In a quiet voice, he began to explain…
Grateful to haveno other choice, Kenna let the filthy white gown slip to the floor in a puddle before stripping away her tired blue chemise. Grateful for the “laird’s” consideration, she settled into the still-steaming bath and held her breath until she adjusted to the sting of the water. It took mere minutes for the aches and pains of the last two days to leach out of her.
She just hoped the fresh linen leine and green silk bliaut waiting on the bed were for her, for she didn’t believe she could stomach touching the other garments again.
Tearloch was satisfiedwith the dismay on the faces of his warriors. He liked to see them at a loss for words. The others in the crowd were astonished as well and began whispering amongst themselves immediately.
“Congratulations, Laird!” called Monroe, followed by the same from most of the others.
Tearloch narrowed his gaze at Jamie and waited for the young man to realize why. Jamie studied his laird for an impudent minute, then begrudgingly mumbled, “Congratulations, Sir Tearloch.”
Leland exchanged words with Duncan, then blushed when he saw Tearloch glare his way. “A hearty congratulations from me, as well,” he said with a laugh. Frazier pressed the cheerful man for information, but Leland shook him off and strode up the steps toward the hall door.
“Not a word,” Tearloch growled out as the man passed. Duncan had confessed what he and Leland had seen at the meadow.
“Nay, laird. Nary a peep.”
“Mayhap a little extra duty will help to cleanse yer mind of unnecessary images…” Tearloch gave Leland a fist to the shoulder and lifted a brow.
“Nay, sir. Some stains will ne’er come clean. But I shall try all the same.”
Inside the laird’s chambers,Kenna roused herself from the soapy water. She gritted her teeth against the cold of the two buckets while she rinsed her hair and body. She would have lingered in the bath, but the breeze from the storm Jamie had predicted sneaked through the uncovered windows, chased away the heat from the hearth, and cooled the water. Besides, she wanted to slip into the pretty clothes before anyone denied her.
She dried herself, donned the butter-soft leine and the deep green silk. They fit her well, and she twirled in a circle while admiring the long, dramatic sleeves trimmed in gold. When she pushed her toes into the soft matching slippers, she suddenly stopped.
These things couldn’t possibly have been meant for me!
Any moment, the Lady of Lochahearn would come through the door and have her beaten for daring to touch her things, so she quickly shimmied out of them and laid them out on the bed exactly as she’d found them. She did the same with the warm cloak before reluctantly donning her own things. At least theboots were hers, and they went a long way to helping her warm herself.
Wishing to be anywhere but the laird’s chamber, she opened the door again, prepared to reason with the guards and ask to be taken elsewhere. But the men were gone.
She quickly stepped into the hall, closed the door behind her, and found the guards standing with their backs to her, twenty feet away, leaning over a railing, watching something below. From the low roar, she guessed they’d chosen the entertainment of the great hall over watching her door.
That woman had promised her an hour to herself, and since that time was nearly gone, the angry one would likely be coming to collect her soon. Perhaps it might please the woman if Kenna saved her the bother and found her instead. So she turned the opposite direction of the soldiers and went in search of the kitchens, the busiest part of the keep.
With so much bustling about, it was obvious a small army had descended on the place and was awaiting a meal. Not wanting to get in the way, Kenna searched for a quiet corner and found a place to sit near an abandoned fire at the far end of the kitchens. This fire had but two pots of water splashing and hissing, waiting to be needed. Just like Kenna.
She was hungry, but wouldn’t want to be accused of stealing food. Perhaps they would let her have some of the remnants of the meal when the tables were cleared later. At least she was not fretting over the demands of her new husband, as she would have been doing had Tearloch not come along. She was free to sit here and relax until her duties were made clear.
What would be expected of the king’s ward was probably far and away more pleasant than what might be expected of her now…now that she’d been sneaked in through the back and labeled the whore of Sir Tearloch.
Being unfamiliar with such things, she hoped her sole duty was not lying on her back…
All she’d wanted was her freedom…
She suddenly realized she was alone. The cooks were probably spying on the assembly in the hall, watching to see how well their hard work was being received. Whimsical music teased from somewhere outside, proving the celebration could not possibly be contained within the walls of the massive keep.
A pile of dirty pots caught her eye and, still wishing to improve the angry woman’s opinion of her, she hooked one of the boiling kettles and went to work. Once there was a new pile of clean vessels and her hands could not possibly touch another drop of hot water, she made her way back to her secluded chair, satisfied she was able to contribute in some small way to the life going on around her.
When she caught her breath, she would search out a needle and thread to mend the rents in her gown. Tomorrow, she might be allowed to wash it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It had been an hour—more than an hour—since Tearloch had bathed and donned clean clothing in Duncan’s chambers. He’d gone straight down to the meal in the hall so others would not be left waiting overlong. But now it was time for him to face his “captive,” make certain she’d had a meal of her own, and present her to the clan.
Ignoring the eyes on his every move, he took the stairs two at a time.
“I will nae keep her awake long,” he said under his breath.
