair with a flat calm, glorious, sunny day, and Kenna walked on, muttering to herself angrily until she was well away from the castle. The path around the loch was choked with long summer grass, which brushed against her skirts, fluffy seed heads soft against her fingertips as she pushed through it. Kenna plucked a blade of it and chewed on it, relaxing as the sun beat down on her, sweat making her hair stick to the back of her neck. She plopped down on the grassy bank.
For a while, she was distracted by gilded dragonflies hovering in and out of the bullrushes, iridescent greens and blues, like little flying gems. The heat was tiring, so she lay back and closed her eyes and relaxed to the rustling of the trees as they swayed in the breeze. She was on the brink of sleep when a shadow covered her face, blocking out the sun’s warmth. Squinting, she looked straight up into the angry face of Conall Campbell.
‘I tried so hard not to come back to you,’ he said bitterly. ‘I didn’t want to do this, but Kenna, you’ve left me no choice.’
***
‘You have to tell me where we’re going,’ Kenna demanded.
‘It’s a secret.’
‘I want to go back, Conall.’ His grip on her waist was firm, and he was much stronger than she had ever given him credit for. Strong enough to have dragged her struggling from the loch’s edge into the trees and to have manhandled her up onto Erebus as if it were nothing. They had been riding for hours with no end in sight and with Kenna cursing him all the way. She squirmed in the saddle.
‘Stop wriggling,’ he said wearily.
‘I will not stop.’
‘Alright, but you’re just getting me all hot and bothered doing that, so if you know what’s good for you be still.’
‘Look, you can’t just drag me off because you feel like it.’
‘I can do what the hell I want with you, Kenna, so calm down, and the journey will be more pleasant for both of us.’
‘Journey? Where are we going? Please, Conall, just tell me.’
‘That’s for me to know and you to puzzle out, but not too far now.’
‘If you won’t tell me, I won’t talk to you anymore.’
‘Finally, some peace, thank God.’
Kenna could only fume and cling on tightly as Conall steered Erebus up a steep bank, thick with pines and strewn with loose rock. They emerged at the top and pushed through the undergrowth into a clearing. In its centre stood a solitary tower of grey stone reaching up to the tops of the trees. Ivy clung to its walls, camouflaging it into the green of the wood around it, and it was shuttered, abandoned-looking and well-hidden.
‘We’re here,’ said Conall, getting off to tether Erebus and pulling her down. He strode to the doorway and put his shoulder against it. ‘This always sticks,’ he said, grunting with effort as it slowly scraped open.
Kenna took her chance and ran to the edge of the clearing. She was confident that she could outrun him but hadn’t reckoned on barging straight into a tangle of brambles that snagged her skirts and pulled her up abruptly. Seconds later, Conall’s weight barrelled into her, arms like iron bars around her waist.
‘Get off me,’ she yelled as they both fell to the floor.
‘Where in the hell do you think you are going, woman?’
‘Anywhere away from you,’ she shouted into his face, thrashing and beating him with her fists.
‘Remember what happens when you wriggle like that,’ he laughed.
Why was this funny? Did he think she would melt into his arms and forgive him for kidnapping her?
Conall grabbed her hand. ‘Your finger is bleeding.’ He put it into his mouth and sucked the blood off, slowly, far too slowly for her liking. He had a dangerous look on his face, his black eyes seductive, arousing something inside her. His weight pressing down on her brought her back to that night in the cottage, and thinking about it made her insides turn to liquid. For one delicious moment, Kenna held her breath and closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her.
‘Let’s get you inside, shall we,’ he said gruffly, pulling her up and dragging her into the tower.
