“Since ye ken so well what all this is about, and how the Queen would feel if she knew I rejected ye, ‘tis best to lie with enthusiasm.”
“Ye rejected me?” Kenna snapped, horrified that he had managed to spin her own rejection, yet submission—she wasn’t sure what to even call it anymore—against her.
“Just come look. See? Looks about right.”
Kenna remembered the last wedding she had been to, and the awkward occasion it had been the next morning when her aunt had asked her to accompany her to the newlywed’s chambers and give witness to the stain on the sheets. Perhaps Kenna should have been a bit jealous of her husband’s past engagements, for this bloodstain was remarkably convincing. He had seen the stain of a virgin before.
The approval must have been apparent on her face because Rob simply nodded before rising to find a bit of cloth to press against the wound before pulling his shirt back on, fully concealing the evidence of his betrayal.
“Ye really aren’t about anything?” Kenna asked as he heaved himself back into the bed with a grunt, carefully rolling onto his non-wounded arm.
“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”
“So, ye have no wish to consummate the marriage?” Kenna felt foolish for not being able to identify the trick he was surely playing on her.
“Oh, believe me, I have a wish, especially if ye keep wearing that frock around. But I’ll not do it. Not ‘til ye beg me,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow to flash her a smile, but there was no laugh there.
It was a challenge, a dare that, clearly, he had already told himself he had won.
“I’ll never beg.”
“Careful, lass, the day will come. I promise ye.”
“Aye, so will the day the cows jump over the moon.”
He laughed at that and collapsed back onto the pillows. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Kenna replied, still standing stupidly on the opposite side of the room.
It wasn’t until Rob’s breathing slowed with sleep that Kenna felt bold enough to move, and even then she only sat down at her favorite place by the window. The sounds of the wedding feast could still be heard on the wind, and the thought made Kenna smile absently. She had always pictured her wedding as the social event of the year, and it seemed that it may turn into just that. Of course, she had imagined herself at its center, celebrating as loudly as the rest, with a husband she loved on her arm. They would sing and dance and drink until they could take it no longer, stealing up to their chambers to happily fulfill their marital duties.
Head aching, Kenna reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, then set them silently beside her until, at last, her tangled curls fell free and the pain in her scalp melted into a strange sort of pleasure; a bit of hurt and a bit of relief all coiled together into one exquisite feeling. She blushed when she understood this was not the source she had expected such a feeling to come from on this particular night. The source was currently abed, snoring away as content as a dog by a fire.
No, none of this was as she had imagined it at all.
The moon cast a calming light across the castle’s grounds, and she scanned the landscape, comprehending that this may be the last time she would ever see this place doused in moonlight. She could close her eyes and see it all so clearly, yet she found herself peering out at the land surrounding the castle anyway, taking it in a bit longer to make sure she had dedicated each tree, hill, and outcropping perfectly to memory.
That was when she spotted him, the Earl of Sutherland, standing out near a tree just beyond the castle’s walls. She might have passed right over him if the gold threads stretched across his massive belly did not catch the moonlight as well as they did.
Questions of what he could be doing were soon abandoned as a second figure, one she would have recognized even without the bright glow of the moon, approached him.
Ach, what could they be on about out there so late in the night? Kenna thought as she watched John begin to talk animatedly with Sutherland. It was as if they were a pair of old friends, going on and on without a care in the world.
“It was Sutherland!” Kenna whispered as the thought struck her that he must have been the one to help arrange her marriage.
John had said he was one of her trusted advisors. She ought to hate him for it, but as her thoughts crossed back to Elizabeth and, reluctantly, her brothers, she had to admit that he had given her a gift that could never be repaid.
John’s friends had never really been ones Kenna wished to share, but she would have to make an exception just this once. She would need all the friends she could get once they set out for the Queen’s court in Aberdeen. Being Rob’s wife only granted her the position of glorified hostage. Should she ever wish to rise to her own identity, to secure her own safety, she would have to make connections, using them to drag herself inch by inch away from the ruined name of Gordon.
Footsteps outside her door pulled her away from her spying, followed by the unmistakable sound of women’s whispers. They were just beyond the threshold, and the candlelight flickering through the frame was unmistakable. So, the Queen had sent some ladies to see if they could hear the consummation. Would they be bold enough to open the door and look?
Not willing to risk it, Kenna rose and crossed the room to the bed, silent as a mouse in the presence of a cat. Slipping into the folds of the blankets, she pressed herself close to Rob, forcing herself to ignore the pleasantness of his warmth on a cool fall night. As one final touch, she ran her hand through her hair and messed it about, knowing that the maids often teased young wives who rose with disheveled hair, saying that it only meant she had been up to one thing the night before.
The tangles would be a nightmare in the morning, but if she and Rob were going to lie, she would participate enthusiastically.
4
Thomas had never in his life seen Inverness Castle so full of gaiety. He was sure that the walls themselves would soon start to crumble, unable to contain all of the noise or the shaking caused by hundreds of dancing feet.
People seemed to have abandoned each of the morals that they had been taught, bending more to the will of drinks and amusement than that of God. Women he had known his entire life, women who never once showed him a wee bit of interest, were looking at him as if he was a prized stud. Men went clambering to the floor in a brawl, only to rise a second later in a friendly embrace, practically crying as they reaffirmed the deepness of their friendship.
Thomas had always thought it silly that his father never fully unleashed the power of his liquor stores, but now he saw the wisdom in the choice. People were going mad.
John reentered the hall and began a slow trek toward him, beaming and stopping here and there to share a joke or the verse of some song.
“Ah, Thomas, have ye ever seen such a party? This is how the castle ought to be all the time.”
“Aye, if only the morning wouldn’t deliver such a blow.”
John laughed heartily and accepted a goblet from a passing lass, one who Thomas was sure he had seen before. In fact, there were many women that he was sure he had seen before. Not serving in the castle, but in some awfully improper spots down in Inverness.
John must have seen Thomas’ eyes trailing the woman as she left. “Sutherland paid them—wanted this wedding to be one fer the ages.”
Ah. No wonder the women seem so loose, Thomas thought.
They were whores, and likely earning a bit extra for each man they snared. It couldn’t have been a cheap plan for Sutherland, who had not returned with John, and who Thomas couldn’t remember seeing with any of the women himself. He wasn’t smart enough, or sober enough, to work out the reason for it.
“Our good friend Sutherland seems to have many plans. How was yer little talk?”
“Keep yer voice down, brother,” John mumbled. “Canna have the wrong ears hear ye now. Sutherland and I worked out all the final details. All that is left is the action itself.”
Thomas nodded sl
owly. “Didn’t happen to ask him what would happen to Kenna? Once Sutherland’s plan is through, she will be the easiest one fer the Queen to lay her hands on.”
“Kenna is a bright lass. She’ll be fine.”
“Kenna is a foolish girl, more apt to say something worth killing her over than not. Ye ken that better than anyone since ye’re the one always saying it.”
John’s fingers tightened on the goblet in his hands, and he sneered. “Fer one with so many concerns, ye speak them a bit too late. The Fraser has already wed her and bed her. Ye’re drinking at the dregs of her wedding feast.”
“But—”
“Enough.” John hissed, looking around them both to make sure all were out of earshot. “Remember why we did this. We were dead men, just like our father. Elizabeth and Kenna were ruined, if not dead themselves. We saved those lives and, as ye’ve said yerself, Rob Fraser is a better husband than Kenna deserves. ‘Tis a gift to her, all of this.”
“Aye, we give her a gift and then do our best to sour it with treachery.”
“We give a gift to see if she makes anything of it. And the last I checked, serving one’s clan is the noblest of endeavors,” John said in finality, standing and leaving Thomas to his self-inflicted penance so he could rejoin the rest of the celebrations.
John had a fair point. It had almost even been wise, Thomas comprehended, wondering if this was some sort of new John that he would need to learn to contend with. He preferred him stupid and hotheaded; it meant that he knew where every swing was coming from. He could control it, manipulate it, ensure that the fist fell where he wished. Hopefully, this new version would wear off over time.
Thomas knew that John was right about them having few options that ended with them having heads. Even fewer resulted with them still holding the castle. But holding the castle was pivotal if they wanted any sort of favor from their Laird, the Earl of Huntly; a man whose face they had only seen a handful of times but whose words had affected their lives simply because they were born with the name Gordon. It had given them so much, but it had cost them even more.
Remembering Kenna that morning, and her undeniable fascination when she first saw Rob Fraser, gave him a bit of hope that he hadn’t lost her, not completely. The rest of the feast, with her sitting stony-faced beside her new husband, was all that he could have expected from a sister who had always been too stubborn for her own good. Given time, Rob Fraser may just be able to wear her down and get Kenna at her best.
But then, it was Kenna. With her mouth, she would probably be dead by the end of the week.
“Can I top ye off, milord?” It was a lass with matted hair and an overly tanned complexion. Probably some farmer’s daughter who had heard that there was gold up for grabs if she was willing to pay the price to take it. Not the prettiest of them, but she would do.
“Aye.”
She filled the goblet and settled herself into Thomas’ lap, pressing herself up against him and suckling at his neck through fake giggles that she probably thought he wished to hear.
He let her continue her work, grinding up against him, while he stared past her to his full cup. With a tip, he poured some of the deep-red liquid onto the ground. A tribute to those he had lost.
5
There are very few places in the world that can rival the Scottish Highlands during the fall, Rob thought.
The lush shades of green that dominated the landscape were now tempered with hints of red and gold, shades that would soon consume the rest before caving to the icy winter frosts. Fall was his favorite time of year, and he inwardly thanked the Earl of Huntly for choosing this particular season to rebel against the crown.
Rob’s enjoyment of the scenery was cut by a laugh. Her laugh. Glancing over his shoulder, pretending that he was simply scanning the line of trees a few paces from the edge of the road, he saw Kenna in a fit of giggles as she rode alongside a couple of his men and the Earl of Sutherland.
At least someone is enjoying my new bride, he thought bitterly.
It had been a week since they had left Inverness Castle, making a slow but steady pace through the hills toward Aberdeen. Things between he and Kenna were yet to improve. Each night, when they were alone in their tent, Rob swore she was putting on a show, her hips swaying in front of him as she slowly pulled off her riding clothes, standing only in that godforsaken shift that hid absolutely nothing as she gently washed the day’s dust off of her face and neck. He had made it a habit to just drape his plaid over his lap whenever he sat and spent a good portion of his daydreaming about the things he could do to her that would make her beg.
And he would need her to beg him soon.
When they had left the wedding feast for her bedchambers, Rob had known full well where her mind was. But then they had sat, drunk, talked, and laughed. He thought he could feel the stone wall between them starting to crumble stone by stone. He had tested the wall’s strength by taking her hand and holding it tight, and she hadn’t pulled away. Then the damnable woman had let him undress her, allowing him to relish in the flush of her skin as he drew his hands along her perfect figure as he stripped away the last of what lay between them.
But, wall or not, she had still seen him as an invader. An unwelcome guest who was pressing upon a weakness born of duty—the same duty that should have led her to sit upon the bed and call for him, despite her reservations. She would have laid there quietly, letting him do what he wished and taking whatever he wanted as a conqueror of her and her family. But she would never have forgiven him.
The thought made him ill. Certain wounds could be healed, but others, the ones that lingered in the back of one’s mind and emerged to cast shadows across dreams, were not so simple. Thinking that he could have hurt her in that way was a force against his manhood, though eager it still was. No, the sweetest treats were ones earned, or in this case, begged for.
I’ll never have a woman again, Rob thought with a grimace.
A lass as stubborn as Kenna would never bend so low as to beg, even if she wanted to. He liked that about her, but he hated it even more.
When he had awoken the morning after the wedding, he had encountered the first test of his will. There she was, one of the bonniest women he had ever seen, curled up beside him, her dark hair loose and falling in perfect little streams through each turn and bend of her body and her shift hiked up to the point that each supple cheek of her buttocks was threatening to escape. It had taken all of his willpower (and all the cold water left in the basin) not to wake her, begging her to beg him.
Instead, as he sat waiting for her to wake, he had formulated a plan.
He knew his men and how they behaved outside of Dounie, without their wives and mothers to keep them in check. Vulgar was too kind a word. When Rob brought his new bride down, and they went out on the road, they would set in against the newlyweds. There would be nothing else for them to do but devise fresh ribs. Kenna, who was yet to let something disagreeable pass without comment, would volley back some retort. The men wouldn’t want a woman telling them off, so they would leave her on her own. Kenna would, eventually, decide that talking to Rob was better than no one at all, and he could begin his slow pursuit of wooing her. Perhaps he would even help her earn the respect and friendship of his men, and she would thank him with a blush on her face. The marriage would be consummated, and his wife would be fully pleased with her new situation by the time they reached Aberdeen.
It had been a beautiful plan, masterful, even, Rob had dared to think.
Kenna had awoken that morning with a visible headache due to all the liquor she had consumed, turning green at a plate of warm bannocks delivered by the maids who collected the sheets to be ceremoniously examined by the Queen, Rob’s father, and Kenna’s brothers. Rob had been ecstatic. Illness would surely push her to be even more quick to snap at some ill-placed comment.
But, of course, the wedding party had not just affected Kenna—all of his men were weary from the drinking. So weary that many were stil
l drunk and the rest far too ill to say anything—let alone a good, lewd quip. Murtagh, a man Rob had long considered one of his best, had been riding beside them when he finally retched over the side of his horse. Kenna, without a second thought, had fished a few mint leaves from the pocket of her dusty blue riding coat and passed them over wordlessly.
Within an hour, all of the men had come to Kenna for a bit of mint to soothe their stomachs and rid their mouths of the taste of bile. When they started passing flasks, declaring the hair of the dog to be the best remedy for their current ills, Kenna had been the first one they had passed it to. Before Rob knew it had happened, the men had roped Kenna into one of their asinine debates, asking for their new lady to settle the matter. That, of course, turned into a full conversation, and the next thing he knew, she was in the middle of the group, delivering a witty response that nearly brought the men to tears. Rob had remained hopeful that at some point one of the men would take it too far and Kenna would slam down something harsh in return, driving them away from her company. But no, they enjoyed her company too much to say anything truly offensive. If any came close, she just shot them a look, and they would dip their heads in quick apology, earning her smile and forgiveness.
When they made camp that night, several of his men had clapped him on the shoulder to congratulate him on having such a wife. The bloody woman was beloved.
His men were not the only ones he caught in her company. Whether it was one of the Queen’s maids, his father, or even the damn Earl of Sutherland, Kenna seemed to find everyone in the large traveling party to be a welcomed companion other than Rob. All he got from her were some awkward conversations followed by a few angry volleys between them before they fell asleep, side by side but as far apart as the blankets allowed.
The only person that was yet to abandon him for the company of his wife was his brother, Hugh. They spent most of their days riding together, often breaking off from the main party to go riding through the land beyond the road, catching rabbits and squirrels for dinner and laying traps they could ride back to while the rest of the party continued their slow meanders. The rides away from Kenna and the rest kept Rob’s head clear, giving him a moment to pretend he was back at Dounie, hunting in the Highland hills beside his brother like any normal day.
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 4