Page 2 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

“Aye,” John replied with the smirk of a victor.

Her brothers knew well enough that Elizabeth, the youngest of the Gordon siblings, had never been blessed with good health. A simple trip into the city of Inverness was enough to leave her bedridden for a week. They all knew that a several days’ trek across the Highlands to the Queen’s temporary court in Aberdeen would be enough to put her in an early grave, even if she was given royal comforts along the way. It wasn’t a fate that one as sweet and kindhearted as Elizabeth deserved.

“Fine, I’ll be yer sacrificial lamb.”

“Excellent. Congratulations on yer fortune and may God bless yer union,” John said, the note of earnest approval grating against her. “Now, clean yerself up. It will not do to look like such a mess come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Kenna asked.

“The Queen wishes to return to her court gathered at Aberdeen in two days’ time, leaving only tomorrow fer such a major event,” Thomas said, motioning for John to follow him as he exited.

Neither seemed keen to wait long enough for Kenna to argue, for they surely felt the renewed vigor rising within her. They managed to slam the door behind them just as Kenna retrieved her spilled goblet and hurled it at the door.

Kenna had never been so angry. Tears soaked her face, leaving streaks of salt in their wake as she tore off her ruined dress and shift and began scrubbing at her skin to remove the lingering remnants of wine. The shift became the finest rag the castle had ever known as she used the expensive cloth to soak up the puddles of wine that lay on the floor. The pillows and rugs may have been salvageable, but Kenna left them be. Forcing John to pay for their replacement once she was gone was the smallest of triumphs, and she clung hard to it.

She had been raised with the spoiled notion that she would be able to marry for love. Her family had been rich and well positioned, high enough to gain very little from a strategic marriage alliance and low enough to prevent others from actively seeking her hand for their own social climb. A staunch believer in love, her father had always told her that he would allow her to marry whomever she wished, so long as he could provide her with a comfortable home. Had she foreseen her father placing clan loyalty over his own life in the face of a queen, she may have more actively sought the man of her dreams and married him while given the chance. Someone tall and handsome who would look at her and be unable to look away. A man who would protect her but would not use that protection as a justification to disregard her mind. A man who would make her feel the things that whispered through her when she lay in bed at night.

It had been a happy wish while it lasted.

Content that both her body and the room were as clean as she cared for them to be, Kenna set about dressing herself in a fresh shift and dress. She settled on a brown woolen dress, far too warm for the season but the closest thing she had to black, and she was not prepared to stop her public mourning just yet. At least the warmth slowed her trembling a bit.

Kenna hadn’t heard the knock at the door and did not notice the small, ebony-haired girl until she broke into a fit of coughing as she crossed the threshold.

“Elizabeth, what are ye doing out of bed?” Kenna admonished, grabbing her sister by the elbow and guiding her to the most comfortable chair in the room.

Elizabeth stared at her, her blue eyes wide and her face somehow paler than usual. “Kenna, whatever happened to yer face?”

Kenna glanced over at a looking glass sitting on the table. Sure enough, the place where John had struck her had swollen her face so terribly that she barely recognized herself, and it was starting to grow dark with bruising. She wondered what her new fiancé would say when he saw. At best, he would declare her unfit and reject her on the spot. At worst, he would come to have rough expectations. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“John and I got into it.”

“About the wedding?”

“Aye, ye know about it already?”

“Thomas told me. He just left me, so I came to find ye.”

“I see.”

A pair of maids entered, neither of whom Kenna recognized, and began to lay out a small supper of cheese, bread, and thinly sliced venison. Though it was a finer meal than they had been given in days, it was still poor in comparison to the meals they had shared when surrounded by family and friends only a turn of the moon prior.

One of the maids draped a gown across Kenna’s bed, and Kenna felt her heart clench in memory. It used to be the deepest of blues with fine, delicate lace, which was now torn in a few places from years of neglect. Yet, no matter how far it traveled from its original splendor, Kenna still loved it.

“Why is this here?” Kenna asked, trailing her finger down the worn silk.

“Queen Mary thought ye should wear the same gown that yer mum wore fer her wedding,” the maid replied.

“A wonderful thought,” Kenna said, feigning a smile. “She has my gratitude.”

The maids gave a slight curtsey and departed, surely off to inform the Queen of Kenna’s reaction, for Kenna had no doubt anymore that these maids belonged to Mary.

“‘Tis seen better days,” Elizabeth reflected, examining an especially large tear. “The Queen mustn’t have seen it before sending it along. Seems foolish the girls did not tell her of its disrepair.”

“The Queen knows its state well enough,” Kenna said, snatching up the gown and bringing it to the table, which was already littered with abandoned needlework projects. “But it wouldn’t suit fer a Gordon lass to show up looking bonny when she hopes to show the rest of the Highlands that we are nothing compared to the rest. I should send word that John ruined another dress of mine today. Stained with wine all down the front. She may prefer it.”

“Kenna.” Elizabeth blanched. “Hush now, ye do not know who could be listening.”

Kenna bit her lip. Elizabeth was right. The Queen’s servants could very well still be standing outside the door with Kenna none the wiser. She may have just delivered a treat upon which the Queen would feast.