Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Malcolm shooed both of them away. “Now listen, the pair of you. You are to eat and get some rest as well. It may be tomorrow before she is recovered enough to speak with us. Until then, do as ye promised and bide yer time. Do ye understand?”
Tearloch nodded mutely. When he fell on his bed minutes later, he was sleeping before his body stopped bouncing.
Kenna was escorted off the ship by as many of the king’s guards as could fit in the small narrow boat. Three others like it waited nearby. The crew was being detained around the forecastle, but there was no sign of the charmless grey captain.
The soldiers were silent but gracious, and she was grateful she wore trews when she climbed down the rope ladder.
It seemed like hours later when she was lifted onto the dock, where a handsome gentleman with startling eyes waited to speak with her.
His clothes were fine and he wore a mantle of fur over his shoulders.
Perhaps he suffered from delicate health and could not risk a chill.
“Lady Kenna,” he said, and inclined his head.
“Sir?”
For a moment, he stared expectantly. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted from her. But he was pleasant enough to look at all the same.
He forced himself to smile and finally spoke. “We are pleased to have you under our protection, and you will be allowed to recover anon, but first, you must tell us how you have been harmed so we may tend to you properly.”
Harmed? Next will he ask who she has harmed in return?
“I have a wound, sir. Here.”
He demanded to see it. Perhaps he was a healer. He seemed genuinely surprised at having recognized the pattern of a human’s teeth.
“What else?”
“Nothing more.”
“Did the bastard strike you?”
She thought back, then shook her head.
“Did he…?” He glanced around at her escort, exchanged a glance with Leland, then shook his head. “Anything more?”
He didn’t seem the sort to want to know about battered hearts and the like.
“Nothing more.”
He searched her eyes as if he might tell if she were truthful. Then he smiled again. “Your journey is nearly at an end. These good men will see you safe. God go with you.”
At the end of one of many piers, Leland placed her in a carriage along with two guards, but then he gave her a wink and a smile and closed the door.
The pretty blue seats were thick and velvety, and she felt like she was defiling them with her presence. Though she had no literal blood on her hands, she kept them in her lap just the same.
The royal seal on the door had not escaped her notice, and she wondered first, how they knew she had killed Balloch, and second, if the king usually sent his carriage to escort murderers to prison?
She assumed the answer to her first query was Captain Mac. If he’d been watching off the stern, he might have seen Balloch or heard his scream. Hopefully, he hadn’t rescued the monster. Could it be Balloch himself who had reported her?
A chill wracked through her, but the guards didn’t notice her shiver.
When the conveyance turned a corner, Kenna was forced to put her hand down on the seat to stay upright. There was no helping it. She had been in the carriage long enough now that her sins had already permeated the air and the fabric. Leland was at least clever enough not to get too close.
In the commotion she had lost track of Peter, but when the carriage stopped, Leland was there again.
It was more painful, seeing the face of someone you have disappointed, than meeting the eyes of strangers.
To avoid his tense smile Kenna looked up at the long stone walls of a prison.
The knight led her toward the entrance where she was surprised by the colorful clothes of the sentries, who seemed even more surprised at the sight of her.
They could hardly look away. And no wonder. Although she had given up the need for the hat and her hair fell freely down her back, she still wore the men’s garments that made her resemble a rather fat bird.
Once inside, she stopped abruptly. This was no prison, but a castle. She looked at Leland in question, but the way he cocked his head and shook it admonished her not to speak.
“Please, sir. Just one question?”
He finally gave her his full attention, and she saw in his eyes just what she had expected. Pity and disappointment swirled in their blue depths. If she weren’t so numb, she would have been hurt when he looked away.
“Very well. One question, but I may not be at liberty to answer.”
“I understand.” She swallowed with difficulty. “Are you to be my executioner?”
Leland’s lower jaw fell open and it bobbed up and down a few times, like a fish gasping for water.
He struggled with a decision for a moment, then said, “My lady, I will tell ye that yer nightmare is over. Worry no more. Ye’re safe, do ye hear?
” He then stared down the others in her escort, daring them to blame him for speaking to her.
Finally, he offered his arm. She would not taint him by taking it, but she followed obediently.
She was taken to a lady’s chamber that was so spacious and elaborately decorated it hurt her eyes to take it all in.
Before she could protest, she was led to an adjoining bathing chamber where she was surrounded by women who silently helped her shed her manly garb before settling her into a steaming bath.
No comment was made about the blood on her skin. While Kenna sat quietly, they washed her hair and body. And as the ritual continued, her silent tears, streaming along her cheeks, were thankfully ignored by all. Only once, when her fresh wound was being cleansed, did she make a sound.
She knew these women were not pleased with the duty of scrubbing what could never come clean, so she resisted nothing, wanting the bath to end as much as the others must.
Salve was applied to her shoulder, then it was bandaged. They slipped a finely made leine over her, followed by a sleeping gown. Then she was fed, hungry or not. She was unaware of what she ate, only that the oldest woman attending her would not be denied.
When Kenna could eat no more, her silent entourage led her to the bed. It was dressed in white, trimmed in gold, with layers of furs to keep out the coldest night. It looked deliciously soft after sitting against a door all night without a solid hour of sleep.
Beautiful and soft… Just like the carriage.
She was not clean enough to sleep in this bed. She would never again be clean enough. Everything they did for her was a mockery.
She backed away.
“My lady!” The older woman shook her head firmly. “The king demands that ye sleep. Must we inform him that ye refuse?”
“The king?” The woman had her attention now. “Where am I?”
“Sadly, my lady. We are to keep our mouths closed and ye are to sleep. When ye wake, ye are to have an audience with King Malcolm.” She gestured toward the bed again.
Kenna looked about the room and saw a door that she assumed would lead to a maid’s room. Pulling away from the woman’s reach she went to the door and peaked inside, finding just what she sought—a modest bed that would be no pity to burn after she had used it.
“May I sleep in here, then?”
All the women left in attendance exchanged curious looks and the oldest finally said, “If ye agree to sleep, aye.”
A maid covered her with a tufted blanket and the body that once was Kenna Carlisle rolled toward the wall, shut its eyes and slept. No hope meant no thoughts to fill her mind and keep her awake.
Soon after Vespers, Tearloch and Duncan were summoned to the king’s chambers and found Malcolm pacing a favorite pattern across the floor.
“I am ready to tell you what we found on the ship,” he began. “I want your words, first, you will listen quietly until I’ve finished.” He waited for both men to settle themselves around the table, then sat as well. “Gair Balloch was not aboard…”
Tearloch jumped to his feet, sending his chair crashing and in turn, bringing a host of guards through the door.
“He cannae get to her, my friend.” Malcolm gestured impatiently for the guards to leave. “She is guarded just as well as this room. And if you will listen, I’ll explain why I believe he is no longer a threat.”
“If I cannae go to her, let me send Duncan. I will no’ sit still knowing she is alone.”
“Leland already guards her door, refuses to stand down. He will remain until she is brought to me in the morning. Will that do?”
Tearloch nodded and seated himself again.
“You may as well stand, my friend. The chair will not handle your surprise when I tell you what we found…”