Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
So many people awake in the middle of the night? Kenna wondered if castle life was so different from the rest of Scotland.
She finished seeing to her needs and presented herself to her silent attendants to be dressed. The fine leine remained, but her nightclothes were replaced with an underdress of deep purple lawn, the texture of which was so smooth, she could not help but rub it with her murderous hands.
When two women presented her with a matching tunic embroidered with gold and encrusted here and there with tiny jewels, Kenna shook her head. She tapped a finger on the unadorned underdress. “This will do.”
The older woman shooed the others away and led Kenna to a dressing table where yet another woman came up behind her to brush through her hair. When the maid began to lift her tresses onto her head, Kenna stayed her. “No need to bother.”
Wide eyed, the woman set down the brush and reached out to pinch Kenna’s cheeks to give color, but Kenna captured her hands and nudged them away.
“I shall face him as I am.”
“Aye, Milady.” The maid backed away, eyes on the floor.
Kenna took a deep breath before rising and moving to the door. She took another as the older woman opened it.
Duncan stood across the hall, along with Leland and Jamie. He came forward to offer Kenna his arm. She looked up and silently pleaded with him to understand when she did not take it. Then she proceeded down the hall on her own.
She could feel tension radiating from Duncan’s body as he showed her each turn to take. Every step, every brush of boot on stone, answered the swish of her fine skirt. It was a dance, a conversation they would never have time to enjoy.
When he led her to a pair of doors, with two guards on either side, she noticed the large escort of men that had followed them. She leaned toward Duncan and said, “Tell them…” She bit back unwelcomed tears. “Tell them I vow not to escape.”
Duncan looked from her to the men and back again, but ignored her comment. He nodded, and the guards nearest opened the doors.
Much to the dismay of both Kenna and a bleary-eyed audience gathered in the huge chamber in the dead of night, Duncan suddenly bellowed, “Damn ye!” and drew his sword not ten feet from the handsome man who had met her on the dock.
Splitting his attention between that one and Tearloch, he hissed, “Tell her now! All of it.” When he looked back at Kenna, his eyes flashed and shameless tears cut lines down both his cheeks.
The handsome one. The ornate chair he sat upon…
He lifted a comical brow and waited for Duncan to sheath his weapon, then he stood and came to stand before her. When he reached for her hand, she shook her head in a silent demand that he not touch her.
He understood and nodded, and while holding her gaze, he stretched out his arm to prevent Tearloch from reaching for her as well.
Kenna began a deep curtsy, but the king shook his head. She straightened, eyeing him warily.
“I am Malcolm. Alexander. Canmore. King of Scotland. Do you recognize me, Kenna?”
She was taken aback at the sound of the name that had become so unfamiliar to her in the days. She could read the hope in the man’s eyes, but it only confused her.
“Aye, Your Majesty. We met on the dock.”
Those striking eyes filled with disappointment. Then a gentle but practiced smile smoothed his face. “We did.”
“I was told I am your ward. Am I to hear my fate?”
“Oh, indeed you are. It will be decided here, now. But you will be the one to decide it.” He stepped back before continuing, watching her closely. “I am here to marry you.”
“Marry me?” Kenna reached out toward Duncan for support but stopped herself. She then chanced a look beyond the king for Tearloch. His face told her nothing, only that he was watching her reactions as closely as the king did.
She was silly enough to wish she had seen jealousy.
She addressed the king once more. “Thank ye, Sire, but I cannot accept.”
The silence in the room was palpable, then the king chuckled and everyone breathed again.
“I am not here to wed you myself, but to wed you to him.” He tilted his head and nodded toward Tearloch. The latter took a few steps, and the king stopped him again. “If you will have him.”
Kenna looked at Tearloch with unfathomable regret in her eyes. “Nay, Sire.”
Her beloved folded his arms and planted his feet wide. “Why?”
She sighed. “He will not want me, when all is said.”
Tearloch pushed past the king’s arm and came to stand at her shoulder, to loom over her. His breathing was deep and steady. “I assure ye, he will.”
“Tell her all of it, damn you!” Duncan’s voice again reverberated through the chamber as he took a step toward Tearloch.
“One bite at a time, Duncan,” the king said. “We do not wish her to choke.” Then to Tearloch, “It appears ye’ve lost yer best man to her.”
As Kenna watched, Duncan avoided his leader’s gaze as did Jamie and Leland when Tearloch looked around the room. There were also some of the king’s own guards whose eyes fell to the floor.
“Aye. I have lost more than one, but already ye’ve lost a few, Yer Majesty.”
“Weel, so I have,” Malcolm smiled, unconcerned. “Now…”
“Nay, Yer Majesty, we’ll discuss nothing else until she agrees to be my wife.” Tearloch held her gaze and spoke as if they were alone. “Kenna, I love ye. As ye surely love me. Wed me and let me make ye happy. If ye havenae learned it by now, I cannae live without ye.”
Kenna felt that old melting feeling from the rumbling of Tearloch’s brogue.
His “r”s always tripped harder when he was upset or impassioned.
Her body shook at the contradiction of longing for his touch and shrinking from him.
Her eyes rested on his chest, but the cloud of her despair made the world a bit wooly.
“Lass, lass. Look at me. Do ye think that whatever has happened to ye since ye left Lochahearn would have changed my heart?”
When his question finally penetrated her brain, she steeled herself.
“Nay, but it is about to.”
“Ye’re wrong, oh so wrong. But so be it. I will not leave yer side, come what may.” He turned and stood at her shoulder, and together they faced the king.
She raised her eyes to his. “I promise that if ye still want me, after all is said and all is done, I will be yer wife. If there is a breath left in me, and I’m a free woman, I will marry ye.” She gave him a pitying smile and then turned to the king. “I am ready now, Your Majesty.”
Malcolm returned to his kingly chair and indicated that Kenna could sit, but she shook her head. He inclined his head and waved a hand. “Tell us what happened from the moment you were taken by Gair Balloch.”
She told them everything she could remember but stopped before she got to the part about the marriage ceremony.
The king produced a large parchment and held it before him. “We found this marriage contract aboard The Temptress. The marriage was between Gair Balloch and Kenna Carlisle.” He looked at her for confirmation and she nodded. “Tell me about the ceremony.”
She told him how it had happened, leaving out the details of the leering crowd.
“You never agreed?”
“Nay, Sire, but ‘tis my signature.”
The king smiled. “Will you add this to the fire?”
Kenna walked forward and took the parchment, her marriage contract, and looked up at her king in question.
“Ah, Kenna, there is no marriage where there is no consent.”
Kenna carried it to the hearth and pushed the paper into the flames. Could it be he does not know Balloch is dead? Or did they know everything and they were simply waiting for her to confess?
It was too exhausting, too painful—this breathing in and out. She was ready to have it done.
She did not return to face the king until the last piece of the wretched lie had turned to ash. When she was again next to Tearloch, he took her hand, pulled it around his arm, and placed his hand firmly on top of hers, telling her she would have his support whether she welcomed it or not.
He would change his mind soon enough.
The king frowned when considering his next words, and Kenna took pity on him.
“I was not raped, Yer Majesty.”
The royal brow smoothed. “Did he consummate the illegal marriage?”
Tearloch lost patience. “Did anyone on that blasted ship lay a finger on ye?”
Kenna did not take her eyes off the king. “Gair Balloch sank his teeth into my shoulder but never touched me otherwise. Only one other man has tried to seduce me, Sire, though he failed each time.”
Tearloch stiffened. Leland and Jamie tried to hide their smiles.
Malcolm had the same trouble. “And the man’s name?”
“The MacPherson, my lord.”
No one breathed.
The king, Tearloch, and Duncan all exchanged glances. She had no idea what these three were trying to communicate, but Duncan shook his head.
In a very tight voice Tearloch said, “In the eyes of God ye are my wife.”
“True!” cried Malcolm. “True indeed. In fact, I pledged yer hand to Tearloch before you met, and now that he has compromised you, he must wed you.” He threw his friend a meaningful look and a wink, but his smile fell when he noted her expression.
“Tell me, Lady Kenna. You should be rejoicing. And you look as if you are on your way to the hangman.”
Kenna winced at the king’s choice of words.
“Kenna?”
No more “Lady” then. That was just as well.
“Tell me. Where is Gair Balloch? My men found no trace of him on the ship, and the man they found in your quarters claims to have thrown the Englishman into the sea. This Peter is being held until we can determine what really happened. If he saved you, he will be rewarded. If he is a villain—”
“You can release Peter, Sire. He only means to protect me.” It was almost over. Soon she could rest, but not yet.
The king’s warm brown eyes smiled patiently into hers.