Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
One by one the men filed in and had their bowls filled with the steaming mix they called ‘potage’.
Kenneth sat with a couple of the men on an old timber bench beside the house that was being repaired while Selene stayed in the kitchen with Maureen to devour her portion of the delicious stew.
After the break for food, Selene and Maureen joined the others again pulling together the bundles of thatch and fastening them with twine.
The afternoon passed quickly, filled with the easy rhythm of labor and the occasional bursts of laughter.
Selene surprised the women by refusing to accept special treatment, and when someone attempted to take a bundle from her hands with a kindly, patronizing smile, she shot them a look that sent them scurrying back to their tasks.
Maureen cackled with delight when it happened.
As the afternoon wore one, the cold began creeping into bones and the sky was darkening, a loud yell and shouting came from the men’s direction. Selene and the others all sprang to attention.
She darted outside and caught sight of Kenneth at the center of a group of men.
“Me laird!” several voices cried, rushing forward.
She hastened over, her heart plummeting. To her dismay, blood was gushing from a cut in the palm of his hand.
It seemed one of the older men had lost his grip on a heavy stone slab and Kenneth had managed to catch it before it could crash onto the man’s foot. But the sharp edge had slashed across his palm as he steadied it.
Kenneth waved them off, but Selene was already beside him. “Let me see.” She caught his hand before he could protest and tugged him away from the gathering crowd.
The cut was deep enough for the blood to flow freely, sliding down the heel of his palm and dripping from his sleeve.
Without hesitation she took out her kerchief from her pocket and pressed it to the wound.
But within seconds the small square of linen was saturated with his blood.
Without further ado she raised her skirt and tore a strip of fabric from her woolen petticoat – ignoring the shocked gasp from Maureen.
Then she bound the length of cloth firmly around Kenneth’s hand, at last staunching the flow of blood.
As she tied it off her hands trembled slightly, betraying her concern. She bit her lip and frowned with concentration, burning under the intensity of Kenneth’s gaze as she bandaged his hand. He watched her in weighted silence, his rough expression softening.
She tried and failed to ignore his expression as he followed her every move. His gaze had no right to feel quite so gentle.
“Really, Laird Kenneth,” she scolded, her voice sharper than she intended. “Must you throw yourself at every boulder on the island? What were you thinking?”
Looking up, her gaze collided with his. As their eyes locked her heart stuttered alarmingly. Heat surged between them, fierce and immediate, as though the world had narrowed to the space between his hand and her trembling fingers.
“Now.” Her voice shook. “Keep your fingers on that place, to keep the blood from starting up again.”
“Why, lass, dinnae fash about me hand. I’ve far greater concern fer yer ruined petticoat than such a small cut.” He grinned at her, his eyes sparking with something far more than concern fer a torn garment. She felt it all the way tae her heart and then some.
“Lady Selene,” he said softly, “I thank ye fer yer concern.” He raised his arm, flexing his fingers in the makeshift bandage without wincing and, for one brief moment, almost as if it was impossible to curb himself, he traced his fingers gently along the line of her jaw.
She blinked, sucking in a deep breath, his touch scorching her cheeks. As he held her gaze, something inside her melted.
The touch shattered what remained of her composure.
Before she could speak – or worse, lean into his touch – Callum, appeared at Kenneth’s shoulder seemingly out of nowhere.
He cleared his throat loudly, and whatever magic had been swirling about them dissolved at once.
Kenneth straightened, brushing mud from his trousers. “This morning, tying yer lacing…” he said under his breath, too low and quiet for Callum to hear.
Selene’s entire face blazed with heat. “Do not,” she hissed, “speak of that.”
He gave her a wicked, thoroughly unrepentant look and she shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through armor, turned on her heel and hastened back to her tasks where Maureen was waiting.
Kenneth watched her disappearing form and turned back to be met by Callum’s raised brow and questioning expression.
“I trust yer hand is well trussed?” Callum grinned cheekily.
“Indeed.” Kenneth’s tone cut short any further questioning.
They were both suddenly distracted by the arrival of one of the village lads who came pelting toward them, breathless and wide-eyed.
“Me laird! The beasts… the ones ye helped save from the flood… someone has cut through the fence.” The lad panted, struggling to haul in a breath. “Every last one of them is gone!”
Kenneth’s head jolted back, his expression hardening. “Who could dae such a foul thing?”
He exchanged a grim look with Callum. “This is an act of sabotage. A heartless blow tae our people.”
Callum was shaking his head, his face as black as a thundercloud. “Aye. There’s only one who would commit such a thing.”
Kenneth nodded. “Aidan.” His voice was a low growl.
“One of the lads said he’d seen someone in the woods.” The boy pointed toward a small copse some distance away, on the other side of the field where the cattle had been held.
Kenneth and Callum exchanged glances and took off at a run, heading swiftly across the empty field toward the dark line of the trees. As they drew closer, they saw where hoofprints and boot prints muddied the ground. But whoever had caused the damage and left the prints behind, was long gone.
Clenching his fists, Kenneth stopped at the tree line, his breath harsh, fury tightening his every muscle.
“The swine is playing games he’ll regret,” he growled. He clamped his jaw with barely controlled rage. “And next time, he willnae slip away so easily.”
The forest swallowed the last echo of his words, but a cold, creeping dread settled in his chest.
Aidan was not done. And this time, he’d ventured dangerously close.
As darkness closed in, Kenneth left the crofters to finish rounding up the cattle.
He mounted Arkan with Selene before him and accompanied Callum and Maureen back to the castle.
A storm still burned behind his ribs. The futile chase across the field, the suspicion that Aidan and his men had released the animals and had once again evaded him, had wound his belly as tight as the new longcase clock that stood in the great hall.
He needed to burn the fury out of his blood before he said or did something regrettable.
Once he’d assisted Selene to dismount, he strode off in the direction of the stables without saying a word. Callum dismounted from his horse only seconds later and followed.