She had been smiling all day, it had seemed, and for the most foolish of reasons, such as seeing a cloud that reminded her of a rabbit or a pretty tree still clinging to its fall colors. Even the worst of the men’s jokes had made her smile. It had all started that morning when they had ridden out through the gates of Aberdeen just as the sun cracked over the horizon.
A new day, a new life, a new me, Kenna had thought, realizing that every fear and worry was being left behind in Aberdeen.
There would be no more queen to threaten her with torture and death, no more nobles or courtesans glaring at her whenever she left the safety of her room, and, blessedly, no more opportunities for Florence and Ellen to get into a quarrel about spending coin and social obligations.
Kenna’s entire body had relaxed, and a smile had worked its way to her lips, where it had remained for the rest of the day.
The Fraser party, despite hauling carts that were heavily laden with trunks and supplies, had made a remarkable pace. They rode much further in that single day of riding than they had been able to go when they were traveling with the Queen and her carts. Of course, it helped that they had only stopped when necessary, even eating their simple lunch of slightly-stale bread and cheese while on horseback. When the sun started to dip toward the horizon, they had kept on riding, making it a few more leagues before the light started to fade as the sun touched the highest hill on the horizon. Laird Lovat had quickly pointed to a small field off of the road and called for them to make camp, and to do it quickly.
Kenna found Florence and Ellen standing beside the large fire being stoked at the center of the field, bent over a pile of carrots, onion, and freshly caught rabbits.
“We have to make supper?” Kenna asked with a groan.
“Aye,” Florence replied, staring down at the pile, her forehead crinkled with confusion. “They say we could make a decent rabbit stew.”
Kenna looked around at the ingredients and nodded, hoping that she could mask her utter ineptitude for cooking.
“Aye, ‘tis a good plan. So, what shall ye have me do first?”
Florence scoffed.“Ye tell me; I always grew up with cooks.”
“And I did not?” Kenna retorted.
Ellen sighed and picked up the rabbits. With a couple of swift cuts and pulls, she pulled back all of the fur and was starting to separate bits of meat and bone. Kenna marveled at her, amazed at how easily this task was coming to her.
“Oh, Ellen! How did ye do that?” Florence asked.
Ellen’s lips set in an angry grimace. “Not everyone was blessed enough to grow up in a castle with cooks. Now, Kenna, can ye manage to chop the vegetables? Aye, I’ll tell ye what to do. Florence, ye go get someone to fill our pot with some water and set it over the fire.”
Kenna and Florence sprang into their tasks with liveliness, taking Ellen’s direction as she gave it and doing their best to protect their fingers from cuts and burns. The result was a fairly thin, watery, and tasteless “stew”—nothing half as good as what the innkeeper had made in Aberdeen. Kenna felt a few stabs of embarrassment as she spooned it into bowls and passed them around. Florence, on the other hand, looked as proud as could be. She stood over the men, ladle in hand, watching them as they took their first gulps.
They were all smart enough to swallow quickly and come up with some ambiguous compliment.
Eventually, with coaxing and goading, the last of the stew was eaten up, and the party settled around the fire, pulling plaids over their shoulders and stretching out their legs, so the bottoms of their feet grew warm from the fire. Flasks were pulled out and passed around, the heat of the alcohol staving off the cold of the late autumn night.
Rob wrapped his plaid around him and Kenna, and she let her head slip so that it came to rest against his shoulder. Rob’s arm snaked around her waist in return, holding her close to him.
When everyone seemed to be comfortable, Florence begged to finally hear the story of the battle. All day, the men had been half-asleep on their horses, all continuing to push back the tale to that evening when they could give it their full attention. The time, it would seem, had come. They went round and round the circle, each one of them contributing a bit to the tale while adding their own inimitable style of embellishments or contradicting the claims of someone who had spoken before.
Murtagh, for example, claimed that he had taken on a Gordon scout and won with nothing more than his fists. Jacob had laughed at that, saying that Murtagh hadn’t even been close to the Gordon scout, that it was actually he who had killed the man by throwing a blade from more than twenty paces away. Hugh told them that they were both ridiculous because Rob had been the one to kill the scout with a quick slash of his sword. Rob just shrugged and smiled, neither confirming nor denying his role.
Kenna listened intently, laughing at the way the men tried to top each other, but felt a slow wave of nausea wash over her when the story reached its end. The men said that the Queen’s forces had surrounded the small Gordon army, cutting off any opportunity they had to escape. Then they had shrunk their circle, pushing into the Gordons with swords and spears, impaling any who tried to break through the line and change their fate.
In the chaos of the men’s return and their swift departure from Aberdeen, Kenna had not taken the time to think about the cost of her freedom. Now, against her will, the images of her friends, cousins, and brothers were flashing across her mind. There were men she had only met a time or two and men whom she had known since she was a babe. There were faces that she could not put a name to and faces that were as familiar to her as her own.
How many of these men are now gone from this world? And were any of them Thomas or John?
Every time that she found herself worrying about her brothers, she had pulled herself back. She had reminded herself that she hated them for what they had done to her, both purposely and accidentally. All of the pain of the past few weeks had sprung from their own twisted sense of Gordon loyalty, and she was not sure she could forgive them for putting clan above family.
She hated them even more for making her worry. Like it or not, she still loved her brothers. They had done their best to rip themselves from her heart, but they still hung on with a single stitch that just wouldn’t break.
Rob seemed to sense her distress, and his arm around her waist tightened. It was a small comfort, the only comfort that he could give her at this moment. It would not be proper for a lady of Clan Fraser to so openly mourn the losses of her enemies.
Murtagh began a loud and boisterous account of the end of the battle, leading to more shouting and laughing than ever. Kenna thought about laughing, as well, even if it would have been hollow. At least she would have fit in.
But Rob intervened, leaning over her and whispering, “Yer brothers weren’t there.”
Kenna stiffened, only her eyes daring to dart over to try and get a good look at Rob’s face. Though his face was close to hers, he was staring straight ahead at the fire, a faint and forced smile on his lips.
The laughing around the fire continued, masking Rob’s next whisper, “Huntly ordered them to stay in Inverness.”
“Ye’re sure?” Kenna whispered back.
“Aye. A prisoner told me. One of Huntly’s advisors. Canna remember his name.”
Kenna dropped her head down, concealing her face behind the plaid, allowing herself a single wet tear as she swelled with relief and joy and release. And, she found, she was smiling once more.
Before anyone else around the fire could notice, she sat up again, having wiped away any trace of her emotions.
“Thank ye fer telling me.”
“‘Course, lass,” he replied softly, tightening his grip around her even more.
Kenna nuzzled into him, accepting his touch with a bit of pleasure. Rob had barely been with the group all day; he and Hugh had left the party almost as soon as it had departed to scout ahead and to hunt, only galloping back to the party a couple of times to let them all know that the road
ahead was still clear. Some things would never change.
“At the pace we are traveling, we will be passing by Inverness in two days,” Rob said, whispering in her ear again so as not to interrupt the story being told around them, which was now detailing the arguments over spoils of war. “If ye’d like, we could break off fer the afternoon and ride into town.”
“Really?” Kenna asked, carefully checking herself as her voice rose above a whisper with eagerness.
Rob grinned. “Aye. The rebellion is over. Clan Gordon no longer is considered an enemy of the Crown. So long as we rejoin the group by nightfall, it should not be a problem. We’ll get permission in the morn.”
Kenna could have kissed him; she was so happy. She would be smiling for weeks at this rate. Rob seemed to sense the change in her because he gave her hand a quick squeeze and then suddenly stood.
“Best get some sleep. It will be another early morn tomorrow. Come on, Kenna.” Rob held out his hand to her.
Kenna noted the twinkle in his eye and the devilish slope to his grin and her insides started to do flips. The last time she had seen that look, she had found herself pressed against a stable wall with her skirts hiked above her waist. It had been horrifying and thrilling and foolish and so incredibly sexy that she had finally started to understand the meaning of the word.
It had been terrifying to lose control of herself, but she couldn’t wait to do it again.
“No,” Ellen objected, hopping to her feet and rushing forward, intercepting Kenna’s hand before she could give it to Rob. “I think it would be wise fer us women to stay together in one tent. ‘Tis hardly fair, or safe, fer Florence to be left on her own.”
“Ellen, I would be quite safe, I assure ye,” Florence said, cocking her head as she studied their sister-in-law. “Are ye and Hugh fighting or something? Ye two have both been in a mood all day.”
“Ye canna just assume that people are fighting, Florence,” Hugh said, shooting his sister an angry look that Kenna immediately recognized as brotherly frustrations.
“Aye, there is nothing between Hugh and I that is causing this request. I would just rather not take the chance with ye. Ye ken that the Queen’s party was shot upon when they traveled along this road, do ye not? What if that assailant is still prowling the woods?”
“The Gordons have surrendered, Ellen,” Kenna said with a sigh, electing herself to be the one who would remind people of that until the end of time. “I doubt the archer is still out—”
“Ye canna ken fer sure! Laird Lovat, do ye not agree that it would be best if the women stayed together, rather than have Florence left alone in her tent?”
Laird Lovat looked up from his whittling, taken aback. He clearly hadn’t been paying attention to a word that was being said across the fire.
“Oh, aye, I suppose that may be a good notion.”
Rob shot Kenna a look of admonishment. It was going to be a long trip back to Dounie.
* * *
Kenna had truly missed Inverness. Aberdeen was one of Scotland’s finest cities, filled with massive stone buildings and marvelous shops beyond compare, but Inverness was home. The ebb and flow of merchants and workers moving through the streets to complete their daily tasks, the clusters of women going about their spending of coin, and the groups of children rushing between the crowds while they played was a sight so familiar to her that she had to pinch herself in order to convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming.
She watched the people move through the dingy window of a tavern, a cup of particularly disgusting wine in her hand. She shouldn’t drink it, but she hardly wished to be sober during a time like this. Rob sat beside her, anxiously tapping the table with his hands.
They had departed the rest of the Frasers that morning with the commands of Laird Lovat still echoing in their ears: “Ye can go into town and meet with yer family, but neither of ye is to step foot onto castle grounds.”
She didn’t blame him. The rebellion had only just been put down, and Kenna had only just been forgiven by the Queen. Testing that forgiveness now was asking for more trouble.
Though Kenna had understood, the refusal to allow her to trek up the castle had stung. She would not be able to see Elizabeth now, for her health rarely allowed her to leave the castle. Rob, sensing her sadness, had promised her that they would return to the castle as soon as time and politics allowed it, and then he had led her horse the entire trip so that Kenna could pen a letter to Elizabeth, explaining why she could not see her just yet and catching her up on everything that had happened since the morning after the wedding.
Once they had reached Inverness, Kenna had found a young lad who seemed in need of a few extra coins and had given him the letter to be delivered to the castle, along with a message for her brothers that she would be in town for only a few hours, and she wished they would ride down to see her.
“Tell them that I’ll be in their favorite tavern. The filthy one that they like so much,” she had told the boy, who looked a bit surprised when Kenna insisted he uses her exact phrasing. “That way, they will ken that ‘tis truly me calling fer them.”
But that had been hours ago, and there was still no sign of either John or Thomas.
“Do ye think they’ll come?” Kenna asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“How should I ken?” Rob replied. “They’re yer kin, not mine.”
“I ken I should have asked them to meet me somewhere else. I bet some of my friends would have lent us a room to visit. Then, at least, I could have seen my friends when those bastards declined.”
“Well, we could still go track someone down if ye wish. Or we could see if this tavern has a private room… Ye did make yerself look particularly bonny today. Would hate to waste it.”
Kenna blushed. She had gone out of her way to put on one of her new dresses that morning—a bright blue riding frock with a diamond pattern stitched across the chest in crisp white thread. When Florence had ordered the dress, Kenna had objected, arguing that it would be impossible to wear something so fine on the road.
Florence, in her usual way, had tossed her hair back and replied, “There is no occasion that is not worthy of a bit of finery.”
As it turned out, she had been right. That morning, knowing full well that the road to Inverness would be full of dust and debris, Kenna had decided to don the dress. She wanted her brothers to see that she was being cared for, that she was thriving no matter how dire the situation had been.
“Tease me all ye like, Rob Fraser, but yer hair is looking particularly smooth today. And was that a basin of water I heard ye request from the innkeeper earlier? Ye did come back looking awfully clean.”
Rob laughed. “Never bad to make a decent impression, lass.”
With a loud squeak, the door to the inn was heaved open, and a tall, lanky man came striding in.
“Thomas, lad! A bit early in the day fer ye, ‘tis not? Cuppa wine?”
Thomas’ eyes flicked around the room until, at last, they met Kenna’s. “Make it two.”
“Took yer time,” Kenna admonished as he took a seat beside her, collapsing with a grunt into the chair.
“Aye, well, there has been much to do lately. Canna just drop everything when a message calling fer a visit shows up out of the blue. Ye look well.”
“Is that surprising to ye?”
“Well, given yer proclivity fer trouble, I am a bit surprised. Hold on,” Thomas replied, reaching his hands out to accept the two cups of wine from the innkeeper.
He took the first and tipped it back. A bit of red wine dribbled down his chin, but Thomas made swift work of the rest, chugging it down with hardly a breath to slow him. He handed the emptied cup back to the innkeeper and pulled the second to his lips, taking one small sip before sighing and relaxing back into his seat.
“Much better. Anyway, how is the marriage?”
“Wonderful, thanks fer asking. Where is John?”
“Strathbogie. There is a lot to do after a rebe
llion is put down, ye ken. Lots of decisions about who will govern what clan’s lands and who will go and try to repair the lost relationships with other clans and the Queen. And, of course, there were some weaknesses discovered in the castle’s defenses that must be attended to—thank ye fer yer help on that front, Laird Fraser.” Thomas gave Rob a grim smile and tipped his glass toward him.
“Anytime,” Rob replied, with a light smile dancing across his lips.
“None of that seems like a good job fer John.”
“‘Tis certainly not a good job fer John, but he is the elder brother, and he has been awfully pleased with that power as of late. He has been absolutely infuriating. Ye should be glad ye are nowhere near him.”
“So…” Kenna leaned back in her chair and put a finger to her cheek as if she was pondering the point. “… was it his idea to shoot an arrow at me or yers?”
Rob flinched beside her. He had warned her during their ride to Inverness that openly accusing either of her brothers would only end poorly.
“It would be best to coax it out of him, ye ken? Ask him where he went and why and see if something slips,” Rob had told her. “Once ye have him admitting details that he canna take back, ye can accuse him. They won’t have a choice but to admit it then.”
Kenna was doing none of that. She didn’t have the patience for it, nor did it seem like the right course of action. Everything that had happened had been the result of this sort of belief, these little political games that people played with each other. She would not participate any longer, especially when it was one of her brothers that stood accused.
Thomas squinted at her over the rim of his cup. “What are ye on about?”
“The arrow, Thomas! The arrow ye shot into the camp. When it happened, I saw a gold flash in the trees. Are ye telling me that it was not that stupid chain?” she replied, jabbing a finger into his chest, feeling the rough pattern of the chain beneath his shirt.
She felt, rather than saw, Rob’s glance come down upon her.
Ach, she comprehended Ye had not told him about seeing a flash of gold in the trees, had ye?
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 19