Authors: Allison Butler
Her own lips twitched at the memory.
‘Well, I’d best fetch the linens.’ She lifted her mud-stained skirts and headed for the stairs.
Pausing on the first step, she peered over her shoulder to where she’d left Jeanne. Despite knowing her sister sat beneath the same roof, by the hearth Kenzie now claimed as hers, the sight still held the power to shock her and make her feel uneasy. As she climbed the steps, she couldn’t help thinking how Jeanne looked too young and beautiful to be a widow. Their mother had been young and beautiful, too, and although she hadn’t been a widow, she might as well have been.
Thoughts of the misery her mother had suffered for openly loving her father caused Kenzie’s heart to miss a beat; a soul-shattering misery her mother had finally ended when Jeanne was ten and Kenzie just eight. Kenzie now understood the beauty beneath loving another with your heart and soul, but she’d also seen what happened when such a powerful feeling wasn’t returned. If her father were here, now, standing before her, she’d beat him for trampling her mother’s precious feelings with his greed and adultery. He hadn’t deserved her mother’s love. He didn’t deserve anything at all.
A heavy tread echoed from below.
Kenzie glanced toward the bottom of the staircase, then turned and peered to the top. She’d almost reached the landing. She had a guest room to prepare for her sister. Shaking from the force of her anger from the memories, she unfurled her fingers and lifted her skirts to climb the remaining steps.
Her mother had spent most of her short life hiding away in her chamber, cloaked in wine-induced misery. She’d never offered Kenzie comfort or advice, not even a few moments of her time or attention. Kenzie now believed the last thing her mother was capable of giving was love. Regret for her mother’s plight squeezed her heart. She may not have bestowed upon her the motherly affection Kenzie had longed to know, but her lonely dejection had taught Kenzie one lasting, valuable lesson.
As much as she yearned to share her wondrous discovery with Lachlan, she couldn’t tell him she loved him until she knew he loved her too.
To restore Father Tremayne to his home in Dumfries, Lachlan set a ground-eating pace that didn’t allow for conversation. Then, giving De Brus his head, Lachlan, Cal and Dair rode to Irvine Keep. But the wind-lashing stride failed to silence the priest’s haunting words.
Had he done what he’d vowed never to do? Had he fallen in love with his
wife?
Even after witnessing his father’s heart-wrenching sorrow? Something heavy lurched deep inside Lachlan’s chest. He leaned low over his horse’s neck, encouraging the beast to a blistering speed. Perhaps the man of God had simply set his imagination free and spoken of what he most wanted to see, most wanted to believe. The thought soothed the fears that had sprung to life when Lachlan had turned and looked at his beautiful, blushing wife moments before he’d left Castle Redheugh. His heart had pounded so hard it had almost punched holes in his chest.
Of course his heart had been pounding. He’d just dragged Kenzie into the stables and teased and taunted her to the point where his own need had built and thumped its way through his blood. Desiring his wife didn’t mean he loved her, it simply meant he desired her. Desire was good. Desire ensured he was on his way to fulfilling the second part of his father’s dying wish.
His turn of thought relieved some of the tension that had lodged like a gravestone in his chest. What he felt for Kenzie was nothing more than lust for the beautiful woman warming his bed. He was simply fortunate that the woman he fiercely desired happened to be his wife.
He slowed De Brus’s pace a little as his mind settled on a matter that had been gnawing away at his gut. Escorting Father Tremayne home had afforded him the perfect chance to address the problem he was determined to keep from his curious, breathtaking wife.
He hailed the guards as he approached Irvine Keep. The gates swung open. But instead of riding into the bailey, he dismounted outside, dropped rein, and headed around the wall to where Lennox held his cattle. Cal and Dair were quick to follow.
Clan Irvine’s winter enclosure was similar to Clan Elliot’s, but stood a hand taller. A string of men stood guard, positioned every few feet around the chin-high barrier. Lachlan approached the enclosure and nodded at the nearest man keeping watch.
‘Is there somethin’ you’re wantin’, sir?’ the guard asked.
‘Nae,’ Lachlan assured him with a smile. ‘I’ve come to admire your laird’s herd.’ Turning away from the frowning guard, Lachlan studied the cattle.
They had fattened up nicely, their coats thickening in preparation for the freezing temperatures. He searched the shaggy beasts and began counting the ones with dark brown hides, only a shade lighter than the black. He reached eleven and his stomach clenched. At the count of fifteen, his jaw ached. When the tally continued to climb then stopped at twenty, his fisted hands shook and his heart pounded with fury.
He’d had his suspicions, but deep in his soul he’d known Kenzie’s sire had had his greedy hand in the last raid on Elliot soil. The tracks had split, some heading east, others to the north, before turning west. The deluge had hampered following each trail, but being called away for assistance when it wasn’t needed had been too convenient and had heightened his distrust.
How could Lennox have believed Lachlan’s lighter-coloured cattle would pass unnoticed in his herd? Did he think Lachlan couldn’t count? His narrowed gaze again touched on each one of his prime stock, twice the number that should be sheltered in Irvine’s winter field.
Now Lachlan finally had proof, justice must be done. Lachlan’s justice.
Spinning on his heel, he marched back around to the gates and shouted to the guards, ‘Hold the gates, this won’t take long.’
With Cal and Dair close behind, Lachlan entered the bailey. Though he doubted they’d find many within the keep, he said, ‘Cal, clear the hall. Dair, bar the entrance.’
They climbed the steps and without knocking, Lachlan opened the door and marched inside.
Parlan, Irvine’s steward, turned at Lachlan’s unexpected entrance. He started toward them, but with one hand curled about the hilt of his sword, Cal stopped him halfway across the room. Parlan offered no resistance as Cal steered him through an archway to the right, before blocking the opening. Lachlan continued forward, knowing Dair covered the main entry they’d just passed through.
The object of Lachlan’s fury sat wide-eyed and slack-jawed in his usual place at his overladen table.
‘Greetings, Lennox. Stuffing your face as always, I see.’ Lachlan skirted the long trestle and approached on the side where Lennox sat.
‘What a pleasant surprise,’ Lennox muttered as Lachlan perched one hip on the table as close as he could possibly get without sitting in the glutton’s trencher.
‘A surprise, perhaps, but naught about this visit will be pleasant.’ Lachlan suffered immense satisfaction as the Irvine laird shrank as far away from him as his chair allowed. His multiple chins wobbled as he swallowed.
‘How—how dare you enter my keep without invitation and—and make threats against me.’
‘Ah, Lennox. You will soon learn that I dare much and you know full well I have every reason to.’ He leaned closer. Beads of sweat erupted on Irvine’s brow. ‘Threats are the least of your concerns.’
Lennox’s jaw flapped and his jowls jiggled, but no words passed through his grease-slicked lips as he frantically searched the empty hall.
‘Nae one is coming to aid you, Lennox. Something you should keep in mind the next time you call for unnecessary assistance.’
Reaching beneath his mantle, Lachlan withdrew his dirk from his waistband. Holding it up into the feeble light, he turned and twisted the thick blade as if appraising its sharpness.
‘In these troublesome times,’ he said quietly, ‘an honourable man’s word is worth more than riches or the size of his herd.’ He looked from the weapon to Irvine, who was now the pasty colour of lard. ‘But then, some men do not know the meaning of honour.’
Rage for all this man had done, to Kenzie and the people of Castle Redheugh, scorched Lachlan’s soul and set his blood to boiling. He tightened his grip about the dirk’s hilt to stop his hand from shaking.
‘You have two daughters, yet your greed and your thirst for power has blinded you. You have molded Jeanne to your callous ways, and Kenzie, God Almighty, you barely even acknowledged her existence.’ He drew a deep, calming breath. ‘Something I will ever be grateful for.’
Irvine stared up at him with wide eyes before his attention dropped to Lachlan’s blade. ‘You wed my youngest daughter,’ Lennox said quietly. ‘But perhaps you’d care for more than one woman to warm your bed.’ He looked up at Lachlan and his tongue darted out to wet his thin lips. ‘Keep Kenzie as your wife and take Jeanne as your mistre—’
‘Enough!’ Lachlan fought back the bile rising in his throat. The man truly had no morals and any effort to teach him would be wasted. ‘I have come from viewing your herd.’ Lachlan kept his voice low. ‘We made a bargain, yet the number of my cattle in your enclosure has doubled in the short time since they were delivered.’ Lennox could no longer meet his gaze. Through clenched teeth, Lachlan continued, ‘Colluding with the English against one of your own, one you have formed an alliance with, is unforgivable.’
He drove the point of his dagger into a large hunk of meat on the trencher and offered it to Lennox. ‘Take it.’
Fat fingers shook as they hesitated and then grasped the dripping meat. Lachlan jerked his hand, pulling his dirk free.
‘Now, eat.’
Lennox lifted the offering to his mouth and nibbled as if he had no care for food. Lachlan knew otherwise.
‘All of it.’
Irvine struggled, but managed to stuff the huge chunk into his mouth and began to slowly chew.
‘If you ever again join forces with the English, I will blacken your name throughout the Borders, and throughout Scotland, and not even an army of Englishmen will be able to protect you.’
Lennox gagged.
‘While I place great value in my prized cattle and their numbers, I value my people more.’ Lachlan slid from the table to his feet and towered over Lennox. ‘Two of my men were badly wounded due to your traitorous efforts. This is a gift from Keddy.’ Lachlan’s dagger sliced across Lennox’s upper arm. The man’s other hand flew to grasp his wound, his painful scream muted by the mouthful of meat. ‘And this is from Dorrell.’ The point of Lachlan’s dirk dipped and sank into Irvine’s plump leg before being dragged from mid-thigh to knee.’
Lennox doubled over in agony, the partially chewed meat spewing from his mouth to the floor. His sobbing cries echoed about the empty hall.
Lachlan grabbed what little hair Lennox had left and wrenched his head back.
‘These wounds are not as deep or as deadly as those inflicted on my men due to your treachery. Injuries sustained defending their home, defending what is rightfully theirs.’ Lachlan tightened his hold and leaned closer. ‘Know this and remember it well: I only let you live because you are my wife’s father, but if you ever come near any of my people again, including my wife, I will kill you.’
With a toss of his hand, Lachlan released his hold and turned from the man blubbering in his seat.
‘Come, lads. Our work here is done.’
They strode from the keep down the steps and toward the open gates where their horses waited.
Lachlan’s blood pumped swiftly through his veins and his heart pounded against the wall of his chest. As much as he’d longed to kill Lennox and put everyone out of their misery, he couldn’t. His men had survived their wounds. If they hadn’t, Lennox would have already drawn his last breath. But he’d meant what he’d said about allowing him to live only because he was Kenzie’s father. He’d also spoken true when he’d warned Lennox away from his people and from Kenzie. He had to protect his kind and caring wife from her father’s greedy and heinous ways.
Mounting De Brus, Lachlan tugged the horse around and, without a backward glance, said, ‘Home, lads.’
At the thought, his mind immediately found a memory of Kenzie, but it wasn’t the image he’d last glimpsed of her standing outside the stables and it wasn’t of her lying across his bed wearing only a blush. The vision that came to mind was of the dark-eyed beauty he’d taken to wife sitting on a bench beside the hearth, sewing and smiling while chatting with the women of Clan Elliot. The vision had naught to do with desire.
The heaviness in his chest returned. It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. He’d vowed never to let it happen. He refused to believe it.
He’d know the moment he saw Kenzie.
Eager to prove Father Tremayne wrong, he set a gruelling pace and the pale stones of Castle Redheugh’s curtain wall soon jostled into view. Lachlan topped the final crest, but didn’t slow De Brus as they thundered down the other side. Didn’t glance over his shoulder to see how far behind he’d left Cal and Dair. Anticipation bit low in his gut.
He finally drew rein and gave the guards manning the walls a brisk nod as he rode through the gates. His gaze swept straight to the stables entrance where he remembered Kenzie’s flushed, smiling face. Lust soared. His body hardened. Lust was good. Lust was all that he felt for his wife.
Young Thomas darted out of the stables.
‘Welcome home, laird,’ the boy said as Cal and Dair rode into the bailey.
‘Thomas.’
‘I’ll see to your mount if you’re wantin’.’ Lachlan stared down into eager eyes. ‘Me and my lady already done cleaning his stall. I promise to care for him good, sir.’
‘My thanks, lad.’ He leapt to the ground and unlaced his mantle. ‘Take care while tending him. He’s had a hard run and he can be a surly beast at times.’ A wide grin split Thomas’s face. ‘Cal or Dair will assist you if he proves bad-tempered.’
‘Aye, laird.’ Shoulders stiff with importance, Thomas grasped the reins and led his horse toward the stable.
‘In a hurry?’
Dair’s jovial enquiry made him turn. He knew his clansman believed he was anxious to see his wife, but Dair didn’t understand the true reason why. Lachlan pulled the fur from his shoulders and tossed the garment to Dair. ‘Watch De Brus and see the lad keeps all of his fingers.’