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

by Karin, Anya

  “I know, but I just can’t stop thinking about it. Please, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Of course dear, of course. If I thought there was any danger that I’d be hurt, I’d take...extra precautions. Everything will be fine.” Rodrigo stood, inspected himself in the long mirror in front of him and nodded in appreciation. Then with the next breath, he pulled his wife to his chest, kissed her gently on the forehead, and cradled her in his arms.

  “Are you alright? You took quite a spill there.” Rollo dabbed a cool cloth over Kenna’s forehead. As she awoke in her chambers, his kind eyes studied her face. “Oh good, you’re awake. For a moment there I thought you’d hit your head when you fell.”

  “I...no, I...suppose I just fainted is all. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble.” Kenna opened her eyes wide, squeezed them shut for a moment and then looked at Rollo. “This is actually happening, isn’t it? I’ve stumbled into the same place that I escaped from. Bound to some noble. God above, how could I be so foolish?”

  For a long moment, Rollo said nothing. “I admit that he’s confusing me. At least a little. I didn’t expect any of this. My intent was to come in here, assist you, and tell you that it must be the sheriff getting into his head. He’s waiting outside as well.”

  “The sheriff? No, no, I canna handle him, not right now.”

  Rollo shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I meant Mayor Willard. He’s concerned after you. In his fashion. He wished to be alerted as soon as you had-”

  The chamber door opened and Willard entered the room. The features on his angular face were ashen and grey. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Rollo who gave Kenna one final apologetic look before bowing out.

  How have I done this to myself? If only I’d not stayed. What good am I doing anyway? The people of this town have lived with him for years, and someday he’ll die and they’ll have another mayor take his place. They’ll either pay their taxes or they won’t. And now, here I am, stuck here. Kenna’s thoughts made her stomach turn almost as much as the man looming above her. She knew they were wrong, knew there was nothing to them. The people in this town needed her help, her and Gavin’s, but still, the thought that if she’d just kept on riding, she wouldn’t be staring at this face, it dug into her.

  “You look so worried, dear Kenna,” Willard said as he sat on the bed and intertwined his long, red fingers. “We were certainly worried when you fainted. Is everything right with you?”

  Kenna opened her mouth to speak, and then bit her lip. No, you awful beast! Of course it isn’t! You’ve taken me from my love and put me in a place I’d never wish upon my worst enemy, and then ask me if everything is fine.

  “May I...speak openly, Councillor?”

  “Of course. And please – call me Steven, or Willard if you must maintain formality. No more of this Councillor business.”

  “Yes...Willard,” the word tasted like ash in her mouth. No way in this life or any other was she going to use any name more familiar. “If I’m to be honest, I’m a bit afraid. You see, I only just left Ramsay Macdonald, I’m in love with someone else, and I feel that...well, if I were to marry you, I’d still carry feelings for him, and that wouldn’t be right to you or me.”

  “Hmm.” Willard stood. Never untwining his fingers, the mayor took a step forward, away from the bed, then turned and faced Kenna where she lay. “I see. But I’m afraid there’s something you’re not considering.”

  “Aye?”

  “Your fiancé, milady, is a criminal. A criminal. And so are the people who are staying with him at Duggan’s inn. Most of them anyway. The sheriff, you know, he told me about everyone. I’d heard vague word of the Ghost of Edinburgh before, of course, but didn’t realize that’s who our town’s honored guest was.”

  “A criminal?” Kenna’s face flushed with heat. “How can you say that? What sort of wrong has he done that wasn’t for a greater good?”

  Willard smiled a creeping, haunting smile that put chills down Kenna’s back. Before, he’d made her uncomfortable. Now, he seemed a wraith ready to strike. He took a long, slow, deep breath. “So you do not deny his crimes?”

  Twice Kenna opened her mouth and closed it before finally speaking. “No, I do not deny that he stole ill-gotten goods and coin from people who stole them in the first place.”

  “Bold words,” Willard said. “Especially for someone who is complicit in his crimes. Or perhaps that’s why you’re so bold.”

  Kenna’s squinted as she stared at him, trying to read his emotions. “No...what? Of what do you speak? I’ve done nothing.”

  “You didn’t turn him in, did you? You ran away with him, yes? Broke him out of jail?”

  “Councillor...Willard, I love him. I have since I was a child, why are you doing this?”

  In a motion so fluid and agile that Kenna hardly saw him move, Willard took Kenna’s face between his hands. “What is so hard to understand, you foolish girl? I’m saving you. You should be thanking me for what I’m doing. And yet, here you lie, acting as though I’ve done something awful.”

  “You can’t make me love you,” Kenna said. “You can do whatever you want with me, but I’ll never love you. Why me, anyway? What is it that you want from me?”

  Why bother keeping my tongue? He canna do anything worse than he already is.

  “I don’t need you to love me. At least not at first. As to your question, it’s hard for me to say this, but you remind me of my daughter. She had a look to her – a kindness, an intelligence, a spark in her eyes – that I see in you. And when I think of you cavorting with those thieves, those ingrates, I...” Willard ran his thumbs down Kenna’s face. His eyes took on a distant, longing glassiness. “She’s gone, but you’re not. You’ve too good a soul for this. I won’t let it happen.”

  Willard tilted his head just a bit to the side and smiled. “You truly are an innocent creature, are you not? Truly, you do not see what your lover does?”

  Kenna clenched her jaw, but stayed quiet. She twisted to try and free herself, but Willard simply held her tighter.

  “Fine,” he said. “That’s fine. I’m not a tyrant. I’m not an unfair man. If you wish to throw your life away, I won’t stop you.”

  For a moment, Kenna felt relief rush over her.

  “Don’t look so happy. I’ve got a choice for you to make.”

  “What...what are your terms? What is my choice?”

  Again, Willard stroked her cheeks for a moment. “Your choice is whether or not they’ll die for what they’ve done.” His smile almost trembled as he spoke. “I could have them hanged. Gavin, John, the whole lot. I suppose I could have you hanged too for breaking him out, but you’re worth saving. You just want to help. But them, oh no – they’ve hurt plenty of people.”

  I can’t...I can’t let him hurt Gavin, hurt my friends. I’d rather die than see them hurt. I’d rather be kept as this monster’s wife than see Gavin hurt, but...

  Willard took a step toward the window, then another. “Commoners, Kenna, commoners stealing from nobles. Punishable by death. You know this, do you not? I could have all of their necks stretched.”

  “N – no,” Kenna said. “Death? Why would you-”

  “Because I can. I can keep you from them. I can have them arrested and killed, and then you’ll be safe from their corruption.” He paused for a moment. “Or, you can agree to be my wife. If you do that, then I’ll see them merely jailed instead of hanged.”

  “I’ll need a decision now,” Willard said. “Things already are moving to apprehend your criminal fiancé.”

  Kenna’s face was stone. Her jaw was tight, her gaze dead. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be your wife.”

  Willard smiled, turned on his heel, and left without saying anything else. “But don’t expect Gavin to take this lying down,” Kenna said through clenched teeth as the door slammed behind him.

  When Rollo came back to check on her, Kenna was face down on her bed, sobbing bitterly into a pillow.

&
nbsp; Fifteen

  Festival Grounds

  August 19, Morning

  Gavin, John, Elena, Rodrigo, Olga and Lynne all made their way up the small runt of a hill leading to the main area where the Duncraig-Mornay’s Cleft joint village festival was to take place. Duggan had promised Lachlan and Egan a week’s worth of free porridge and beer if they were willing to watch the inn while he escorted the motley gang including an exceptionally tall colonial governor, a wild-looking fellow painted in blue woad from the waist-up wearing a gauchely-colored kilt, and a man wearing a vest and brown leggings, all of which were very tight, and who had a hood shrouding his face in shadow.

  Behind them, giggling almost uncontrollably, were three ladies, all wearing clothes of Germanic origin with billowing skirts, snugly-waisted and bunched under the bosom. When he looked back at them, Gavin had to marvel that Olga owned so many different sizes of the same outfit. Each of them had bonnets as well, intended as much to hide them from unwanted glances as from the sun.

  Already the crowd was swelling. Gavin looked around, marveling at the number of people sitting up from where they’d slept on the ground, or beginning to mill around. There were three-fold, maybe five-fold as many people here already as he thought lived in the two small towns year-round.

  “Look at all these people,” he said to John, who was looking around as well.

  “I knew the inn was uncomfortably full,” John replied, “but this. There must be hundreds of people laying around out here. Not to mention the ones who will be coming in as they day goes on. How do they pay for all this?”

  “The vendors, I assume, bring a great deal of what is needed. What concerns me is how long it must take to clean up. Remember the fairs in Edinburgh that took a week’s worth of the town militia’s time to clean? And I think there might be as many people here as come to those.”

  “Aye,” John said. “If you’ve got only one thing to do all year, I suppose you’ll spare no expense.”

  As they approached the fairgrounds, some vendors had already managed to set up their tables and their goods, while others were just arriving and beginning to lay out their wares. Meats were being skewered over spits, turnips and carrots impaled on sticks to be roasted, and even a few large, golden ears of corn had emerged. Gavin and John had once talked about it – the stuff was well known in England by then after coming from the New World years before, but it was rare in Scotland, being so far north that the climate was bad for growing it.

  “Look,” John said, grabbing his friend’s wrist, for he had no sleeve to pull. “I canna go without trying some. You there! How long until that’s cooked?”

  A squat man with fewer teeth than he should have had looked up from what he was doing and said, “A time still. Fire’s not ready, takes a couple of hours to roast. You can eat it raw if you like but it’ll suit you much better after a time in the heat.”

  John nodded to him in thanks.

  From somewhere near the roughly assembled stands which Gavin assumed would later be the grounds for the contests, pipe and drum band began to exercise their instruments and tune them to one another.

  “I thought everything Scottish had been banned?” John said in a whisper to Duggan.

  “Oh no lad, not everything. The mayor likes pipes quite a lot and insists on them at every gathering. And the banning of Mornay plaid and tartan is only a year old. He says that without it, there would be a great deal of...oh, what does he say – dissention and rebellion – some such thing like that anyway. A load of nonsense, though he’s convinced of the truth of what he says.”

  “I just canna imagine the thought that leads to such a conclusion. Come to a place not your own, and start puttin’ rules on everyone.” John spat into the dirt.

  “Come, John, but anger won’t do anything. Keep calm and we’ll come out on top of this whole thing,” Rodrigo said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Besides. The main point of our battle has nothing to do with the mayor or even the things he’s done. All of that will come in time. Remember we’re here for Gavin. We’re here for Kenna.”

  “Aye,” John nodded. “I fear I lose my mind at times.”

  “We all do, friend. But you’ve got things to think about. You’re our star archer.”

  “That...is true. I hope I dinna make a fool of myself and ruin the whole plan.”

  “I thought you said you were a competent archer. Is that not the case?” Rodrigo stopped, and John did too. “That was a poor choice of a thing to lie about.”

  “No, no, no, it wasn’t a lie at all. I am a competent archer. The problem is, that’s all I am, is competent. If they’ve got any real Robin Hoods here, I’m in trouble.”

  “Not many people compete, Duggan said that. More in the tossing of the log.”

  “Caber, Rod.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not a log. It’s a caber. It’s carved.”

  “Oh my apologies,” the Spaniard swept his hand and his hat in a low, laughing bow. “Just keep your wits about you, and there won’t be any problems. As well as you can use knives, you should be able to aim a thing or two. Although...”

  “Hey, why are you squeezing my arm, Duke Marlborough? Leave me alone!” John tried to pull away from Rodrigo’s grasp, but couldn’t work free.

  “Your arm, there’s something the matter. I’m a little concerned, suddenly. I’d call you a name but I’ve not a clue what except for ‘whooping savage’ but that may be unkind.”

  “These are my ancestors’ ways, I-”

  Rodrigo interrupted him shaking with a deep laugh. “I’m sorry friend, it’s just – you look so uncomfortable. And there’s that problem with your arms.”

  “What do you keep talking about my arms?” John hissed, getting more than a little red in the face. “Speak up!”

  “Oh nothing, I’m sure. They’re just so thin. I’m not sure you’ll be able to draw the bow!”

  Another slap on the back sent John forward with a start, and caused Lynne to look back and shout ‘come along lovers!’ at the two men. They exchanged a short glance at one another, shook their heads, and away they went.

  “I trust you’re without needs, Kenna?” Mayor Willard, ever dressed in his black long coat, adjusted his hat, then removed it, ran his hand over his hair, and replaced the hat. Kenna wondered how he could ever wear such a thing, especially with the heat that she knew was coming as soon as the sun warmed the valley and the mist settled down into making the air thick and oppressive. Nonetheless, he showed no signs of anything except his regular stoicism.

  Kenna thought that the weather, as difficult as it could be that time of year, was good for the day. It was just what she expected out of a summer’s day in the Lowlands, and even better, there seemed not to be any storm clouds on the horizon. She took as deep a breath as she could, replied that yes she was perfectly satisfied, and sat down on a decently built seat.

  All around the growing crowd, she swept her eyes. Up in the Governor’s box, where she and Willard, along with Rollo and a couple of servants were seated, it was difficult to make out the particulars of faces, but she felt deep in her heart that if she caught a glimpse of Gavin she’d know him immediately, no matter the costume he wore or the distance that separated them. She moved her hand to her throat, letting two of her fingertips caress the thistle flower under her collar.

  Suddenly, an urge caught her. An urge that doubled as an idea.

  “Mayor Willard?”

  “Hmm? Did you say something, dear?”

  Kenna nodded and said, “Aye. Do you think I could go down and see the festivities? I’d like to try some of the food the vendors have. The smells even this far away are intoxicating. And I’d love to look at all the different fabrics and perfumes people have brought to sell.”

  “It does seem fascinating, does it not?” Willard tipped his head in the direction of a man who was obviously having a lot of trouble standing up straight. “This early, too. It’s a shame this sort of thing has to happen. Such b
ehavior brings disgrace.”

  “Ach, I dunno, he just seems to be having a good time. These farmers work themselves hard all the year. Surely they deserve to have a break from time to time, aye?” When she realized how freely she was speaking, Kenna clapped her mouth shut, but Willard only smiled in his thin, tight-lipped way.

  “Kind girl,” he said. “Someday you’ll understand why such low morality is an impediment. Temperance and decency and dignity are three things you cannot possibly take away from a man, even when his health deteriorates and his mind is wracked with age. No, I don’t think you need to go down and mix among the rabble.”

  Kenna’s gaze caught sight of a rather odd looking group of individuals, and immediately, she felt warmth, then a rush of chills creep down her arms. The six – no, seven – people she saw had all taken the costume theme very liberally, except for the biggest person in the group who she saw was Duggan when he came a bit closer. It was all she could do to not scream or grab Rollo’s arm and jerk him over to her side. If there was any question in her mind, the second she saw the three ladies – Olga, Elena and Lynne – all dressed up alike, she got so excited she had to sit down, then stand up and then sit again.

  Seeing her restlessness, Rollo moved beside Kenna and put his hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

  She nodded emphatically and shot him a sideways glance before tipping her head toward the strangely costumed gang.

  “Oh what bizarre costumes!” He said. “They’re impressive this time. Even the out of town festival-goers seem to have got into it. Look over there, there’s the Duke of Marlborough, and over there looks to be Louis, the Sun King. One year Mayor Willard employed half the boys in town to dress as Highland soldiers and a small mock battle was staged. It was a great deal of fun. Don’t you remember that, Mayor?” Rollo’s voice was almost desperate as he talked. It broke Kenna’s heart to hear him speak in such a way to a man who only stiffened and straightened one of his buttons.

  At the same time, she couldn’t free herself from the fear that at any moment, Willard might announce their marriage to the world. How badly she wanted her beautiful Gavin to just climb to the Governor’s box and sweep her away like a prince from a fairy tale. What she wouldn’t give for that to happen.