Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
From the trees, Kenna watched as Duncan came around the end of the tent. He was the first to find Tearloch with his left arm up and right foot stretched taut just as she had been expected to sleep the night before.
“Cut me loose,” Tearloch growled through gritted teeth.
Duncan laughed and reached for the dagger in his boot.
but before he could free it, a blade pressed against the middle of his back.
He froze and raised his hands. Others were coming to investigate and stopped short when they saw what was happening.
They didn’t seem terribly alarmed but held back just the same.
“Tell them all to go away.” She pressed on the small knife to let Duncan know she was speaking to him. She ignored Tearloch just as he often ignored her.
Duncan waved a hand. “Go about yer business, lads. Give us some privacy.”
When the others retreated, she walked around the older man to plop down inside the tent once more.
Tearloch’s screaming had awoken her as well, and her first impulse had been to run.
But she was tired of running. After last night, she was fearful of Duncan’s anger, but she had to take one last stand.
“Please, sir. He’ll not listen to reason. I wanted to explain why he should let me go but he threatened me if I kept him from sleeping. So, I allowed him to sleep.” She shrugged, willing him to understand her actions. “Now, he has no excuse. He will have to hear me out.”
Duncan sighed dramatically. Slowly, he reached over Tearloch’s tied leg and took the small dagger from that man’s boot, much to Kenna’s surprise. Then he held out his hand, expecting Kenna to surrender hers.
“Say yer piece and come fetch me. I dinnae envy ye yer beatin’,” he said with a smile. Then he reached for her now empty hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If ye spill one drop o’ this mon’s blood, ye’ll be dead before it splats on the ground. Do ye ken?”
She nodded solemnly. “I understand.”
The man straightened and strolled away, ignoring Tearloch’s imaginative threats.
Kenna smiled sweetly at her angry captive, inhaled deeply, and said, “Now—"
“No.” He turned his head away.
“But you have not—”
“No!”
“You might just be as stubborn as I.” She folded her arms. “But I doubt it.”
He turned back. “If not mine, then whose skean dhu did Duncan take from ye?”
“I will never tell.” Let him worry.
His eyes narrowed. “Frazier.”
She bit her lips together, and he repeated the name, quite pleased with himself. But now, Frazier would be angry with her. She had hoped to get away before he missed his blade.
“He looked guilty as the devil when he followed ye out to the fire last eve.”
“It was no fault of his.”
He continued to seethe. “If he touched ye, he’s done with me.”
“He just took some thorns out of my foot. He did not know I took it.” She looked down at the hands in her lap. The list of men who disliked her was getting unbearably long.
“Did ye step on them a’ purpose?”
Her mouth dropped open. How could he possibly know that?
“Ye will apologize. Ye will apologize to Duncan and to Big Rabbie too. He’s gone ahead, so ye will seek him out at Lochahearn and make amends.”
“Yes, I will.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. Her fingernails were black under their edges. Agatha would have beaten her for it.
“Ye hurt his feelings trying to bribe him with yer jewelry.”
“I thought he was just angry at me for running away.”
“Nay. He was hurt. Big men hurt easily.”
She wondered if he realized he, too, was a big man.
She had never had such a quiet, painless reprimand in her life. It was quite effective, for never before had she truly been sorry.
“I will apologize.”
“Now go get Duncan.”
Silly man. She wasn’t that sorry.
“No.”
“Ye will do as I say,” he railed, struggling to sit up and find his balance and assert his dominance at the same time. It was quite impossible, and she laughed. His frown eased away, and when he took a look at himself, he laughed, too.
The thrill of his brogue was minute compared to the effect of his smile and his laughter.
Her entire body submerged into a barrel of warm bubbles that raised every inch of her flesh and squeezed the air from her.
That he gifted her with such an unguarded glimpse of himself brought tears to her eyes.
If I were free of my vow, I would live only to hear such a thing again.
She no longer told herself such a reaction was from the rarity of men in her life. There was something connecting her to Tearloch, something that gave him a power over her that had nothing to do with strength. How else could she explain the visceral effect of his every utterance?
Kenna would not be surprised to look down and find a lead running from her heart straight into his hand, so convinced was she of this connection. And in that instant, she knew something more important.
This man has the power to hurt me.
She sobered, and begged him with all sincerity. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Will you at least consider—”
“No.”
“Why?” she whined. The strength to fight him was fading.
“What would ye do with yer freedom?” His curiosity sounded genuine. “Fall into the hands of someone like Struan Gowry? Or would ye make yer way to the city where ye can sell yer body to have a man killed?”
Kenna was shocked at the image unfolding in her mind. “Those are not my only choices.”
“Or will ye return to yer family so they can sell ye off to the next pig that offers for ye?”
“I will not go back. My maid will have told them…”
He grew very still. “Told them what?”
“Told them I was killed in the fighting.”
Tearloch grasped her hand with his free one. “Why?”
“I have my reasons. You must let me go.”
“No. Ye’ll have a better life if ye stay with me than ye will have anywhere else in this world, do ye hear? In the end, ye’ll have all the freedom ye could want. Ye only need to trust me.”
She shook her head. “Trust has little to do with this. Besides, it is my choice to make.”
“Nay. It is mine, and I choose to keep ye.” He was scowling again. “Now go and get Duncan.”
“I need time to think—”
“Oh, no. That only begets more trouble. Duncan!”
“My Laird and Master,” she purred with a thick brogue of her own, “would ye like me to put a rag in yer mouth, or will ye stay quiet?”
Duncan appeared soon enough.
She smiled innocently. “Ah, good sir, have you a small cloth?”
“Aye, Milady.” He handed over a red but clean rag. She didn’t want to think about what had stained it that color as she stuffed it into Tearloch’s mouth.
She looked up at a bemused Duncan. “I owe you an apology—or two.”
“Three,” he amended.
“Three. Of course. Pray, forgive me for putting a knife to your back, and for causing you to weary of me. I will not deceive you again. You have my word.”
“No more chamber pots?”
“No more chamber pots.”
“No more setting yer horse on me?”
She laughed, still relieved that it hadn’t been a wolf sneaking up on her in the darkness. “No more.”
“A truce, then, milady.”
“And Duncan?”
“Aye?”
“I will escape at some point.”
“Yes, Milady. I will be waitin’ near the horses.” He winked before turning away, likely stifling the same giggle as she—both of them wondering how long it would take Tearloch to realize he still had one free hand with which to remove the cloth from his mouth.
When she turned back to her captive, he was still using his free hand to hold himself up, the kerchief still tucked between his open, shocked lips. Since he showed no signs of catching on, Kenna showed pity and removed it herself.
Tearloch rolled to wipe his mouth against his shoulder. “So, ye’re tryin’ honesty today, aye?”
“Aye. I promise I will gain my freedom—to do with what I will—even if I have to make you so weary of me you beg me to leave.”
“Fine. And now I promise ye, my lady…” His low, menacing words sent chills through her blood. “Once I get ye home, ye will have a beating like no other in yer life. And every time ye make me angry enough to send ye away, I will beat ye again.”
Kenna moved close enough to see her own reflection in his eyes.
With a tone equal to his, she promised one last thing.
“No one shall ever beat me again, Tearloch, King’s Champion.
Not you or any other, so long as there is breath in my body.
And you have just made me doubly certain that I must remove myself from your company. ”
The change in his face was so immediate she had to blink and ask herself if he had ever been angry at all. His brow furrowed deeply with sincere concern.
“Auch, my lass. My precious… Who was it? Who beat ye?”
Kenna looked away before she weakened. “The priest. My aunt would send me—” She shook the memories away.
“It no longer matters. Just know that I have more than one reason to eschew your Christ.” She turned back and saw the pity in his eyes, pity she would have gladly reveled in days ago, but not now.
She no longer needed pity. She needed to put a great distance between her and this man who held so much power over her.
His ragged breath was warm against her cheek, and she realized she’d leaned in too close. His lips were inches away. And for the moment, she had all the control.
She inhaled deeply, wishing to stamp the flavor of him into her memory in any way possible.
“Go get Duncan.” His words vibrated in her bones. His voice rumbled down the length of her arm where it lay against his ribs. Only her shoulder was between them now and she rotated it slowly out of the way.
“No,” she whispered. “You are still my captive.”
“’Ware, lass. Whatever ye do to me, I will do the same in return.” Daringly, he stretched toward her, his attention on her mouth.
Caution be damned. It only meant he would kiss her back.
Slowly, she lowered her mouth to his and the magical connection she’d felt in just his touch was multiplied. She pressed into him over and over again, enjoying the fact that he did not use his tongue like an animal, as the Englishman had. Tearloch’s lips were perfect and soft, and…welcomed.
She felt tremors rack Tearloch’s frame just before he retreated. “Get Duncan. Ye must.” His voice sounded far away, his whisper coarse but gentle.
Kenna sat with her eyes closed for a moment, feeling her heartbeat in every extreme of her body.
The experience lingered like a ghost on her lips, and she touched them to prove his mouth was no longer pressed against them.
When she opened her eyes, he faced the wall of the tent.
It might have insulted her had she not noticed his ragged breathing.
To have any power over such a man was immensely satisfying.