Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Since old Nell had insisted on feeding them, by the time they finally emerged from her tiny cottage, Callum and Kenneth’s other men had already ridden off. They were left to make their own way back to Castle Duntulm.
Kenneth was quietly pleased with this, and as they set off.
He was in no mind to hurry. He was enjoying the feel of Selene’s closeness as they made their deliberate way back up the rise and along the muddy path.
Arvak’s every sway brought her soft curves closer and for a short time he was able to put everything from his mind, allow his aching body to loosen and enjoy those moments of indulgence.
But there was no evading the building clouds. It was not long before lightning was flashing around them. Reluctantly, he gee’d-up Arvak to increase his gait to a canter in an effort to outpace the gathering storm.
Selene’s grip on his arm tightened at the growing rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance. The clouds darkened quickly, turning the sky into a dark bruise, and not half an hour into their ride the heavens split open.
The first crack of thunder caused Selene to startle and utter a frightened gasp. The second caused her to dig her fingers into Kenneth’s arm where she’d been holding on.
Rain needled down, hard, fierce and cold, blurring the hills into a wash of grey. Arvak gave a nervous snort, and it was soon almost impossible to see where they were. The big horse slowed, feeling his way.
Kenneth raised his voice over the storm. “I ken there’s an old cottage somewhere nearby. It may well be half-fallen in by now, but I daresay it will keep us dry.”
Selene raised no argument. He suspected this was likely because she could not unclench her jaw long enough to speak.
The abandoned cottage sat crooked and lonely at the edge of a copse, its thatch sagging in places, its door hanging on a single hinge. But it was shelter.
They dismounted quickly and hurried to the cover provided by what remained of the overhanging thatched roof. He unbuckled his leather saddlebag before tethering Arvak. Then, after kicking the door fully open, he guided Selene inside, shutting out the storm behind them.
Inside, the air smelled of dampness and old leaves and there was a faint rustling from the corner where some small creature had made a small nest. There was a wide timber plank and an old beam across the fireplace.
He hefted these out of the way and fashioned a place where Selene could rest.
“Sit lass. ‘Tis nae a plush armchair fer yer derriere, but it will keep ye dry.”
He waited while she settled herself then he wrapped one of the plaids from his saddle bag around her shoulders and moved to the hearth.
The light was dim, but he could make out enough through the gloom to build a fire with the few scraps of wood lying about. He took his flint and, in no time, sparks were lighting the dry leaves. It was not long before a sturdy flame rose up.
Within minutes, he’s coaxed a small fire to life in the stone hearth. It cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, making the place feel less like a ruin and more like something almost cozy.
Almost.
Selene sat near the fire, glancing into the dancing shadows as if she is half-anticipating the arrival of the ghost he’d teased her with in the kitchen.
The firelight softened her features and he gazed at her, charmed by her heart-shaped face, her pert nose and the elegant chin. She was a true beauty, and he took enjoyment in watching her. Her eyes met his, sparkling in the glow of the fire.
“Why, Laird Kenneth, I see ye are a more practical man than I’d ever imagined.”
He grunted. “I’m nae a useless manny like yer English lads, milady. I’ve been a soldier and learned how tae live rough and take comfort where I can.”
Thunder rolled again and Selene pulled the rough cloak around her knees.
He lowered himself to the ground beside her, a careful distance away but close enough.
“Thunder bothers ye,” he said quietly.
“Is it so obvious?” She managed a thin laugh.
“I havenae forgotten our time in the kitchen.” His tone was gentle. “I recall what ye told me then of how ye feared the storms.”
She nodded, then clutched her hands tighter as lightning flashed and she braced herself, eyes closed, for the peal of thunder that followed.
Recalling how he distracted her with his ghost story, he smiled to himself. It was clearly time for a wee bit of mischief to take her mind from the storm.
“By the way, that thing ye ate earlier? Ye were so eager to find out what it was made of?”
She glanced up with curious eyes, one brow arched. “Yes, and you promised to tell me.”
“Ye dined on a great Scots delicacy, marag dubh, something every good wifey kens how tae make.”
She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Yes. You told me the name, but what does this famous black pudding consist of?”
“Well… there’s a wee bit of lard…” She nodded. “And there’s oats. Maybe barley. Onions if ye’ve got them. And then…” He scratched his chin as if he was trying to remember the rest.
“There’s naught there that would cause me to choke.”
“Och, aye. I was almost forgetting the blood.”
“Wha—?” Her hand sprang to her mouth and she uttered a small, muffled squeal.
“Beef blood. Plenty of it. That’s what gives it the color…” He grinned, pretending to ignore her horrified yelp. “Mix it all in, and then—"
She gagged, a horrible gurgling sound that threatened to bring up everything she’d eaten.
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed, a deep warm rumble he had no hope of disguising.
She gagged again. Loudly, this time.
“Och nae… dinnae ye dare… breathe, lass, breathe.”
He caught both her hands before she could panic herself into vomiting. They were delicate and soft in his great, calloused paws. He held her steady.
“Suck in a deep breath, like this…” He inhaled slowly, his chest rising. She began to mirror him but the thunder cracked again and she flinched so hard her shoulder brushed his.
He felt her touch as if it was another streak of the lightning flashing around them. Although this one went straight to his heart.
“Look at me,” He kept his voice calm, grounding her, steadying her. “Breathe. In… and out. Slow and easy daes it.”
She clutched his hands and he tightened his grip, giving her a lifeline, keeping the pressure steady as she breathed slowly in tune with him.
They breathed together until she finally released her grip on his hands.
“Better?”
“Yes. I feel much better thank you. You have no need to fear I will bring up the marag dubh all over you.”
“Good tae hear ye speaking the Gaelic,” he said with a laugh. “And glad me remedy worked.”
“Why deep breathing?” she asked softly.
“It helps,” he said. “With many of the things that beset us all. Fear, anger… loss.” His gaze flickered toward the flames. “It helped me when I was afeared of storms as a lad.”
“You?” She gave a soft laugh that flowed like warm honey through his veins. “I can imagine a tiny Kenneth glowering at the sky and refusing to admit he was afraid.”
He scoffed lightly. “Aye, well. Dinnae spread it around.”
The rain still deluged the thatched roof but the thunder was slowly moving further off.
The worst of it seemed to have passed, and they sat back against the wall wrapped in plaid, the silence between them oddly comfortable.
Selene turned the necklace at her throat, fingering each tiny pearl individually.
Kenneth’s eyes dipped to focus on it. “Ye always hold that necklace when ye’re unsettled.”
She hesitated. The cottage was dark and quiet, the firelight making a safe, warm cocoon around them.
“It’s the only thing I have from my mother.
” Her voice was small, almost childlike.
“She died when I was young, right after my sister was born. I have very few memories of her. Mainly… the stories my father told me. This necklace is the only piece of her I’ve ever held. ” Her voice cracked with sadness.
Kenneth’s jaw shifted, a muscle tightening.
“Me maither died when I was young too.” He did not meet her eyes, but stared fixedly into the fire.
“Maureen barely remembers her. So, I endeavored… I did what I could tae keep her memory alive fer me wee sister. I tried tae give her the care a mother would. I ensured she was always warm. I told her stories. Made sure she had something gentler than our faither.” He exhaled through his nose in a huff. “He wasnae cruel. Just… cold.”
Selene turned toward him and their eyes met. “You’re a good brother, Kenneth.”
He stiffened. Her words did not sit well. Compliments were not a language he spoke fluently.
“I was simply daeing me duty,” he muttered.
“No,” she insisted. “Duty is one thing. Kindness is another.”
He had no idea what to do with that. His shoulders shifted, awkward and uncertain, before he cleared his throat and nodded.
They drifted closer as the fire burned lower. Not intentionally. Not obviously. But the gap between them narrowed until her knee brushed his and neither of them pulled away. At some point – he did not notice when it was – her head rested near his shoulder, and his arm was almost around her.
Sleep came in pieces, warm and drowsy.
When he woke in the pre-dawn light, she was snuggled against him. His arm was around her waist. Her chin tucked on his shoulder. Their legs were scandalously intertwined.
His movements caused her to wake suddenly. Jerking back, she almost lost her balance, flailing to remain upright. “Saints—”
Kenneth caught her by the wrist before she could topple to the floor and hauled her back to their makeshift seat. He squinted at her with bleary eyes.
“Good morning, Lady Selene.” His voice was rough with sleep and he cleared he throat before continuing mockingly. “D’ye always greet the new day with such grace?”
“Oh, be quiet,” she muttered, her cheeks turning a most bonnie pink at his teasing.
He grinned and ruffled his fingers through his hair.
Selene threw him an appraising glance. “When you smile like that, you are almost like a young boy – soaked in mischief and wickedness.”
Her smile all but robbed the breath from his lungs.
The ride back to the castle was filled with a new warmth between them, the air charged with a strange, humming awareness that Kenneth was at a loss to understand.
When Arvak finally clattered into the courtyard and they dismounted and walked up the steps to the keep, Callum was waiting. He took one look at them – disheveled, damp, standing far too close to each other – and smirked.
“Good trip, then? Ye took so long in coming I was about tae send lads out in search of ye.”
Kenneth glared. “Bide yer tongue, lad.”
Callum’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Before they could walk off, Callum’s grin faded and he raised a hand. “The scouts from Aidan’s lands have returned, me laird. I’ve arranged fer us tae meet with them in an hour.”
Kenneth’s voice turned cold and gruff. “Good. I pray they will bring news that will help us discover what is going on. Aidan’s hand is behind everything.
I ken it. But I’ll need proof before I take this to the king.
I willnae start a war without cause and give King George the excuse he needs tae take our lands. ”
“There’s nae proof yet,” Callum confirmed. “But we’ll find it.”
Selene glanced over at Callum, her brows drawn in an anxious frown.
“I take it there was nothing from the Isle of Raasay?”
He shook his head. “Nay, milady. The sea is still too rough fer any messenger. And there are more storms tae come.”
Kenneth sucked in a deep breath unsure whether to be relieved there was no letter from Halvard. Still nothing to verify Selene’s identity. Only storms piling on storms.
And somewhere out there, if his suspicious were correct, Aidan continued moving pieces on the board.