No comment was made about the blood on her skin. While Kenna sat quietly, they washed her hair and body. And as the ritual continued, her silent tears, streaming along her cheeks, were thankfully ignored by all. Only once, when her fresh wound was being cleansed, did she make a sound.
She knew these women were not pleased with the duty of scrubbing what could never come clean, so she resisted nothing, wanting the bath to end as much as the others must.
Salve was applied to her shoulder, then it was bandaged. They slipped a finely made leine over her, followed by a sleeping gown. Then she was fed, hungry or not. She was unaware ofwhatshe ate, only that the oldest woman attending her would not be denied.
When Kenna could eat no more, her silent entourage led her to the bed. It was dressed in white, trimmed in gold, with layers of furs to keep out the coldest night. It looked deliciously soft after sitting against a door all night without a solid hour of sleep.
Beautiful and soft… Just like the carriage.
She was not clean enough to sleep in this bed. She would never again be clean enough. Everything they did for her was a mockery.
She backed away.
“My lady!” The older woman shook her head firmly. “The king demands that ye sleep. Must we inform him that ye refuse?”
“The king?” The woman had her attention now. “Where am I?”
“Sadly, my lady. We are to keep our mouths closed and ye are to sleep. When ye wake, ye are to have an audience with King Malcolm.” She gestured toward the bed again.
Kenna looked about the room and saw a door that she assumed would lead to a maid’s room. Pulling away from the woman’s reach she went to the door and peaked inside, finding just what she sought—a modest bed that would be no pity to burn after she had used it.
“May I sleep in here, then?”
All the women left in attendance exchanged curious looks and the oldest finally said, “If ye agree to sleep, aye.”
A maid covered her with a tufted blanket and the body that once was Kenna Carlisle rolled toward the wall, shut its eyes and slept. No hope meant no thoughts to fill her mind and keep her awake.
Soon after Vespers,Tearloch and Duncan were summoned to the king’s chambers and found Malcolm pacing a favorite pattern across the floor.
“I am ready to tell you what we found on the ship,” he began. “I want your words, first, you will listen quietly until I’ve finished.” He waited for both men to settle themselves around the table, then sat as well. “Gair Balloch was not aboard…”
Tearloch jumped to his feet, sending his chair crashing and in turn, bringing a host of guards through the door.
“He cannae get to her, my friend.” Malcolm gestured impatiently for the guards to leave. “She is guarded just as well as this room. And if you will listen, I’ll explain why I believe he is no longer a threat.”
“If I cannae go to her, let me send Duncan. I will no’ sit still knowing she is alone.”
“Leland already guards her door, refuses to stand down. He will remain until she is brought to me in the morning. Will that do?”
Tearloch nodded and seated himself again.
“You may as well stand, my friend. The chair will not handle your surprise when I tell you what we found…”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
In the night, Kenna grew tired of swimming from the sharks in her dream and turned to face them. When one bit into her shoulder, she woke screaming.
“My lady, ye but dream,” a kind woman insisted. One of her attendants.
A single candle lit the small antechamber, and sitting now, Kenna began to remember where she was—the maid’s room next to the white bed. There was a scuffle out there. Men shouted, but Kenna and the maid stayed put. When the ruckus began to subside, it began anew. And a familiar voice roared,“Where is she!”
She froze like a Highland puddle.
The soothing murmur of a woman’s voice put an end to the shouting, and Kenna waited, staring at the door with her blanket clutched to her breast. Slow footsteps neared. Tearloch’s, she was certain. She could feel him, body and soul.
The door opened enough to let the older woman peek through, then opened it more when she saw Kenna was awake. Above her head, Tearloch’s dark gaze searched for her, found her, and his mask crumbled.
He wouldn’t want to see her, to know her, once he knew…
