by R. L. Syme
“You do look a bit tired, Kensey,” Malcolm insisted eventually, taking up the cause.
“I’m fine, I assure you.”
“You do look worn-out,” prodded Duncan. Kensey put down her cup and smiled up at the three brothers.
“Are you trying to tell me that I look less than appealing? Or are you trying to make me quit your company?” she asked, giving them each a hard look.
“Neither, lass,” laughed Duncan. He placed a hand on hers. “We were merely checking on your welfare.”
Broc lurched forward at their touch. Perhaps this would be the moment. Duncan would announce their betrothal and she would be lost to Broc forever.
“Well, I feel wonderful, really,” she assured them. “So you needn’t be concerned for me.” But her gray pallor did little to convince them and when she nearly dropped a pitcher of mead, Broc put his foot down.
“Kensey.” His deep voice must have touched something inside because she straightened her back and lowered her head. He leaned into her. “We know you don’t wish to miss the festivities, but you seem nearly ready to sleep in your chair.”
She took another sip from her cup and clapped her hands. She stood and turned to Malcolm, then to Robert. “Start the dancing, lads. As the guests of honor, it’s your wishes we bow to this evening.”
“I wish to dance with my sister.” Robert bounded from his seat. “A lively jig, Kens. Like you taught me.”
“As you wish, milord.” She bowed low as he held his hand out for her to accept. Broc stood in her path and put his hand on her forearm. The velvety material slipped beneath his grip and she was soon free of him.
“A dance will do me good, Broc, I promise.” She practically whispered to him as she passed, the hot air of her breath resting on his cheek like a kiss.
The moment she took Robert’s hand, the music began and they played a lively jig, just as Robert requested. Others joined them in their turns. As the dance finished, Robert was nearly out of breath and the two of them plopped back into their seats amid cheers and claps from the others.
“Now dance with Morainn,” Kensey encouraged her brother. “Now that Duncan and I have taught her to step dance, I’m sure she’d love to get out there and stretch her legs.”
Robert walked over to Morainn and held out his hand for hers. When they took the floor, Duncan leaned over to Kensey.
“Should we join them, lass?” he asked, his brows rising.
“Of course, sir.” She laughed, bowing her head formally. Broc had to admit. The activity did seem to do her some good. Her smile wasn’t quite returned, but nearly. Malcolm and Broccin sat watching the four of them, Malcolm’s eyes glued to Kensey and Broccin trying not to watch her, but unable to watch anyone else.
Her dark brown hair had been elaborately braided for the party, but the hold was starting to loosen as she bounced and skipped to the music, and strands of her hair were down framing her smiling face. The deep hue of her dress brought out the shimmering blue of her sea-colored eyes and she seemed even more beautiful in the blush of dancing than she ever had before. Broc released the breath he’d been holding and cursed his stupid brother. If Duncan didn’t offer for her today, Broc was going to take his chances.
“She is the most beautiful woman in the whole of the world.” Malcolm’s voice was barely more than a hiss, it was so quiet. Broc didn’t answer aloud, but his heart knew he agreed with his brother’s observation.
“Kensey will make a fine addition to our family.” Broccin still didn’t take his eyes off her.
“That she will.” Malcolm nodded. “I can see it in your eyes that you want her. And written all over your face when you watch her. You cannot have her.”
“I realize that,” Broccin said slowly. He took a long draught from the goblet by his hand and picked up a piece of the bread that had lain untouched on a near plate.
“What?” Malcolm leaned back in his chair and took in the scene. “You’re just giving up? Like that?”
Broccin’s eyes darkened and he saw Duncan and Kensey spinning around before him. The truth hurt, but he knew where he stood.
“I will not try to lay claim to what my brother has already acquired.”
“Already acquired?”
“Aye, already acquired. I can tell when a woman is in love, Malcolm.”
Malcolm didn’t respond and Broc glanced around when he finally peeled his eyes from Kensey and saw an empty chair where the guest of honor once sat. Perhaps he’d just broken Mal’s heart, but it was for the best. They couldn’t all have her. Only one could win in the end, and it should be the man with the first claim. Or, if she was truly in love, the man who held her heart. Titles and birth status would do nothing to make this woman happy. She must be loved.
And for all he was worth, Broccin prayed Duncan would love her.
***
Kensey’s every muscle ached. She’d finally managed to escape without being seen. Putting on a show of happiness for hundreds of people had exhausted her beyond words. She would be the happiest finding her bed and sleeping for a few days in a row.
Or at least just ridding herself of the confines of this dress.
Out of a shadowed corner, Malcolm surprised her. With a hand over her heart, she couldn’t help laughing. What a night.
“Malcolm.” She continued walking and turned down the back corridor toward the far stairs. “I didn’t see you.”
“I need to speak with you, Kensey.”
“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” She yawned purposefully, but got caught in the motion and paused to let it overtake her. She was much more tired than she’d realized. Broc had known and if she hadn’t been so intent on pretending to be happy, she might have at least acknowledged his observance and retired early.
“I’d prefer to speak with you in private.” His voice carried so much urgency, but she kept imagining the warmth of her bed and it drove her on. “If you could spare me a few minutes. It’s about something Broccin told me this evening.”
Kensey stopped at the mention of Broccin’s name. She couldn’t help wondering what Broccin could have told him that he needed to speak to her about. Her heart raced, thinking of how he’d held her hand as they’d danced. He’d only asked her to dance just the once, but his nearness had practically made her heart stand still, and even given his injury, he’d done so well. But his hand in hers, his eyes on her, his body’s nearness. She could still remember every moment. She watched Malcolm walk through the huge doors and into the darkened stairway, her mind still on Broccin.
Ever since she’d stopped tending his wounds, she’d noticed his absence and it pained her. She had taken for granted the long hours she used to spend, just in his company. Even while he was sleeping. And being around him had always made her feel so at ease, so comfortable. Taking care of him and helping him to heal made her feel useful and important. Now that he was well and moving about on his own, she felt as though he didn’t care if she were even alive or not. And the way he looked at her, with the veiled disinterest in his eyes, was enough to bring on tears.
As they approached the dark stairs, Malcolm reached up for the torch and she paused as though he planned to escort her up the dimly lit stairwell. Instead, he threw the torch to the ground and it sputtered out. He pushed her against the cold wall and pressed his mouth onto hers in hot desperation.
His hands roamed her body and something hard pressed into her abdomen as he crushed her up against the smooth stone with his large body. Panic rose from her stomach and she tried to scream, but his mouth was so fully covering hers that she almost couldn’t breathe.
With the sudden fright of unwanted contact, Kensey could barely think. When his mouth left hers and began to travel down her neck to the high neck of her dress, she pushed at him. Her hands fought, frightfully trying to pull at his long braids, his clothing, his skin, anything they could find.
“Stop it, Malcolm,” she yelled, tears forming in her eyes. She
continued to push at him, but the hulk of his body was so formidable compared to her small frame, she had no power, and she knew it. “Please, please stop.”
“Why stop?” He pulled her dress down over her shoulders and kissed the skin that had been covered only seconds ago. “I love you so, lass. And I was so glad to know you feel the same way.”
His words made no sense. She’d not said she loved Malcolm, not to anyone. Then, she remembered what he’d said to her as he led her from the great hall, something Broccin told me this evening.
He kept blathering against her neck. “There’s no need for us to remain chaste if we plan to be married.” He pressed her harder against the wall and his hands went to her waist. “No reason to wait.”
“No, no!” she shrieked with the full capacity of her lungs and pounded her hands on his back. “Stop. Please, Malcolm. I do not want this.”
“What do you mean, lass?” Malcolm’s red eyes pleaded with her. “I thought you loved me.” But his hesitation put him enough off-guard that she was able to push him away from her. He stood, mere feet from her in the dark hallway, his hands spread wide, as she aimed a well-placed kick at his groin.
He crumpled and she ran.
From the floor, he called. “My brother said he was sure you loved me. That you were acquired already for me.”
Duncan came bounding into the hallway, his eyes blazing. He caught Kensey as she nearly bowled him over and gaped at his brother. She sagged against him, weeping so hard she feared she might pass out.
“What are you doing?” Duncan growled. The intensity of his anger seemed to cover Kensey in a blanket.
“I did nothing. She was to be mine.”
Duncan kicked at his brother with murderous look. “You’d best get out of my sight before I forget you’re my brother.”
“You don’t think I would force myself on the lass, do you?” Malcolm spat, climbing to his feet.
“Well, what were you doing with her dress torn off and her crying for you to stop? She was begging for you to leave her alone, Malcolm. Not to take her like this.”
“It is common for women to be unwilling at first,” Malcolm said with a cocky bite to his voice. “But they eventually warm to me.”
Bile rose in Kensey’s throat and she gripped Duncan’s shoulder, keeping him between her and Malcolm. But her knees gave way, and everything went black.
Chapter Fifteen
Broccin rushed through the hallway, trying to find the source of the shrieks and wails that had pulled him from a deep and sound sleep. He finally found the door and pushed it open, filling the door as he stood to see who was the source of all this noise.
Robert was thrashing about on the bed, crying out like a banshee. Broccin took a seat at the side of the bed and placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder to wake him. The boy sat straight up in bed and stared at Broccin with a frightened look in his eyes. But once he realized who he was looking at, the tears started to fall. Robert threw his arms around Broccin’s waist and buried his face in his chest. Broccin put a strong hand on the boy’s head and held him close.
“I want my Papa,” Robert cried. “My Papa.”
“I know you do, lad,” Broccin soothed. “But you have me while you don’t have him. And I promise I’ll not let anything bad happen to you.”
“And my sister?” asked Rob, pulling away from Broccin’s strong chest to look into his eyes.
“Your sister, lad?” Broccin wondered, not sure if he understood the boy’s point.
“My dream. Will you protect Kensey as well as me?”
“Of course I will, lad,” assured Broccin. “I will protect everyone under this roof.” He bent to lay a soft kiss on Robert’s head and sighed deeply. “What was your dream, lad?”
Robert pulled away and gathered his legs to his chest, staring at a spot on Broccin’s shirt as he recounted the nightmare. “Kensey was walking on the moor and I saw a bad man coming up behind her. And I called for you, but you did not come for her. And I could not protect her as my father asked me to because I am just a boy.” The tears started falling down Robert’s cheeks again. “I promised, but what if I cannot keep my promise?”
“You don’t have to worry about that, lad,” Broccin said. “I promise I will take care of you and your sister, so what do you think of that?”
The boy sat for a moment without speaking, but his hug told Broc that he might be willing to accept the help. Robert’s eyes drooped as they sat and his breathing settled. He hugged Broccin tightly before slipping back under the covers. “Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” Rob held onto Broccin’s shirt.
“Aye, lad, I will.” Broccin sat, watching Robert fall asleep and heard the padding of bare feet behind him. He recognized her sweet, rosemary scent, but did not turn to her.
“Is he alright?” Kensey whispered, standing just behind Broccin’s left shoulder. “I heard his cries. Perhaps the whole castle heard him.”
“The lad’s fine. He just had a bad dream.”
“What was it about? You know he’s been having nightmares since mother… This is the first night I’ve not slept in here with him. Did he tell you? About the dream?”
“Aye,” Broccin said, turning to her. Her hair was loose and hung onto his shoulder as she leaned over him to get to Robert. He wanted to reach up and twist his hands in that hair, and pull her to him, never to let her go.
“He said he saw you on the moor, and you were in trouble, but he couldn’t save you; he called for me, but I did not come.” Broccin stood and walked around the bed to the chairs that sat facing the fireplace. A small fire still glowed in it and Broccin placed another log on the fire. His voice caught in his throat as he said, “He asked me to protect you.”
Kensey glanced her fingertips over Robert’s brow and cooed to him as he slept. “He is such a sweet boy.” Broccin turned to look at her and saw the tears creeping down her cheeks. He wanted to ask her, just to know, what was wrong. When her eyes met his, he saw a sadness there he had never seen in her and couldn’t help himself.
He stood and walked to her, placing a hand carefully on her shoulder. She flinched, pulling away. “I promised him I would, lass.” She walked across the room and sagged against the wall. Broc hopped up just in time to catch her as she fell.
She was weeping. Not just crying, as though she’d cut her hand. This was the kind of weeping she’d no doubt done when her mother passed. Would she still be mourning? He’d never seen her cry, let alone sob like this and it unnerved him. Someone who was always the delight of those around them, the light of the feast, the joy of everyone who knew her, and the eternal smile, was crying like she’d just lost someone she loved.
“What’s wrong, lass?” he asked, almost whispering into her soft hair that toyed with the stubble on his cheeks.
“I… I don’t… I can’t… there’s… Duncan…” she sobbed.
“Duncan?” he asked, pulling her sharply away from him and looking into her eyes. “What has he done to you?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her slightly and vowed, “If he’s harmed you, I swear to God, I’ll kill him.” She mewled in pain, and he examined her arms where his hands crushed a large bruise. He pulled away, as though he’d touched a hot stove, and began plotting the ways he could punish Duncan for hurting this beautiful woman.
“No, no… he’s… it’s not… it was… it was Malcolm.” Her breathing was so ragged and her sobs contorted her entire body so, that Broccin relaxed her back onto his shoulder, which she embraced and wetted with her tears.
“Malcolm?” Broccin growled. “What in God’s name has he done to you to make you cry so?” He placed a warm hand on her head and smoothed her hair as her breathing returned to somewhat regular intervals and she was no longer gulping down air.
“I promised Duncan I wouldn’t.” She pulled away from him. “He said Malcolm didn’t mean it. That it would only make you angry.”
Broc shrank back when she pulled f
rom his grasp. She did not belong to him, she belonged to Duncan. And he had no right to question her like her protector when she would be with another man. Still, he couldn’t help wanting to find Malcolm and beat him until he talked.
“Aye, lass, if that is what you wish.”
“I promised him I wouldn’t, but I need to know.” She turned querulous eyes on him. “I just can’t hold this inside myself and I need to ask you why.”
“Why what, lass?”
“Why would you tell Malcolm you were sure I was in love with him?” Her pleading eyes raked over his face and he couldn’t find the words. He racked his memory for when he’d spoken such craziness. He hadn’t even considered Malcolm when it came to Kensey. He was so worried about protecting her for Duncan. Keeping her for Duncan. Or just loving her himself. But Malcolm?
“I didn’t do anything of the sort,” he argues.
She searched his eyes, questioningly and gave a resigned sigh. “He swore you did.” She whispered, looking at her hands nervously.
Broccin read her unwillingness to argue as a sign there was something else wrong. “What happened?”
“Oh, Broc.” She collapsed on his shoulder again. He resisted the urge to put his arms around her. “Malcolm tried… well, he tried to… oh, I can’t even say it.” She began to sob again and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her breath was hot against his skin and he tried not to focus on her nearness. But he soon found that unnecessary as the reality of what Malcolm had tried to do set into him. Then, all he could feel was rage, burning hot and low. And growing.
“He took me into the corridor and it was so dark.” Her voice seemed tiny, all of the sudden, and Broc wanted so badly to take her in his arms and promise her everything would be alright.
