Chapter Eleven
Kai arrived in his tent and disrobed, using cold water left over in a pitcher to wash his body before he changed into a clean tunic and breeches. Then he donned his tartan, while concentrating on the issue at hand. Cadha. He took her disappearance personally, for he was responsible for the lives of everyone under his command. What would Jamie say? Until now, he had an unblemished record of service. Aye, he’d lost men in battle—which always stayed with him—their faces and names forever fixed in his mind and heart.
But this…
He paced, dreading the possible outcome. Perhaps they’d find her body somewhere mauled by a wild beast—or worse, she’d been taken and raped, left for dead, freezing to death all alone.
“Captain Kai?” Kenneth called from outside the tent. “Permission to come inside.”
“Aye, enter.”
The experienced soldier stepped inside, his shoulder-length hair tied back in a queue and wearing a grim expression. He immediately took up a position in front of Kai, standing at attention.
“Cadha the maid is missing,” Kai said.
The soldier met his intense gaze. “Aye, Colin has informed me of the situation.”
“We have a small encampment. How did you lose track of one woman so easily?”
“I doona know, sir. The last I saw, she intended to take a nap in the women’s quarters. We were surprised when Lady Miran arrived without ye, so I attended to her needs first, questioning Bodmond. I feared the unpredictable lady had run away from ye.”
Kai could not fault him for thinking such a thing, for he had warned all of his men she was prone to bouts of irrational thoughts and actions and might get herself into trouble. He grunted in acknowledgement. “Even so, Kenneth, did ye not assign anyone to watch the women’s tent?”
Kenneth shook his head. “Everyone was gathered about the fire when Lady Miran rode in.”
“Except for Cadha?”
“Twas not too long before the lady arrived that the maid announced her intention to rest. I dinna think it out of place, for the maid is older than the others, and it is unusually cold today.”
All acceptable explanations. Obviously, the soldier had done nothing wrong. Maybe Cadha had needed to relieve herself and wandered too far into the woods and gotten lost, the best scenario he could hope for. “Tell me,” he started. “Chamber pots were provided for the women?”
Kenneth glanced at Kai in near disgust. “I-I…”
“Chamber pots…”
Was the man blushing like a woman?
“Aye, sir,” Kenneth managed to say. “Several were provided.”
Good. Twas a necessary detail Kai had made sure to mention as their supplies were packed, for he did not want to be bothered in the middle of the night with women who needed to piss—which always seemed to happen at the most inopportune times and at a greater frequency compared to men.
“Send out two teams to search a wide area around the camp. The rest of the men will stay here.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“You are dismissed.”
Kenneth bowed and departed.
After Kai finished dressing, he struck out on his own, searching for footprints in the snow, a torn piece of material, anything that would suggest Cadha had passed by. Aye, he found boot prints, but they were too large for a woman and likely belonged to his men. Still, he tramped deeper into the woods, but after what seemed hours of going in every direction, he found nothing.
Frustrated, wet, and hungry, he returned to camp.
He took a seat near the fire, and one of his men brought him a trencher containing bread and smoked fish. Colin joined him.
“I am sorry to report we found no signs of the woman.”
The wind had picked up and dark clouds loomed, threatening more snow. Kai worried if Cadha got caught in the elements, she would surely perish. “I had no luck, either. Tis like she never existed.” And truly, the circumstances around her disappearance confounded him the more he thought about it.
It left him with no choice but to press Miran for answers. The way she had acted before, the way she looked, told him everything he needed to know. And when he had gently touched her shoulder, she’d winced in pain. A growl rumbled through him.
“Sir?” Colin threw him a sideways glance.
“Ignore the sound of my anger,” Kai said. “I was deep in thought.”
“I understand.”
Kai admired the lad, knowing if Colin continued to demonstrate excellent capabilities, including discretion, he would advance in rank quickly. Helping build a new clan had benefits and disadvantages. Every choice Kai made on behalf of Laird Jamie would affect Clan MacKay’s future. That’s why he was critical about everything, maybe too serious at times. What if the woman had simply walked away, decided she no longer wished to serve?
“Are we still leaving tomorrow?” Colin asked.
“Aye. After we visit the village. I want to inquire about Cadha there.”
Colin swallowed the last of his food and stood, offering to take Kai’s trencher for him. Kai handed it over.
“Meet me at the women’s tent as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
He did not alert the women that he was about to enter their quarters, he simply stepped inside and was pleased to see all the women awake.
“Good eve,” Dedra greeted him.
“Dedra, ladies.”
They bobbed curtsies.
“Go and eat,” Kai commanded. “I will stay with your mistress. Where is she?”
“I’m behind the screen,” Miran’s voice sounded from the far corner. “Changing my gown.”
He looked in that direction and could see her shapely silhouette through the screen, illuminated by a brazier. He rubbed his jaw and turned away, better not to gape at her.
The maids left the tent, leaving them alone.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit from you, Captain Kai?”
Her voice had the slightest warble and sounded too cheerful, forced, even.
“Need you even ask?” Surely she knew why he would check on her.
“Tis but a formality,” she said.
“There should be no formalities between us, Miran, not now.”
“I disagree.” She peered around the side of the screen. “After what happened between us, which I know must never happen again, we should follow even stricter protocol.”
He frowned and took a step closer, greatly tempted to yank her from behind that flimsy barrier, pull her into his arms, and kiss her again and again, showing her how very wrong she was. Forbidden touches were the best kind—especially with Miran. “Nonsense,” he said, stopping himself from responding too irrationally, remembering Silas’s advice. Let her come to him. “You were unresponsive when I returned from the farm, Miran.”
She appeared in the open then, wearing a green wool dress and leather boots, her hair plaited. She waved her hand dismissively. “Have ye never been exhausted?”
“Aye, nearly too weak to drag myself off my horse. But I did.”
“Then ye understand.”
“Maybe too well,” he said. “Cadha is missing.”
“Missing or gone?” She met him at the center of the tent and elected to sit on a chair.
Twas a curious question. “Do you know what happened to your maid?”
She averted her gaze. The first sign of a lie to follow. “Nay.”
He did not believe her. “Promise me you speak truth.”
She met his gaze. “I solemnly swear.”
Bloody hell. He wanted to trust everything she said. “When I touched you before, you cringed in pain, Miran. Explain that to me.”
All color drained from her face. “Easily done, sir. Too much time in the saddle. I had a crick in my back.”
The lady was very sharp-minded, she had a quick answer for everything. “A crick?”
“Just here,” she said turning about and rubbing her hand over her the small of her lovely back.
Such a cool liar. But he would not judge her yet, for there might be a just reason she was keeping the truth from him. “Miran.”
“Aye?”
“I did not touch your back, twas your shoulders.”
She stood and moved to the closest brazier, her back to him, and rubbed her arms. “Why are ye being so persistent?”
“Because someone under my care has gone missing, and I believe you know what happened.”
The accusation made her spin around. “Are ye calling me a liar?”
“If the name fits.”
“Jesu!”
“You have no right to be angry with me, Miran.”
She sighed. “Why do we always argue? About everything?” She shivered.
His first instinct was to warm her in his arms, but she’d only admonish him for touching her. And he knew why they argued, and longed to tell her—because they had so much pent up passion between them, if they did not find a way to release it, someone would suffer. He was suffering already.
“Pride,” he offered.
“Pride?” she repeated. “That seems a likely excuse.”
“If you know me at all, Miran, you know I never make excuses. Right or wrong, I always speak honestly.”
“Aye,” she admitted. “As frustrating as I find it, ye are superior when it comes to the truth. Even Laird Jamie has withheld details he thought might hurt me.”
“And are you doing the same now?”
Silence fell between them.
“Miran?” He took two more steps toward her.
No answer.
“Miran? What are you hiding from me?” Before she could stop him, he ran his hand up her back and over her left shoulder.
She cried out and shrunk away. “Doona touch me!”
“Miran,” he said more commandingly, worry etched on his face. “This is not a request. Slip your gown off your shoulder so I may see it. If you do not do so willingly, I will be forced to do it for you.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and he felt like a heartless tyrant for having to make such a threat. All he wanted to do was hold her, touch her, and kiss away the pain. Shite! “I would never hurt you. Never.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“Doona try to lessen the severity of what ye said by pretending to care for me, Captain. Ye are twice my size and as strong as an ox. I have no choice. If I wish to retain even a sliver of dignity, I must do as ye ask.”
She unlaced her bodice with shaky hands, and slowly pulled the sleeve down, revealing a milky white shoulder with angry red welts across it.
By everything sacred, he would destroy whoever had done this to her. Torture them. Kill them. Send them to Hell. “Who is responsible for this?” He started toward her but she held up her hand to stop him.
She tugged the material back up her shoulder and turned around, giving him the most cutting look. “I have nothing more to say. Now, please go.”