by Tamara Gill
Ben seemed to think on her suggestion before he said, “What’s a picnic?”
“A basket of food that we’d share together.”
The lightest kiss touched her neck. A shiver ran down her spine and Kenzie couldn’t wait to get Ben alone. He may come across as a hard, medieval Highland warrior to some people, but to Kenzie, he was so much more than that. The man had a heart, one that she was terribly close to falling for. A man who was fiercely loyal and loving toward his son, and clansmen, and women. The thought that someone wanted him dead and would succeed with their plan within a matter of weeks made her stomach twist.
“After dinner this evening, I want to talk to you about something that I think you need to know about,” Kenzie said, deciding that it was time Ben knew the truth.
“Ye cannot tell me now?”
Kenzie could feel Ben’s inquisitive gaze on her, and she shook her head. “Not here. We need to be alone. It’s something I think you’ll question me about and I don’t want anyone else to overhear.”
“Ye will have my full attention, lass. I’ll come to ye room.” His hand idly ran over her stomach, and she bit her lip. “Mayhap you would allow me to warm ye bed afterward. I find my own sleeping quarters cold and not at all welcoming.”
“Would that be wise with Clan Grant here? What if they catch us? You do know that Athol is aiming to marry you, don’t you?” Kenzie didn’t see the point of beating around the bush. If Ben hadn’t seen the little minx’s plans for himself then she would tell him. Not that Kenzie should be stopping him from marrying again—he ought to, no matter how much he said he was never going to have another wife. He was young, strong, a laird—it would be silly of him to remain a bachelor. Or, at least, a shame for anyone who would never get to know and love such a wonderful man.
And maybe, if he were to marry again, even to Athol—although the thought turned Kenzie’s stomach—it would change his future. Twist what fate had in store for him and allow him to live out his days at Castle Ross, watch Alasdair grow into a man. Pass away as an old man with grandchildren surrounding him.
“They’re housed in the opposite end of the castle and I’ll not be seen. We’re safe.”
As they came closer to the castle Ben removed his hand and returned it to the rein. They walked through the gates to a commotion in the keep. Evan Grant and Bruce were having some sort of argument, which turned into a full-on fist fight.
Ben swore and jumped from the horse, running up to the two men who were rolling on the ground, the thump of fists into flesh loud in the otherwise quiet afternoon. Ben pulled them apart, no mean feat since both men were towers of muscular strength.
“What are ye doing?” he yelled at both of them, glaring at Bruce and then Evan. Both growled, snarling at each other like two savage dogs. Evan’s nose bled, and he blew out the blood, only just missing Ben’s leg.
The sight of blood, and the disgusting act, turned Kenzie’s stomach, and she cringed. Seriously, how revolting is that? She attempted to get down off Ben’s very tall horse, and the drop was higher than she anticipated, and she fell on her ass. Pulling her gown down over her knees, she stood, and all the men were looking at her.
Heat suffused her face, and she shrugged. “I’m still learning,” she said, thankful when they turned their attention back on each other.
“What’s the meaning behind this?” Ben asked, looking from one man to the other when both were quiet.
Bruce nodded toward Evan Grant. “Mayhap we should go into your solar, Ben. ’Twould not be appropriate out here.”
Ben nodded. “Aye, fine then. Follow me, without,” he said, pointing a finger at both men, “incident.”
Kenzie watched them go and caught the gaze of an older gentleman she’d not seen before. A greying, bearded man who looked at her with distaste. A cold shiver ran down Kenzie’s spine before he, too, turned and followed Ben and the others into the castle.
Chapter Thirteen
Ben stood behind his desk, watching as his clansman and Evan Grant wiped their bloody noses and cut brows. The Laird of Grant entered the room and stood behind his son, arms crossed and silent. “I want to know what this is about? And I want the truth.”
“Evan Grant thought it would be appropriate to insult ye guest, Laird Ross. Not that I like to speak ill of a woman, but Lady Athol was also quite scathing in her remarks about Miss Kenzie.”
Anger thrummed through his blood at the thought of Kenzie being degraded by anyone, especially other guests he’d made welcome at his keep. “Is that true?” He levelled his glare on Evan Grant and was pleased to see the man shift uncomfortably on his feet. Good, he wanted him to take pause, for he wouldn’t stand for it.
“Ye man lies, but with the looks that Bruce has been sending ye pretty visitor, Kenzie, ’tis any wonder he’d say such things. He wants her for himself, and if he can get ye to believe she’s a whore, sleeps with any one of ye men, then you’ll likely leave her be.”
Bruce stormed across the room, and thankfully, the few guards he had standing at the back of the solar stopped the men from trying to kill each other again. “Ye lie, ye bastard. You’re the one, along with ye sister, who said the Kenzie, was a strumpet, no doubt keeping many a bed warm and not only the laird’s. That it was a disgrace for the lass to be here, anywhere near the future laird Alasdair, so tarnished is the woman’s reputation.”
Ben’s eye twitched at the insult to Kenzie. “It would be unwise for Clan Grant to say such things about a woman who’s a relative to Clan Macleod and close confidant to Gwendolyn Macleod.”
Evan shook his head. “Why would we say such things? We have no reason. We’re here as ye guests. You have my nephew upstairs—the future for both our clans. Our whole reason for coming to Castle Ross was to mend the rift between our two great houses. Why would we insult ye by saying such things? ’Tis not a sensible move.”
Ben leaned over his desk, levelling both men with his thunderous gaze. “’Twould be unwise for what either of ye are saying to be true. Kenzie neither deserves to be ogled like a piece of meat by my men, nor does she deserve the censure and degradation by a clan that is here as my guest. And, if I hear of any such whisperings or see any slights in her direction, whoever that may be, they shall meet the end of my blade.”
The Laird Grant stepped forward, clasping his son’s shoulder when Even went to say something further. ’Twas lucky the laird had some sense when it came to his beloved boy.
“Apologies, Ben. While I’m unaware as to who speaks the truth, know that no further insult will be made, if my clan has, in fact, insulted the lass, Kenzie. ’Twill not happen again.”
The Laird Grant pushed his son toward the door and left Ben and Bruce alone. Ben dismissed the guards. “Sit, Bruce,” he said, taking his own seat behind the desk. “Explain. Now.”
Bruce ran a hand over his jaw, wiping the blood that had pooled on his chin on his tunic. “I heard them with my own ears. Whispering in the great hall. I was busy with a kitchen maid near the alcove, not far from the fire, and I heard them as clear as I hear ye now. The kitchen lass heard their slander, too. I would not lie about such a thing. And I dinna look at Kenzie in that way. Ye know I like May and wish to marry her.”
Ben hadn’t known Bruce was as serious as he seemed to be toward the servant, and it cooled the hot and molten temper that had burned within him at the thought of his clansmen wishing to tup the woman he himself had become infatuated with. Actually, who he cared for more than any other, even Aline or Gwendolyn.
“I’m glad to hear it, Bruce, and of course yer words ring truer than those of Clan Grant’s. Ye are my clansman, a brother to me, and I know when ye are telling the truth and when you’re not. And Clan Grant are lying out of their asses.”
“Aye, they are. The loathing they have for ye lass is palatable and I would be keeping a close watch on Kenzie for the time that she is staying here. I’d also not be turning my back on that clan. They make me uneasy and I dinna trust them.”
“I thank ye for your words and support. I trust ye more than any other here, Bruce, and I’ll not forget ye kindness nor your actions in defending Kenzie’s honor. I thank ye for that. Say nothing to anyone but keep yer eyes open and ears to the ground, should any further whispers reach ye. I wish to know of them.”
“Aye,” Bruce said, standing. “Ye can count on that, Laird Ross. Now, if ye are in agreement, I shall take myself off to the kitchens and have May clean up my face. ’Tis stinging like a bastard.”
Ben watched him leave and narrowed his eyes on the door. Something was afoot, and though Ben didn’t know what that was, he would find out. And so help Clan Grant should they try anything stupid toward his people or himself. ’Twould not end well for them.
…
The next day, the sun burned off the dew, and the foggy morning lifted, leaving the beautiful green land with the promise of a lovely day. Ben, along with Kenzie, rode north to where his crops would be planted this year. The top paddocks had been left fallow the past year, rotated with the southern paddocks. Over the last month Ben had his field hands working the ground, removing weeds.
Men and women were already walking three oxen up and down the paddock, ploughing the land, turning the soil ready for planting.
Kenzie came to stand beside him; not even her work gown diminished her beauty. “You know, in my time we have great big farm machinery that does this for us. The days of walking an ox up and down for hours on end are long gone. Well, in developed countries, that is. In some third world areas the people still use such resources.”
Ben looked out on his land, nodding to the few tenant farmers who waved in welcome. What was this farm machinery she spoke of? He couldn’t imagine such things.
“A laird helping his tenant farmers to farm his land isn’t normally what would happen, so I’m curious as to why you feel the need to be out here.”
Ben sighed, hating the fact that by his own actions he felt the need to make it up to his people in any way he could. For letting them down the last year, being an absent landlord, a drunkard who had put his own pity before that of his people. His son.
“I need to show them that I’m here, present and willing to help to make Castle Ross a stronghold, a productive, safe place for my people. A home where my clansmen are well looked after, and their laird is willing to get off his ass and help those less fortunate.”
“Well,” she said, going over to the cart and picking up a small bag of grain. “I think today is a start along those lines.” She walked out into the field, careful to follow the ruts the ox and plough had already turned out. “Are you coming?”
“Aye, lass.” They followed the ox, dropping the seeds into the ground. By lunch, Kenzie looked tired and a little suntouched. “Come and have something to eat, lass. As ye suggested, I’ve had a basket of food delivered for ye, and we’ll rest and eat.”
Kenzie followed him toward a large ash tree and sighed when she sat. “For a day that started off quite cool, it’s turned out warm. Did you decide to have Alasdair come out or not?”
Ben watched as she swallowed some ale from a leather pouch, the little drip of drink that ran down her chin made him want to reach over and rub it away. Preferably with his mouth. “He had a little cough, so I thought it best he stays indoors today. But I’ll take ye up on your idea, and we’ll do something together another day.”
She nodded, looking about. “This is nice,” she said, taking some bread from the basket and placing a little ham into it. “I wanted to ask at breakfast, but with the Grants nearby I didn’t, but why didn’t you come to my room last night? I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Aye, I know, lass, and I apologize. The fight between Bruce and Evan Grant took longer than I thought it would to settle, and by the time I’d washed, it was late. I dinna wish to wake ye.”
Kenzie wiggled over to sit next to him, the scent of flowers wafting from her hair, even after all the hard work she’d done. Was she always this perfect? Ben believed she might be.
“No matter what time it is, I’d welcome you.”
Without thought Ben leaned forward and kissed her. She didn’t hesitate, but leaned into his embrace, one hand wrapping about the nape of his neck and kissing him deeper. “Don’t ever think that way again. My bed is cold when my Highlander isn’t beside me.”
“Your Highlander?” Her words brought him up with a mix of concern and delight. Yes, he was her Highlander, and she was his lass, but the time they had together would not be forever. Kenzie was returning to her century, and he was certainly not looking to marry again. The image of Kenzie dying after giving birth to their child haunted his mind and he frowned. He’d lost Aline, put her into an early grave all because he’d wished for an heir. He would not risk Kenzie to simply gain a spare.
Ben sat back and looked out over the field, watching as the tenant farmers sat and ate their lunch a little way away. “What was it that ye wished to talk to me about, lass? Is it something ye can say here?”
If Kenzie noted his change of conversation or that he’d pulled back a little she didn’t mention it, simply swallowed her bread and ham, meeting his gaze. “If I tell you what I know, you must promise me not to do anything, or react in any way that will cause alarm for your people.”
A cold knot formed in his gut at her words. “What is it that ye know?”
“My trip back to this time wasn’t solely to visit my ancestors, but also to learn a little more about you. I’ve been fascinated with the stories of Black Ben, the best longbow shot in Scotland. The tales written about you in my family’s journal are almost famous.”
Ben didn’t think his life was worth such a tribute, but curious, he said, “Go on. What else, lass?”
Kenzie checked their surroundings and, satisfied no one was about, continued. “As you know, in my time, Clan Ross is no longer around. Of course, I’m sure there are Ross’s about, but none here at your castle.”
He frowned. “Aye, I remember ye sayin’”
“What I wasn’t fully truthful about was when your line dies out, because it’s with you, in your time, that the clan ends. You are known as one of Scotland’s unsolved mysteries.”
Shock ricocheted through him, and he stood, unsure what to do with such information. An unsolved mystery. What the hell did that even mean? What happened to Alasdair? His son was only a baby. Surely, he’d not allowed anyone to harm the lad.
“Ye need to tell me all that ye know, and now.” He ran a hand through his hair, anger thrumming through him. How long had Kenzie known? Well, he understood how long, since the day she arrived, and the fact she’d not told him of his future left a cold knot of anger in the pit of his stomach.
She should have told him.
“There isn’t much to know. You’re presumed killed, although there was never any confirmation of that, nor is your son seen again. When we were ambushed at Gwen’s home I thought that the men behind your demise would show themselves again, but they haven’t. There’s been no threat at all, so something could have changed, but I don’t want you to be hurt or Alasdair caught off guard. I’m telling you now in order for you to put in place some security measures to help stop whatever fate has in store for you.”
“Ye cannot rewrite history, Kenzie. It is what it is.” It could not be done, no matter how much he may wish to.
“When?” he asked, ignoring the flinch from Kenzie at his deadly tone. What did the lass expect? For him to be happy with such news? Welcome the knowledge that he would be dead before too long.
“Three weeks.”
Ben skidded to a stop. “What!” That could not be true. Three weeks! H
e couldn’t die or disappear in three weeks, and considering he’d had no intention of going anywhere again, the former must have happened to him.
He wouldn’t let it happen.
“And ye tell me now!”
Kenzie stood and came over to him. “Please don’t be angry with me. I couldn’t tell you something like that. How could I tell you by the end of May 1605 you’d be gone? When I had no evidence, nothing to even point at to say, ‘here—this is the cause?’ You’d just think I was this crazy woman from the future.”
Ben didn’t reply. The lass made a little bit of sense, but… “I need to know of those things, so I might put in place armed men, increase my guards during both night and day to hold off any such attack. I can have men be aware and listen for any whispers of enemy talk. We’re only weeks away from my supposed death and yer telling me this now.”
He strode toward his horse, the need to get back to the castle, to Alasdair, bearing down on him. Nothing would happen to the lad, nor his home, or the people who took refuge there.
“Dinna follow me, lass,” he said, ignoring Kenzie when she came up and clasped his leg as he tried to slip into the stirrup.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I wasn’t supposed to care so much. I thought that by coming back I could keep myself removed from the people of this time, to not feel anything for what has already passed. But I can’t. And I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before, but how do you tell someone such a thing without causing panic? All of what you’re now feeling.”
“Telling the truth can sometimes hurt, but better to know one’s enemies and not be standing beside them waiting for a dirk in ye back.”
“Ben,” she said, pulling his reins and stopping him from leaving. “Please don’t shut me out.”
“What I want to know, lass, is were ye just going to stand in the keep and watch us all die. What was ye plan? To return to Gwen and Braxton’s before it occurred? I canna look at ye now.”
…
