She pushed the thought aside and eased onto the stairwell, one careful step at a time, clutching at the rough stone of the wall for balance. The darkness seemed to breathe around her, alive with whispers and half-heard sounds. Somewhere the sea roared against the cliffs below the castle, a low, constant thunder that echoed her own turbulent thoughts.
Halfway down, her foot tangled in the hem of her robe and she almost fell.
The slipper tumbled from her grasp and struck the stone step below with a sharp, traitorous clatter.
She froze. The sound seemed alarmingly loud in the dim silence of the castle.
Before she could even draw breath, a shadow detached itself from the darkness below. Steel flashed as a blade was drawn, the whisper of it slicing through the air.
“Who goes there?” came Kenneth’s low, deadly growl.
Her heart leapt straight into her throat.
“It’s me,” she hissed, barely louder than the wind beyond the walls. “Kenneth, it’s me.”
He stepped closer, and the moment recognition dawned, his shoulders sagged. He dragged a hand down his face and sheathed the sword with a muttered curse.
“Saints preserve me,” he breathed. “Ye’re abysmal at sneaking quietly, woman.”
She snatched up her slipper and glared at him, even as relief left her weak-kneed. “And whose fault is that?” she shot back in a whisper. “If you hadn’t turned my life upside down, I’d be safely abed like a sensible lady.”
His mouth twitched despite himself.
Before he could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor above.
Kenneth caught her wrist and pulled her sharply into the recess of the wall, pressing her back against the cold stone. He leaned over her, his arm braced beside her head, his body shielding hers completely.
She scarcely dared to inhale.
“Breathe,” he murmured near her ear. “But softly.”
The guard passed within feet of them, lantern swinging gently, the soft clink of his weapons punctuating the silence. Selene could smell the leather of Kenneth’s gloves, feel the steady heat of him despite the chill, the solid reassurance of his presence anchoring her frantic heartbeat.
When the footsteps finally faded, she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Kenneth didn’t move at once. For a long moment, they remained pressed together, the intimacy of it far more dangerous than any guard.
“Come,” he whispered at last, his voice rough. “Before fate decides tae test us further.”
They slipped through the postern door and out along the outer wall. The night greeted them with a sharp wind and the smell of salt. Rain began to fall almost at once, first a mist – asmirr –then heavier drops that soaked into Selene’s hair and cloak.
Kenneth turned to face her, his expression grave now, stripped of teasing. “Even though Halvard refuses us again come morning,” he said quietly, “I must leave fer Sleat at dawn. I cannae linger here and leave me clan without its laird.”
Her chest tightened painfully. She had known this moment was coming, yet the words still struck a cruel blow.
Suddenly, it had become all too real. He would leave her tomorrow and return to Duntulm Castle. Back to the place she’d become so fond off.
If Halvard had his way, there’d be no wedding and she’d not see Duntulm again. Maureen would be there, lonely, and one or two of the villagers might even wonder what had become of the English lady they’d become used to.
Kenneth would ride alone along the rutted track on Arkan’s back, without this annoying woman to share his saddle.
A part of her was already longing for the liveliness and excitement of the life she’d been living among the MacDonalds.
And Kenneth.
She looked up and met his eyes and something inside her slipped sideways, as if her heart was struggling out of her chest to be with him.
“And I’ll not ask ye lightly,” he was saying. “But if he denies us… will ye come with me anyway?”
