“He had two blades,” Keenan said (14 page)

Keenan tucked Serena’s head below his chin as he pulled her up against him. “Sleep now, lass or I’ll have to go sleep in the storm.”

Serena tried to push away but he wouldn’t let her. “All I can do is hold ye, lass. Let me hold ye.”

As the fire slowly turned to embers, Keenan listened to her steady breathing. Even her breathing sounded soft and feminine. Her smell infused him. It was the most uncomfortably long night of Keenan’s life.

****

“In here,” Keenan called back to Thomas’s hail.

It took all four Maclean warriors to heave the huge birch tree from the mouth of the cave.

Serena awoke and sat up, dazed.

“Bloody hell,” Keenan grumbled. The lass looked like she’d been tupped.

As soon as the others unbarred their entrance, he plunged out into the morning, free from the cage. “Where the hell have ye all been?” Keenan roared at his men.

“We slept in some caves through the storm,” Ewan supplied as he motioned over his shoulder. “We dinna ken ye were trapped.”

“Is the witch well?” Thomas asked looking toward the cave entrance.

“Her name is Serena or Lady Faw, not witch,” Keenan growled and walked off to find some privacy.

The men had the small, wet campsite packed by the time he returned.

Brodick indicated the cave. “She’s still in there preening.”

Keenan turned abruptly toward the cave. Better to get this over with in a little privacy. Keenan took a deep breath and stepped into the dark hole.

“Oh,” Serena said as she bumped into his chest. “I was just on my way out.”

“What’s taking ye so long in here?”

Serena frowned at him. “I said I was just on my way out.” She stepped closer to him.

He stood up abruptly, grazed his head on the cave ceiling and cursed. She laid a hand on his arm causing him to jerk and run his elbow into the jagged granite wall.

“Keenan, last night,” she began. “The kiss—”

“Should never have happened, Serena.”

“What?”

“Ye are to be my brother’s wife. I took liberties, I…”

“Didn’t do anything I didn’t want, Keenan.”

He continued to berate himself silently. “It shouldn’t have happened. Ye will be my sister.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Serena huffed.

“Ye are the witch.”

“Agreed, but the kiss, Keenan?” Serena blushed.

Keenan stared stonily for a moment and then rubbed the front of his skull. He closed his eyes. “I will never forget yer sweet taste, but lass, it will never happen again.”

“Never again?”

Keenan shook his head.

“But, but,” she stammered. “Drakkina said, she said that all would fall into place if we kissed.”

“Who?” Keenan glanced about the cave.

“Drakkina, a crone, or a spirit of one. She came to me. She knew my parents, my real parents. And I have sisters and she knows them, she knows so much.” Serena’s words tumbled over one another in their rush. “You can’t say you’ll never kiss me again.”

“When did ye talk to the crone?”

“Last night, she appeared in here before the storm.”

Keenan’s lips tightened together. “The unnatural storm.” He’d been tricked.

“She said that we must kiss and that we are soul mates and meant to be together. I asked her of your prophecy and she didn’t believe it. Keenan, she’s very wise. She helped me heal William,” Serena gestured with her hands and shrugged. “She linked me to a healer, my sister I think.” She stopped and waved her hands. “That doesn’t matter, but I’m telling you, she knows things. She’s magic and she says that we must be together. For the greater good, she said.”

Keenan stared, his face transforming. “She told ye to kiss me last night?” Serena had asked him to kiss her, not because she wanted him to, but because this spirit told her to.

“Yes, she said that if I kissed you that we’d be together as is meant to be.”

“So ye kissed me because she told ye to do it, for the greater good.”

Serena swallowed. “This isn’t coming out at all right. I wanted to kiss you, Keenan. I’m just not one to ask. Her words helped me be bold enough to ask you.”

Her confession rolled a boulder into his chest.

“Keenan, last night…”

“Was done for the greater good.” Where had he heard that before?

“No,” Serena’s voice rose.

“It sounds like ye have yer own prophecy controlling ye, Serena. I suppose we do have much in common.”

Serena just stared, her eyes wide, pleading.

He was in no mood to listen. “Aye, much in common. We both are performing a role in our own stories. Performing our role for the sake of the greater good.”

Keenan turned on his heel and strode out of the cave. “Find yer horse. We have a mission to complete.”

Chapter 9

They arrived the next night at the Red Cloak Inn, in Leicester. Keenan procured two rooms. Serena retired immediately, requesting food and a bath to be sent upstairs. Keenan sat at a table in the corner of the common room with his men and took a long pull off his tankard. He hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Serena. He was furious with himself for wanting her kiss. The witch would wed Lachlan.

“What’s the plan?” Gavin asked Keenan as he leaned forward, his elbows planted on the rough table.

“King George is visiting Frampton Manor nearby,” Keenan said casually, his gaze washing over the busy room. “Word in town is that he is entertaining his latest mistress there on holiday, but I think he’s meeting with Scottish supporters.”

“Bastards,” Ewan swore.

“I’ve requested an audience with the king to explain Gerard’s death. If I see the excuse, I will play the part of traitorous brother.”

“What’s that?” Thomas asked and coughed, his eyes glancing toward the stairs leading to Serena. “Traitorous in what way?”

Keenan ignored the glance. “I’ll say that I support him, not Lachlan and the Bonnie Prince. If he’s meeting with Scottish supporters, I’ll just be another.”

“Without an army?” Gavin asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Nay,” Keenan said. “George kens that the Maclean warriors from Kylkern support me.” Keenan looked at his men, the men he had trained and fought with. All four of them nodded easily. “I can convince him that ye follow me, na’ Lachlan.”

“What then?” Ewan said and pinched a serving maid who had wandered nearby. She smiled coyly and sauntered over toward the kitchens. His eyes followed her.

Brodick punched his arm. “Yer neck may depend on this, pay attention.”

Keenan sat back in his chair. “Perhaps he’ll confide his plans to me. Perhaps I’ll find some other battle plans or overhear some important information.”

Thomas motioned toward the stairs. “What of the witch?”

“She is a lovely lass,” Ewan said glancing at the stairs. “Hard to believe she’s a witch.”

“Her name is Serena,” Keenan corrected brusquely.

“Then what of Serena?” Thomas asked undaunted.

“She will come to court with me, a distant cousin who supports me in the break from Lachlan. In reality she will try to identify the thieves who killed Gerard and took the letter. If they are following the court, I need to retrieve the letter.”

“But what if the murderers are there and reveal that Gerard was a Jacobite?” Gavin asked.

Keenan leaned back considering. “Giving Gerard’s name would only call suspicion on themselves. Suspicion is something everyone avoids these days. But if they do, I willna refute it,” Keenan said.

Brodick wrapped his fingers around his tankard, his other hand tugging at his beard. “He could have ye locked up, as a Jacobite.”

Keenan shrugged. “Unlikely, but Serena can warn me if she picks up on any ill thoughts of dungeons and gallows.” He grinned darkly. Keenan knew the lass scared them a bit.

The kitchen maid brought another round of ale and neatly avoided Ewan’s hand this time, though her smile held promise.

Thomas leaned over to Keenan. “Why bother, Keenan? Chances are, the letter is gone. What good is it really to get into court? What, with the risk?”

The thought of Serena bent over William on the bridge sat heavy in Keenan’s mind. She had promised to help him identify and possibly recover the incriminating letter, and he had promised to help save her brother. Keenan led him out of Leeds and to relative safety, but William still had a price on his head for the murder of a prestigious man. Serena herself may even be wanted in association with William’s disappearance.

“I made a bargain to help Serena’s brother, William. If there’s a chance to expose those who plotted and hired Gerard’s murderer, I need to expose it. Otherwise, William Faw will run his entire life.”

Gavin nodded. “No honor in running and hiding yer entire life, now is there.” The other three quickly agreed. Gavin silently raised his cup in salute.

Perhaps the farce about controlling his brother’s army was not that far off from the truth.

****

The pretty kitchen maid smiled at Serena as she turned in a circle.

“Milady, you do look lovely in that gown. You’ll fit right in with the court at Frampton Manor, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Serena smiled reassuringly. “I owe it to you, Winifred. And you certainly know how to weave hair.” Serena peered into the small glass mirror above the dressing table in the cramped room above stairs at the inn. Winifred had coiled and woven her hair with ribbon to match the emerald court gown Keenan had commissioned upon arriving in town.

Ewan had ridden down to Leicester with bolts of the silk mockado velvet tied tightly to the back of his horse. It had taken three seamstresses two full days to cut, pin and stitch it together in record time. They had just finished in time for Serena and Keenan’s audience with King George that evening followed by a small reception feast and dancing.

Winifred stopped in front of Serena, hands on hips, and stared at Serena’s bare neckline. “Hmm, I hope you aren’t chilled this eve, Milady. The neckline is quite low.”

Serena looked down at the tops of her round breasts held up by the tight stays.

“I should wear a handkerchief to cover the neckline.”

Winifred shook her head. “Not in the evening at court. All the ladies wear their costume without covering up. It seems they would likely fall out if they bend down.” The maid smiled at Serena’s concerned look. She patted her sleeve. “Don’t fret, you’ll do just fine.”

Winifred’s kind eyes eased Serena.

“Just in case, Milady, you should stay as upright as possible,” she added and demonstrated a curtsey while staying in a vertical position.

Serena mimicked her moves. If she didn’t stay down too long, she could hold the pose. “Lovely, Milady. You’ll do just fine.”

Serena wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t have a choice. She was on a mission to find the murderers to clear William’s name. How she would do that, she hadn’t a clue. Even if she found the man and woman, why would anyone believe her? Serena took two more deep breaths. On the last one she looked down at her breasts. No deep breathing either, she thought, as the flesh seemed to swell dangerously over the velvet edging.

A sharp rap trembled the thin wood door. Winifred opened it timidly and then threw it wide to let Keenan and Brodick enter. “Isn’t she a lovely sight?” she said with sincere enthusiasm.

Serena turned around to face the two sour faced men. She took a deep breath without thinking. Brodick’s eyes dropped to her ample display, and then his face turned several shades of red. No deep breathing. Keenan’s eyes rested on her chest as well, but instead of looking embarrassed, he looked irritated, even angry.

“They say it’s the latest fashion,” Serena offered.

Brodick cleared his throat and tugged on his beard. “Ye look very courtly, Milady.”

“Call me Serena, Brodick.”

“Not at court,” Keenan said briskly. “At court ye are Milady.”

Serena nodded. He still hadn’t said anything about how she looked. She held arms out to her sides and turned in a circle. “The fabric is beautiful. Thank you for bringing it down with us. I had no idea Ewan carried it all this way. I’ll have to thank him.”

“I’ll tell Ewan. Doona ye bother him about it,” Keenan said briskly.

Keenan continued to stare, his eyes traveling up and down until she too began to blush. He looked stern, serious, as if ready for battle. Did he expect battle this eve? Serena reminded herself not to breathe deeply. She would just have to let her heart race.

“Do ye have a cloak?” Keenan asked abruptly. Winifred brought a soft lamb’s wool coat from the bed. “Good,” he said and turned.

Whisked through the inn at a breathless speed, Serena’s heart beat rapidly as she stepped up into a hired carriage. The door clicked shut behind Keenan as he followed. He settled himself across from Serena in the tight cabin. Thomas rode above with the driver. Ewan and Brodick rode their horses alongside. The carriage bumped and pitched along the pitted road. Serena concentrated on keeping her seat else she would end up in a pile of velvet and fluff on the gritty floor.

Keenan watched out the window. The moon reflected against his face, accentuating the scar and his rugged masculinity. He wore English court clothes, perfectly cut to show off his strong body in elegant style. Every part of his grooming, down to his neatly queued hair, made him look the courtly gentleman, proud and serious. Serena sighed quietly. She preferred her Scottish warrior, who smelled of pine and highland wind. She preferred the man that used to trust her.

“Keenan. I’d like the chance to explain about Drakkina and the cave.”

Keenan turned to her. “What else is there to ken,” he said nonchalantly. “A spirit woman told ye to kiss me and that it was meant to be for the greater good.” He stared.

The moon flashed through the trees to flicker across her eyes, making it difficult to see his expression.
Serena’s chest clenched. The man was impossibly stubborn. How would she ever be able to convince him that his perceptions were skewed? “I didn’t kiss you because she told me to,” she said, silently adding “you big oaf.” “I kissed you because I’ve wanted to since you caught me at the fair.”

Keenan didn’t move. Serena caught sight of the lights of Frampton Manor sparkling against the darkness outside his window.

“When you kissed me on the moors,” she hesitated thankful for the dark interior, “I…I wanted more.” His black eyes watched. Oh, she wanted to look away, to hide the embarrassment her admittance brought, but she didn’t. He had to see it in her eyes. “But then we were at Kylkern and you,” she took a deep breath. “You gave me up, up to the prophecy, up to Lachlan. It was as if you had just begun to see me and then you shut the door.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued his silent stare.

“Drakkina had only just told me that you were my soul mate before you woke me in the cave. At first I thought she had been a dream.” She paused. “And then when I began to think that maybe she was more real than dream, it was, well I,” she turned her head away. “I had decided, Drakkina or not, I wanted to kiss you again. And I thought that it might be my only chance.”

Still he said nothing. “I seem to remember,” she continued, as anger began to well back inside, “that you, too, felt you had no time to tell me something you should have.”

Keenan peered through the darkness, his blank stare seemed to weigh her words. Shouts beyond the windows heralded the gates of Frampton Manor.

She folded her arms and leaned back into the seat.

“In battle,” his muted voice filled the small cabin, “I must trust each of my warriors completely.” His mellow tone couldn’t conceal the stark undercurrent. “They disclose everything, and I use all their information to best calculate my strategy so we all can survive.”

“I speak of my heart and you lecture me on the tactics of war?”

“Life is war, Serena.”

They passed through the lit gates into the bailey of the fortified manor house. “And I’m one of your warriors,” she mocked quietly.

“The prophecy declares ye as such.”

Serena snorted softly. “You trust that bloody prophecy more than you trust your own instincts, Keenan.” Torchlight flashed across his face as they jarred to a halt.

Keenan spoke softly.

“There is danger here this eve, Serena. I need ye to be a warrior.”

“I know the plan. You’ve gone over and over it.”

“Aye, but can I trust ye?”

Serena leaned forward. “I’ve bared my soul to you, and I have absolutely no idea what you think about what I said or about me. I think the better question is, can I trust you, Keenan?”

Brodick clicked the latch up on the outside and whipped the door open.

Keenan escorted Serena up the many steps to the entrance of Frampton Manor. As they entered, he spoke to one of the pages over the quartet playing in a small ballroom. “Keenan Maclean of Kylkern, and my cousin Serena Mackay of York. We have come to announce the death of a friend to His Majesty.” Keenan pulled out the summons that he had received upon his request. The page took the letter and Serena’s cloak, revealing her deeply dipping neckline.

Keenan almost demanded the cloak back, but etiquette and performance were as essential to court as water to human life. Another glance assured him that the rose hued areolas encircling her nipples were still trapped within the clinging fabric.

Keenan took a deep breath and forced his eyes to roam the landscape of the gilded rooms. What was wrong with him? He had never been so distracted on a mission before, and distractions could be lethal.

The servant ushered them into the
dazzling lit cage of decadence and etiquette.
Several familiar lords and ladies stood about the room in whispering groups. It was a veritable wolves’ den of powdered wigs and pompously stuffed costumes. The aroma of stale lamp oil mixed with fragrance to hide body odor filled his nose. He hated the court. Why indeed would he purposely lower himself into this belly of sweet smiling assassins and proper looking miscreants? Duty, honor, all the same reasons that propelled him from his pallet each morning.