“Coming.” He didn’t miss the sighs of relief from both the hallway and the women surrounding him. But no one could stop him from lifting Kenna’s chin to drop a brief kiss on her lips. “Milicent?” he said, without looking away from the lass.
“Aye, sir?”
“Pray, work quickly. Lady Kenna is anxious to hear what the king has to tell her.” He gave her a slow wink and hurried away before his own company came to drag him out.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
So many people awake in the middle of the night? Kenna wondered if castle life was so different from the rest of Scotland.
She finished seeing to her needs and presented herself to her silent attendants to be dressed. The fine leine remained, but her nightclothes were replaced with an underdress of deep purple lawn, the texture of which was so smooth, she could not help but rub it with her murderous hands.
When two women presented her with a matching tunic embroidered with gold and encrusted here and there with tiny jewels, Kenna shook her head. She tapped a finger on the unadorned underdress. “This will do.”
The older woman shooed the others away and led Kenna to a dressing table where yet another woman came up behind her to brush through her hair. When the maid began to lift her tresses onto her head, Kenna stayed her. “No need to bother.”
Wide eyed, the woman set down the brush and reached out to pinch Kenna’s cheeks to give color, but Kenna captured her hands and nudged them away.
“I shall face him as I am.”
“Aye, Milady.” The maid backed away, eyes on the floor.
Kenna took a deep breath before rising and moving to the door. She took another as the older woman opened it.
Duncan stood across the hall, along with Leland and Jamie. He came forward to offer Kenna his arm. She looked up and silently pleaded with him to understand when she did not take it. Then she proceeded down the hall on her own.
She could feel tension radiating from Duncan’s body as he showed her each turn to take. Every step, every brush of boot on stone, answered the swish of her fine skirt. It was a dance, a conversation they would never have time to enjoy.
When he led her to a pair of doors, with two guards on either side, she noticed the large escort of men that had followed them. She leaned toward Duncan and said, “Tell them…” She bit back unwelcomed tears. “Tell them I vow not to escape.”
Duncan looked from her to the men and back again, but ignored her comment. He nodded, and the guards nearest opened the doors.
Much to the dismay of both Kenna and a bleary-eyed audience gathered in the huge chamber in the dead of night, Duncan suddenly bellowed, “Damn ye!” and drew his sword not ten feet from the handsome man who had met her on the dock. Splitting his attention between that one and Tearloch, he hissed, “Tell her now! All of it.” When he looked back at Kenna, his eyes flashed and shameless tears cut lines down both his cheeks.
The handsome one. The ornate chair he sat upon…
He lifted a comical brow and waited for Duncan to sheath his weapon, then he stood and came to stand before her. When he reached for her hand, she shook her head in a silent demand that he not touch her.
He understood and nodded, and while holding her gaze, he stretched out his arm to prevent Tearloch from reaching for her as well.
Kenna began a deep curtsy, but the king shook his head. She straightened, eyeing him warily.
“I am Malcolm. Alexander. Canmore.King of Scotland. Do you recognize me, Kenna?”
She was taken aback at the sound of the name that had become so unfamiliar to her in the days. She could read the hope in the man’s eyes, but it only confused her.
“Aye, Your Majesty. We met on the dock.”
Those striking eyes filled with disappointment. Then a gentle but practiced smile smoothed his face. “We did.”
“I was told I am your ward. Am I to hear my fate?”
“Oh, indeed you are. It will be decided here, now. But you will be the one to decide it.” He stepped back before continuing, watching her closely. “I am here to marry you.”
“Marry me?” Kenna reached out toward Duncan for support but stopped herself. She then chanced a look beyond the king for Tearloch. His face told her nothing, only that he was watching her reactions as closely as the king did.
She was silly enough to wish she had seen jealousy.
She addressed the king once more. “Thank ye, Sire, but I cannot accept.”
