She turned her head and shouted, “Send him away! He cannot see me!”
The door closed with a snap, and the old woman’s scolding moved away from the door as she chided him for not trusting the king’s own guard. Even though she’d ordered it, the fact that he would give up easily broke her heart. But she deserved nothing less.
If she had been numb before, the fresh heartache slashing through her chest and pouring down her face proved that mercy had worn off. The pity and disappointment that had been in Leland’s eyes were nothing compared to what she saw in Tearloch’s.
Or had he been angry?
Was he upset she had interrupted his marriage celebrations? Surely, he would be relieved a murderess was no longer waiting for him in his dungeon.
Or…
Had he been a friend to Balloch? Was there a strong bond between all men who were knighted? Had he come to demand the details of what she’d done?
Or worse yet…
She tried to swallow tears that would not go down…
As the king’s sword arm, would Tearloch be her executioner? If that pitiless god’s justice was perfect…that would indeed be perfect justice, would it not? Executed by The MacPherson?
The war raginginside Tearloch was so violent it made it difficult to stand. Frustration and heartbreak fairly brought him to his knees, but he would not weaken, not now. He gripped the frameof the bedchamber door to stay upright and jumped when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.
“I heard, brother. I am here.” Malcolm gently urged him to the side, then rapped a knuckle on the wood.
The old woman opened it only a few inches, and no more, even when she recognized her king. “The lass doesnae wish him to see her. I am preparing a sleeping draught?—”
Tearloch hissed, “I will kill you, if you give it!”
Was everyone mad? Could no one see that the one thing Kenna needed most was him? It made no matter what she’d said. She needed his arms around her. She needed to believe, to hear that he loved her. She was in some hell andalone, no matter how many attendants and nurses flitted around her.
She needed him.
He looked for the nearest sword to make the woman listen. The one he found hung from the glittering belt of Malcolm Canmore, King of Scotland, who followed his gaze and shook his head. Then the king spoke gently to his old nurse.
“Milicent, if the lass is awake, bring her to my chambers.” He turned back to Tearloch. “After all the patience I have been preaching, I too have run out.”
“Forgive me, brother, but I have run out of everything.” And with that, he warned the old woman back with a look, which she read correctly and retreated, leaving the door to swing free. Tearloch shoved it out of his path, and if the king or anyone else tried to hold him back, he felt nothing as he stormed through the bedchamber, ripped away the panel separating him from his woman, and rushed to her bed.
A maid screamed and fled. A glance at Kenna’s tear-stained face proved he was right.
He asked no permission before scooping his beloved into his arms and squeezing her against him, holding her there until the world righted itself. Whilst his boiling blood cooled and hisheart retreated from his throat, he breathed her in. For a long, precious moment, it was just the two of them in a tiny room.
His arms trembled slightly as if he’d been entrusted with the most precious gem in the world…
He would never let her go again.
Eventually,Tearloch admitted he could not stand there all night, nor could he hold her on the bed with Malcolm waiting. So finally, grudgingly, he turned to face the old woman and the attendants flanking her.
“I am forbidden from speaking to her,” he said. “But I will take her to the king.”
“Auch, nay sir, I prithee, allow us to dress her. No woman wishes to meet a king in her nightclothes.”
He finally looked into Kenna’s eyes. She blinked slowly, then gave a nod. He hoped that meant she was as reluctant to be released as he was to release her.
“Very well.” He carried her into the bedchamber and put her on her feet where he was told.
“I will turn my back?—”
“Nay, Sir Tearloch.” Duncan stood just outside the door. “Ye are to join the king, and I will escort her to ye once she is dressed.” He gave a sharp wave of his fingers. The displeased expression warned he was ready to fight if need be to make Tearloch comply.
