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She pushed Meyrick away with her face on fire and anger in her breast. ‘Stop. You talk of Conall taking advantage, and here you are doing the same.’
‘Then I must ask your forgiveness again, though I’ll not be sorry I stole a kiss. Can you blame a man for giving in to such temptation, Kenna? I am in earnest when I say this. I think I am falling for you, hard.’ Indeed his face was full of longing and sincerity.
‘I have to go Meyrick.’
‘Of course.’
He bowed and opened the door for her, and she left the mews and the quiet, blind birds behind.
‘Permit me…permit me.’ Kenna repeated the words later, over and over in her head as she lay looking up at the ceiling of her chamber. Conall did not ask permission, not ever. He took what he wanted forcefully, unflinchingly. She thought of Meyrick’s kiss. It had none of that wild excitement, that fierce possessiveness that Conall aroused in her. And though she hated herself for it, and she was ragingly angry at him, she drifted off to sleep thinking of his mouth on hers, not Meyrick’s.
Chapter Eighteen
Dunslair may be a fortress, but when it was like this, fiddlers playing as the setting sun sent its warm rays through the windows and the great hall bursting with laughter and dancing, it was also a fine home. Rory caught sight of Monnine standing in a quiet spot at the back, absent-mindedly tapping her foot along to the music, smiling at the dancing couples as they swirled about the room. The travelling minstrels had come calling, looking to sing and play for the Laird, and he was glad he hadn’t turned them away. It was worth the expense just to see Monnine’s enjoyment of it all. He wondered if she had experienced many evenings like this and thought not, stuck in that purgatory of marriage to Logan Blythe.
‘The place has gone to the dogs, Rory.’
‘What?’ he dragged his mind back to Duncan, who was reviling London and all its vices.
‘Women are being burned for witches in the streets, sometimes very young ones - almost children, decrepit old women, the poor, the friendless, the unwanted. Strangled before burning, but sometimes not.’
This was not a conversation Rory wanted to have.
‘If they have communed with the devil, practised the evil arts, it is heresy, and the only way to save their souls is with the purification of fire,’ said Father Boyle.
Duncan gave the priest one of his black looks, and Rory braced for an argument.
‘Have you ever witnessed a burning Father?’ The priest shook his head. ‘Well, I am a veteran of many bloody battles, but this cruelty, it makes my stomach heave with the horror of it. I will not describe it in detail to you, except to say that the screams of those dying slowly and agonisingly will haunt your dreams for years to come. It is an evil thing to do to a person, whether it is done in God’s name or not. And these women are, for the most part, pathetic, defenceless creatures, tortured into confessing after a long time in prison. The witchfinder is paid a hefty price for each one condemned, so is it any wonder he finds more and more so-called witches to sacrifice?’
‘But if that is the case, would King Charles not put an end to it?’
‘The King is too busy exhausting himself with his many mistresses to worry about what happens to a few poor peasant women. Though there is talk that the situation has become barbarous. Parliament is making a noise about it in England and the Privy Council, here in Scotland, too.’
Rory felt a soft hand on his arm. Ilene stood beside him. ‘I would dance, but my belly is too fat, so come and talk to me.’ She steered him away from her father, who was now arguing with Father Boyle about politics.
‘Rory, my brother is blind.’
‘Ah, you mean the Moncur girl.’
‘Kenna is infatuated with him, I think. See, she is searching the room for him even now. Where is he, by the way?’
‘Taken himself off somewhere. He never did care much for dancing.’
‘Do you think he has feelings for Kenna?’
‘I don’t pretend to know with any certainty, but he is either soft around her or angry with her. He melts when she smiles and he broods when he is ignored.’
‘And he’s not the only one with feelings, is he?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know full well what I mean.’
Rory looked down into his whisky.
‘You won’t find the answer there, Rory Mor Campbell. Look, I am going soon, back to Cailleach to see to mother and then back on to Shillinglaw, before I am so huge, I spill my baby out on the road on the way there. Before I go, I would see you do something about your situation.’
‘Monnine has had an unhappy life, and I mean to care for her that is all. I don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with this matter.’
