Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1)

by Adamina Young

  Any thought of Kenna made his blood stir.

  However, when Rob threw open the door, charging in expectantly, Kenna was nowhere to be found. Before Rob left the room to search for her, he caught a sight that was both familiar and unusual out of the corner of his eye. The mantle, once bare save for a couple of small trinkets that his mother had forced him to display, was now looking more handsomely decorated. Intermixed with his own things were a few trinkets that he unclearly remembered from Kenna’s room in Inverness Castle, like a little carved jewelry box and a framed portrait of a young girl that must have been Elizabeth. The mantel was not the only thing that had changed about the room; there were new trunks tucked up against the wall, a Gordon-green and blue quilt draped across the foot of the bed, and a few hair ribbons left haphazardly on the table beside a tray that now held two cups rather than one.

  Rob left the room, a strange feeling blooming in his chest, and started his search.

  Florence’s room was just as empty, as was the Great Hall. Rob was about to check the kitchens when he nearly ran headlong into the castle’s steward.

  “Ah, Laird Rob, I was looking fer ye and yer brother. Yer father heard ye had returned and he wishes to see ye in his solar.”

  “Tell him to shove it.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Rob sighed, feeling a sinking sense of uselessness at any attempt to try and stay in the castle that night. “Nothing, let’s go.”

  “Did ye find Hugh, then?” Rob asked as he followed the steward through the halls.

  “Ach, not yet, Laird Rob. He wasna in his room.”

  Rob raised an eyebrow. Since when had Hugh become clever?

  As the pair of men turned down a new hall, Rob heard a chorus of voices and laughter behind them. He turned and saw a small alcove at the end of the hall that was filled with women.

  Florence’s inner-circle, Rob understood, for he had watched these girls trail his sister like ducklings trailed their mother goose ever since they could all walk.

  Rob despised these women. Though they were kind and playful with Florence, some of them had grown particularly arrogant and catty after years of close friendship with the Laird of Lovat’s daughter. Not wanting his sister’s time, wealth or favor to leave them, they had made a habit of treating other castle women with a cool distance. Even Ellen had been kept at a distance when she had arrived and, as far as Rob knew, they were yet to fully warm to her.

  So, it took Rob by surprise when he saw Kenna, seated across the alcove from Florence, with two of the women braiding ribbons into her hair. They were talking animatedly with each other, their eyes all wide as they surely relayed the rumor of some scandal or another. Rob heard one of the women call Kenna’s attention to her embroidery, which she held out in front of her. Kenna cocked her head and flashed one of those teasing smirks that Rob knew would be preceding some sharp comment.

  Sure enough, he watched her lips move, and then the entire alcove of women roared with laughter; the one who had held up the embroidery seemed to be laughing the loudest.

  The steward followed Rob’s gaze before commenting, “Lady Kenna has settled in remarkably quick. I know it can be a difficult transition fer a bride, especially one from a different clan entirely, but she has handled it with particular grace. I am yet to hear any speak a single ill word about her. Thus far, she has proven to be a fine addition to the castle.”

  Rob thought about his chambers, about the strange sensation he had felt when he comprehended that it was no longer something of his own, but something meant to be shared. It had not been an unpleasant feeling, but he had not known what to call it. Now, seeing Kenna sit with the women as if she had been doing it all her life, he finally understood what it was.

  “Of course she is a fine addition,” he told the steward. “She was always meant to be here.”

  * * *

  Rob raised the ax and threw it down with a deep grunt, letting it land with a loud crack onto the log, splitting it cleanly into two. With a satisfied huff, he bent over and picked up the pieces, tossing them to the side to join a small pile now forming in the middle of the forest clearing. A cold wind slipped through the trees, one that should have made him shiver, but Rob felt a sense of relief as the air pulled his damp shirt away from his skin. With a satisfying stretch, Rob cast a glance to the east, down the narrow dirt path that would lead them back to Dounie.

  “How many days have we been out here again?” Rob asked.

  “Three,” Hugh said as he lifted a few of the split logs and hauled them to a cart. “Three bloody days of chopping wood.”

  “At least we are almost done.” Rob sighed, though, now that he looked at the massive stack of logs yet to be split, he wasn’t so sure they would ever be allowed to return.

  Three days ago, when Hugh had finally been found and brought to his father’s solar, they had been informed that the castle wood supply was dangerously low. With no men around to keep pace with the castle’s use during the fall, the stock had just kept dwindling. The solution his father had come up with was to send his already exhausted sons out into the woods to fell a few large trees and split them apart.

  “If ye sleep out there,” he had said, “rather than come back to the castle every night and return every morning, I ken ye’ll get it done all the sooner. And it must be done all the sooner.”

  And so, Rob and Hugh had packed their tents and ridden away. Hugh, at least, had been in a fairly good mood. He, after all, had found his wife. Rob, on the other hand, was more than a little resentful. If he had known he was to be banished to the woods for a few more days, he would have rushed at Kenna when he found her sitting in the alcove and stolen her away for at least a few quick kisses.

  “Do ye think we will even be able to burn all of this?” Hugh asked as he arranged the logs in the already full cart, trying to find space for a couple more.

  “Aye. And if the winter is long, we will likely be back out here splitting logs in the snow.”

  Hugh grimaced. “I suppose that is proper motivation. Hey, I think I hear our lunch coming up the road.”

  Rob paused and listened hard. Sure enough, he heard the faint sound of wheels coming up the path. Every day, three times a day, a pair of men would bring an emptied cart to the clearing, trading it for the cart that the brothers had filled. They would also bring some food—most likely scraps from whatever had been eaten in the Great Hall.

  Moving as quickly as they could, Rob and Hugh worked on rearranging the cart they had, loading it with as many of the split logs as they could before the cart pulled into the clearing, led by Murtagh and Jacob, who cast them both amused and pitying looks.

  “Ach, don’t give me that look, ye bloody bastards, or I’ll be sure that ‘tis yer arses out here the next time this happens,” Rob shot at them with a grin.

  “Why, my Laird, such crude talk,” Murtagh said, clapping his hand to his chest. “Such a wicked thing to say before a lass.”

  Rob and Hugh both looked eagerly over at Jacob and Murtagh’s cart, where, to their surprise, Ellen was riding, a covered pot in her hands. Hugh walked out to meet her, taking the pot from her and leaning in for a kiss.

  Rob forced himself to look away. He always felt like an unwanted observer of his brother’s relationship. It was something about the way Ellen would look at him after expressing some love for Hugh. As if she was daring him to finally yell and curse at her for choosing Hugh over him.

  “What are ye doing here?” Hugh asked her, his voice light and giddy.

  Perhaps he thought Ellen was there for a quick tumble in the woods. Rob would have given an arm for a quick tumble in the woods.

  “Well, I brought ye two lads some stew; ye’ll need to heat it back up over yer campfire. But I also have something I would like to discuss with ye, if we could find someplace private?” Ellen slid out of the cart and began to march her way through the clearing and into the thickness of the woods beyond.

  When the couple was well out of sight,
concealed by layers and layers of thick trees and brush, Jacob whistled. “Say prayers fer yer brother.”

  “Ach, what are ye on about? Probably just a love tumble,” Rob said. “Ye just think every husband is in fer it because yer wife has taught ye nothing else.”

  “Ye think that a woman would come out to the woods at dawn to say or do something pleasing? No, he is in for it,” Jacob said with a knowing nod.

  “I’d have to agree with his assessment,” Murtagh chimed in as he dropped the pot of stew over the flames.

  “He has been in the woods fer days. What could he have done to upset her?” Rob asked.

  “Milord, forgive me fer saying, but ye are such a young pup when it comes to women that ye could hardly understand. Even when ye are gone, ye still can do something wrong,” Murtagh explained, taking a big scoop of the stew for himself. “I’ve seen yer wife rip into ye, so ye ken that they can be rather frightening creatures when they wish to be.”

  The pair returned shortly after, Ellen red in the face and Hugh looking as pale as a ghost.

  “Let us return to the castle, Murtagh, Jacob. There is no reason fer us to continue interrupting their work,” Ellen said.

  While Murtagh shoveled down the rest of his food, Jacob looked at Rob and shrugged, giving him a quick wink to show that he knew he was right and that he would be ribbing Rob for it later. Hugh sat down by the fire with a huff and cast a nasty glare over at his brother, one that Rob could not quite understand.

  When they were finally alone in the clearing, each quietly eating their meal, Rob dared to cast a few quick glances at Hugh. His brother was usually the calm one of the pair, and he was usually quite difficult to rile. In fact, Rob could only think of one other occasion in his adult life that he had seen Hugh looking quite so venomous toward him. Rob had marched into Hugh’s room only five days before he was supposed to marry Ellen and had begun to rant about how he didn’t even want to marry the lass, yet he was being forced to do everything she wished to adorn the Great Hall ahead of the celebrations. Rob had been so consumed by his annoyance at losing precious hours to spar in the yard that he had not comprehended how angry Hugh’s expression was until it was too late. He had left the room with a pair of broken ribs.

  At the time, Rob had thought the anger wasn’t directed toward him. He told himself that Hugh had already been angry and Rob had just been the scapegoat. Rob had known that Hugh had a secret lover—the idiotic grin that Hugh would sport after sneaking away to bed her had given it away fairly quickly—and Rob thought that the anger must have been related to her. In a way, at least, he had been right.

  Rob had earned Hugh’s anger by complaining about marrying the love of Hugh’s life. What could Ellen have possibly said to equal something like that?

  “Hugh, is there anything—”

  “If we both split the logs, we should be able to finish by nightfall. The lads can pack them in a cart without us in the morning.”

  Rob surveyed the stack. It was doable, though their father would be annoyed if he found out that his sons had left before the work was truly completed. But then, with another look at Hugh’s face, Rob understood that he would much rather accept his father’s wrath than Hugh’s.

  “Fine, then let’s get to work.”

  They worked in silence for the first couple of hours. Rob kept up a steady pace of chops, carefully pacing himself to last for the rest of the day. Hugh, on the other hand, was throwing his ax around as if he was pretending to fight back some horrid enemy. It came as no surprise to Rob when Hugh’s grip on the ax slipped when he was midswing, forcing him to jump back with a flurry of curses so as not to lose a foot.

  “I tell ye what,” Hugh said through gritted teeth as he picked his ax back up, “we better be thanked each and every time someone lights a fire this winter.”

  “‘Tis a bit of an unlikely expectation.”

  “Oh, are ye too good fer a bit of thanks?”

  “Hugh, do ye want to just talk about it?”

  “What?”

  “Whatever happened between ye and Ellen earlier today. Oh, come on, this mood of yers couldna been caused by anything else.”

  “Go to hell,” Hugh said, swinging the ax down once again.

  But this time Hugh caught the very edge of the log and the ax slipped out and nearly came back to catch him in the knee. Hugh cursed, and Rob pinched himself, trying hard to keep from laughing, but it wasn’t enough. Though only one small chuckle escaped his lips, Hugh rounded on him with a glare so full of malice and hatred that it made Rob wince.

  “Fine,” Rob said, throwing some split logs aside. “Don’t talk about it.”

  “Ye must think ye have it all figured out. Married fer all of a few months, seen her fer only a trice of that time, and ye wanna try and give me advice on wedded bliss?”

  “No, I was just hoping to get ye to quit acting like a scunner. I can barely handle my own wife, let alone try and help ye with yers.”

  “Ye wouldna understand if I told ye,” Hugh said with an angry grunt as he finally split the log cleanly.

  “There is a lot I dinna understand, but I canna even hope to do so if ye won’t give me a chance.”

  Hugh kicked at the dirt of the forest floor, his face scrunched with contemplation. Rob just kept up with his work—lifting a log to the stump of the tree, raising his ax and letting it fall, throwing off the split remains. Rob went through a few logs before Hugh finally groaned and looked up at Rob, his green eyes bright with conviction.

  “I made a promise to Ellen, a promise I thought I could keep. But, all of a sudden, the situation is changing, and I canna keep the promise to her without making a big mess of everything. I’d have to do things I canna imagine doing.”

  “What sort of stupid promise did ye make?” Rob asked.

  What could she have asked of him that has him acting like this?

  “I canna say.”

  Rob rolled his eyes. “Fine, then keep yer secrets. Look, without knowing the particulars, all I can say is that ye ought to just make the mess and keep yer promises. Ye’ll always be able to clean it up.”

  “And ye’d forgive me fer it? If things got really disordered?”

  “Aye, stupid lad, I’ll always forgive ye.”

  With that, Rob picked up his ax and the next log, leaving Hugh to ponder his dilemma in silence.

  * * *

  “Hugh, how about we go to Father’s—” Rob started to say, but Hugh was already marching through the courtyard on his own, putting as much distance between them as he could. “Fine, I’ll find Father myself.”

  With the hour late and the air freezing, Rob wasn’t particularly surprised to find that most of the castle had already gone to bed. Only a few drunken stragglers hung around in the hall, and he didn’t pass a soul on his journey up to the top of his castle, where his father’s solar sat at the highest point of one of the castle’s many towers.

  Rob knocked softly before slipping inside. The solar wasn’t a particularly large room, but it was certainly extravagant. His mother, like Florence, had been passionate about spending coin, and his father’s solar had been her particular point of interest when it came to decoration. Where everything else in the castle was adorned with a sort of practical elegance, a bit of finery intermixed with the simple, this room was nothing short of opulent. Rich green fabric embroidered with the Fraser crest hung along the walls and the chairs that were scattered here and there were fatly stuffed with down. His father’s desk at the very back of the room was both massive and topped with imported Italian marble.

  “I heard a rumor that ye would be back this evening, though many said it could not be done,” Florence said from her position behind the desk.

  “What are ye doing here?”

  “Waiting fer ye. Father needed to rest, so I volunteered to wait fer ye and Hugh to return. Where is Hugh?”

  “Hopefully, he is locked away in his room where I’ll not have to deal with him fer a few hours. He is acting moodi
er than a lass during her least favorite turn of the moon.”

  Florence cocked an eyebrow. “I shall do my best not to resent the comparison. Strange that Hugh, of all people, is acting so poorly.”

  “Aye. Was Ellen acting at all strange today?”

  Florence pursed her lips. “I did not see much of Ellen today. She hounded me all morning about Kenna’s health and then disappeared to do her needlework alone all afternoon.”

  “Kenna’s health?”

  “Aye. She has fallen ill.”

  Rob tensed where he stood, resisting the urge to immediately run from the room and back to his chambers. “What is wrong with her? Will she be alright?”

  “How would I ken? I am not a healer,” Florence replied with a roll of her eyes.

  “Then a healer was called?”

  “Of course. He will be here tomorrow. Well, the whole reason I was to wait up fer ye at all was to inform ye that Father wishes fer ye and Kenna to sleep separately until the cause of the illness is discovered. The room around the corner from yer own has been prepared fer ye.”

  “Great.” Rob sighed.

  Would he ever feel the sweet warmth of his wife again? It was starting to seem that fate was stacking the odds against him, punishing him for all of the years that he had not wanted a wife by depriving him of one now that it was his greatest pleasure.

  “Do not look so depressed,” Florence teased as she stood and crossed the room, rising onto her tiptoes to peck him lovingly on the cheek. “Well, I have done all I have stayed awake fer. I’ll see ye in the morn.”

  Rob waited for her to leave before he sought a piece of paper and scribbled his father a quick note to explain why they had returned before they were expected. Then, with a bit of frustration, he decided to make his way back to his bed.

  His lonely bed.

  The room just around the corner from his own, as promised, was prepared for him. A fresh change of clothes had even been set out, robbing him of any excuse to go next door. But then, he couldn’t resist the temptation to at least go and see her, excuse or not. He slipped back out into the hall, rounded the corner, and opened the door to him and Kenna’s shared chamber with a carefully practiced speed that kept the door from squeaking in the hinges. With the quietness of a ghost, he crossed the room and crouched down beside the bed. Kenna was asleep, a slight sheen of sweat visible on her forehead in the dim light of the dying fire. Her face seemed a bit paler than normal, though he supposed he could have been imagining that. What he knew he wasn’t imagining was the ragged edge to her breaths.