Chapter Four
Kenna sat rigid, unable to escape her surroundings. The atmosphere, ripe with sorrow, erupted occasionally with abrupt calls for vengeance or a sudden wail of despair.
She was in the hall of her grandfather's house at Braemore. It was not Castle Vass, but it was a stronghold of immense authority nonetheless. Surviving members of her family had gathered to mourn the loss of loved ones. In the three days since she had been home, the tension had only grown.
Home. She felt like an outsider even though many had welcomed her back into the fold like a lost lamb. A few looked at her with an expression of sympathy, well knowing of Ty Vass' penchant for cruelty.
Others regarded her with profound conviction. Had she not assured them of their safety, by her own hand? Had she allied with her husband then turned sides when it was in her best interest?
She was a Cleary, her daughter was a Cleary. How could anyone believe she was capable of such treachery? It was her grandfather who had been in league with the Munro, who insisted she marry into the Vass family. Was it her fault their plan to unite the clans had failed?
She gritted her teeth, swept by anger, frustration, self-sympathy. It was unfair. She had escaped and made her way back in the darkness with a child and an old woman, all in an effort to warn other members of her family before more lives had been lost. She had likely saved many from the trap that awaited them at Castle Vass. Did that not count for something?
She tried to ignore the accusing stares, but found it nigh impossible. To make matters worse, Gavin had been following at her heels like a hound. Her childhood swain sat next to her now, pretending oblivion each time she pushed his wandering hand from her knee.
"Doona let one unpleasant encounter put ye off love-making, Kenna." He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
Kenna curled her lip, repulsed by the moist feel of his breath on her skin. She almost chuckled at the understatement. One unpleasant encounter. Her wedding night had been far beyond unpleasant. Brutal. Horrifying.
She pushed his hand from her knee again and scooted a few inches down the bench. Undeterred, he slid closer. "I have heard the rumors. I know your wedding night could not have been what you dreamed of as an untried maid, a blushing bride. Are the rumors true?"
Kenna swallowed hard. She would not share her suffering, her intimate fears about that horrible night. Especially not with him. She shuddered at the memories she was forever trying to block out.
Unlike the reunion she had had with her husband nearly a month ago. Her apprehension over his homecoming had been squelched almost immediately by his attentive gentleness.
Her heart broke. Ty had played her false. It was bad enough he had betrayed her, that he made her believe in a fae tale. But the loss of so many members of her family was unforgivable. She had foolishly opened her heart, even when her mind kept warning her. She had desperately wanted to believe he was a different man, that he was a man who could be loved.
She would never have thought Ty Vass capable of such a performance. He was a simple man, thick-witted even, well-known for his ruthless brutality, his skill with a weapon. He was merciless, selfish, but no one would describe him as being shrewd. Trickery and deception were not his strongest abilities.
He had fooled everyone. Those who lived at the castle had fallen, almost immediately, under his spell. Having suffered the most, Kenna had been more wary, suspicious of his smiling face, his charm and wit. Leastwise in the beginning. But then she too had been drawn into his web of lies.
The now familiar clench of her heart brought tears to her eyes, but she brushed them away. She could only attribute her foolishness to her strong desire to believe. She wanted him to be a husband she could love, a man who would protect his people, who could run Castle Vass with authority based on something besides fear.
Gavin droned on next to her. Kenna glanced at him. He was still handsome. Auburn waves framed his face, giving him a boyish look that was hard to resist. She had planned to marry him ever since she was a girl. He had given her her first kiss, on a sunny afternoon of her thirteenth summer. All the girls wanted him, but he had chosen her. Kenna vowed, after that first kiss, that he would be hers one day.
They would have married, too, if Grandfather had not agreed to the Munro's demand for peace. The solution was to combine the two families by marrying Kenna of to the Vass' eldest son.
She leaned forward and looked at her grandfather down the length of table. Would he have made such an agreement if he had known what her wedding night was going to be like? She sat back.
Probably. He loved his family but believed each one of them should be willing to suffer for the good of the clan. He had seen her invitation to the gathering as the well-earned reward for his sacrifice. The two clans, Cleary and the Vass, gathered together to celebrate the union of their family with the Munro clan. Peace was assured. In a few generations, the old hatreds would be forgotten.
Gavin leaned closer, rubbing his wet lips against her ear as he whispered amorous suggestions that made her skin crawl. She pushed to her feet and climbed over the bench, unable to get away from him fast enough.
"Where are ye going?"
She wanted to snarl that she owed him no explanation, but she kept her annoyance in check. “'Tis a private matter, Gavin. You will excuse me?" He had that look about him, like he might follow. "Wait for me here. I'll return shortly."
She whirled before he could answer and hefted her skirt. She sensed his intense stare as she hurried from the hall.
***
Kenna stopped in the corridor, her back against the rough stucco covering the stone wall, eyes closed. Ugh, she thought. How could I have ever thought I wanted to marry him? Now that she had known the true pleasures of the marriage bed, would she ever be able settle for less? She had decided her enjoyment of bedplay was not tied to feelings of love or infatuation. After all, Ty had shown her great pleasure, and she certainly did not love him.
Her eyes snapped open. Did she? After five years of profound hatred, could she have fallen in love with her husband in so short a time? Had he consigned her to the ultimate penance? Her broken heart sank as she realized the truth. She told herself she did not love Ty Vass. She had fallen for the dream he had become, the imposter who had taken his place.
Again that nagging doubt tickled the back of her neck. He was a different man. But how different?
If the man now occupying Ty's place as laird of Castle Vass was not actually Ty Vass, who was he and what did he want? She thought back to the day of the attack. When they had encountered his brethren, he had become tense, alert. He had done nothing whatsoever to defend her honor, but he could hardly have been expected to fight eight burly highlanders single-handedly.
Instead he had played it smart, maneuvering his wife and sister out of harm's way while maintaining his ruse. She tried to remember seeing him in the hall during the fight. She had been so horrified by the carnage, she could not remember seeing him at all. Had he helped slaughter her family? Or had he been trying to control the chaos?
If he is not Ty, who is he? she wondered again. A distant relative, perhaps? Their uncanny resemblance would make it plausible, but his appearance had changed. The patch over his eye hid most of his face, so it was difficult to discern his features. His boots did not fit. He was more solid, muscular, but that could have come from so many years fighting on the battlefield. Then there was the size of his…
Heat rushed to her face. Kenna glanced around, relieved that she was alone. Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to remember his…his…man part. A secret smile touched her lips. The very image sent waves of desire to her core. She let her head fall back against the wall and ground her thighs together.
He had been so gentle, so patient with her. Most times, leastwise. Other times he had seemed a man possessed, but in a good way. He had wanted her. The pleasure he took then was forceful, vigorous but never at the expense of her own enjoyment. The Ty Vass she remembered from the early days of her marriage would have prevented her enjoyment at all costs.
More proof that he was not who he said he was.
She needed to find out and to do that, she would have to go back. But how? And what about Isla? The trek here had been harrowing, to say the least. She would not take her daughter out into the wilds of the highlands without an escort, not again, not unless there was no other choice.
Kenna had brought that choice with her. Mrs. Dingwell.
Determined to find the house keeper and come up with a plan, she pushed away from the wall…right into the arms of her childhood suitor.
Gavin caught her against him, holding firm when she squirmed in his arms. "Shh, shh. Relax, Kenna. 'Tis only me."
She stopped squirming and stood rigid in his embrace. "Let go of me, Gavin."
Instead, he squeezed her tighter. "But feel, Kenna." He ground his hips against her, mumbling into her hair. "Feel how badly I want you. I will never hurt you. I can show you pleasure you only dreamed about."
I seriously doubt that, she thought. His firm hold was not threatening. But Kenna rose to a panic, nonetheless. Memories of the vile acts she had been forced to perform after her wedding came rushing back. By the time Gavin forced his mouth on hers, she was nearly fit to be tied.
She began to fight in earnest now, so much so, Gavin let go of her immediately. The sudden release caused her to lose her balance. If he had not caught her arm, she would have hit the floor like a stone.
He held her in a firm grip, his frustrated expression barely visible in the dim light of the corridor. She snatched her arm from his grasp. "Unhand me," she snarled.
"What is wrong with you? I remember a time when you would sneak out to meet me behind the stables to share a kiss. An' ye were but a wee lassie then."
"No more, Gavin. I am a married woman now." Not that it would have made any difference. Gavin's kisses did not thrill her the way they had done when they were youngsters. Nothing was the same as she remembered. She had been home for three days, and she felt more like an outsider every day.
Gavin rested one hand on the wall next her head and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Not for long, sweeting. Let me help you forget your brute of a husband." He bent down and pressed his moist lips to her throat.
Nothing happened.
No smattering of gooseflesh pricked her skin. No wild racing affected her heart. She had no desire to get naked as soon as possible.
Kenna stepped away from him, putting as much distance between them as she could in the narrow confines. "No, Gavin. I am sorry, but…"
His sweet countenance changed instantly. Anger clouded his features as he advanced on her. "You spread your legs for that worm, yet ye'll not welcome the embrace of yer own kinsman?"
Kenna's mouth dropped open. The rage on his face would have frightened her into silence in the past, but she had learned a few things as the wife of Ty Vass. She fixed him with an angry look of her own. "You watch your vulgar mouth with me, Gavin Mackintosh, or I will tell your mother."
His moist lips spread into a wicked grin. "Go ahead. I'm no longer a boyling afraid of his mother." He grabbed her arms and pulled her so hard against him, she could not breathe for a moment. He crushed his mouth down on hers in a painful kiss, pushing his tongue against her tightly pressed lips in a vicious effort to invade her.
When she could breathe again, her head cleared. Without further thought, she brought her knee up to his groin with as much force as she could muster.
Gavin released her and doubled over in pain. He clutched himself with one hand and reached to support himself against the wall with the other.
"I hear she still takes a switch to your backside when you need it."
He shook his head, barely able to speak. "No, no please. Doona tell her. 'Twon't happen again, Kenna. I promise."
She thought to say more, but decided against it. He was not worth it. Besides, she had more important things to think about. Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed back to the hall.
When she arrived, she found everyone present on their feet, goblets raised. Her grandfather stood on the dais, looking out over his clansmen, his own goblet raised.
"To the all-out destruction of Clan Vass!" Despite his age, his voice carried, strong and determined.
The room exploded into shouts of agreement as half of her family vowed to destroy the other half.
***
Kenna slipped back out the way she had entered and scurried to the stairs. She climbed up to the room she shared with Isla and Mrs. Dingwell, pushed inside and closed the door behind her. Isla lay buried in the bedclothes, sound asleep in the middle of the bed. Mrs. Dingwell jabbed a piece of cloth with a needle by the faint light of a candle.
She looked up when Kenna entered. “Ah, there ye are, missus.
“You didn’t have wait up for me,” Kenna pointed out. "Ye’ll go blind trying to work with so little light.”
Mrs. Dingwell picked up the candle and held it slightly over head while she studied her. She gasped and set her sewing aside. “Are ye all right, then?”
Kenna shook her head, fighting back tears.
Mrs. Dingwell set the candle down as well and crossed the room to her. “There now, dear. What’s happened t’get ye so upset?”
Kenna let the housekeeper lead her over to the bed where she sat down with a huff. “They are going to kill each other.”
Mrs. Dingwell fetched a cup of water. “Who?” she asked handing Kenna the cup.
“All of them,” Kenna fairly wailed in despair. She waved her hand obscurely towards the door. The Clearys. The Vass’s. They willna stop until everyone is dead.”
Mrs. Dingwell pressed her lips into a tight line and nodded. “Aye, I fear ye’re right.” She returned to her seat and took up her sewing again. “Although, I doona ken the laird had anything to do with the attack on the Clearys.”
Kenna sat up taller. “The laird? You mean Ty?”
“Who else? I daresay Laird Vass is a changed man since his ordeal in France. Have ye not noticed?”
Kenna scrubbed her face with both hands. “Have I? My brain is all a-fuddle trying to figure him out. I assumed it was all a ruse to lure the Clearys to Castle Vass.”
Mrs. Dingwell shook her head. “Ty Vass is not so great an actor to pull off such a performance. No. I suspect his father is behind it.”
“His father?” Kenna had nearly forgotten that her good-father had paid a visit the same day Ty returned from France. What had they talked about? Had they devised the plan knowing the Clearys would attend a gathering on behalf of Clan Mackintosh? “But Ty would do whatever his father said,” Kenna argued.
“The old Ty, perhaps.” She looked up from her needlework. “I was in the hall when the attack started. I ran for the bairn’s room as fast as I could, but I saw the laird amidst the chaos. He was trying to break up the fighting.” She looked back down at her sewing. “Or so it seemed.”
Kenna tried to recall the scene that day. She had only lingered for a moment, not enough time to determine anyone’s motives. She did not remember seeing Ty, but recalled how he had tried to protect her and Mira that day on the way back from the cottage.
Could Mrs. Dingwell be right? She was afraid to let such hope into her heart. She couldn’t bear such disappointment again. But she did want to believe.
She loved him. She knew that now, and more than anything, she wanted to believe he was changed. He had to be an imposter, for she could never have loved her husband the way she did this man.
More and more of their conversations came back to her, words whispered in the dark of night, in the privacy of their bed chamber. It slowly dawned on her that he cared for her, too. If only he had trusted her that day at the cottage, or afterwards when they had escorted his clansmen back to Castle Vass. He could have told her his secrets then. So much sorrow and resentment could have been avoided if he had told her the truth. He wanted the same thing she did. Peace. They could have worked together somehow to prevent the tragedy of that day.
Kenna shot to her feet and began gathering up what few provision were on hand. She would not make the same mistake he had. She would trust him. And she would not wait too long to do so, either.
She was going now.
***
About halfway between midnight and daybreak, Kenna slipped from her grandfather's house. She dropped the sack she carried at the stable door and stepped inside. When she left to be married, she had been forced to leave her beloved gelding behind. Well, not this time.
She made her way down the stalls until she came to his. He lifted his head at her sudden appearance from the darkness, but showed no other reaction. She opened the gate and went in. "Have you forgotten me, Rahm?" She scratched him at the top of his shoulders, just where his thick mane ended. He actually arched his back, making her laugh and dig her nails in that much harder.
With a final pat, she went back out into the center aisle and gathered his tack. It only took a few moments to get him ready. When she was done, she led him back out and gathered her supplies. She mounted in one swift movement and nudged him toward the gate.
The last time she had made this trek, she had been on her way to take part in a marriage she dreaded with her entire soul. Uncertainty brought on similar emotions, but this time, she had higher hopes. This time, she knew the man she was going to meet was gentle and loving. She would not consider that she could be wrong about him. She couldn't be.
But caution dictated she take no chances with her daughter, so she had left her in Mrs. Dingwell's care. Both of them would be perfectly safe here at her grandfather's house. Of that she was sure.
Her plan was to visit Laird Munro, to seek his assistance in calming her feuding family and bring Ty's over-ambitious father to heel.
That was a meeting she dreaded. Why would the powerful leader of such a large clan listen to her? She was nothing more than a woman, a pawn to be used for men's games, war games or love games made little difference.
She needed courage, and there was only one place to get it.
***
Kenna caught sight of her cottage just before nightfall of the following day. As she approached, she circled the mound, surveying the ground and peering into the brambles. She was not looking for the entrance. She knew this place better than any other. But there was something else, something that made the tiny hairs on her neck stand up.
Someone had been here. She was sure of it, even though she could see no ready evidence. She sat on her horse for a while, listening to the sounds of chirping birds, the babble of a nearby creek, twittering insects. But she detected no other sound that would alert her to danger. So, removing her knife from her belt and holding it at the ready, she dismounted and pushed the door open just enough to squeeze inside.
She screamed when a pair of beefy arms entrapped her. She fought like a banshee, having sworn to die before allowing anyone to ever again do her bodily harm.
"Shh…shh. 'Tis me, a ghrá."
Her captor's thick brogue finally began to seep through her fog of terror. Kenna ceased her struggle, realizing it was Ty who held her in such a strong, inescapable embrace.
"Ty?" Kenna wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the hard mound of his chest. He held her with such gentle affection, any doubt about his identity fled.
She pulled back and pushed up to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. After a lingering moment of sheer bliss, she stepped away. She gasped. His eye patch was gone, leaving his face uncovered and almost too handsome to look at. Two clear eyes, vibrant as lush foliage, stared back at her.
"You are not Ty Vass," she said in a quiet voice. He did not deny it. He said nothing at all, just stood before her, accused and awaiting sentence. "Who are ye, then?"
With a resigned hobble, he crossed to the table and drank from a goblet sitting there. He looked back at her with both eyes. "My true name is Ian," he said in a voice so low, she had to strain to hear it.
"Where is my husband?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He was killed in battle."
Kenna refused to smile, for surely she would burn in hell for such wickedness. But she made no effort to hide her relief. "Does anyone else know?"
He shook his head. "You alone, a ghrá."
Now Kenna did smile. She broke into a huge grin and flung herself at him. He caught her in his arms and kissed her with the hunger of a starving man. Kenna pulled back to catch her breath. She cupped his face in both hands, her eyes darting back and forth between his. "I love you, Ian."
He responded by placing one finger over her lips. "From this moment on, you can never call me that. Ian-of-no-familial-name no longer exists. I am Ty Vass and will remain so until the end of my days."
Kenna swallowed hard and nodded. "Our secret," she whispered. "Who are ye? Who is your family?"
"You are my family, Kenna. You and Isla. Together we will make this work. We will bring peace to these lands." He kissed her again, a bone-deep kiss full of promise and love. He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and carried her to the bed without taking his mouth from hers. He laid her down gently and removed his clothes.
Kenna grinned up at him as he stripped naked. He was like one of the old gods, powerful, strong.
He dropped down on top of her, supporting his mass with hands either side of her head, elbows braced. He dropped his head between his shoulders, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.
Kenna clasped his backside in both hands. Gooseflesh tickled her palms, and she marveled that she could have such an effect on so potent a man.
His kiss was intoxicating, so when he pulled away, she groaned with disappointment.
He smiled down at her, his face hidden now in shadow. "Tomorrow, a ghrá," he whispered. "Tomorrow we will save the world. Tonight is ours."
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