Passion and Plaid - Her Highland Hero (Scottish Historical Romance)

by Karin, Anya

  “Wait a tick,” Duggan said. “I’ve just had a thought. Now, this mightn’t be a very good idea, but it’s an idea.”

  “Well let’s hear it then,” Gavin said. “Anything is better than what we’re doing at present.”

  “Aye,” he said. “Well, do you remember me speaking to you of a festival? The one scheduled two days hence?”

  “Ach, I remember,” Gavin said. “The Duncraig and Mornay’s Cleft one? Where the two villages get together between the two harvests?”

  “Aye, that’s the one. Do you remember what else I told you about it? About the games?”

  “Well, I recall you saying there were games, but nothing past that. Is there something of import there?”

  Duggan nodded, coming around the bar, seating himself beside the others and rolling his sleeves up, as though he were about to deliver a spirited lecture.

  “Go on,” John said, “you’ve got us all excited.”

  “There’s a tradition. For as long as I can remember, and certainly as long as Willard’s been the mayor of our fair burg, the winners of the different games are always invited to the mayor’s manor for a dinner celebration on the night of the festival.”

  Silence fell thick and heavy.

  “Now, he’s no doubt figured out who you,” he tilted his head to Gavin, “are by now. I’m sure the sheriff has run off and told him all of your naughty secrets. But he doesn’t know the rest of you lot, and he probably doesn’t remember exactly what you look like, Gavin.”

  Light seemed to dawn all around the room.

  “We’re going to win the contests,” Lynne said. “And...”

  “The dinner party always did seem a bit odd to me, and a bit awkward. Especially when you consider that one of the contests is to see who can quaff twenty mugs of drink afore anyone else.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for Ben to be here right now,” Gavin smiled. “We’ll make due though.”

  “We can decide all that later. But for now, yes, that was the idea what came to me. Win the contest, get into the mayor’s manor and...”

  Everyone leaned forward in their seats, waiting for him to finish.

  “Well to be honest that’s all I’ve come up with.” He sat back to relieve the tension.

  “It’s more than we had a moment ago,” Gavin said. “What about Kenna though? I dinna want to leave her in danger. I would – nay I will – do anything at all that ends with my love safe and these wrongs righted. That’s all what matters to me in the world. My life without her...it’s not worth living.”

  Duggan nodded with downturned eyes that he raised to Gavin’s a moment later when he took his hand, clasping it firmly. “I...dinna think she’s in danger. The mayor is a strange man in many ways, and a cruel and torn one in many others. I think more likely than him having hurt Kenna is that he has her in his house and has decided she’s his guest.”

  “You mean he’s kidnapped her?” John asked. “Because that seems quite like the same thing as ‘in danger’ to me.”

  “Aye, that’s one way of looking at it. But think of it like this – if he ends up having kidnapped her, and hasn’t a clue who you lot are, is there any better way to get her back than to win these contests and march right in there and take her? All the while, hopefully building a case to present to the crown or whoever else you think will listen about his corruption?”

  “Duggan?” John said.

  “Aye?”

  “You have a mind as devious as mine own. That’s no mean feat.”

  A soft laugh moved through the room.

  “Right, but we need to figure out how we can actually win these games. Aside from the drinking bit, there’s fencing.” Rodrigo perked his head up. “Archery for accuracy.” John grinned and explained that knives weren’t the only things with which he had aptitude. “A caber toss, of course.” Gavin tapped two fingers on the table. “And a line dance.”

  “Line dance?” John said with a high-pitched curl in his voice. “How do you have a contest for line dancing?”

  “See who can go the longest without breaking rhythm.”

  Lynne couldn’t help but breaking into a rumbling laugh. “I canna wait to see John’s skinny little legs prancin’ about back and forth. He’s a wonderful dancer, you know.”

  “Ach! Dancing! That’s for the lassies. I’ll be throwing knives, or I suppose shooting a bow. You can have your line dancing.”

  “Oh come on then, John,” she said, reaching under his kilt and giving him a pinch. “Show us how you can move!”

  Twelve

  Mornay’s Cleft

  August 18, Early Evening

  Having finished her tour of the estate’s grounds, and having found nothing of much interest except for a number of very securely locked and guarded gates, all made of the most sinister wrought iron she’d ever seen, Kenna made her way back to her quarters for a time, then had a small lunch.

  As Rollo had suggested, she thumbed through a few books before getting by equal measures quite restless and quite nervous. She ached for Gavin and to see his beautiful eyes and feel his arms around her, holding her tight and safe.

  Not right now though I’ll see him soon, though the way I feel right now, nothing would be soon enough. I’ll be back with my Gavin. But for right now, I have work to do.

  Gathering the notes she’d scribbled and the rough map of the estate she’d drawn during her walk, Kenna compared the map of the inside of the house to the outside. As far as she could tell, every single way in or out of the property was barred and protected by an iron gate. Two guards were stationed at each.

  Why would this place be so closely watched? After all, it’s only a mayor’s house. This isn’t some great cache of treasures. Unless one’s kept underneath and Willard is actually a dragon in a black long coat, but somehow I doubt that.

  She clicked the end of her pencil against her teeth. She poured a glass of water from the pitcher that Rollo kept bringing and filling, and wondered at what point she’d simply burst from all the water she’d sucked down.

  What is this, Kenna? What are you doing? Exasperated, she dropped the pencil on the inside fold of her notebook, pushed back from the table and ran her hands through her hair, scratching her head and then shaking it out.

  Kenna stood, swallowed the last of her water, and went to the door.

  Not a soul walked the halls. No servants, no Rollo, not even a mouse. Left, then right, she looked, searching for any sign of life in the darkened hallways. A gentle breeze struck her from the open window and blew her skirt gently around her ankles, sending a chill creeping up the back of her leg. Some kind of distant sound – maybe a door shutting, but very faintly and very far away – caught her attention for a moment before she forgot all about it and lost herself in strange, possibly dangerous thoughts.

  She looked back and forth one more time.

  And then she ran.

  Clutching the notebook against her chest, Kenna ran down the hallway as fast as she could, retracing the steps she went through when she joined Rollo for breakfast earlier in the day, but instead of following the curve of the stairs toward the kitchen, she hopped over the bannister and made for the front door.

  Holding her breath, Kenna grabbed the knob and twisted it, but when the door remained closed fast, she slammed her shoulder into it twice and then remembered to check the lock. Sighing heavily, she turned the latch, heard the catch pop, and, she pushed open the door.

  A second after she started to step outside, something hit the door and shoved it closed.

  “Who’s that?” A harsh voice demanded. “Rollo? How could you be so careless? You made me drop my tea.”

  “Wha – I, I’m sorry, I was just going back out...out to the gardens again, I...”

  “Miss Kenna? Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know you were there.” Willard opened the door and as soon as he saw Kenna, he recoiled momentarily. He squinted at her and then his mayor’s hand shot out and he took one of Kenna’s. “But...why are yo
u here? Rollo said you had agreed to stay until this evening, no?”

  “I...yes, but, well I’ve been shut in that room for hours now and I just wanted to back out into the gardens and stretch my legs. I dinna know if...”

  “Ah, I do love your nice accent. It’s soft and warm,” Willard said, drawing slightly closer to Kenna and still holding her hand with his thumb in her palm, his fingers on the back. He squeezed lightly, but enough so that she knew he was in control. “You have a way of speaking that most people don’t. Duggan and your little friend, they both had harsh, difficult accents. Yours though? It reminds me a bit of my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” Kenna pulled back, taking a step away, but unable to move her hand. “I did hear about that. I’m terribly sorry. Canna imagine what it’s like.”

  “No, I suppose you couldn’t. You’re young. Whatever tragedies you’ve seen, whatever sadness, it’s all viewed through the eyes of someone getting older, growing up and seeing the world as a child does. A place of wonder instead of a place of terrible agony.”

  “Is there...something I might do for you, Councillor?” She took a breath, hoping he wouldn’t say yes.

  “Kenna, what is your surname? I’ve forgotten.”

  “M – Moore, sir.”

  “Right, Moore. A fine name for a Scot. I assume your parents are decent people like you, not warlike and savage like so many of these...people here.”

  The sudden change in the mayor’s demeanor had Kenna continually backpedaling and Willard following her, never once letting go of her hand.

  “Why do you say it like that? You say people like they’re not.”

  “Are they? The kindness I showed them. The leniency on taxes and the...”

  “Begging your pardon, Councillor, but you’re hurting my hand.”

  “Ah,” he said, squeezing again before relaxing the pressure. “I tend to forget. My hands, you see, my fingers, I can’t feel.”

  Kenna listened to him talking and furrowed her brow. “You can’t feel anything with your hands?”

  “It’s been this way most of my life. But I – oh, don’t worry, I’m not leprous. I was injured, you see, when I was a child. I disobeyed my father and there was an accident...” Willard’s eyes took on a distant, glazed-over stare as though he was watching something in the far distance. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

  “You were saying something about an accident, but Councillor, if you dinna wish to talk on it further, I would be remiss to try and pull it out of you.”

  “Not at all,” he said. Still, his gaze was somewhere past where Kenna stood. He was looking at something, she thought, out the windows behind where she stood, but when he grabbed her shoulders and held her tight she couldn’t look at anything but him. “I don’t mind speaking of it. Not to you, anyway.”

  He curled his gloved thumbs against the loose linen of Kenna’s blouse. His pale, gray eyes dropped and Willard caught her gaze.

  “I was burned as a child. Nasty business that I wouldn’t want to trouble you with.”

  “No, please,” Kenna said as she twisted her shoulder to try and loosen Willard’s grip. “I don’t mind. But please, you’re hurting my shoulder.”

  Relaxing his fingers, Willard’s pale eyes settled on Kenna’s. “My father had a hobby of glass blowing. He warned me each and every day, never to touch any of the tools or devices he used for it, but he travelled a great deal. The servants never paid much mind to me when he was gone, as my mother was ill frequently and required attention.”

  He narrowed his gaze. Kenna tried to back away.

  “One time, he was gone, and I decided to play with all those wonderful toys he’d never let me touch. Glass, as it happens, gets very hot.”

  “That’s terrible, Councillor, it must have hurt horribly!”

  Instead of responding, Willard simply gave her a thin-lipped smile.

  Kenna moved a little further away from him, managing to walk so far she felt the stairs against her heel. His eyes grew distant again and he walked forward, his foot going between hers, and fingers wrapped around Kenna’s wrist.

  “Why do you keep holding me? I’m...you’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t mean to,” he said with a voice as distant as his eyes. “I can’t feel...”

  “Oh! Mayor, Miss Kenna!”

  A tremendous rush of relief swept through Kenna when Rollo appeared at the top of the stairs. Willard was surprised enough that his grip on her wrist was broken momentarily, and she took two stumbling steps up the stairs and away from him.

  “Very sorry if I interrupted you two – I was just going to find Miss Kenna and ask after her needs. Are you, er, in need of anything, ma’am?” Rollo said.

  As she retreated further up the steps, Kenna grabbed his hand and immediately felt his warmth course through her arm. Nothing she could think of right then had ever been quite so welcome. At the foot of the steps, Willard remained standing there with his hand outstretched as though he didn’t quite realize she’d gone. Instead of responding to the question, Kenna just squeezed the little man’s hand and looked at him. The look on his face told her he understood.

  “Miss Kenna, why not go back to your room for a few minutes and I’ll be by to take your requests in a moment?”

  “Ye – yes, of course, thank you so much Rollo,” she said. “I’ll go...go wait.”

  But by the time she moved past him, Rollo was already on his way down the stairs to Willard, whose hand he grabbed and shook the mayor until he seemed to snap back to reality. The last thing Kenna saw, looking back right before she closed her door, was Rollo holding both of the mayor’s numb hands, talking to him in a low, calm voice.

  “Please, Rollo, please.” Kenna stood up, paced along the wall of her chambers, dodged a chair, and wrung her hands. “Why can’t I leave?”

  “That’s not it at all, Miss Kenna,” Rollo said out loud, as though he was speaking for someone he thought may be listening. He motioned for her to come closer and then whispered. “I can’t either.”

  “You what?” Kenna said, loudly enough that Rollo flinched and put his hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Why canna you leave? Or me?”

  “It’s been a year now, perhaps more. Master, he is increasingly worried about things I can’t exactly explain. He continually talks of corruption and the loss of decency that what he calls ‘his country’ is going through. I don’t understand it myself, but...”

  “Funny thing for someone who is working with such a corrupt organization, is it not?”

  “The irony is not lost on me, you can be sure of that. I’ve been master’s helper since two years after he came here on order from the King. This, though, is all very new. I have the feeling it comes from his anger with losing his daughter. Terrible business, that.”

  Kenna nodded. “But it’s no excuse to keep me locked in a house and tax the whole village to death, is it? Because that’s what he’s doing.”

  The sound of footsteps coming to a stop outside the door made both of them freeze in place. Rollo straightened up and loudly announced that Mayor Willard would be most pleased if Kenna agreed to dine alone with him later that evening. Using her best and most haughty voice, Kenna said she would, but only after she both heard and accepted the menu. Satisfied, whoever had stopped in front of the door continued down the hall.

  “Was that him?” She whispered. “Surely he wasn’t listening at the door. What a vile thing to do.”

  “No way to tell,” Rollo said. “The mayor has a number of servants like myself, but who are much more, shall we say, convinced of his goodness. Now – don’t get me wrong. I don’t dislike the man, I don’t wish him ill, but he’s not been right since the business with his daughter. I can’t stand to see what he’s become.”

  For a moment, Kenna pulled on one of her red curls that had fallen out of her ribbon-bound ponytail. “When he was talking to me there on the stairs, like you saw, he was holding me. He wouldna let go. At first it was just uncomfortable, but he
kept holding me tighter and tighter until it hurt. He said something about how he was burned as a child, he told me I reminded him of his daughter, he said...lots of things.”

  “This is what I mean when I say I can’t stand what he’s becoming. Do you mind if I sit? My back, it-”

  “No, of course, make yourself comfortable. Water?”

  “You’re too kind, Miss Kenna.”

  “And enough of that Miss Kenna business. I’m a simple person, I’m not a mayor or a noble or a sheriff.” When she said sheriff, she shivered involuntarily.

  “He’s here, you know,” Rollo said. “Speaking of vile creatures.”

  Kenna nodded as she poured a cup of water and pushed it across the little table to Rollo.

  “Did he tell Willard about me and Gavin? If he did, you must have heard.”

  “I knew the story before I heard it from him. You say you’re a simple person, but many of us, even if we don’t know your faces, know the deeds you have done. You – well, you and Gavin – are the closest things to heroes we’ve got.”

  Flustered at the compliment, Kenna looked at the table and blushed. “I dinna know about all that.”

  “It’s true, it is. But I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable, so I’ll stop. But just know that you and Gavin are well known, even this far away from Edinburgh. And well loved, too. Don’t doubt that for a moment.”

  “Not by everyone.” Kenna laughed and reached across the table, taking Rollo’s hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “It’s nothing.” Rollo drained the last of his water and replaced the cup on the table and poured himself another. “I wish this were wine. I’ve not had any good wine since I left Algeria. That’s the one thing I miss about home.”

  “Tell me about it?”

  “About what, Algeria?”

  “Aye, I’ve read terrible tales about the Barbary pirates, and I’ve even read a history of Morocco, but as far as anything else, I fear I’m ignorant.”

  “Admirably you admit your ignorance,” he said. “I’m not sure there’s a terrible amount to tell, unfortunately. The great cities, Algiers, Tunisia, those places are much like London, or like Edinburgh. Many people doing many things, coming and going.”