Chapter Twelve
Ben stood beside the largest bonfire that burned before the gates of Castle Ross. The flames towered into the sky, and he was pleased that this Beltane had been successful so far. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, all but one woman who sat on a stool, talking to Bruce. Kenzie was obviously not her bubbly, happy self. It was his fault, and he hated himself for it.
Yesterday, he’d acted like a brute, demanding she wash herself all because he’d lost control. Forced her to wash his seed away. Terrified that she would have his child.
Worse was the realization that the image of Kenzie round with his baby inside of her, left him both panicked yet with so much longing that for the last day he’d kept his distance from her. He’d come to realize that was exactly what he wanted.
Her…and everything I can have with her.
Tonight, he would explain his fear, and he hoped that it would be enough for her to forgive him his idiocy.
Athol sidled up beside him and clasped his arm, her breast rubbing indecently against his arm. He looked back at Kenzie and noted her narrowed glare aimed at him, before she turned toward Bruce and gave him her back.
He ground his teeth. Maddening woman!
“Would ye dance with me, Ben? Tonight, has been such a great celebration, but I dinna want it to be over without having one turn about the fire with ye.”
The clansmen surrounding him cheered him on, and conceding, Ben pulled her into a jig about the bonfire. With Athol in his arms, laughing up at him, he was almost transported back to last year’s Beltane. When Aline was alive, pregnant but still wanting to enjoy the festivities like everyone else.
Athol was so like her, but not so much in temperament. During the time Ben had been married to Aline, she had mellowed, grown kinder and more understanding of those about her. Athol had not. If anything, Ben had the impression the lass was spoiled and used to getting her own way.
He looked down at the lass and didn’t mistake the asking in her eyes for more. The dance changed, and he passed her onto another clansman while he took the arm of his cook. The rotund woman laughed at having him as a partner and Ben laughed too, for the first time that night.
The dance went on, and when he turned to take his final partner’s hand, pleasure almost brought him to his knees. Kenzie.
“Ye look beautiful this eve, lass. A gift given to us through time.”
“Now you’re flattering me, Ben?” Her tone sounded bored and dread coiled in his gut. He pulled her out of the dance and walked her a little out of the light and away from his clansmen.
“I owe ye an apology for handling ye roughly yesterday in the water, making ye wash yourself as if the thought of ye having my child repulsed me.”
Her emerald eyes met his and he fought not to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Show her just how sorry he was for acting the medieval ass.
“Are ye repulsed by the thought of me pregnant with your baby?”
“Nay, never that. Ye know that Aline died after having Alasdair. Well, the reason behind her death was not only because of the child but a tumor in her womb. The clan healer believed it at first to be another child, but during the birth it became known that it was not. She bled to death in my arms. I will not risk another woman for the sake of offspring.”
Kenzie sighed. “Life is a risk, Ben. Living in this time, you, of all people, should know this. You cannot save everyone. It’s not possible.”
She was right, and yet the guilt of tupping Aline each and every night in order to have a child still tormented him. He’d not had a care for her health, having not thought he’d lose her solely due to having a baby. But his tupping had been her death sentence, and he couldn’t forgive himself for that. No matter what Aline had said on her deathbed or what Kenzie said now. His wife was dead, and it was his fault.
“Just so you know, there is no threat to me in regard to having your child. No doubt you’re aware that women bleed once a month. Well, let’s just say my once-a-month has started.”
He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Ben said a silent thank you to God and pushed a flyaway lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for yesterday, lass. Say ye forgive me.”
She half-smiled up at him, and for the first time since their fight, it was as if the sun shone in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I want to kiss ye so much, lass,” he said, leaning down and whispering the words against her ear.
“Why don’t you then?” She raised her brow, tempting him beyond thought or reason.
“There ye are, my liege. Brother has already returned to the castle, and I have no one to escort me.” Athol took Ben’s arm, and Kenzie stepped away, giving him space.
“I see Bruce is headed back, but I am not just yet, lass.” Ben yelled out to Bruce who turned and came toward them. He ignored the annoyed glare Athol threw up at him.
“Take Lady Athol up to the keep, Bruce, and ensure she reaches her room safely. I’m not returning yet.”
Bruce nodded, gesturing for Athol to walk beside him, which she did reluctantly while throwing dirks at Kenzie.
Once alone with the few clansmen still celebrating Beltane, Ben poured them both a tumbler of ale and handed one to Kenzie. “Here’s hoping the crops will be blessed and plentiful,” he said, a loud cheer coming up from his men and tenants.
“Here here,” Kenzie said, clapping her cup against his. “And here’s to the Laird of Ross. Shall he prosper, be free of war, and live a long and happy life,” Kenzie said for only him to hear.
Without thought, Ben leaned down and kissed her, not caring who saw or what they thought. He’d wanted to kiss her all day, beg her forgiveness and grovel, if need be.
Kenzie wrapped her arms about his neck and deepened the kiss, and for a time, he lost all thought. Och, what a sweet, smart lass was wont to do to a man and he’d not always have this woman in his arms. So best to make the most of it while he could.
…
The following morning, after bathing, Kenzie broke her fast in the great hall, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that she’d had the forethought to bring tampons and sanitary pads with her to seventeenth century Scotland.
She bade Bruce good morning, along with a few of the other clansmen she’d come to know over the last few weeks, before taking her seat up on the dais. Ben wasn’t seated there, and she frowned, wondering where he was.
Her solitude was short-lived before Athol came and sat beside her, her smug smile leaving Kenzie on edge.
“Good morning, lass. I hope ye slept well.”
The urbane conversation didn’t fool Kenzie, but she would play along for a little while and see what Athol had to say for herself. “I did, thank you. Beltane was wonderful but tiring, as I’m sure you agree.”
“Oh, ay, I agree, and when ye’re sleeping with the laird, it’s even more tiring, isn’t it, lass? But I wouldn’t know about that, since I’m not the one who’s sullied her reputation and is now known as the castle whore.”
“What?” Kenzie coughed, almost choking on her food. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“’Tis true, is it not? My brother informed me himself that he saw ye last evening, pawing the laird at the bonfire. Kissing Ben with such vigor that he’d not been able to breathe. Not to mention, my maid said she saw you on the night of your arrival all but throwing yourself at the laird.”
Kenzie shook her head, heat suffusing her face. “He could breathe well enough.” How dare this woman chastise her. “I wasn’t aware you were betrothed to the laird and he therefore cannot kiss other women.”
Athol gestured to a servant, holding up her cup and waving it about until it was filled. “You’re no woman, only a whore—who I’ll soon get rid of. My father is on his way, and he’ll make the laird see the error of his ways. If ye think to marry Ben, ye can think again. I’ll not have a woman of loose morals raising my nephew and teaching him her own dreadful ideals.”
Kenzie snorted. “For starters, kissing the laird doesn’t make me a whore. Secondly, if I’m kissing the laird, one should assume I have the ear of the laird, and perhaps you should temper your hatred of me. Thirdly, I don’t wish to marry Ben. I like Ben, don’t get me wrong, but I’m young and not looking for a husband.” Just the thought of marrying at her age was too crazy to contemplate. Not to mention the fact that she would be returning to the twenty-first century soon, and poor little Athol’s worry was for nothing. Not that Kenzie could tell her that.
Kenzie looked about the room. Many eyes, mostly the women folk who sat at table or served to break everyone’s fast, were on her. Their attention snapping away as soon as Kenzie noticed their interest. She swallowed her unease. Did they really think her a whore? A trollop without family? The thought was not comforting.
“And ye think I should believe such lies. Do ye think me a simpleton?”
Kenzie shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Athol asked, slamming her cup down and gaining the attention of those seated before them.
“Only that I do think you’re a simpleton. I also think you’re a bitch who needs to stay out of my business. If the Laird of Ross wishes to have you for his wife, I’m sure he’ll ask. Until then, if I want to kiss him, and,” she said, leaning forward, “more than that, I will.” Kenzie stood and left, walking toward the door that led outside.
A walk along the shore was what she needed to get away from this castle and, most especially, the nasty little Athol Grant. Worse of all was that Athol was right in a lot of ways. Maybe she’d been too forward, too public with her interest in Ben. She would have to temper it when in public. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble or shame to Gwen and Braxton.
The beach curved and ran in front of the small town that Kenzie had noticed on her first day here. She walked along the stony shore, alone with her thoughts. Her most worrying one at present, was when should she return home. Already, she’d been at Castle Ross for a month. How much longer should she stay? Her whole reason for traveling back to seventeenth century Scotland had been to meet Gwen and the Laird of Ross and study the design of the castle and the outlying buildings. She’d done that.
Kenzie smiled. But she was also here to find out what had happened to Black Ben. What or who was it that had erased him from history and took his life, well before his old age?
She picked up a flat rock and faced the ocean, throwing it and watching as her attempt to make it skim across the top of the water failed. At Gwen and Braxton’s estate the enemy had made its presence known, had hit at Ben when he’d least expected it.
But at his own keep, there had been no sign of anyone trying to hurt him. No threats via his person or letter. Nothing. So, what had changed? If her memory served her correctly, it was late May that the Laird of Ross disappeared from the pages of history. A ghost that was never heard of again.
So, where were they? Or, were they already here…
The sounds of shouting caught her attention, and she looked back toward the castle, watching as a group of riders came up to the gate and dismounted. Was it Clan Grant? Athol had said at breakfast that her father was coming, but today! Surely not. Or, hopefully not.
Kenzie sat on the shore and let the lulling sounds of the lapping waves soothe her. Castle Ross had certainly been blessed with its position, such as it was.
Even with the beautiful location, it was written in history that an ugly situation was going to unfold here in the next few weeks. But who was behind Ben’s demise? After the many weeks of being near the laird, Kenzie’s stomach twisted at the thought that his life would be snuffed out. That his son, the sweet, adorable Alasdair would also disappear. As much as she’d thought the Grants were behind his death, could they kill their own grandchild? She didn’t think so, no matter how much they’d hated Aline’s attachment to the laird.
The castle had burned to the ground. Had the child been lost that way? The problem with unsolved Scottish mysteries was that no one knew. And if anyone did, they had never told a soul.
She sighed. Damn it, she didn’t want anything to happen to Ben or his boy. No one in their right mind would wish such a fate against another human being. So could she allow history to follow that course?
No.
There was no way in hell she’d allow history to repeat itself. She would stop anyone who thought to injure the laird and his child and damn the consequences. Ben deserved to live the remainder of his days here at Castle Ross, bringing up his boy and allowing the lad to inherit the castle as was his birthright.
No unknown, murdering bastard would win. Kenzie would make sure of that.
“Are ye all right, lass? Can I help ye with anything?”
Kenzie turned to see an elderly woman hobbling toward her on the rocky shore, and she stood, going toward her instead, lest she fall over and break a hip. Which in this time could mean certain death.
Coming up to the woman, she clasped her hand in welcome. “I’m Kenzie. I’m staying up at Castle Ross. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The older woman’s eyes brightened at her words. “Oh, at the castle, aye. I’m the healer in these parts and know the laird well. I birthed the little bairn, did ye know.”
“I did know that,” Kenzie said, walking with the woman back toward the village. “The laird was very lucky to have you that night, considering what happened afterward.” Kenzie didn’t say anymore, as it was obvious to what she was referring, and the sadness that entered the healer’s eyes confirmed she was aware of what Kenzie meant.
“Aye, very sad. And it pains me that the laird left these parts for a time in trying to heal his heart. He may not have loved Lady Aline, but he cared for her a great deal.”
They walked into the small village. The homes, all different sizes with varying degrees of weathered thatched roofs, stretched out in front of them. Kenzie took the older woman’s arm. “Which one is your home? I’ll walk you back, if you like.”
“Oh, I’d like that very much, thank ye, Kenzie.”
Kenzie smiled, and they walked a little way on the rough dirt track that ran before the cottages facing the sea. “Have you lived here all your life?” she asked, curious. This was a person who knew Ben better than anyone else around.
“I was born here, as were my parents. My ma was a healer and taught me all that she’d learned. When the laird came home with a wife, I knew a child would follow soon. And thank the Lord, I was right.”
“Alasdair is the sweetest boy, and he’s growing and thriving well. Not that I’m much of an expert on children, but he certainly seems content.”
“As he should be.” The old woman stopped before a cottage, one of the smallest along the whole line of cottages, and pushed open the door. A rough wooden floor lay inside. A fire burned in the grate, and a pot of something that smelled like ham and onions, a delicious combination, sat over the fire, cooking.
“You have a lovely home.” The place was filled with herbs and small bottles that sat on most available surfaces, but it was tidy and clean. A single chair sat before the hearth, and a small animal rug was the only luxury Kenzie could see.
“Thank ye, lass. I do love it as it’s mine and no one else’s.” The old woman groaned as she sat, gesturing to Kenzie to join her at the fire. “Tell me, has the laird’s spirits lifted since he returned home? I should call on him, but I haven’t seen him since the night of Aline’s death, and well, I canna help but think the laird is angry at me.”
“Oh no, I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Not that Ben had said anything to her, and Kenzie supposed he could blame the old woman in some way, but surely common sense would prevail, and Ben could see Aline’s death hadn’t been the healer’s fault.
No one could’ve known a tumor was growing in Aline’s uterus. This was the seventeenth century, for crying out loud; they didn’t even have toilet paper.
“You should come up to the castle one day and let go of your worry over the laird not welcoming you back. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine in his heart.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated Kenzie’s words. “Ye aren’t from Scotland, lass. In fact, I dinna feel you’re from England either. You’re a long way away from home, yes?”
Kenzie nodded. “Yes, a long way, but I will be returning home soon.”
“There’s talk in the village that the laird admires ye more than any lass in a very long time. Even Aline, God rest her soul, wasn’t loved as a wife should be. But, as that love was not returned from her either, it matters little.”
“You believe Laird Ross didn’t love his wife?” Curiosity and an absurd hankering to hear someone say that Ben didn’t love Aline, consumed Kenzie. To think that he could care deeply for anyone else, never open his heart again due to the loss of his wife left Kenzie more out of sorts than she liked to admit.
“Nay, not that I was aware. And it was mutual, but alas, unions such as theirs are common enough, and they made the best of the situation. I will tell ye this though, lass, Laird Ross and Lady Aline were very close, and looked out for one another. Mayhap in time they would’ve fallen in love, but alas, ’tis not something we’ll ever know.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Small children ran in front of the cottage windows and reminded Kenzie that she should probably return to the castle before Ben worried about her whereabouts.
She stood. “If I may, I do have a question for you, since we’ve run into each other and I’m in need of a healer.”
“Anything lass. What is it that I can help ye with?”
“I’ve not been feeling very well this last week. I’m not sure if it’s the food, which I’m still getting used to, or because of my monthly courses. If you understand what I mean.”
“Oh, of course, lass.” The older woman waddled over to a shelf beside the fireplace and searched through the many bottled ointments and tonics there. “Ah, here ’tis.” The healer came back to her side, holding out a small bottle. “This is wormwood and is used to settle the stomach. Use it before ye meal, and it should help ye. If not, come back and see me.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Kenzie slid it into her pocket and clasped the lady’s hand. “I hope we meet again.”
“I’m sure we shall, Kenzie.”
She smiled and left, ducking a little so she didn’t knock her head on the small doorframe. She walked back along the beach toward the castle. Riders rode out the gate and Kenzie stopped to see where they were going, and when the first rider started toward the village, the dark unruly hair and savage scowl gave away who was heading in her direction.
She stopped and watched as Ben noticed her, his shoulders slumping. Was he relieved or aggravated to see her? From the deadly glare he was bestowing on her as he came closer on his mount, Kenzie assumed the latter.
“Hi,” she said as he jumped down from his horse and stood before her with hands on hips and fists clenched.
“Where have ye been, woman? Nary a word as to where ye were going, and I’m left to worry about ye whereabouts, thinking the worst has happened and ye dead somewhere.”
“As you can see, I’m not dead.” She walked up to him and wrapped her arms about his waist, completely forgetting her decision to stop showing affection in public. “I saw that you had new visitors and didn’t think you’d miss me too much. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
He continued to stare, and she tightened her grip. “I’m quite alive and warm, maybe you’d like to hug me back?” She threw him a mischievous grin, and he relaxed a little in her arms.
“I dinna know where ye were.” He paused. “Where were ye, lass?”
“With the healer in the village.”
He frowned. Was it because she’d met the woman who was with Aline on the night she died or if he was concerned for her health.
“Are ye sick, lass?”
“Not now, but I have been feeling queasy. She’s given me something.”
He took her hand and placed it on his arm as he walked them back toward his horse. “I’ll have someone speak to the cooks and make sure ye food is tasted before ye eat it. I’m not sure what ye’re used to eating in your time, but mayhap, ’tis just that yer not used to our way of preparing and cooking our food.”
Kenzie laughed, having thought as much herself. “The healer has given me some medicine, which will hopefully help. I’m sure it’s something similar to Bali Belly.”
“Bali Belly?” The word on Ben’s lips sounded odd, and Kenzie smiled. “It’s a term I learned when traveling in Bali a couple of years ago. It’s a tropical country, and people who visit there often become sick after drinking their water or eating their food. I became a little ill there, as well, so I’m sure my stomach is just protesting like it did when I was in Bali.”
They came to Ben’s horse, and he hoisted her up, following soon after. The weight of him behind her, his strong arms coming about her waist to clasp the reins did odd things, lovely things, to her body.
“News arrived while you were gone as well. It seems Abby has fallen ill after the birth of her child and Gwen and Braxton have travelled there to nurse her. They’ve asked that you return to Castle Druiminn prior to May. Gwen was most insistent.”
Kenzie understood the date and why Gwen wanted her out of here by then, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet at least. “Is Abby going to be okay?”
“Aye, Gwen wrote that she improves daily, but the planned visit by Aedan and Braxton will not go ahead. You may read the missive when we return, but Gwen was most sorry that they are unable to attend at this time.”
He called out to his men to follow him and he turned the horse, kicking it into a canter. Kenzie snuggled back into his chest, sighing when one strong, warm arm wrapped about her waist, holding her snug. This news from Gwen wasn’t welcome. It meant that they were on their own here, no back-up when it came to whoever attacked Ben and Castle Ross.
“We’re going to start seeding tomorrow. I shall not see ye until late in the evening. Will ye be well at the castle, do ye think?”
Ben’s question pulled her from her thoughts. “Can I help? I’d so love to see how it’s done and it would give me a chance to be with you. I’ll only be bored at the castle. Please, tell me I can come.” She did not wish to be stuck indoors with Athol. The woman had ceased hiding her loathing of Kenzie and was often plain rude. “We could take a basket, have a picnic for lunch. We could have the wet nurse bring out Alasdair for an hour or two. Give him some fresh air and sunlight.”
“He could sicken if he’s taken outdoors at such a young age. I dinna think that’s a good idea.”
Kenzie smiled. “You’re wrong, Ben. Fresh air and sunlight is good for everyone, including babies. As long as he’s kept warm, fresh air will do him good.”
Ben seemed to think on her suggestion before he said, “What’s a picnic?”
“A basket of food that we’d share together.”
The lightest kiss touched her neck. A shiver ran down her spine and Kenzie couldn’t wait to get Ben alone. He may come across as a hard, medieval Highland warrior to some people, but to Kenzie, he was so much more than that. The man had a heart, one that she was terribly close to falling for. A man who was fiercely loyal and loving toward his son, and clansmen, and women. The thought that someone wanted him dead and would succeed with their plan within a matter of weeks made her stomach twist.
“After dinner this evening, I want to talk to you about something that I think you need to know about,” Kenzie said, deciding that it was time Ben knew the truth.
“Ye cannot tell me now?”
Kenzie could feel Ben’s inquisitive gaze on her, and she shook her head. “Not here. We need to be alone. It’s something I think you’ll question me about and I don’t want anyone else to overhear.”
“Ye will have my full attention, lass. I’ll come to ye room.” His hand idly ran over her stomach, and she bit her lip. “Mayhap you would allow me to warm ye bed afterward. I find my own sleeping quarters cold and not at all welcoming.”
“Would that be wise with Clan Grant here? What if they catch us? You do know that Athol is aiming to marry you, don’t you?” Kenzie didn’t see the point of beating around the bush. If Ben hadn’t seen the little minx’s plans for himself then she would tell him. Not that Kenzie should be stopping him from marrying again—he ought to, no matter how much he said he was never going to have another wife. He was young, strong, a laird—it would be silly of him to remain a bachelor. Or, at least, a shame for anyone who would never get to know and love such a wonderful man.
And maybe, if he were to marry again, even to Athol—although the thought turned Kenzie’s stomach—it would change his future. Twist what fate had in store for him and allow him to live out his days at Castle Ross, watch Alasdair grow into a man. Pass away as an old man with grandchildren surrounding him.
“They’re housed in the opposite end of the castle and I’ll not be seen. We’re safe.”
As they came closer to the castle Ben removed his hand and returned it to the rein. They walked through the gates to a commotion in the keep. Evan Grant and Bruce were having some sort of argument, which turned into a full-on fist fight.
Ben swore and jumped from the horse, running up to the two men who were rolling on the ground, the thump of fists into flesh loud in the otherwise quiet afternoon. Ben pulled them apart, no mean feat since both men were towers of muscular strength.
“What are ye doing?” he yelled at both of them, glaring at Bruce and then Evan. Both growled, snarling at each other like two savage dogs. Evan’s nose bled, and he blew out the blood, only just missing Ben’s leg.
The sight of blood, and the disgusting act, turned Kenzie’s stomach, and she cringed. Seriously, how revolting is that? She attempted to get down off Ben’s very tall horse, and the drop was higher than she anticipated, and she fell on her ass. Pulling her gown down over her knees, she stood, and all the men were looking at her.
Heat suffused her face, and she shrugged. “I’m still learning,” she said, thankful when they turned their attention back on each other.
“What’s the meaning behind this?” Ben asked, looking from one man to the other when both were quiet.
Bruce nodded toward Evan Grant. “Mayhap we should go into your solar, Ben. ’Twould not be appropriate out here.”
Ben nodded. “Aye, fine then. Follow me, without,” he said, pointing a finger at both men, “incident.”
Kenzie watched them go and caught the gaze of an older gentleman she’d not seen before. A greying, bearded man who looked at her with distaste. A cold shiver ran down Kenzie’s spine before he, too, turned and followed Ben and the others into the castle.