He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He could not – would not – bend his knee to the English king for her sake, nor could he ask her to betray everything she had been raised to believe without consequence.
Kenneth knew this much with grim certainty – if Selene were to stand beside him as the Lady of Clan MacDonald, she would have to understand what that meant. Not silks and courtesy alone, but defiance when defiance was required. Loyalty to land and people, not distant crowns. If King George pressed his claim, Kenneth would resist him, no matter the cost.
He only hoped that when that moment came, Selene would choose to stand with him – not as an English noblewoman bound by upbringing, but as his wife, bound by shared purpose, hard-won truth, and the love they had for each other.
He firmed his resolve. Whatever trials lay ahead – the Council, the king’s threats, the danger of divided loyalties he could not continue without first speaking with Selene.
He entered his dimly lit bedchamber and went straight to the adjoining door between their chambers and rapped softly.
After a long pause, he was about to knock again when Selene’s sleepy voice asked, “Kenneth?”
“Aye, lass. Can we speak? ‘Tis a matter of some importance.”
After a further long pause she cautiously opened the door. “I thought we’d agreed to keep to our own chambers until we are wed.”
“May I enter? I have a need tae discuss a letter I have received from the king.”
She gasped, flinging the door wide. “Of course.”
He strode in and took his place at the small table in the center of the room, placing his lantern on the mantel. The room was cold, the fire burning low to embers and he pulled his cloak close.
Selene, who was already wrapped in her fur-lined robe, took the seat opposite. “Is it bad news, Kenneth? Ye seem worried.”
He reached into his pocket for the letter and passed it to Selene to read for herself. He watched her face as she unfolded it, frowning as her eyes darted across the page.
Then she re-read it.
Holding his breath, he waited for her reaction.
“Why this is ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “King George has no idea that what he asks is impossible.” She huffed indignantly and subsided into her seat still holding Kenneth’s hand. “Why, I can write to him myself and explain the situation.” She glanced across at Kenneth. “He would surely take notice of me as the daughter of Viscount Montgomery. My father was on good terms with the king.”
Kenneth’s heart jumped as he shook his head. “If ye wish tae write tae King George, I’ll nae deny ye. Yet I fear this is nae more than a ploy on the king’s part, lass. His spies would have set him tae rights about the feud between Aidan MacLeay and meself and that nay truce could ever put an end tae the madness infecting MacLeay.”
Selene gulped in a noisy breath. “But… but… the king will consider it rebellion against the Crown if ye dinnae make peace.”
Kenneth shook his head, his mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Whether I strive fer peace with Aidan or nae, the king has had his eye on our lands since The Rising, Lady Selene.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “It is unfair.”
He turned and locked his gaze with hers. “And there seems tae be nae solution. Would ye wed a Scottish outlaw? One who goes against the king?”
Studying her face, Kenneth held his breath. Everything was riding on her answer.
She did not hesitate.
Returning his gaze she nodded. “I will be yer wife, Kenneth, and my loyalty and love will be to my husband. I will be a MacDonald, and if the Clan and its laird are against the king then, as your lady, I too will turn my back on the Crown.”
A tear glistened in her eye and Kenneth realized this was not an easy decision for her. Yet she had not hesitated to pledge her loyalty to him and to the MacDonalds. His heart stuttered joyfully as the heaviness that had weighed on him so painfully was lifted.
Overjoyed, he seized her in his arms and pulled her onto his.
“Lass, ye’ve given me strength.”
She lifted her head, her blue eyes meeting his, their cold breath mingling, as she kissed his lips.
He groaned, deepening the kiss, holding her close, her warmth pressed against him, her hands tangling in his hair, their tongues aligned.
It was not only desire that coursed through him at the touch of her lips, but a deep sense of what was right and true. Of being with a lass whose heart belonged solely to him.
