Chapter Seventeen
Kynan had Stephen on a makeshift bed in the solar of the keep.
He was too injured to make his way up the steps, so after feeding Stephen a loaf of bread, old mutton and stale wine, he piled some old rushes against the wall and lay Stephen upon it.
In less agony than he had been in days, Stephen fell into a heavy sleep.
Kynan sat in a chair and watched the man sleep, eventually rubbing his eyes wearily as he wondered what in the hell he was going to do.
The rebel force that had reclaimed Berwick consisted of many clans under the command of the Earl of Moray, John Randolph.
Although Randolph was not at Berwick, several of his burly generals were.
It was those men that Kynan worried about.
The same men had been at the siege of Berwick and had seen the atrocities perpetrated by the English, particularly with the young Seton boys.
Pembury had been involved in that travesty.
Kynan had been hearing rumblings for a few days that Moray’s generals wanted to hang Pembury in vengeance.
Kynan was not sure how he was going to prevent such a thing but he knew that he would do his best. Watching Pembury sleep, he thought on Joselyn’s words of how the man had overlooked all of the shameful things that had been heaped upon her.
His love had been unconditional. Kynan wondered what kind of man could hang young boys but love a woman who had been seriously compromised.
It was an odd paradox that he pondered, finally rising from his chair and hunting about for something to light the fire with.
Even though it was mid-day outside and sunny, the room was cool.
Finding no peat or charcoal, he opened the door with the intention of hunting for burning material when a faint female voice caught his attention.
It was coming from the bailey. He could hear it through the lancet window just to the left of the entry door. Curious, he opened the door, assaulted by the bright light and shielding his eyes from the sun. His heart leapt into his throat as he spied the source of the sound.
Joselyn stood in the bailey, clad in a pale traveling cloak, her luscious dark hair braided and draped over one shoulder.
Holding the reins to a small gray palfrey, she was speaking to several large, dirty Scots, Moray’s men, and Kynan bolted from the keep, practically flying across the dusty bailey until he reached her.
He had no idea why she was here or what she was saying to the guard, but it didn’t matter.
Kynan didn’t want her around men such as this and he was terrified and angry as well as confused.
As he came upon her, he reached out and grabbed her.
Joselyn screamed at the swiftness of the action, terrified until she saw who it was. Then her face lit up. “Kynan!” she exclaimed softly. “I am so glad to….”
Kynan didn’t let her speak further. He was yanking her away from Moray’s guard, pulling her with him towards the keep. His actions were indicative of an extremely angry man and Moray’s men looked both surprised and disappointed at her sudden removal.
“Hoot, mon!” one of the guards spoke to Kynan. “We saw her first!”
Kynan’s rage was boundless. “She’s me sister and if ye move against her, I shall kill ye!”
That seemed to calm the amorous guard. They knew Kynan MacKenzie and the man’s reputation.
He fought alongside the McCulloch and everyone knew that anyone involved with the McCulloch was crazy and blood-thirsty.
Moreover, he was Seton’s kin. That reason alone was enough to garner some respect, so they let him yank the lovely woman away without another word.
When Kynan was sure they weren’t going to challenge him, he looked at Joselyn.
“You foolish wench,” he hissed. “What are ye doin’?”
Joselyn fright returned as she stumbled after him. “I have come to get my husband.”
“How did ye get in here?”
Joselyn tripped on her own feet and almost fell to her knees. “I rode here from Forestburn,” she replied, annoyance mingling with her fright. “I came to the gates and told the guards that I was Alexander Seton’s daughter. They let me in. Stop pulling!”
Kynan ignored her demand although his grip eased somewhat. “I cannot believe ye would chance yer life so foolishly,” he snarled.
Joselyn was trying to pull away from him angrily. “I came for my husband,” she insisted. “Where is he?”
Kynan came to an abrupt halt at the door to the keep, speaking through clenched teeth. “Ye were well away from here,” he growled. “Ye should have stayed away. It ’twas stupid of ye tae come back.”
She scowled, bordering on tears. “Where is Stephen?” she was starting to break down. “I am not leaving without him and I will kill you if you stand in my way. Do you hear me?”
She was yelling by the time she finished the sentence, so much for remaining unemotional. Kynan could see, in her expression as well as her words, that she was absolutely serious. With another growl, he yanked her inside the keep.
Once inside the cool, dank entry, he slammed the heavy oak door and turned to her, grasping her by the arms.
“Jo-Jo,” he was far less angry, far more concerned. “Ye shouldna have come back, lass. ’Tis far too dangerous fer ye tae be here.”
Joselyn was struggling against her tears. “Where is my husband?” she demanded again. “He belongs to me and I want him back.”
Kynan shook his head sadly. “Jo-Jo….”
“I will tear this place apart looking for him,” she snapped. “Tell me where he is or I will….”
Kynan shushed her before she could finish, turning her for the solar door. “He is going tae be angry with ye,” he stated the obvious.
Joselyn was unsettled and confused by Kynan’s rough appearance, upset by her own emotions, so much so that when Kynan thrust her into the small solar, she didn’t notice anything about it except that it was the room where she and Stephen had first met, the room where she had first spoken to Cade.
It was dark in the room so she didn’t see her husband lying against the wall, partially blocked by the only table in the room.
She turned to Kynan as the man followed her into the chamber, shut the door and bolted it.
“What in the world are you doing?” she demanded. “Let me out of here this instant and take me to Stephen.”
Kynan put up his hands. “Jo-Jo, ye must stop….”
Joselyn suddenly balled a fist and thrust it into his face. “Deny me again and I will beat you within an inch of your life!”
Kynan’s eyebrows lifted. “So ye threaten me, ye little chicken? ’Tis about time ye showed yer backbone.”
She took a swing at him and he dodged it, laughing.
Then he grabbed her fists and stilled her, turning her around to the wall.
But Joselyn was still struggling, determined to punch him in the nose, when she suddenly caught sight of something massive on the floor.
She would not have paid attention to it.
Has she not noticed a boot. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at Stephen and all struggling came to a halt.
With a whimper, she raced around the table, knocking it over in her haste, and falling to her knees beside her husband.
Stephen was sleeping heavily and it didn’t take her long to see that he had been badly beaten.
His handsome face was cut and bruised, and his lower lip was swollen.
Tears of horror, of relief, of joy popped from her eyes as she gently put her hands on his face.
He was warm in her hands, alive, but most definitely injured. Then the sobs came.
They were deep and pitiful. Kynan knelt beside her, his hand on her back as he tried to give her some comfort.
“I’m sorry I couldna prevent this, Jo-Jo,” he muttered. “They had him tied tae the stocks fer three days, leaving him without food or water. I brought him in here but I have not tended his wounds. I dunna know how badly he’s been hurt.”
Joselyn had never been so distraught. Other than his death, it was her worst nightmare come to life.
She leaned down, kissing Stephen’s face, tasting her tears on his cheeks.
But even as she wept at the sight of him, she realized that the man needed help.
Tears and sorrow would not heal him. He had tended her before with his vast medical knowledge and although she didn’t know a tremendous amount about healing, it was time for her to return the favor.
Stephen needed her help and she was determined to give it.
She tried very hard to stop her tears, wiping her face with her hand.
“Our chamber is on the third floor,” she told her cousin. “Stephen’s possessions should still be there including his medicine bag. ’Tis a big, black leather satchel with all sorts of mysterious things in it. You must bring it to me immediately.”
Kynan nodded, rising to his feet. “What else do ye need?”
In truth, she really didn’t know. She rattled off a few things in a panic. “Water and wine, I suppose. And bring me any bed linens you can find, if your men have not stolen them already. He needs to be made more comfortable.”
Kynan was already moving. “Bolt the door when I have left. Dunna answer it fer anyone but me.”
Joselyn jumped up and did as she was told, throwing the bolt when he left and then swiftly returning to Stephen.
She struggled not to cry as she ripped off her gloves and pulled off her cloak.
The gloves went onto the floor and her cloak went over Stephen to cover him.
She put her hands on his face, kissing his cheeks.
“Stephen?” she whispered, struggling not to crack. “Can you hear me, my angel?”
He drew in a deep, long breath and she tried again. “Stephen, ’tis me. Open your eyes, my angel. Open them and look at me.”
He did. But he stared at her for almost a full minute without reacting. Joselyn peered with concern at the cornflower blue eyes. He didn’t appear to see anything at all. His eyes were simply open, staring into space and unmoving. She was growing scared.