by Tamara Gill
“Even when what I’m about to tell you proves that I’ve been less than honest with you? And what I’m about to say will cause you worry, and that in itself is not something I ever want to do to you or Braxton.” And she didn’t. Even as short as her stay had been, she’d come to love her family as much as if she’d been born to them and known them her whole life.
“Now ye do have me worried. I suggest ye spit it out, lass.”
Kenzie searched for the right words to tell Gwen the truth. “There is another reason that I came back in time to see you. Of course, my main reason was to meet you and Braxton and, if you chose, to learn from you in regard to our mutual abilities.”
“And the second reason?”
“Well, that’s a little more complicated.” She took a deep breath and decided she would just say it and be done with it. “I’ve come back to try and find out who killed the Laird of Ross. Black Ben as you all know him.”
Gwen stood, her face ashen. “What are ye saying, lass. Ben is killed? And when? When is this to happen?”
“I’m sorry. I know this news is terrible and not something you wish to hear, but it’s the truth. It’s already written in history’s pages. Sometime this May, the laird meets his fate.”
“Well, we’ll just have to change the text on those pages.” Gwen paced to the bed and back, a deep frown line between her brows. “Tell me everything ye know of the situation. Mayhap I can help.”
Kenzie didn’t think the time appropriate to remind Gwen that they weren’t technically allowed to change the past, but she held her tongue. “History states there’s an ambush at Castle Ross that happens three months from now. There’s a battle of some kind—over what was never recorded, for I don’t believe people knew, and Ben is presumably killed. It’s one of Scotland’s unsolved mysteries. No one knows what happened to his lad after the altercation, either. The castle was burned to the ground and remains a ruin to this day. Well,” Kenzie said, correcting what she’d said, “in my time.” Kenzie hated seeing Gwen so rattled, but, if anyone could help her twist history, it was Gwen. “There are, of course, different scenarios about why it happened, but nothing has ever been proven.”
“What are the scenarios?”
“That out of the grief of losing his wife, he took his own life, and that of the child.” An awful thought that Kenzie didn’t even want to contemplate. And after meeting Ben, it was a scenario that she no longer believed happened. Ben, for all his scandalous traits, loved children from what she’d seen of him around the estate. The thought that he could harm his own child just wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t in him to do such a thing.
“No, I don’t believe that one,” Gwen said, pacing some more. “What else?”
“That he handed the child over to his wife’s family and disappeared. Burned down his estate to make it seem like he was murdered or had died during the fire. Left Scotland indefinitely.”
Gwen met her gaze. “And what do you think happened.”
Kenzie sat, having agonized over this very question for nigh on two years. “That he was murdered by his wife’s family, and the child taken to be raised under the tutelage of Clan Grant. That’s what I think happened, and I’ll know for sure by May.”
Gwen halted her pacing. “You are not going to Castle Ross with Ben. I forbid it. You could be killed and then what of our family? Our line will end with you. I can’t allow that to happen.”
It was a possibility that Kenzie had thought of herself. Of course, she had. This was medieval Scotland. Anything was possible, and death lurked around most corners, waiting for the unsuspecting to cloak its death shroud upon them. But she wouldn’t allow it to happen to her. There was one thing she had that no one else other than the woman standing before her had. Witchcraft.
“I can leave at a moment’s notice; disappear in a blink of an eye. Should I get into trouble, I promise you, Gwen, that I’ll leave. But I must know what happens to the renowned Black Ben. His story has fascinated me since I was a little girl. Did you know there’s a painting that hangs in this very house, of him? It was painted after he died, and so I always assumed you had it done as a way of remembering him.”
Gwen bit her lip. “I canna let ye go. It would be wrong of me to be so lax in your wellbeing. Had I known you were here as a means to solve or change an historical event. Something, lass, that we should not do, I might add, I would’ve sent ye home myself. In fact, I ought to do it now.”
“I’ll only come back,” Kenzie said, crossing her arms. “I need to know the truth, and I know it’s against the rules, but I will try and halt his demise if at all possible.”
“You care for him.”
It wasn’t a question, and Kenzie sighed. She’d not meant to care for the rough, bad-mouthed, Scottish heathen, but she did. Somewhere between vexing and teasing her mercilessly, he’d managed to spark a yearning in her that she’d never felt for anyone else. And no matter how much she might state otherwise, Kenzie was aware that should he kiss her, it would not end there…
Not that she was going to tell Gwen such a thing. Not yet, at least. “Everyone likes Black Ben, and although we didn’t get along at first, I can stomach him well enough. So, in a small way, I care for him, of course, but not in the way you may think.” Liar, liar, pants on fire! She did care for him, terribly so, to the point that it scared her. From the instant she’d seen his portrait, tall and strong, standing in a field of heather with a castle in the background, she’d wondered about the man. Who he was? What had he been like?
That he was easy on the eye didn’t hurt, either. Locks as dark as the night sky, and a small tilt of his lips that hinted at his mischievous character. She had been drawn to him immediately. And once she’d learned of the mystery surrounding his death, it had been almost an obsession of hers to find out what had happened to the Laird of Ross.
“Before you all hie off to Castle Ross and get yourselves killed, there is something we should try first. Mayhap, if we ask Ben to send for his son, just that small change in this time may alter what will take place in the future.”
It was something she’d not thought of and certainly something they ought to give a go. Hope burst through her at the thought and again she had to remind herself that Black Ben was a frenemy, nothing more. “That’s a fantastic idea. Do you think Ben will be willing to send for his son?”
At the sound of thunder, Gwen went to the window and looked out over the ocean and the impending storm. “I can ask. I’ll make up some excuse as to why we wish to meet his boy. He may refuse at first, but if I know Ben, and I do very well, he’ll continue to think of the proposal for some days afterward, and it is only then that he will decide yes or no to my request.”
Kenzie stood and came over to stand next to her ancestor. “You must do it tomorrow. No delaying. The sooner we remove his boy from that estate, the better.”
“I agree.” Gwen sighed. “History is written, Kenzie. It will be hard to change what is already inscribed in the pages of time. We may delay or alter Ben’s demise, but some way, somehow, his death will occur.”
Kenzie shivered. “You changed history by bringing Abby back in time and my sending her back kept her here. Why will this plan not work?”
“Because, Ben is from this time. This is his life, and it has already occurred, been lived. I brought Abby back and altered a life that was not complete.” Gwen frowned, taking her hand. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Kenzie nodded, unfortunately understanding only too well what Gwen meant. “Well, we have to alter history. It has to work. He has his boy who needs him, tenant families, and his clan that relies on him for their survival.” She walked over to the small table that held a jug and bowl along with a tumbler of mead and poured herself a cup. “We can try,” she said, taking a sip. “That’s all we can do and hope for the best.”
Gwen nodded. “Try we must and we’ll see. Now,” she said, walking to the bed and pulling down the top woolen blanket. “It’s late an
d ye should get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Kenzie came over and hugged Gwen quickly. “Thank you for trying to help.”
“Always,” Gwen said, kissing Kenzie’s cheek before leaving.
She lay down under the fur blankets and pulled it up over her. The tapestries swayed a little with the drafts throughout the room, and she thought of Ben. No matter how annoying the man was, she cared for him, the small amount that it was, but nonetheless, she did, and she would hate for him to die so young.
No one deserved to be murdered, and when Kenzie had read of his disappearance it was what she’d always thought had happened to him. Foul play had occurred, and with any luck, their plan to bring Ben’s son to Gwen and Braxton’s estate might alter the past enough to ensure he survived.
And if that plan didn’t work, well, she would just have to think up another one.
Chapter Seven
Kenzie sat beside Gwen in the library, Braxton standing behind them, while Ben stood before the fire, hips spread, and arms folded over a muscular chest, barely hidden by the shirt that he wore.
She swallowed. Was he doing some kind of exercise regime that she didn’t know about? Maybe he’d been helping with the chores about the estate and had buffed up that way, but wow, he was big.
And looking pretty nice to the eye. Too nice in fact. Kenzie caught Ben’s gaze and her stomach tightened at the raw hunger she read in his eyes. How was it he could look at a woman in such a way and think no one would notice? She cast Gwen a glance and was met with a raised brow. Kenzie sat up, clasping her hands in her lap, and fought to control her wayward mind.
“Are ye going to ask me what it is ye want? As much as I love standing before ye all and being the object of Kenzie’s interest, I do wish to go for a ride.”
“I beg your pardon,” Kenzie said, her face flaming.
“What?” Ben asked, a devilish grin lifting his lips, which only reminded Kenzie how damn gorgeous he was. “You weren’t looking at me?”
“No, I was not,” she stated, beyond mortified at being called out.
Braxton cleared his throat. “Since you’re still not well enough to travel back to Castle Ross, we thought ye may wish to bring Alasdair here, to stay with us while you recuperate from ye illness.”
Ben ran a hand through his hair, leaving it on end. “Oh aye, is that all? I thought ye were about to berate me for kissing Kenzie last eve.”
“You kissed Kenzie?” Braxton rounded the settee, and Gwen stood quickly, clasping her husband’s arm.
“It was hardly a kiss, Ben. More like a chaste peck,” Kenzie said, shaking her head.
“I’m inclined to think of it as a taste of better things to come.”
“’Tis nothing to worry about, Braxton. Do not forget that Kenzie is an adult and able to make her own choices, even if ye may not agree with them.”
Braxton glowered at Ben, who merely grinned in return. “I don’t agree with that choice.”
Kenzie didn’t miss the flicker of pain that crossed Ben’s visage, before he laughed it off. “Dinna get bothered by it, Braxton, my old friend. It was only a little kiss and nothing remarkable. I’ll not be pursuing Kenzie if that is ye concern. I’m merely teasing.”
Kenzie stood there, stunned into silence. Had he really just said her kiss was unremarkable? What the hell! “Well, I wasn’t going to be sharing anymore kisses anyway, so it doesn’t bother me at all, should you not pursue anything further with me.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed on her, his gaze dipping to her lips. She glared back, ridiculously affronted. Not that she cared one bit that he didn’t like her in that way. Even if his kiss teased at something so much better… Actually, really great if she was being honest, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing how annoyed his rebuttal made her.
“So, will ye bring Alasdair back here? We’d so love to meet your boy.” Gwen let go of Braxton and joined Ben at the hearth, taking his hand. “It’ll be good for him to be here, to be around a clan that will love him as much as his own.”
Ben’s features softened at Gwen’s words and an odd unnerving feeling settled in the pit of Kenzie’s stomach. Was she jealous of Gwen? Just the thought of such a thing was unreasonable. Gwen was happily married to Braxton and that was an end to it. She was merely being kind and persuasive to an old friend. And Kenzie was being an idiot.
“It’s settled then,” Braxton said, walking over to the desk and pulling out a piece of parchment and laying it on the dark wooden surface. “Write to ye clan and have the boy sent here immediately. We’ll hold a feast, celebrating the birth of the future Laird of Ross.” Braxton turned to Gwen. “Mayhap ye brother would wish to attend. I’m sure Abby would welcome a visit to see the new estate and with Kenzie being here, ’tis an extra boon.”
Gwen clapped her hands, her face wreathed in smiles. “Och, it sounds a fabulous idea, Braxton. We should have thought of it sooner.”
Kenzie smiled at their joy and stole a look at Ben who also seemed pleased by the idea but maybe a little more guarded than her ancestors were. Ben walked over to the desk and sat, writing out the missive as Braxton and Gwen discussed details of the feast and what other families they would invite.
With nothing else to do, Kenzie sat on the settee, watching the flames in the grate lick at the wood. The sound of the reed pen scratching over the parchment filled the room after Gwen and Braxton left them alone in the library. If she were back home in her own time, she would flick on the television and watch a movie or something, anything to chase the boredom away. And yet how could anyone be bored here? It was like living in her own period movie. With real-life warriors and grand estates, families that held great power surrounded by those who probably wished for some of that power themselves.
“Why do they call you Black Ben?” In all her study of the man it had never been explained why he was nicknamed thus. She turned in her chair to see him folding the missive and putting it aside.
“My hair.”
Not for the first time, she noticed his dark locks. In fact, Ben had the features of a Spaniard more than a Scotsman, but still it was odd that his name was solely due to his hair color. “Truly? That’s it?”
He laughed and joined her on the chair, Kenzie shuffled over a little, not wanting him to get any ideas now that they were alone since he didn’t find her kisses remarkable…
“Aye, that’s it. I was always recognizable at any skirmish or clan gathering due to my hair. Someone, I forget who, named me Black Ben, and it stuck. I’m also the best longbow shot in all of Scotland, and possibly England, as well, but ’tis my hair that I’m known by.
Without thinking, Kenzie reached out and touched his dark locks, the color a deep shade of ebony and as black as the night sky. He was forbidden to her, a man she shouldn’t dally with. A Scottish legend with a mysterious story. He’d always fascinated her and here he was before her, looking at her as if he wished to devour her whole.
Kenzie tightened her grip on his hair, pulling him toward her. Ben mumbled something in Gaelic she couldn’t understand before yanking her against his chest and kissing her with a force that left her breathless.
Their teeth smashed together before he bit her bottom lip, soothing it immediately with his tongue. It was so dirty and hot, Kenzie was totally out of her depth. Yes, she’d kissed men before, quite a few, in fact, but never anybody like this. Ben’s kisses left her reeling for purchase on ground as slippery as the snow atop the Highland mountains.
“Are ye sure you should be kissing me, lass? Will not Braxton disapprove?”
“I don’t require anyone to give me permission to kiss who I want. And maybe you shouldn’t be kissing me, since I’m so unremarkable.”
He took her lips again and this time a moan pushed past her lips. With her busy life, she’d missed out on the pleasure of kissing.
“I lied. Ye are more than remarkable, lass.” Ben winked, and desire flowed through her at his words. Silly for a modern wom
an to worry about what this Highlander from the seventeenth century thought, but for some strange reason, Kenzie wanted him to like her.
She kissed him hard, taking everything he was willing to give her while they were alone.
“Ye should let me kiss ye every day.”
Kenzie couldn’t agree more. One could drown in his stormy blue eyes. “Maybe I will.” Of course I will!
He grinned. “Aye, ye will.”
A servant carrying a bucket came into the room and stumbled to a stop. Unable to meet the servant’s eye, Kenzie jumped up and stepped away. Ben, on the other hand, simply lounged back in the chair, as if being caught in such a position by household staff was a common occurrence.
Kenzie wasn’t sure if she should be worried by that fact or take her cue from him. But, this wasn’t her home, it was Gwen and Braxton’s, and she ought to be more respecting of them and their lifestyle.
Without a word, Kenzie left the room, walking straight to her own. If she were to stay in this time, she needed to stay away from Ben, at least in the sexual way. No matter how invigorating his kisses were, he wasn’t for her to play with.
…
Ben watched Kenzie leave the room until she was out of sight. The servant left, too, which was just as well, or he would’ve been tempted to glare at the lass for interrupting what had been turning into a delightful afternoon.
For weeks he’d been without the comfort only a woman could bring, but as much as it chafed to admit it, after meeting Kenzie, he hadn’t wanted anyone else to warm his bed. He wanted her, and it was damn frustrating.
Kenzie was not the kind of lass who’d want to stay in this time. Nor would she do well as a lady of a great house such as his own. The time here was not for the faint of heart, and the day-to-day life in a castle was not easy. There was the staff to run, and ensure his clansmen were kept fed and housed. Tally the books and keep the home up. Aline had done a superb job as his wife, but the lass had been brought up to do such things. Kenzie, on the other hand, had not.
A rap at the door was followed by another servant who held out a missive. “This just arrived, Laird Ross.”