He stormed to the top of the stairs and roared down into the great hall. “Find her now!”
The festivities haltedas Tearloch’s men jumped to their feet and ran out of the keep. Duncan followed, shouting directions as they lit torches and spread out to scour the grounds and the outer bailey. Search parties rushed to the stables to gather their mounts. The gates were flung open. The night was lit with flame and shouting.
Jamie couldn’t believe he was heading back down the road again. None of them could. Something had to be done about this woman, and if Tearloch didn’t manage to do it, Jamie might help her escape himself if only to get some rest.
In the darkness, they would never find her. Even the color of her clothes was unknown.
He and his small party used torches to search the ground for tracks both on and off the road. After a league, they found none and gladly turned for home. If he were the one to find her now, he might beat her himself and plead for understanding later.
Duncan followedTearloch along the perimeter of the inner wall. The sentries had seen no one leave. The folk who had been celebrating in the gardens had seen no strangers, man nor woman, fleeing or otherwise. The two of them entered the kitchens. Half a dozen steps in, Tearloch came to a quick halt.
They both recognized the sleeping form curled sideways in a chair before a neglected fire. Her feet were pulled up inside that filthy white gown. Her hands were tucked beneath her crossed arms. Her head rested on the thin arm of the chair. Her onlyblanket was that great fan of red hair that had doubled in size after her bath.
The only other clean thing about her was the wet apron still tied about her.
Duncan’s anger and frustration fizzled instantly. Tearloch marched forward, his dark face unforgiving, so Duncan hurried to block his path.
“She’s done naught wrong. She was not running this time.”
The man stared for a moment, nodded, and gave himself the time to inhale a few deep breaths. “Whistle them back, Duncan. The poor men need their rest.”
Duncan took one last look at the sleeping lass, then did as he was told. Out on the steps of the keep, he whistled thrice. Echoing whistles sounded in the distance. Jamie joined him, and together they returned to the kitchens where Tearloch, Monroe and Kincaid had pulled up chairs a safe distance away to watch the woman sleep, as if she might disappear if they looked away.
A flurry of women bustled through the passageway from the hall. The largest one noticed Kenna but not her watchers, and before Tearloch could make a sound in protest, the woman few to the chair, grabbed the lady’s arm, and dealt a blow across her face!
Kenna straightened, sputtering, and trying to defend herself from her attacker.
“Hold!” Tearloch croaked, closing fast.
The lass jumped at the sound of his voice, but continued to cower behind her arms. Did she believe the blow had come from him?
The big woman reached around and grabbed a fat handful of auburn hair and wrenched Kenna to her feet.
Tearloch roared like a wild beast and lunged forward, not stopping until he was nose to nose with the fool. She bowed deeply, her hand still full of hair.
Forgive me, yer lairdship. I did not see ye there. I was but takin’ this one to task fer sleepin’.” And to Kenna, she demanded, “Bow to yer laird, ye lazy wench.” Then she pressed Kenna’s head down.
Kenna spun out of her grasp and came around to grab the big woman’s forearm before Tearloch could even decide his next move. “You will not touch me again,” she hissed, “and live to remember it.”
Finally out of a frozen stupor, Duncan rushed forward. “Bess, ye dinnae ken what ye’re about! This is the laird’s lost lass. This is Lady Kenna!”
Bess released the hair but looked Kenna up and down, still dubious. She shook her head. “The hair is not the same.”
Kenna lowered her head like a bull. “You mean to say it isclean?”
Bess’s eyes flew wide and she carefully got down on her old knees. “Forgive me, my lady. I…I was told to leave fine things for ye. How could I know ye would don this rough stuff again? And the apron led me astray.”
To Duncan’s ear, the woman didn’t sound contrite at all. And it looked like Tearloch had heard the same. “Pack yer things,” he said. “Lochahearn is no longer yer home.”
The woman looked at him like he must be joking.
“Nae, Sir Tearloch,” Kenna said. “She is right. I am dressed as a scullery. I thought I could make myself useful…” She shook her head. “No one told me…” Another shake, followed by a silent tear. “I thought the garments too fine…for a whore. And since there were no whores in the Carlisle household. I had no idea what other duties would be expected of me.”
Tearloch fell back a step as if she’d struck him across the face with a pair of gauntlets.
Bess smirked as if she’d suspected as much and climbed awkwardly back to her feet. “Ye wouldn’t toss me out, laird, for an enemy, surely.”
Tearloch noticed the woman again, horrified that she was still in the room. “Enemy?”
