“Kenna,” he said, crossing the room to pull her into his arms, “the evidence was so damning.”
She shoved him, and Rob released his grasp, sensing the danger of trying to contain a fire before it had a sufficient chance to burn.
“Ye asked me before the Queen even told us why we were there. Ye assumed I was guilty of something before ye had an inkling of what it could be. I have given ye no reason to admonish me so. Even the Queen, who despises me, can’t find me guilty of any crimes, so why were ye so sure that she would?”
“But, Kenna, ye’ve escaped her executioner only because the Queen is willing to rely on promises and lies.”
“Who lied fer me?”
“Florence.” He winced. “Ye were all by yerself when I returned last night.”
“I had been alone fer barely any time at all! I went straight from her room to ours. I undressed, I had some wine, I sat by the fire for a spell, and then there ye were!”
“So then deny the accusations. Here and now, put my mind at ease,” Rob pleaded, reaching out for her, but her blue eyes were so full of anger that his fingers halted in mid-air.
With one final glare at him, Kenna spun and marched herself across the room and began tearing into the linen-wrapped packages, pulling from them a few fresh shifts and petticoats before she found a dress.
“Since I am unable to be trusted alone in this room, I’ll go dress and stay in Florence’s. If that is acceptable, at least. I am sure ye would like me out of yer way so ye can go flex with the other men and decide what to do with me.”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she gathered the clothes and left.
* * *
Rob was ready to mark down this day as the worst of his life, and it wasn’t even close to being done. It had been hours since he and Kenna had returned from the Queen’s house, but he would have believed it if someone told him it had been weeks.
While Kenna and Florence hid themselves away, surely unleashing a fury of nasty complaints against him, Rob and his father had taken over the first floor of the inn. The tables were soon covered with discarded documents and half-eaten meals. The men wrote messages to everyone and anyone who they thought might receive them with an open mind, focusing most of their attention on the men in the Queen’s inner circle. They needed help, advice, and information that would either clear Kenna’s name or prove her guilt, once and for all.
After many messages back and forth, one of the Queen’s advisors finally granted them access to the messenger, allowing the Fraser men to question him for themselves. The advisor sent the notice with plenty of hesitations, reminding them that there was very little chance that they could coax information out of the man better than the Queen’s torturers had, but the men jumped at the chance all the same. At the very least, it got them back into the Queen’s house, back to where the real discussions were happening.
Though Rob was quick to reveal the good news to Florence and Kenna, he was still met with a pair of twin glares. When he asked Kenna to follow him, Florence did her best to object. She called him names that would have made even Murtagh blush, but Kenna had stayed silent. She didn’t ask him where they were going or why; she just got up and followed him out into the streets of Aberdeen.
Twilight had descended over the city. The thin veil of purple light had a way of making even the worst of the city look beautiful. The streets were nearly empty, and music poured from the windows of inns that were bursting with laughing men. It might have been the ideal time for a pleasant evening stroll with his wife if the circumstances were different. They could have gone up and down the streets, hand in hand, pointing out shops and prettily built houses while they flirted and hinted at what would happen once the walk was over. Instead, she was half a stride behind him, her arms crossed defiantly, sparks of anger flying from her eyes whenever he dared to cast a sidelong glance in her direction.
Rob led them toward the center of town, turning carefully down side streets to avoid crossing in front of the Queen’s house. At last, they turned down a street filled with nearly identical houses. Each was just as large as the one before and built of red stone. The only differences between them were the patterns of ivy snaking their way up the sides, for even the wealthy men that lived on this street could not control the whims of mother nature. The house they stopped in front of was unique only because of the ornate ‘S’ carved into the front door.
“Where the hell are we?” Kenna asked as she looked up at the house.
“I thought ye might enjoy spending the evening in the company of the Earl of Sutherland.”
“Ye mean an evening of being watched by a source that would lie to neither ye nor the Queen?”
Rob had nothing to say. It was the truth, after all. The Earl of Sutherland did not trust Kenna, so it was unlikely that he would allow her to do anything that could result in the release of a treasonous message. But Sutherland also seemed to be an honorable and pragmatic man. If another bit of treachery was discovered while Kenna was in his care, Sutherland would surely defend her and urge the Queen and her advisors to continue looking for the true culprit. For Rob, it was a perfect and easy solution to leave Kenna there for the night while he and his father moved their investigation out of the inn. Rob had written to Sutherland as soon as the advisor granted them permission to question the messenger, and he had returned the request to spend the evening with Kenna quickly and with enthusiasm.
“Ye two always seem to get on quite well. I thought ye might have an agreeable evening.” Rob gave the door three quick knocks and heard a small stir on the inside.
“Aye, ‘tis going to be quite the ball. An evening so full of fun, who kens if I’ll ever want to return to ye,” Kenna said, smoothing down her skirts.
Her new dress was quite the sight. Though made from a simple cotton, it was dyed a rosy shade of pink that brought out the blue in her eyes and made her hair look even darker than it was. A criss-cross of white ribbon across the bodice managed to accentuate both the size of her chest and the thinness of her waist. Rob wanted to tell her that she was beautiful but doubted it would give her any pleasure.
“I’ll be back as soon as I am able.” Rob pulled her close and kissed her quickly before she had the chance to take a swing at him.
The door opened, and a young lass curtsied at them before inviting Kenna inside.
Kenna nodded in acknowledgment, a stiff smile forced upon her face, and she began to follow the lass inside.
At the last second, she turned. “Enjoy this time we are apart. Our reunion will be most unpleasant.”
Rob smiled, knowing how bilious it was for him to be looking forward to it.
10
“Ah, Lady Kenna.” Sutherland set down his collection of jars and crossed to take her hands into his pudgy fingers. “So good to see ye, lass. Look at ye… Ye are still so bonny despite everything they have put ye through. How is yer arm?”
“The burns are healing fine, Laird Sutherland. I understand I am to thank ye fer the ointment.”
“‘Twas nothing. My wife will be pleased that it was put to some use. The woman hardly trusts me to return home in one piece; she spends so much at the apothecary. Anyway, come in, come in, can I offer ye some wine and a bit of oatcake? I absolutely loathe spending time away from home, but I must say that the housekeeper under my brother’s employ makes the finest oatcakes in all of Scotland.”
“Sounds lovely. Is this yer brother’s home, then?” Kenna asked as they sat beside a table piled high with fine china and pastries.
“Aye. He left the comforts of the clan years ago to marry the only daughter of a merchant. Inherited the whole lot. He is currently gone on a wee bit of business but was still good enough to lend a room to his Laird and brother.”
“How kind,” Kenna said before Sutherland began to tell her every story he could possibly remember about his brother, his hands constantly reaching for another oatcake or his goblet.
Before Kenna knew it, Sutherland’s
words began to slur, and he was rocking slowly back and forth in his chair under the influence of wine and a belly full of sweets.
“I mean, I love my brother. I do. ‘Tis a fine thing to have brothers, no? Well, of course, ye understand the feeling; ye have two fine brothers yerself. Thomas is especially sharp, if ye do not mind me comparing them. His prose is so eloquent, so refined. ‘Tis so near to poetry, isn’t it? John, though, ach! That lad only writes what is needed. Considering his pompous speech in person, ‘twas a bit surprising to see his prose.”
“You have such knowledge of their prose?” Kenna asked, her cold hands firmly gripping her skirt to keep them from shaking. “Have they written to ye?”
“Oh.” Sutherland paused. “I mean, I just received a small pair of notes. They were waiting fer me here when we arrived yesterday. Amazing how slow our little convoy moved. We were overtaken so easily by a letter carrier, of all things.”
“‘Tis true.” Kenna forced down the overwhelming hurt that was making her eyes sting.
She had arrived in Aberdeen so hopeful that she would have received some word from home. News of their father’s burial, perhaps, or even just a small note asking her how she was and how the journey had been. There had been nothing.
Give it time, she had told herself. The boys and Elizabeth are just too busy recovering from the siege and all of the trouble that the Earl of Huntly is stirring up.
But, apparently, they hadn’t been all that busy. They just hadn’t wanted to write to her.
“Shall we retire to the sitting room fer a game of cards or some other bit of entertainment?” Sutherland asked, intervening in her thoughts.
Kenna nodded, “Aye, that would be lovely.”
Sutherland’s brother and his wife had a peculiar flair for decoration. The room, which was at the side of the house, was large and only had one window. But, on a dark night such as this, the only light was coming from the small hearth and piles upon piles of white, dripping candles, which the maid was rushing around to light as they entered. The walls were lined in red silk, a deep shade that reminded Kenna of blood, giving the entire room a soft, crimson glow. The furnishings were large and overpowering, though all intricately carved with delicate flowers and birds, bits of ivory embedded into the images for a bit of emphasis. There had to be at least a hundred ornately woven rugs scattered across the floor, layered one on top of the other in thick heaps, which made the floor uneven and oddly soft under her feet. Along one wall was a series of shelves full of strange objects and artifacts. Animal skulls, fine porcelain vases, oddly carved trinkets, and little portraits in golden frames; the odd and the expensive were all mixed together on the same shelf as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Only one shelf seemed to stand out from the rest. While the other shelves were nearly overflowing with treasures, one held only three cups, each wrapped in soft brown leather and turned upside down. The space they were given emphasized them, drawing any eye that dared cast a glance in their direction.
“What are these fer?” Kenna asked, lifting one of the three cups and looking beneath it, but finding nothing.
“Look at ye, lass—finding the one thing in this room that is mine. Those are fer a game. An excellent betting game, as it were.” Sutherland came over and gathered the cups, bringing them to the table at the center of the room. “I saw it first on the streets of Edinburgh and showed it to the Queen. She adores it now, ye ken; she asks me to play it with her all the time. Let me show ye.”
He set the three cups down onto the table, still turned over. From his pocket, he pulled a silver coin and placed it beneath the middle cup.
“Track it, and it shall be yers to win.”
With speed she never thought him capable of, he began to shuffle the cups on the table, twisting them back and forth and round and round. Kenna tried to keep an eye on the cup with the coin, but she went cross-eyed. Finally, Sutherland stopped the cups in their tracks and pulled his hands away.
Kenna reached out and hesitantly pointed at one of the cups. Sutherland tipped it back.
Nothing.
“Ach! Better luck next time,” he said with a big, booming laugh.
At that moment, the maid popped her head back into the room. “Laird Sutherland, there is a man here who needs yer signature on a delivery,” she said.
“My new dagger! Thank ye. Please excuse me, Lady Kenna.”
Kenna waited to laugh about his delivery until he had left the room.
What does a man like him need a dagger for? she thought. Ah, that’s it: he doesn’t need one.
It was probably just an accessory to him. A hilt that could be adorned and hung on his belt in the same way that a lady would drape a bejeweled necklace about her neck.
Kenna stood and stretched, marveling at how many oatcakes she had been coaxed into eating and wondering how large she would be by the time she left the house.
‘Tis so hot in here.
She went over to the single window and threw it open. There was no breeze that night, she may as well have left the window shut for all the good it was doing, but the thought that a passing breeze might soon find her was a comfort. The window overlooked the garden just to the side of the house and, if Kenna stuck her head out far enough, she could see around the corner of the house to the stone archway marking the entrance to the courtyard. The street beyond, from what she could tell, was empty.
Bored with the still night, she wandered back to the shelves, determined to examine everything they contained. She traced her fingers over carved music boxes and woven baskets while her eyes roved across beautifully painted portraits and landscapes.
Eventually, her fingers came to rest on a thin box emblazoned with beads and bits of ribbon. It reminded her of a box her mother used to have, filled with her very favorite trinkets and letters. She used to take things out now and then and show them to her children, explaining the meaning behind each thing and why it was so precious to her. When her mother had passed, her father had placed the box in the sunniest solar of the castle, allowing his children to go and lift the lid whenever they needed some comfort from a mother who could no longer embrace them.
Unable to help herself, Kenna tipped open the lid of Sutherland’s box and looked inside. It was filled with bits of half-covered parchment.
Half-written reports or letters, Kenna guessed silently without looking at them too closely.
Then something caught her eye. A big, swirling letter ‘K’.
With shaking fingers, she grabbed the box and brought it to one of the side tables. She pulled the parchment out and held it up to the candlelight.
“Enclosed is a report of the Queen’s current funds while she remains in Aberdeen. Though she is likely to secure more funds from the lairds nearby should she need them, ‘tis unlikely that she could afford a long campaign without sending a request to Edinburgh fer financial assistance…” Kenna read aloud, scanning the rest of the parchment, so full of numbers and notations that she only halfway understood, before, at the bottom, it read, “May the Lord shine favor upon ye and yer rebellion, fer ye are doing His work. K.”
Kenna reached for the next paper, filled with notes and thoughts on the Queen and her court, little obscure tidings that were yet to be pulled together into a comprehensive letter.
The next was a letter from the Earl of Huntly himself. It wasn’t signed with his name, but she would have recognized his quick and sharp scrawl anywhere; she had seen it so many times before on the letters that had always been scattered across her father’s desk. It was dated back to earlier that year, and he was requesting Sutherland’s assistance in the event that the Queen did not leave him be.
The next bit of parchment was another letter, written in handwriting that was even more familiar to her than that of the Earl of Huntly’s.
It simply read: ‘Tis done. Hope to see ye soon. John.
“Kenna, let me show ye my new blade! The smiths here in Aberdeen are beyond compare. Just look at—�
�� Sutherland froze when he saw her standing there, the box open beside her.
“‘Tis ye,” Kenna said, her hand shaking as it clung to her brother’s letter. “Ye are the one who has been leaking information to the Earl of Huntly. ‘Twas yer message they intercepted last night!”
The Earl sighed and tucked the dagger into his already overworked belt. “It does not suit to go through a man’s things uninvited. Many would go so far as to say that the action is quite rude, even if the lass doing the thing is as bonny as ye.”
“Ye rotten bloody bastard! The Queen trusts ye. They all trust ye. Yet here ye are, betraying them.”
“I betray no one. What I do is for the good of all of Scotland. Just imagine the damage that a lass like Mary could do to our great nation if she continues to sit on the throne. She is young, she is rash, she does whatever she pleases, and she does not care about the consequences. She simply does not ken how to rule, and Huntly is only taking the necessary steps to show her that her authority is not as strong as she thinks,” Sutherland said with the casual attitude of someone condemning a piece of art rather than the Crown.
“Queen Mary has the right to do whatever she pleases because she is the Queen.” Kenna hissed, but she did not want to be bogged down by the politics of the issue. There were more pressing questions that needed to be asked. “Why sign yer letters with a ‘K’? What is the meaning behind it?”
“Let us play another game,” Sutherland said with a grim smile as he sat down again before the three cups.
“To what point? I asked ye a question, and I demand—”
“The game is to illustrate a point, dear Kenna.” He sighed and cast her an exasperated look. “Please, sit. Here, the same silver coin back under the cup. Now here we go again, twisting here and there, shuffling them about, mixing them as quick as I can. It requires excellent focus, but if ye pay close enough attention, ye can always find the coin. Go ahead, pick one.”
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 12