by Tamara Gill
Kenzie was relieved to see he’d pulled a woolen shawl across his lap as she came to his side. Lifting his foot, she pulled off the stiff pants, which took her some, since his body was so filthy. She threw them toward the door, coughing as the stench wafted up to her nose.
“I dinna stink that much, lass,” he said, looking offended.
“May we enter, m’lady?” a maid asked from the door.
“Of course.” Kenzie waved them in. “If you would set the bath up beside the fire, that would be great. Thank you.” She watched as a steady stream of servants came in and out of the room, carrying buckets and linen cloths similar to what she’d call a towel. Two of the maids stripped the linen off the bed, right down to the hay, replacing that, as well, before throwing down two large animals furs and making the bed up as it was before. Ben sat on a chair near the fire, neither watching nor taking any interest in the goings-on in his room, quietly contemplating the flames.
At last, the door closed, and they were alone. “Your bath is ready. Are you going to be okay getting into it?” She checked the temperature of the water, and it was hotter than she thought it would be.
“Of course, but if ye want to stay, lass, you’re more than welcome to clean me. I could do with a good lather.” He came and stood behind her and every nerve in her body sparked to life. What a flirt he was, and a good one, since she contemplated it for all of one second.
“I think not, my lord. Now,” she said, stepping away while fighting her impulse to remain. To be this close to the laird was too dangerous to ignore. Her body didn’t want to refuse his offer, no matter that her mind did. “And let me remind you of a few things, Laird Ross, just in case you’ve forgotten,” she said, angry that her body seemed to have a mind of its own.
Kenzie pushed him toward the bath, ripping the towel away from his hips and fighting not to look. “You smell. In fact, the stench that is wafting from you is beyond anything I’ve ever smelled in my life. Not to mention, your teeth need a thorough brushing as your breath isn’t much better than your body odor. So, no, I neither want to wash you or join you in the bath. But I will show you where the soap is, so you may get started.”
“No need. I can find it myself.” He gestured toward the door. “If ye don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
“Great. I hope not to smell you soon.” Kenzie left the room and shut the door with a bang, a full stop on his suggestion and her ridiculous mind that had actually considered it. Smelly or not, it wouldn’t take her long to right that wrong, and it had been so very long since she’d had a boyfriend. She wasn’t so innocent not to know what a man could do with his hands…or his mouth.
She stormed into her room and paced before the windows, opening one and standing before it. The cool air kissed her skin and went some way in reminding her she didn’t want to just throw herself at anyone who was willing. And she definitely did not even like Black Ben enough to do the dirty with him. An atrocious flirt, if ever there was one, and definitely a man no woman could trust. His lifestyle after the death of his wife was proof of that.
…
Ben glared at the door as it closed behind Kenzie and then, holding the edges of the wooden bath, lowered himself into the water. Och, he needed this. The warm water smelled of herbs and knowing Gwen, had some sort of healing properties as well. Soon the heat helped his aching bones, and he lay back, enjoying being anywhere but his bed. He’d been stuck in this room for far too long, and he longed to get outside, have some sunlight on his face and perhaps a good spar or two.
An image of Kenzie outdoors alongside him flittered through his mind, and instantly the thought soured his mood. “Menacing wench,” he mumbled, finding the lavender soap and washing his arms. If she wasn’t so damn sweet looking, he’d demand Gwen send her home.
What was it with these women from the future who were self-assured and tough? Not like the women of his time. Women who took no bullocks from their husbands and ran a home with an iron fist.
He looked over at the bed and wondered how long he’d been here. He really ought to return home, check on Alasdair, and ensure all was well with the estate. Guilt pricked his conscience that he’d not been the father he’d promised to be. Was his boy crawling now? Had his hair grown, did he still have his mother’s striking, blue eyes?
Not to mention, should Aedan hear of his dissolution, his closest ally would hunt him down and give him a good wallop. And in truth, he deserved one. He’d been less than what he was brought up to be. Aline, may her sweet soul rest in peace, would be disappointed in him. Just as he was, now that he was sober enough to know it.
With a large amount of effort, he managed to get out of the bath, dress, and clean his teeth, just in case the wench from the future was right, and his breath did stink. His exertions left him drained and leaving only his tunic on, he crawled back into bed.
The door swung open, and he looked up, hoping to see the brown-haired lass, but only to see his fiery-red-haired Gwen.
“Ah, you’re about, just as Kenzie said ye were. ’Tis a happy day, and I’m glad ye’re getting better.” Gwen came to sit on his bed, and Ben gave her a weak smile.
“I’m so tired. I feel like I’ve been in battle.”
“Well, ye have, in a way. You’ve been very ill, Ben. I thought for a few days there, we were going to lose ye, but luckily for you, my clever Kenzie saved ye life.”
Ben frowned, not sure if he should feel alarmed or comforted by that fact. Kenzie had saved his life? “How so?”
“Ye were drunk, but ye also caught a terrible ailment of the lungs. Ye breathing was labored, and ye breath cracked on exhale. Kenzie had some medicines she brought from the future, and they seemed to help bring ye temperature down and to soothe your cough. Ye are very lucky she was here.”
“Damn it,” he mumbled, not wanting to be in debt to the lass. “Now I’ll have to thank her.” He looked over at Gwen, thankful to have her as a friend. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Who? Kenzie?” Gwen grinned and opened the heavy curtains that covered the windows, spilling light into the room. “Of course, she does. Ye just have to be your charming self. Not the sword-wielding, overbearing Highland ass ye sometimes can be.”
Ben ignored her insult. “She hates me innards with a passion. Hell, had I died, she would’ve probably danced a jig on my grave.”
Gwen raised her brow, and he grasped what she was thinking. That he was acting all piqued over a lass he had no right to feel piqued over. “Over-exaggerating much? I’m sure ye’re wrong.”
“’Tis not my concern, in any case. She’s your problem.” He sighed, hating the fact that his words rang false, even to his own ears. “I need to return to Castle Ross and soon. I’ve not been the best laird I could have been.” He paused. “I feel I’ve let Aline down.”
“Aye, when you’re able to ride, I’ll allow ye to leave. Until then, ye’re to stay here and gather your strength. I’ll not hear another word about it. And secondly,” Gwen said, coming to sit on the bed and taking his hand. “Should I hear about ye whoring in any more inns across Scotland, I’ll be letting my brother know about it, and then you’ll really get what’s coming to ye. Do ye understand, my friend?”
Ben narrowed his eyes, not liking the chastisement by two women in one day. One was enough. “I’m not going to live my life as a monk, Gwen. Will ye let me visit my lady companions so long as I stay sober and discreet?” He grinned.
Gwen threw him a scathing look, and he laughed. How he adored her, always had. She was the one person in the world who’d never shied away from telling him the truth. Most people, after meeting him, agreed with every word he said and wouldn’t dare naysay the towering, sword-wielding Black Ben.
He supposed it was one of the reasons he liked this Kenzie lass, too. Just like Gwen, she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite if her banshee mouth was any indication.
“If ye behave and act like the laird that ye are, I’m sure it’ll be fine. But heed me, Ben. Sh
ould I hear of anymore of this shocking, dissolute lifestyle you’ve adopted, I’ll be putting a stop to it.”
Gwen left, and not long after, a bowl of vegetable broth arrived, along with a cup of ale. Ben looked out the windows, seeing the ocean and its vastness beyond the shore. Gwen was right and had voiced what he himself had already known. It was time he returned home, stopped acting like an ass, and became the father he longed to be. The sound of a door closing in the room adjoining his sounded, along with muffled voices—one he recognized as Kenzie’s.
She had a soft voice, but it was laced with strength. Mayhap in the days ahead, he could come to be friends with the lass from the future. Learn a little more about her time that had endlessly fascinated him after talking to Abby Cross.
Kenzie was his last thought before sleep captured him again.
Chapter Five
A week later, the Laird of Ross was well enough to dine with the family downstairs. Kenzie was not pleased about it. Just his presence was enough to set her on edge. Too manly by far, and only too willing to give her looks that set a woman’s skirts on fire. He could probably lift her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Hold her against a wall and—
“Are ye enjoying ye meal, my dear?” Gwen asked, smiling. “Is there something wrong with the broth?”
Kenzie took a sip of her mead, needing to cool down her core temperature. Tomorrow night she’d be sure not to sit so close to the fire. “Not at all. It’s very tasty. Why do you ask?”
“Only that ye’ve stopped eating, but as long as all’s well…”
“All is very well. I promise.” Kenzie smiled.
Gwen’s gaze moved to Ben who sat beside her, and Kenzie didn’t need to be a nuclear scientist to know Gwen was aware of what Kenzie was thinking. Or more truthfully, who she was thinking of. Like the maid who stood near the window. The young woman had practically been salivating over Ben the entire night, and he’d been lapping it up like the bachelor he was.
“Ye’re not pleased with me, lass. Am I not what ye thought a Highland lord ought to be?”
It was an odd question, and Kenzie studied him while gathering her thoughts. “What makes you think I’d expect anything more than what I’ve found?”
“Ye remember Abby Cross…the lass ye helped to return to our time.”
“Of course,” she said.
“She told me of a certain type of book that you women like to read. Books that are filled with muscular sword-wielding men, with long, flowing locks, and big—”
“I get the point,” she said, cutting him off before he said something she neither wanted to hear or imagine. Or imagine more than she’d already been imagining. It was bad enough to be beside a man who encompassed all that romance novels stated and more. He certainly had the hair thing going. Lovely, long locks she could clasp in her fist, to hold him against her mouth or other delectable places.
Kenzie poured more mead, she didn’t mind this drink as it had a distinct honey taste to it. Much more preferable to water that could make you ill, or the ale that was too bitter for her palate. She should’ve really stopped reading those romance novels before coming back to this time. It was giving her ideas she had no right to be thinking. “What Abby may have mentioned, but you’ve chosen to ignore, is that all the heroes in those books were kind, gentle, and had spades of honor.” Kenzie fought to eat her food with the wooden spoon and used the small knife instead. She narrowed her eyes when she caught Ben watching her. “Do you have any of those traits, my lord?”
His gaze met hers. “Och, lass, ye wound me.” Ben clasped his chest, mocking laughter in his eyes. “I have all of those qualities, and furthermore, I’ve been told my hands are very gentle, if not a little maddening.” He winked, and her stomach flipped. Damn his sex appeal. He was like a walking Viagra pill for women. “I’m more than willing to prove my words are true if ye were interested.”
“I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.” Kenzie ignored his chuckle and settled down to eat her dinner, but her mind refused to cooperate. With each spoon of broth and sip of her drink she could feel his attention on her, burning her like a brand. It left her hot and discombobulated.
“Do ye really find me so repulsive?” he asked, waiting for her to look at him. “I know we didn’t have the best introduction, but as a descendant of Gwen’s, I would like us to be friends. May we start afresh?”
Kenzie wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. If she actually grew to like the man, what would her hormones do then? She bit her lip, knowing exactly how her body would react and that was one road she refused to go down. But then, if she befriended the man, she could find out who he socialized with outside of her family. Someone obviously had killed him at some point, and from what history had assumed, it was someone he knew. Being around Black Ben could help her solve the mystery of what had happened to the Laird of Ross.
He continued to eat, and she covertly studied him. He laughed at a tale that Braxton told, and Kenzie watched as his Adams apple bobbed with his reply. Three months and this man would be no more, would be as dead as his wife. She shook her head. No matter his sexual innuendoes, and her reactions to them, no one deserved to die for nothing. And it was sad that he would pass away so young.
Ben caught her gaze, his eyes dark and intense, and heat sizzled between them. “Well, lass. Can we be friends?”
She nodded, her body on edge and not at all calm and assured as she prided herself on being. “I’d like to try.” And in truth she did. Black Ben was a Scottish historical icon. Who wouldn’t want to learn about the man? But that wasn’t her only reason. He fascinated her in a way no man ever had. Whether this was because the date he’d died was etched into her brain, or because the way he lived his life, or his friendship with her ancestral family, Kenzie wasn’t sure, but she wanted to know what made him tick.
“I have a suggestion as to how we may start our new friendship.”
“You do?” Kenzie pushed her plate away and took a cob of bread from the bowl. “And?”
“Do ye ride?”
“Horses?”
He grinned, biting his lip a little. Kenzie couldn’t look away at his perfectly straight, white teeth, that were absolutely clean. “What did ye think I meant when I said ride?” He chuckled.
Heat bloomed on her face. “Very funny. Do be serious.”
“My apologies,” he said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing a little. “But yes, I meant horses, although the direction yer mind went certainly has sparked another image of how we could spend the day.”
“Do you never stop?”
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes.” He paused. “I was going to suggest we spend the day riding ye family’s land. With me, you’ll be safe enough, and I could use some exercise, having been kept indoors these last few weeks. And it would give me some time to quiz ye on where ye came from.”
Kenzie thought about it. A day out riding with Black Ben. To some, this would be a dream come true. A historian’s lotto win. And it would be enjoyable. Yes, he flirted, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle, and no matter what he said, or had said in the past, there was something about the man that resonated trust. He had a violent past with battles and clan disputes, but Gwen trusted him, and Kenzie was certain that he would never hurt her or force anything on her she didn’t wish.
“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see the lands. Thank you.”
“Ye’re very welcome. We’ll break our fast and meet outdoors first light tomorrow.”
…
Kenzie woke, her blood singing. She jumped from the bed and dressed quickly, not bothering to ring for her appointed maid. It seemed silly of her to use another person to help her dress or clean, and she’d much prefer to do everything in private, especially since her clothing wasn’t handmade or historically accurate. A maid would notice such things immediately. Having servants wasn’t something she’d ever get used to as she pulled her hair back into a ribbon and tied it up.
; The sound of voices floated up to her room, and she headed downstairs, following the smell of a hot meal to the breakfast room. Candles were lit along the length of the table, as full light had yet to make its mark across the land, and Kenzie spooned some eggs onto the seventeenth-century version of toast, which actually looked like burned bread.
“Ye beat me this morning, lass. And here I thought I was up before the house itself.”
“I was excited about getting out and looking around and came down as soon as I could. I assume we’re still going?”
“Aye. Of course.” Ben served up his own breakfast and sat beside her. It surprised Kenzie that he wished to be this close to her and not seated anywhere else at the table. But then, they were starting their friendship fresh, and it was much easier to converse when beside one another than at opposite ends of a table.
“Do you think our outing will take all day?”
“Mayhap it will. Ye will have to wait and see.”
They finished their meal in companionable silence before Ben walked them out to the stable. A young lad held two saddled horses. Kenzie’s mount was higher than she’d ever ridden before, and nerves skittered in her belly.
“Is the horse safe?” She patted the bay mare’s nose, smiling when it nuzzled into her palm. “You know what I mean. Is she placid?”
“Aye, she’s placid enough. You’ll be fine, lass. I’ll not let ye fall.”
The sureness in his tone settled Kenzie’s concerns, and with the help of a mounting block, she climbed onto the saddle and settled herself.
“We’ll head east along the coast and come back through the small forest the estate is flanked by to the west. You’ll see the best of both locations that way.”
“Lead on.” Kenzie trotted out after Ben, and slowly, thankfully, he guided them toward the beach. Kenzie had been this way many times. It was the same well-worn walking track that she used in her own time when going down to the shore.
“Does it look familiar to ye?” He cast a look her way before gazing back toward the shore.
