by Tamara Gill
Ben spied Kenzie at the well, talking to three young children. Whatever she was telling the small boys, they were enthralled with her tale. What was it that she was telling them? He walked over to her and wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her hard against his chest.
The three boy’s eyes widened at the sight of their laird showing such affection in public, and they scuttled off, laughing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, her voice hard and distant. The opposite of her pliant, warm body against his own.
“I love ye, Kenzie, lass, and I want to be yours. Always.”
She spun about in his arms, staring up at him, the smile on her lips bringing forth his own. “Are you serious?”
“Aye,” he said, nodding. “I’m serious.”
“So, you’re not going to make me go home, if I want to stay here with you? Fight alongside you and stop anyone who dares to hurt the Laird of Ross?”
Ben took a calming breath, not wanting her anywhere near the skirmish that she’d predicted. Not that he would tell Kenzie so. “’Tis what I wish. I know we dinna have the best of starts, by God you’ve seen the very worst of me. Black Ben at his darkest, most vile, and yet, here you stand, loving me as much as I love ye, and if my fate is to die, then let it be that I die married to the beautiful, clever, vexing Kenzie Jacobs of Clan MacLeod.”
Kenzie smiled, wrapping her arms about his neck before leaning up and kissing him quickly. “So, we’re to be married soon then?”
“The priest in the local village will perform the ceremony as soon as ye are willing. I am hoping though, lass, that it will be within a day or so. I dinna want ye in a different room to my own. I want ye with me. Always.”
“You’re sounding awfully romantic Ben. Nothing like the hardened, sword-wielding warrior history has painted you as.”
He laughed. “Ye should not believe everything that ye read, lass.” And never had he hoped this was the case—especially with his impending demise. Was history wrong? Had he really died, or did they just not know what became of his clan? Either way, he was going to marry the woman before him, the one and only lass he’d ever truly loved.
“True,” she said, leaning up to kiss him again. This time a little less sweetly.
…
Over the next two days, Kenzie, with the help of her maid, made-over a gown she’d deemed suitable for a wedding dress. The priest, just as Ben had said, was prepared to marry them in haste and to make the celebration even more joyful, Kenzie had put out an invitation to all the villagers and clansmen of Castle Ross to attend.
On the morning of her wedding day, the castle kitchen staff had laid out an assortment of food on the tables within the great hall and all those in attendance would be free to eat and drink to the early hours of the next morning.
A little extravagant, and yet Ben had thought it a wonderful idea, and so the plan had been set. Kenzie had written to Gwen and Braxton, inviting them, too, but due to the short notice, she doubted they would get here quick enough.
A light knock on her door sounded, and Kenzie bade them enter. She turned to see Athol at the threshold, her face hardened with unrestrained hate.
“Come in, Athol. What can I do for you?” she asked, dismissing her maid who left and shut the door behind her. Kenzie went and sat before the fire, gesturing for Athol to join her there.
Athol sat and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve come to ask ye to leave off this marriage plan with Laird Ross.”
Kenzie had known this was coming. The lass was determined to have Ben for herself, but there was no way in hell Kenzie was letting Ben go. “I’m sorry, Athol, but that’s not possible. I love the laird and want him to be my husband, and he wishes for me to be his wife. Nothing will change that.”
“I am Aline’s sister, and would suit the role of mother and wife much more than you. The boy is my blood.”
“Alasdair, you mean. He does have a name.”
Athol narrowed her eyes. “Ye are not suitable nor of high birth. Ye bring nothing to this marriage other than your ability to lay on your back and act the tramp.”
Kenzie smiled, not willing to let this woman know how her words hurt her soul. She would not stoop to the woman’s level, no matter how much she may wish to. “You don’t know me. I fail to see how it’s my fault the laird prefers me over you. Everyone has a choice and his has been made. While I’m sorry you’re hurt by that choice, it is something you’ll have to live with. Now,” she said, standing, “I have a wedding to attend and you have a door to walk through. Good day to you, Athol.”
“You’ll regret this,” Aline’s sister said, spitting the words like little arrows.
Kenzie watched her leave. No, she would never regret marrying Ben, when one married her soulmate, regret was an emotion that could never raise its ugly head.
Chapter Fifteen
They were married in a small stone church that sat at the edge of the forest beyond Castle Ross. A harpist played a tune that was unknown to Kenzie, but it was as magical as the man who stood beside her. His best kilt and whitest shirt with the Ross tartan across his shoulders and chest gave him an air of authority, a tall, strong laird beloved by all his people.
He was the best of men and from this day forward, he was hers. Which Kenzie admitted meant that the seventeenth century Scotland would be her home forever, too. Maybe after she spoke to Gwen there was a possibility that she could return home and tell her mother of her choice and say goodbye to both her and her cousin, the current Laird Macleod. She hoped.
Kenzie stood beside Ben and watched as the castle children ran about the keep. Everyone seemed in high spirits that their laird had found a woman he cared for enough to marry. The Nurse exited the castle and brought over Alasdair. Kenzie reached out and took Ben’s boy. He fussed a little in her arms and placing her finger inside his little mouth he settled again.
“Ye have a way with him.” Ben smiled. “I’m glad.”
“I’m not sure where it comes from, because I’ve never been a mother. But I intend to be the very best that I can be.” It was a declaration Kenzie was determined to keep. And maybe they, too, would have a child together. Loving Ben as much as she did, nothing more would please her than to give him a daughter to complete their set.
Ben leaned down and kissed his son’s head before kissing her. Shouts and heckling sounded from the keep and Kenzie laughed, smiling when Ben yelled out for them all to get on with their own celebrations and let him kiss his wife.
“I’m sorry that Gwen and Braxton are not here. I know ye were hoping they would attend.”
“You heard from them?” Kenzie met Ben’s gaze. “They weren’t mad that I’ve decided to stay and marry Black Ben of Castle Ross.?” She laughed when he frowned.
“Nay, they weren’t mad. In fact, they sent their congratulations and well wishes for the day, but with a warning.”
“What warning?” Kenzie didn’t like the sound of that, and with Gwen’s abilities it could mean anything.
“A warning to me to be true and kind to ye or they’ll bring war down on my head.”
Kenzie laughed, relieved to hear it was only familial concern and nothing sinister. “I have complete faith in my choice and in you.”
He kissed her again, deeper this time, and Kenzie pulled back at the sound of shouts outside the castle walls. “What is that?”
Ben pushed her toward the castle doors, and she stumbled. “Get inside, lass. I dinna know what that is.”
“Ben,” she said, going back to him and clasping his arm. “Don’t do anything rash. This isn’t late May, but it’s not far off. It could be those outside the gates mean to do you harm.”
Ben yelled out for his men to arm themselves, and Kenzie watched as the women and children stood about as the men transformed from clansmen enjoying their laird’s wedding day to men about to defend their home and families.
The yelling for Laird Ross to come out and face the foe outside the gates increased a
nd dread pooled in Kenzie’s stomach. She watched as he strode to the stairs to look out over the gates and see who stood outside. The tensing of his body and the quick speech to Bruce, commanding him, no doubt, told Kenzie all she needed to know about how her wedding day would end.
With Ben dead and possibly her, too, since she was still here. She yelled out to the families standing about, their faces drawn and pale with worry. “Everyone, go to the safe places we’ve talked about. Use the exits that will give you best passage and do not, under any circumstances, come back, until you know it’s secure.”
The women within the walls rushed to do as Kenzie bade them, and she, too, did what Ben asked her to. She went into Castle Ross and shut the door on the keep, bolting it closed.
…
A small flicker of relief pumped through Ben, seeing the castle door close behind Kenzie and his boy. Looking down on his keep he saw his clansmen, all of them mayhap a little drunk from the earlier celebrations, but it was nothing that they’d not been before in battle.
Ben stood at the top of the battlements and watched Clan Grant, in particular Evan, the eldest boy and heir who was holding the hilt of his sword like he knew what to do with it. Which Ben had to concede, he probably did. “Are ye looking for a fight, Evan?” Ben yelled down, receiving a glare in return.
“Ye are a disgrace to the Highlands, and ye should not be laird of Castle Ross any longer. We’re here to make sure our nephew is raised away from ye softness toward the fairer sex and yer weak ways with ye clansmen. Ye wife,” Evan said, spitting beside his horse, “is not fit to be the future laird’s mother, and we’ll no stand for it.”
Anger thrummed through Ben at the insult to Kenzie. She was more than fit to fill Aline’s position and was certainly a much better choice than the other Grant daughter, who was nowhere to be seen.
“And I suppose that ye think that your sister Athol makes a better wife for me?” Ben laughed. “I dinna think Aline would have been too happy should I marry her sister and I’ll be choosing my own wife, thank ye very much. I’ll certainly not have a pompous ass like yerself telling me what to do. These are my lands, this is my castle, and I’ll do whatever the hell I like within them. If I wish to be a caring, thoughtful laird toward my people and clansmen, I shall. If ye had any brains in that wee head of yours, ye’d do the same.”
“After today, no one here will be left living nor will the castle be standing. So ye can give us ye bride so we can be rid of her. That is ye only choice, if ye want ye home and people to remain as they are.”
Ben laughed, throwing his head back, wondering where the poor wee man-child got his ideas. He could never let the castle fall to such a fool. Even with the knowledge of what Kenzie had told him, there was no way it could happen. Certainly not in his time. And never to Evan Grant, whom he’d never liked nor considered a threat.
“If ye want a fight today, Evan Grant, let it be between me and yerself. Whoever wins may do what he wishes with the castle and lands. But none of my people are to be hurt, should I fall.”
Evan turned to his father and they conversed for a moment before Evan raised his chin. “Shall I win the bout I can promise ye the people will be unharmed, but I shall rid the world of ye wife, and yerself. Are ye in agreement?”
Ben nodded. “We’re in agreement.” Ben walked from the battlement and beckoned his clansman Bruce over to him. “Have Kenzie and my child pack a small bag and send them to Clan MacLeod. The Grants would never try and take that castle. Send them now, before I head out of the gates, because if there’s one thing Aline taught me about her family, was that they were untrustworthy. I know Kenzie has sent the women and children away from the castle. Make sure no one is left here except the men who are willing and able to fight for their home. Ye understand?”
Bruce nodded. “Aye, of course, Laird, although I think my place is here with ye.” He ran off to do his bidding, and Ben viewed his clansmen, armed and eager to take down Clan Grant. “My good clansmen, it seems the Clan Grant want to ruin my wedding day. The future laird wants to take my son, kill my wife and me because I refused to marry one of their choosing. I will not,” he yelled, raising his sword. His men roared, and Ben smirked. “The mighty Evan Grant wishes to fight one-on-one with me, and I ask ye all to come stand behind me and ensure the fight remains fair. They’re wont to do what they please, should they start to lose, which he will. I need you, my good men, to guarantee that he remains true to his word.”
Ben went and stood at the gates, nodding to his clansmen to open them. With his men behind him, he waited for the wooden doors to open so Evan Grant would, once and for all, be silenced forever.
…
Kenzie watched from one of the upper windows as Ben stood at the gates, his men lifting the heavy wooden pole that kept it locked. He looked formidable, strong, and capable but the underlying knowledge that Ben would die in the fight about to occur left her cold. It was too inconsequential that the Grants had turned against Clan Ross. The fight that was about to begin was written in the history books, and dread lumped in her stomach like lead.
“Wrap up Alasdair and make up some sort of carrying device so I can have my hands free. We need to leave.” Her maid Beth nodded and quickly did as Kenzie asked. Kenzie went about the room and found a little woolen hat for the baby. The air this high up in Scotland was cold, and she didn’t want him becoming ill.
The door burst open, and in the threshold, stood Ben’s clansman Bruce, his closest confidant, which only meant one thing. Ben was worried that today would not turn out to his advantage. “The laird wishes ye to leave, and I’ve come to make sure that happens. If ye will follow me, Kenzie.”
“I’m just organizing Alasdair. I shan’t be long.” The maid carried the boy over to Kenzie and placed him into a hammock-like structure that hung about her neck and was held in place by another piece of cloth that tied about her stomach. The child wasn’t visible unless you looked into the little hammock. Kenzie checked that Alasdair seemed comfortable and slid the little woolen hat over his head. “You should go, too, Beth. The castle could fall to Clan Grant, and I cannot promise ye safety.”
“My mother is alone in the village, mistress. I should like to be with her, if you’re happy with me leaving ye.”
“Go,” Kenzie said, ushering her to the door. She watched as the lass ran down the hall before she headed to her own room, picking up a thick shawl and placing a little dagger into her pocket.
“Are ye ready, Kenzie?”
“Yes,” she said, following Bruce down the hall and toward the stairs. Roars and shouts sounded outside, and tears pricked her eyes. She placed a hand around the baby to try and protect him as much as she could, although if anyone attacked them there would be little she could do with her small dagger.
“This way, Kenzie.” Bruce gestured her toward the bailey wall that had a large green vine growing over it. Pushing a part of it back, a small hidden door was revealed. “Through here.”
The battle spilled into the bailey just as Kenzie went through the door, but leaving didn’t take her view away from what was going on. There were many Grants, far more than she’d realized when Ben had gone out to fight Evan Grant.”
Just as Ben had said, the fight was no longer just between the two of them, but clan against clan. The front door of the castle was kicked in, and as Kenzie slid down the steep hill leading away from the castle, the distinct smell of smoke met her senses. They had lit the castle on fire. So where was Ben?
At the bottom of the hill she turned to look and saw Ben and Evan. Sword clanged against sword, the sounds only broken when one would slip or stumble.
“You must leave, Kenzie, lass. There are horses in the trees just beyond. The laird wants ye at Laird MacLeod’s where he will, God willing,” he said, making a sign of the cross over his chest, “meet ye in a few days.”
An arrow shot out from the trees near where Ben fought with Evan, and like a slow-motion horror movie Kenzie watched as the weapon dist
racted Ben from the threat directly in front of him.
Evan sliced and then used the sword in a dagger-like fashion, and Ben was struck. He dropped to his knees, clasping his side and the breath in Kenzie’s lungs froze. She heard a woman scream and realized as she ran toward him that it was her.
“Ben,” she said again, skidding to a stop beside him. Evan Grant was walking toward the castle, having completed what he set out to do. To kill the laird of Ross.
“Is it bad? Let me see,” she said.
He lifted his hand to clasp her cheek before dropping to touch his son. “Get to MacLeod land, lass. Ye must leave. Now. Before it’s too late.
“I cannot leave you here.” Out of her peripheral vision she saw Bruce lead two horses from the trees, gesturing her to join him.
“Ye must, lass. Save my boy and yourself.” He paused, meeting her gaze. “I love ye, Kenzie. So much. I’m sorry.”
Kenzie swiped at her tears, leaning down and kissing him quickly. “You’re not going to die here, Ben. I can’t let that happen.”
He chuckled a little, but even Kenzie could tell he was losing a lot of blood. She grabbed her shawl and pressed it against his wound. Hard. “It is I who should be apologizing for what I’m about to do.”
Evan Grant yelled, and Kenzie looked toward the castle to see both him and his father cantering toward her on horses. Never in her life had she ever seen anyone with such determination to exterminate someone. In this case, her, Ben, and Alasdair. Surely, they wouldn’t kill their own grandchild?
“Please, Kenzie. Go. I can’t see ye killed in front of me.”
Kenzie sat Ben up a little, getting behind him and wrapping herself about him as much as she could without squashing Alasdair “I’m sorry Ben, but I won’t.” And with the image of Clan Grant barreling toward them Kenzie started to speak the words that would pull her from this time into her own. The thundering of the horse’s hooves made her words faster, and clasping Ben tighter, the seventeenth century started to dissolve before them. The last thing Kenzie saw was the shocked visages of Evan and the Laird of Grant as they disappeared. As if they never were and never would be again.
