Besides the fact that their pace meant it would take nearly three times as long to travel from Inverness to Aberdeen as it otherwise would, it also had the effect of keeping each fighting man a bit on his toes at all times. The Earl of Huntly was still in rebellion, and here they were, riding brazenly through his land to protect the very queen he rebelled against. Every time the bushes along the road rustled or the sun’s glare cast a strange shadow on a nearby hilltop, men would freeze with their hand at their weapons, waiting for an enemy that was yet to appear.
Even Rob’s father seemed to be on edge, eager to hear any bit of news from the Queen. However, if she had any knowledge of the Earl of Huntly’s movements, she did not have a mind to share it with them. At least he and Hugh’s daily rides gave his own clansmen some confidence. With the brothers circling the group, checking for signs of Gordons on the attack and finding nothing, the Frasers were yet to spook.
The same couldn’t be said for a small group of Mackenzies, who the day before had gone barreling into the trees, screaming like mad, sure that they had seen Gordon tartan. They found a herd of deer instead, and the Queen’s displeasure could be heard, echoing through the hills, for miles.
Rob was in the middle of laughing at the memory of Jacob Mackenzie being castigated by a woman a quarter of his size when a loud whistle echoed down the road. Sure enough, the sun had started its descent, and it was time to make camp. It was a good place, for once. There was a large open field that had pressed back against the forest, leaving the entire camp plenty of room to set their tents and fires while maintaining a safe distance from the mysteries that hid behind the density of the foliage.
“Rob!” Kenna rode up alongside him and made a quick dismount.
“Aye?”
“I am off to wash in the river with some of the other women.”
She looked almost too eager. He supposed she wasn’t used to so many days on the road or the futility of trying to clean from only a small basin day after day.
“Who?”
“Some of the Queen’s maids. They say that there is a small river just past the forest’s edge.”
Rob nodded, and she set off with a grin, tossing her horse’s reins into his hands with a flick. At least she would be in a good mood when she returned. Perhaps she would even be happy enough to talk with him in the same way that she talked with the rest.
As Kenna disappeared, merging into a circle of women that was headed into the trees on the opposite side of the road, in search of the river that lay just beyond, Murtagh came slowly up beside him.
“Off to wash?”
“Aye.”
“Still want me to follow?”
“Aye. But ye aren’t to look, ye ken,” Rob said, patting his sword in a pretend challenge.
“What if I just look at the maids? Oh, no need to pull that weapon, milord. I’ll be a perfect gentleman and make me mother proud.”
“And yer wife as well,” Rob said, making Murtagh roar in laughing agreement as he dismounted and made his way after the women.
Though he and Hugh were yet to find any trace of the Gordons hiding in the forests and hills, Rob still felt a nervous tension clutch him whenever he rode off, especially since Kenna had started spending so much time in the company of the Earl of Sutherland. If rumors were to be believed, the Earl’s wife had gone so far as to order their blacksmiths to blunt the edges of his swords so Sutherland couldn’t possibly hurt himself should he ever become bold enough to draw one from its sheath. Though it pleased Rob, on the one hand, to know that his wife was riding with a man unlikely to ever tempt her away from him, he was also a bit nervous for her safety should the worst happen while he was away.
So, whenever Hugh tried to coax him away from the rest, Rob had done a quick survey of the slow-moving crowd for his wife and would sadly refuse if she was riding alongside Sutherland and Sutherland alone. It had only taken a few times for Hugh to work out Rob’s reasoning.
“Put a guard on her and be done with it,” Hugh had said with an eye roll before muttering a few rather impolite things under his breath about how Rob’s priorities should have been out in the hills rather than the maid in his bed.
Murtagh, the bastard who had ruined his plans to get Kenna begging with a poorly timed headache, had earned the task.
“If she notices ye,” Rob had warned when he issued the order, “I’ll be sure yer flasks are filled with nothing but water ‘til we get back to Dounie.”
The memory waned as the party settled into its usual ritual of unloading piles upon piles of camp supplies—far more than Rob would have deemed necessary. There were trunks upon trunks of clothes, tents dyed in the bright colors of the clans they would house, and enough food to prepare nightly feasts of stew and roasted apples. It was hardly the march of war that Rob had thought it would be when he left Dounie with only a few clothes and the barest collection of supplies.
All down the line, the clans broke off to find their compatriots to set their tents in order, and defendable rows moving out like a spiral from wherever the Queen set her pavilion. Rob set his tent on the edge of the Fraser camp as always, his men giving him coy teases that it was so they wouldn’t hear him and his wife after dark. They weren’t wrong, in a sense. But Rob was more afraid of the men hearing silence than hushed moans.
Though Rob had not left Dounie with the luxuries a woman would wish to have on the road, especially in present company, the trunks upon trunks of Kenna’s things that were now being carted along with them provided extra blankets, a water basin, and plush pillows. As he filled their simple, white tent with these things, he had to admit that it was a pleasant change compared to curling up on the ground with only his plaid and a horse blanket for comfort.
Rob had just finished unloading and unsaddling the horses, in a particularly good mood, when he heard the rapid beat of footfalls behind him. He turned and took a step back, his hand dropping to his dagger, only to find Murtagh, his face flushed and his eyes wide. Rob’s heart began to race. He reached for his horse, ready to race to find Kenna when he saw her, emerging from the trees far behind Murtagh at a dead sprint.
“Sorry, milord.” Murtagh gasped as he sucked in fresh air after skidding to a stop next to Rob. “But I may have been seen.”
“Ye don’t say,” Rob replied through gritted teeth.
“Rob!”
Kenna was now on the edge of the Fraser tents, her hair soaking and her dress clinging to her from being put on before she had dried. Rob thought he had seen her angry before. He thought the little angry quips here and there was bad enough, but no, this was Kenna irate. Her brow was furrowed, crushing her big blue eyes down into harsh slits and her cheeks were as red as new tartan. Her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that they had become as pale as parchment left in the sun for too long. And, Rob understood with a bit of pride, she was quite the runner.
“Damn, she has got some legs on her. I’ll see ye at sup then,” Murtagh said, hustling away just as Kenna came crashing into him, shoving him into their tent as if privacy was necessary and the entire camp hadn’t seen her sprinting at him with steam flying from her ears.
“How was yer wash?” he asked tentatively as soon as the tent flaps closed behind her.
“Ye have yer men watching me?”
“I have one of my men set to guard ye, lass, fer yer protection.”
“Guard? Guard?” Kenna shouted.
“He wasn’t supposed to be seen. I ordered him not to look at any of ye.”
“They are mortified! I am mortified! They’ll be hardpressed to ever speak to me again.”
“They’re just spying on ye fer the Queen. Surely ye know that,” Rob said in a hushed voice.
If any part of this argument was being listened to, and he was sure it was, at least that bit he wanted to keep between the two of them.
“Of course I do! I’m not a fool! But there is a difference between them doing it and ye!”
She pushed him. Hard.
&nb
sp; He grabbed her hands and placed them behind her, then pulled her tightly against him while she wriggled to try and break free from his grip. With a grunt of anger, she looked up at him, panting heavily in anger.
“Let me go, Rob Fraser.”
“No, lass, I think I’ll hold ye here a bit longer.”
“Ye haven’t the right.”
“‘Tis not what ye said on our wedding night. Ye told me ye ken all about my rights to ye,” he whispered, leaning his face close to hers as a taunt, hoping that the audacity of it would at least redirect her anger to an argument he thought he could win.
However, pain erupted in his foot instead, and he released her on impulse, peering down to see her delicate shoe atop his.
The break was all Kenna needed to escape, flying from the tent and shouting, “Murtagh, I am off to make water in the trees. I am sure my husband wishes fer ye to bear witness.”
Well, if the rest of the camp hadn’t heard yet, they had now. Rob took a moment to compose himself before departing the tent in search of a Fraser fire and some male companionship.
The small fire was already surrounded when he found it, all the men laughing until Rob came into view. When they saw him, their chortles died, and each man tried some technique to keep themselves from laughing any further, whether it was pressing their lips together while looking at their feet or hiding their smiles behind their plaids.
“Well, get on with it, don’t let me stop ye.” Rob sighed as he sat down on a log.
The men were merciless in their taunts, each doing their best to outdo the other with their jokes. Even his father, who was focused on whittling, laughed at a few.
“What are ye all on about?” Kenna asked, arriving at the circle with Murtagh sheepishly on her heels.
“Just teasing yer lord husband fer getting his first lecture from ye,” one of the men, Jacob, told her.
“‘Tis my duty as his wife to keep him in line,” Kenna said with a ladylike smile as she settled herself on a vacant bit of grass. “Keep up yer mockery, and I’ll have to chat with yer own wife about yer behavior.”
The threat made Jacob’s jaw drop. His wife, as Kenna must have heard, gave the devil a run for his gold. The rest of the lads burst into laughter.
“Terrifying lass, aren’t ye?” Jacob said, joining the laughter circling the fire.
“Don’t ye worry, Jacob. Like father like daughter; full of empty threats. I’d be careful, Kenna, ye ken where it got him in the end,” Rob threw into the mix.
All the laughter promptly ebbed away to awkward coughs and uncomfortable shifting. Rob waited for Kenna to throw back a comment, but it would seem that his blow had bit too hard.
Without a word, Kenna stood back up and strode away. Murtagh set down his cup with a sigh and went to follow her.
Good. I certainly am not of the mind to chase after her, Rob thought.
The mood at the fire had died considerably, the jovial laughs dipping into silence before the men, one by one, found excuses to leave. Hugh was the last to depart, claiming he was off to the ridge to see if his rabbit snares had been fruitful, leaving Rob alone with his father.
“‘Tis wedded bliss, aye?” his father said.
“Aye. Something of the sort.” Rob grunted, taking up Murtagh’s abandoned cup and taking a long swig of the whiskey left inside.
His father stared at him, letting the silence consume them. Rob refused to say anything more, but as the silence continued to weigh on him, and his father simply sat patiently, continuing to whittle away, the weight grew too much.
“How can a man be a good husband when the wife behaves as she does?”
“Seems to be a fine lass from where I sit.”
“Oh aye, she is a blessing of a woman before all of ye. Full of charm and smiles, but ye get her alone, and that wit turns against ye and ye just…” Rob filled his hands with his hair and groaned, not even sure what it was that she did that truly grated on his nerves.
“So, ye’re feeling a bit jealous of the rest of us? Wish ye got the same sort of lass?”
“Ach, ‘tis not jealousy. I’m not a girlish sort, ye ken.”
“‘Tis not weak to admit it if ye are. I certainly was when I wed yer mother.”
“What?”
“I thought I would strangle the woman before we saw the first change of seasons as man and wife, ye ken. Couldna do a thing right, it seemed. But when I went to complain to my own mother, she boxed my ears like I was a wee lad and told me that it was my own fault because my wife was an angel. It would boil my blood to ken she was the woman I wanted when she was with others, but not when she was with me.”
“Ye always told me that yer marriage to Mother was a good one,” Rob said, doing his best to keep the bitterness from his voice.
His mother had died when he was only ten years of age, and his father had done his best to fill his children with stories of her greatness, and Rob had swallowed them without a question of their truth.
“It was, Rob. It was some of the best years of my life, but ye’re old enough now to ken that happiness is not easy to come by, especially when two people are pushed together by force. If all arranged marriages produced love so easily, do ye think so many would beg fer the right to choose? Took yer mother and me months to even speak kindly to one another, let alone like each other. She despised me for taking her away from her home, her family, everything she had ever known. Kenna is the same, but she had to leave with the people that had come and put the noose ‘round her father’s neck. Whether the act was right or wrong, ye have to ken what it is ye’re asking of her when ye ask her to be a good wife.”
“‘Twas not like it was I that tightened the noose.”
“In her mind, it may as well be,” his father said, suddenly stern. “In her mind, ‘tis ye that took her away from her home. ‘Tis no matter that it was Queen Mary, her brothers, and I that are largely to blame fer that; ye are the one holding the reins to her life, even if we were the ones that handed them to ye.”
“So, then, what do I do?” Rob asked through gritted teeth, annoyed by the sermon that had yet to declare a solution.
“Like I said, it took yer mother and me a long time to figure out how to get along with one another. Finally, I had enough and went to her and asked her to tell me what it was she wanted of me. Told her I would drown her in the loch if she didn’t answer me plainly. Ye ken what she told me?”
“To get to the point a bit faster?” Rob replied, earning him a swift cuff on the ear.
“No, lad. She told me that I shouldn’t act as I think I should, but as she thinks I should. Just ask yerself what ye think yer wife would want ye to say, what gestures she would wish fer, and give them to her. Aye, ye can go on and on about yer pride as a man, but when the day is done, yer pride doesn’t account fer much if ye canna enjoy a fire and good company with yer wife. Now go, off with ye. Find yer lass and make amends fer all our sakes. There are too many days ahead of us fer ye to drag the rest of us into yer quarrels.”
With that, his father picked up his woodworking again, effectively dismissing him.
Rob eventually found Kenna at the outskirts of the Fraser camp, as far from Rob and his men as she could have gone without being dragged back kicking and screaming. Murtagh stood a little way behind her, watching her struggle to light a small fire with a bemused look.
“Off with ye,” Rob called to him, tossing him a flask to keep him from going too far.
Kenna wouldn’t look up at him as she continued to strike at the flint, showering sparks that would not catch on the small pile of sticks and leaves she had gathered and stacked neatly on a large patch of dirt.
“Rained last night. Did ye grab something dry? Won’t catch otherwise.”
Kenna didn’t reply, just struck at the flint harder and faster than before.
“Ye’re going to break it. Give it here,” Rob said, reaching for the flint.
Her head spun to face him, her jaw set in anger, but her eyes red and wet w
ith hurt. Had he really made her cry? It was a new emotion from her, one Rob wasn’t sure how to handle.
Don’t act as ye are, act as she would want ye to be, Rob thought and pulled away the hand that had been reaching for the flint, sinking it into his sporran instead to pull out a bit of dried bark. He turned it in his hand before holding it out to her.
“Here. This ought to be dry enough to catch.”
Kenna gave him a curious look, full of suspicion, but accepted the piece anyway, setting it carefully beneath the kindling. Two more strikes of the flint and the smallest of flames rose up through the sticks, slowly stretching and rising as it came to life. The tension in Kenna’s shoulders seemed to release, and she grinned at the orange flames, making his heart clench a little. It was not a smile for him, but it pleased him all the same, spreading a slow heat through him that no fire could ever rival.
Rob pulled his plaid from his shoulders and unfurled it on the ground, spreading it so that there was enough room for them both to sit while holding their stiff toes close to the flames, which were growing large now that Kenna had piled the fire high with logs.
“Where did ye rustle up all the wood?”
“A Munro boy,” she replied with a smirk. “Poor lad, I found him while in a right state. He was a wee bit terrified of me. Even gave me the torch he’d been wrapping. Hardly necessary since there shall be a full moon tonight, but I suppose it will make the walk back to the tent a bit easier.”
“Aye.”
Kenna sat still in the silence for a spell before she started to shift here and there, casting wary glances up at him now and then. Rob was about to open his mouth to demand a reason from her, to coax her into admitting some hidden truth, when he thought better of it. Instead, he took a deep breath.
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 5
