Was there no reason? Kenna bit her lip, wondering if she was bold enough to ask the question aloud that had just come to mind. Rob would have laughed at her hesitation. He thought she was fearless.
“Say, Florence… Ellen does not have any living children, does she?”
Florence gave her a sad look and shook her head. “No. Ellen lost the child barely two weeks after she and Hugh wed. She hasn’t conceived since.”
* * *
Two days later, Kenna trudged up the inn steps with a frown. Florence had convinced her to go outside, to embrace the beautiful fall afternoon with its cloudless sky and gently flowing breeze. Ellen had declined their company, as she had done ever since Kenna pushed for the story of her marriage. Kenna felt a strange sense of guilt about it, but Florence did not share her mind. As always, she was dedicated to having a bit of fun, avoiding all conflicts and misery as if they were the plague.
The pair started in the bread shop next to the inn, filling up on sweet pastries and crusty bread smeared with butter. Then they had gone to the apothecary that was just across the street from the inn, pointing at the multicolored jars that filled the shelves and doing their best to guess what various powders and potions were used for. All had gone well in those two shops, so Florence had worked her magic and convinced Kenna to venture, for the first time in days, to the next street over, promising her fantastic shops that stocked some of the most incredible things, some of the merchants even bringing goods from as far as Persia.
At first, it had been fun to see something new, to pick up bits of jewelry and wonder if Rob would be pleased to see her wearing it while Florence pointed out intricately painted bits of pottery. Then she had heard the whispers. Florence became nervous and flighty, pointing Kenna’s attention away from the nobles that were casting her nasty looks.
But then one had grown bold, marching up to her and, with spit flying from his mouth as he overenunciated every word, said, “Ye must be awfully pleased with yerself, out here flaunting about so shamefully just after the news arrived. Yer worthless Earl of Huntly shall not be able to run from Her Majesty forever.”
He emphasized his anger by upending his flask over her head. It was only water, but it stung as painfully as molten metal. While the shopkeeper ran forward and began to pat her dry with a bit of clean cloth, Florence chased after the nobles, demanding answers. When she returned to Kenna’s side, her eyes were wide and nervous, and she quickly began to walk them back toward the inn.
As it turned out, the Earl of Huntly had managed to escape Strathbogie and had joined the ranks of his army, which had already been out roaming the countryside in preparation for open rebellion. According to the noblemen, Rob and his men had ransacked the castle after Huntly escaped and interrogated a few of his surviving men. Whatever information they had discovered must not have been good, for a rider had rushed back to Aberdeen to relay it to the Queen, arriving only that morning.
Back in the safety of her room, where she should have been wise enough to have stayed all day, Kenna snatched up a pillow and held it to her face so that she could scream without raising any alarm. How long would people continue to blame her for things that she had no control over? Had she been at Strathbogie, helping the Earl slip through the fingers of the Queen’s small host of men? No. So why was it her fault?
The dress, still damp, clung uncomfortably against her skin and Kenna tugged angrily at her laces. She peeled off the simple cotton dress and cast it down onto the table as she looked around the room, trying to remember which of the many trunks and chests in the room held her favorite white linen dress. Today was the type of day that required a favorite dress.
Her eyes fell on the two chests stacked in a pile beside the door. If she remembered correctly, the dress she was looking for was in the lower of the two. With a grunt of exertion, Kenna lifted off the top chest and set it down on the ground before she began to rifle through the lower chest, unfurling the white dress with a whoop of victory.
That was when she heard the soft thump.
“Where…” Kenna looked around the room, wondering what it was she was hearing.
Then the thump came again, and Kenna looked down at the chest she had just moved.
A third thump confirmed her suspicions. There was something inside of the trunk, something alive.
With hesitant fingers, Kenna reached out and tipped open the lid of the trunk. There, slithering around amongst the collection of petticoats, was a long, gray snake with a series of black diamonds down its back. A small horn rose from its head, and two copper-colored eyes looked up at Kenna while a black tongue slipped in and out of its mouth.
Kenna screamed and slammed the lid, a loud crack on the inside of the chest telling her that the snake had lunged a moment too late. Pounding footsteps on the stairs overpowered whatever other sounds the snake was making before her door was thrown open and her father-in-law stared down at her.
“What is it?”
“There is a snake in my chest. It was big and gray, and it had a horn. Is that strange to say, the snake had a horn? I don’t ken; I just ken I have never seen one like it before.” The words kept falling from her lips. She didn’t know how to stop them. “I just heard a noise, so I looked, and there it was, and so I slammed it, and I think it tried to get me and it was just so big…”
A few more men joined their Laird, catching the last of her comments and casting curious glances down at the chest.
Then there was Florence, coming up behind the rest and looking confused, but also a bit intrigued.
Urging her back, Laird Lovat stepped in front of the chest, a pair of men beside him with long dirks at the ready. He tipped back the lid ever so slightly and peered inside for only a second before he softly replaced the lid.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What was it, father?” Florence asked.
“A horned viper. They aren’t native to Scotland so how the hell did it get here?”
Kenna did not feel like that was a question worth asking. The damn thing hadn’t wandered into the inn, up the stairs, and into her chest on its own.
“It was a snake fer a snake,” Kenna said, angry at how apparent the trembling was in her voice. A few days free of death threats and angry nobles had apparently made her soft.
Laird Lovat cast her a wary glance. “Aye, I expect that is the implication. Well, lads, let’s bring the chest outside and deal with the thing. I want the rest of these chests searched. Go and stay with Florence ‘til ‘tis done, lass.”
“It will all be over soon,” Florence cooed as she wrapped an arm affectionately around Kenna while the men began to haul the chest from the room. “The Queen sent out a notice. All of the men are to prepare themselves for battle. The Earl of Huntly is officially in open rebellion against the Crown.”
“Good, this needs to end,” Kenna said.
She wondered which would be able to hold out longer: her or the Gordon rebellion? She couldn’t be sure but, if she were a betting woman, she wouldn’t put money on herself.
13
Rob had never minded the scent of a stable. He liked the sweetness of the hay and the muskiness of the horses. It was a comforting smell to him. When he was a child, he used to play in the stables of Dounie Castle for hours, running up and down the stalls while pretending he was a knight fighting back raiders. When he was a bit older, he had run to the stables to hide from his overly enthusiastic tutors, much preferring a nap in an empty stall over practicing his arithmetic and languages.
Apparently, hiding from disagreeable things in the stable was a trait he hadn’t lost. The small stable of the inn was nothing compared to the one at Dounie, but, if he closed his eyes and leaned back against the rough wooden walls of the stall, it was easy to pretend he was home.
He hadn’t been back in Aberdeen for long before he had encountered the Queen. She nearly pulled him off of his horse; she was so angry. Her face was as red as the rubies around her neck as she described, in detail, h
ow displeased she was with him and the things she wished she could do to him as a punishment for his failures.
“They told me ye were an excellent warrior. That ye were a competent and capable man. And they were right, weren’t they? Ye successfully raided a defended castle with only twenty men, did ye not? And yet, when it comes down to capturing important men, ye are as worthless to me as a stream without water. Ye couldn’t manage to capture the Earl of Sutherland or the Earl of Huntly, both of whom ye had in yer grasp. What, pray tell, is the issue?” she had asked before immediately dismissing him, not caring to hear any sort of excuse—which was good since Rob had none to give.
I didn’t catch the archer that attacked the camp either, he thought with a smirk.
Although, he was glad the Queen seemed to have forgotten that much. Something must truly have been wrong with him.
“Welcome back, Highlander,” said a light voice behind him, interrupting his solitude.
He glanced back, his heart beating wildly at the sound of her voice.
“Kenna.”
She rushed toward him and jumped into his arms. He lifted her from the ground, pulling her tightly up against him. It was a bit odd, he comprehended, for her to greet him so affectionately, but he wasn’t about to complain. He buried his face in her curls and breathed in the rich scent of rose and honey that seemed to always cling to her.
“I heard what happened,” she murmured.
“Great.” That is the last thing I want ye to ken about.
“But I am glad ye are home safe and…” She leaned back and traced her finger along the small wound on his face, “… mostly unhurt.”
“Aye, and no one managed to kill ye while I was gone either,” Rob said with a grin.
Kenna laughed nervously. There was a story there, but he had a feeling she would refuse to share it. And, if she did, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to leave her alone again.
“They could not quite get it done. How long are ye able to stay in Aberdeen?”
“Not long. An hour, maybe even less. After the Earl of Huntly ran off, we had a bit of time to raid his office in Strathbogie. There were scores of messages that he had exchanged with whoever was leading the Gordon army in his absence. We found out that they are planning on attacking Aberdeen. We sent a rider ahead of us to tell the Queen, so she could prepare.”
“They’re coming here?” Kenna asked, a bit shocked.
“Aye. ‘Tis a good plan. They could ransack the city and spread out the Queen’s men in the process. But the most important piece of the plan is that they want to try and capture Queen Mary. If they can take her hostage, they can demand just about anything they could possibly want from the Crown fer as long as they can keep her alive.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We do nothing, lass. The Queen will never let them get close to Aberdeen, or to her person. The other men and I will march out and intercept them while they are still miles away.”
“So…” Kenna shifted and bit her lip, glancing up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. “… there will definitely be a battle?”
“Aye. Canna avoid it now. Thanks to me.”
“‘Tis not yer fault. ‘Twas an impossible mission from the start.”
“I almost had him. I could have had him if I had just… Ach, who could have ken that he would be so good at climbing walls?”
“Whoever taught him how,” Kenna replied with a smirk.
Rob patted his horse and did his best to put his failure from his mind. There would be plenty of time to think back with regret later.
“So, Kenna, I just want to ken what ye want me to do in case I—”
“In case ye?”
“What do I do if I see yer brothers in the field?”
For all of the nonsense that Hugh had been spouting over the past few days, his point about Kenna’s brothers had stayed with Rob. After they had taken control of Strathbogie, while the rest of the men were rifling through piles and piles of messages in the Earl’s office, Rob had wandered around, lifting the helms of dead men just to see if any of the unfortunate souls were Kenna’s brothers. Thankfully none were, but he wasn’t so sure that that luck would last.
Kenna did not reply; instead, she reached out and stroked the nose of his horse in a gentle rhythm.
“Ye hadn’t thought about it?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
The horse shifted as if even it could feel the deep sense of awkwardness that had befallen the conversation. Rob wanted her big, beautiful eyes on him. He wanted to stare into them, to enjoy her for the short time that he might have left with her, but she was too busy looking at her feet, skimming her toes against the thin layer of straw and dried muck that littered the floor.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Rob finally said.
He slipped from his horse’s stall and over into the next. It was empty but still stocked with clean hay.
“No.” She sighed, following him. “Ye shouldn’t have. But the fact remains that ye did. If those two are foolish enough to enter the field, then ye will just have to do what ye must. ‘Tis the nature of these things, I suppose.”
Rob was reminded of their wedding night, of the proud Highland girl who was beaten down by the weight of knowing that her wishes were not always her reality. He wanted to kiss her, to promise her that her life would not always be like this, but that would have been a false promise. He would go to the ends of the earth to try and keep her safe, body and soul, but there was no way for him to protect her from it all.
“I ken that it would be something I have to do, but would ye forgive me fer it?”
“Of course, I would.”
Rob didn’t really believe her, and he told her as much.
“Look at me, Rob Fraser,” she said, suddenly fierce. “If ye see them in the field, if they are a threat to ye or yer men, then ye have to cut them down.”
“But they are yer brothers, ye—”
“No, Rob, there is no but. Aye, they are my brothers. Aye, I would mourn their loss, despite everything that has happened and everything they have done to me. But I am not a Gordon anymore; I am a Fraser. I am the wife of the next chief of the clan. ‘Tis no longer my responsibility to try and protect them, not if they are posing a threat to ye or the men of our clan. If ye cut them down, if ye cut anyone down, and ye ken that ‘twas because they were putting yer lives in danger, then ye will not need my forgiveness. Rob, I am yer wife and—”
Rob grabbed her and pulled her to him, sinking his lips into hers before she could say another word. Her lips parted, and he plunged his tongue inside of her mouth, her own rising to meet him in welcome. It was madness, being with this woman. Hearing her call herself his wife, hearing her call herself a Fraser, why did it get him so thrilled?
He sank his fingers into her hips and took a step forward, then another, guiding her back until she was pressed up against the wall of the stall.
He pulled his lips from hers and began to leave a trail of kisses down her neck while his hands moved to explore the places beneath her skirt. She moaned softly at his touches, her hands running along his sides and then up into his hair.
“God, how I want ye.” He groaned before moving his lips back up to hers.
“Then have me.” She sighed between kisses, her hips arching out to find his, pressing herself against the swelling beneath his kilt.
He wouldn’t wait for a second invitation. He crouched and hooked his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her slightly up. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed her shoulders back into the wall for support while Rob reached down to pull away the fabric separating them.
They kissed again, their tongues swirling, as Rob sheathed himself inside of her.
God, ‘tis sinful how good she feels around me.
“Rob…” she moaned as he started to move, tilting her head back in pleasure.
Hearing her say his name like that was like a shot straight to his core. His thrusts became
faster, pounding into her again and again, refusing to relent as her moans cheered him on. Her hands slipped suddenly to his face, and she pressed her lips to his.
Her body was starting to tremble, the heat of her intensifying around him. She broke their kiss as her moans became cries, urgent and unrelenting.
He felt the end coming, a slow build that was begging for release, but no, not yet. He would wait for her; it couldn’t be long now.
Her hands left his face and went to his shoulders, squeezing him so tightly that he knew her nails would leave a mark on his skin, marking him as her own.
Then, at last, she began to contract around him, her muscles rippling against him, drawing him deeper. It was all that he could stand, and, with one final thrust, he felt himself explode within her.
They stayed there, their breaths heavy through their slight smiles. Rob leaned in to kiss her again, slow and gentle. He slipped his arms all the way around her and pulled her from the wall, taking a few steps back and turning to lay her back gently in the hay. She gazed up at him, her eyes as glassy as a loch at sunrise, with a content smile.
He collapsed beside her, resting one arm over the top of her protectively. If he had known that this is what it was to have a wife, he would have agreed to such a thing so much sooner.
She curled up against him and let out a long, happy sigh.
“So, lass, did ye miss me?” he asked, unable to keep the smile from his face.
“Ye ken that I canna tell ye that.”
“Why not?”
She laughed. “I told ye before—ye have to beg fer such a revelation.”
“Was that not begging?”
“We seem to have opposing definitions.”
The sound of a horn, soft and melodic, floated through the air. It might as well have been a funeral dirge for all the joy it brought him. And, it would seem, Kenna shared his mind. She was still smiling, but the strength of it had faded a bit, and the light of it no longer reached her eyes. He couldn’t leave her looking like this, so lonely and sad.
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 17
