Selene swallowed hard. “Why? I’ve done nothing to him.”
“I’ll find out,” he vowed. Then, more softly, “and ye may be certain, he’ll never get near ye again.”
Her fingers brushed his cheek. It was barely a touch, but enough. The fear, the closeness, the relief twisted between them, deepening into something neither of them tried to name.
Kenneth lowered his brow to hers, breathing her in. And when she didn’t pull away, he took her lips – slowly, carefully, as if she was something most precious. It was a promise as much as a desperate need. Selene clung to him, answering the kiss with a trembling softness that steadied them both.
When he finally drew back, she exhaled shakily, her cheeks flushing pink.
“I’ll return soon,” He brushed her cheek with his thumb before releasing her fully. His voice held a gentleness he rarely revealed to anyone. “Meanwhile I’ll request our housekeeper to find ye a chamber near mine. Ye cannae sleep here with nay door and ye’ll nae be left unguarded. I’ll see tae it.”
He stepped into the hall and called three of his best men to remain with her.
Only when the guards settled did Kenneth turn away, pressing his hand lightly to his bleeding side, his eyes clouded dark with the promise of retribution.
Aidan had crossed a line.
And Kenneth would make him regret it.
After the healer had seen to the slash on Kenneth’s chest, smothering it with ointment and binding it in clean linen, Kenneth gathered his captains with Callum beside him to go over what had occurred and see to the wounded men.
The air in the meeting hall felt heavier than usual, thick with the scent of smoke from the oil lamps and the sweat of his warriors. Each of them was still on edge after the night’s attack.
Two of his men were sorely wounded and had been taken to the infirmary. There were several others with minor wounds suchas he had suffered, and they had been attended by the healer and his assistants. Two of the raiders, in addition to the three who had met their Maker at Kenneth’s hands, lay dead in the courtyard.
Kenneth issued orders with clipped precision. The remaining raiders should be tracked by his scouts, and there should be doubled patrols both along the coast and inland. And, of course, the night watch should be increased. No one argued. The attack had shaken all of them.
When the meeting finally ended, Kenneth dismissed the men and found his way back to Selene’s chamber. The housekeeper had placed her in the room that adjoined his. Normally it remained empty. It was a room kept for the laird’s wife and it had been unoccupied since his mother’s passing. It had two doors, one leading to the passageway, and one that opened into his – the laird’s – chamber.
He paused before the door from the passage, steadying himself. His feelings toward Selene had only strengthened by what had taken place. The need to protect her was a clamor in his mind, overriding all other thoughts.
His heart had all but leaped from his chest at the sight of Selene in that ruffian’s grip. He’d experienced a terror that he’d never felt before. The thought of losing her was more than he could bear.
He wondered, idly, if this was how Aidan had felt when he’d heard of Eilidh’s death. If that were so, he could almost harbora moment’s sympathy for the man. But Kenneth had not caused Eilidh’s death and he took on no responsibility for Aidan’s madness.
But the ordeal and the present danger to Selene had made him realize she deserved to understand something of Aidan’s relentless thirst for vengeance. And why, while the man lived, none of them would ever be totally at peace.
She deserved answers, and after that night’s events, he could no longer keep the truth buried.
He rapped gently on the door.
“Kenneth?” Her voice wavered, soft, uncertain.
“’Tis I, Selene. It is safe fer ye tae open.”
She unlatched the door and held it wide for him to enter. Her cheeks were still pale and he saw to his great sadness that her hands trembled slightly, although she attempted to hide them in the folds of her robe.
He stepped inside closing the door behind him and looked around as he followed Selene to take a seat by the fire.
The room had been altered since it had been his mother’s. Where she had favored an almost monastic, plain style, keeping the furniture plain and the walls whitewashed, now there were colors and tapestries hanging. Someone – he guessed it wasMaureen – had scattered strewing herbs and the room was sweetly scented with lavender. The fire roared companionably in the grate and some of Selene’s items, her little carved case containing her hairbrush and ivory comb, alongside her embroidery and the colorful silks were on the table.
He breathed thanks to his sister for understanding the importance of making Selene feel at home.
A tray was on the table containing a flagon of wine and two goblets. He poured them each a glass before he took his seat beside her.
“All is well.” He clasped her soft hand in his. “There is naught to fear.”
She gave him a half-smile and he saw a glint of a teardrop on her cheek.
