Page 61 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

Kenna noted the twinkle in his eye and the devilish slope to his grin and her insides started to do flips. The last time she had seen that look, she had found herself pressed against a stable wall with her skirts hiked above her waist. It had been horrifying and thrilling and foolish and so incredibly sexy that she had finally started to understand the meaning of the word.

It had been terrifying to lose control of herself, but she couldn’t wait to do it again.

“No,” Ellen objected, hopping to her feet and rushing forward, intercepting Kenna’s hand before she could give it to Rob. “I think it would be wise fer us women to stay together in one tent. ‘Tis hardly fair, or safe, fer Florence to be left on her own.”

“Ellen, I would be quite safe, I assure ye,” Florence said, cocking her head as she studied their sister-in-law. “Are ye and Hugh fighting or something? Ye two have both been in a mood all day.”

“Ye canna just assume that people are fighting, Florence,” Hugh said, shooting his sister an angry look that Kenna immediately recognized as brotherly frustrations.

“Aye, there is nothing between Hugh and I that is causing this request. I would just rather not take the chance with ye. Ye ken that the Queen’s party was shot upon when they traveled along this road, do ye not? What if that assailant is still prowling the woods?”

“The Gordons have surrendered, Ellen,” Kenna said with a sigh, electing herself to be the one who would remind people of that until the end of time. “I doubt the archer is still out—”

“Ye canna ken fer sure! Laird Lovat, do ye not agree that it would be best if the women stayed together, rather than have Florence left alone in her tent?”

Laird Lovat looked up from his whittling, taken aback. He clearly hadn’t been paying attention to a word that was being said across the fire.

“Oh, aye, I suppose that may be a good notion.”

Rob shot Kenna a look of admonishment. It was going to be a long trip back to Dounie.

* * *

Kenna had truly missed Inverness. Aberdeen was one of Scotland’s finest cities, filled with massive stone buildings and marvelous shops beyond compare, but Inverness was home. The ebb and flow of merchants and workers moving through the streets to complete their daily tasks, the clusters of women going about their spending of coin, and the groups of children rushing between the crowds while they played was a sight so familiar to her that she had to pinch herself in order to convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming.

She watched the people move through the dingy window of a tavern, a cup of particularly disgusting wine in her hand. She shouldn’t drink it, but she hardly wished to be sober during a time like this. Rob sat beside her, anxiously tapping the table with his hands.

They had departed the rest of the Frasers that morning with the commands of Laird Lovat still echoing in their ears: “Ye can go into town and meet with yer family, but neither of ye is to step foot onto castle grounds.”

She didn’t blame him. The rebellion had only just been put down, and Kenna had only just been forgiven by the Queen. Testing that forgiveness now was asking for more trouble.

Though Kenna had understood, the refusal to allow her to trek up the castle had stung. She would not be able to see Elizabeth now, for her health rarely allowed her to leave the castle. Rob, sensing her sadness, had promised her that they would return to the castle as soon as time and politics allowed it, and then he had led her horse the entire trip so that Kenna could pen a letter to Elizabeth, explaining why she could not see her just yet and catching her up on everything that had happened since the morning after the wedding.

Once they had reached Inverness, Kenna had found a young lad who seemed in need of a few extra coins and had given him the letter to be delivered to the castle, along with a message for her brothers that she would be in town for only a few hours, and she wished they would ride down to see her.

“Tell them that I’ll be in their favorite tavern. The filthy one that they like so much,” she had told the boy, who looked a bit surprised when Kenna insisted he uses her exact phrasing. “That way, they will ken that ‘tis truly me calling fer them.”

But that had been hours ago, and there was still no sign of either John or Thomas.

“Do ye think they’ll come?” Kenna asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“How should I ken?” Rob replied. “They’re yer kin, not mine.”

“I ken I should have asked them to meet me somewhere else. I bet some of my friends would have lent us a room to visit. Then, at least, I could have seen my friends when those bastards declined.”

“Well, we could still go track someone down if ye wish. Or we could see if this tavern has a private room… Ye did make yerself look particularly bonny today. Would hate to waste it.”

Kenna blushed. She had gone out of her way to put on one of her new dresses that morning—a bright blue riding frock with a diamond pattern stitched across the chest in crisp white thread. When Florence had ordered the dress, Kenna had objected, arguing that it would be impossible to wear something so fine on the road.

Florence, in her usual way, had tossed her hair back and replied, “There is no occasion that is not worthy of a bit of finery.”

As it turned out, she had been right. That morning, knowing full well that the road to Inverness would be full of dust and debris, Kenna had decided to don the dress. She wanted her brothers to see that she was being cared for, that she was thriving no matter how dire the situation had been.

“Tease me all ye like, Rob Fraser, but yer hair is looking particularly smooth today. And was that a basin of water I heard ye request from the innkeeper earlier? Ye did come back looking awfully clean.”

Rob laughed. “Never bad to make a decent impression, lass.”

With a loud squeak, the door to the inn was heaved open, and a tall, lanky man came striding in.