Chapter 9

Halfway through the night, Maxwell was suddenly jerked awake by the sound of a scream. For a moment he was disoriented, not quite understanding where he was or where the sound was coming from. Then he looked up to see Kenna thrashing about on her bed, her limbs tangling up the bedclothes, her mouth open, and her face screwed up in anguish. He had never seen anyone in such pain before.

He tried to shake her awake gently to no avail. She was so lost in her nightmare that he had to shake her forcefully to bring her out of her tormented sleep. Then he wrapped his strong arms around her and allowed her to rest her head on his chest, next to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

When she opened her eyes, she seemed confused. Then, when she realized she was safe, she poured her heart out to him.

That was when he realized that Kenna was suffering just as much as he was, and his heart went out to her. However, it was not pity that made him kiss her.

When she tried to pull away from him, he realized that he could not let her go. Her lips were moist, slightly parted, and oh, so tempting. She was a servant, but he had held many noble ladies in his arms and none had felt like this woman. She was soft and pliant, but there was a strength about her that he could sense rather than feel.

Her green eyes were a little bewildered as he took her mouth, and for a tiny moment he thought that she was going to push him away, but when she had moved past her surprise, she began to answer him. It did not last long enough, but eventually they drew apart, and suddenly he felt ashamed.

"I am so sorry, Kenna," he sighed, passing his hand over his eyes. "I should not have let that happen."

"Why not?" she asked, puzzled. "Ewan, it was wonderful!"

"I took advantage of you," he said dully. "It will not happen again."

"I must have done something wrong," Kenna said sadly, touching her lips.

"No, Kenna." His voice was tender. "There is no right or wrong way of kissing, but I should not have thrust myself on you like that. It was wrong, and I should have known better. Goodnight."

A few seconds later there was a soft knock on Kenna's door. Without needing to be asked, Maxwell dived underneath Kenna's bed and waited, trying to keep still and silent. His heart was thudding so hard that he was sure it could be heard by whoever was standing outside.

Kenna opened the door and found her mother on the other side, and her heart skipped a beat. What had she heard?

"I thought I heard somethin', hen," Flora said anxiously, reaching out a hand to cup Kenna's cheek. "Are ye a'right? Is it the bad dream again?"

"It was, Mammy, but I am fine now. Thank you, but don't worry." Kenna put her arms around her mother and squeezed her tightly. "You really do fret too much. Look." She stood back so that Flora could get a good look at her. "See? I am perfectly fine." She smiled brightly.

"Do ye no' want somethin' tae help ye sleep?" Flora asked anxiously.

She seemed unwilling to be convinced that her daughter was well, and Kenna was beginning to think she might have to shut the door in her face.

"I am fine, Mammy." She yawned. "But I need to get back to sleep, and so do you." She stepped forward and kissed Flora on the cheek. "Thank you. I love you, Mammy."

"Goodnight, lovie," Flora said gently. "I love ye tae. Wake me if ye need anythin'."

Kenna watched her candlelight bobbing down the corridor for a few minutes as she walked away, then she turned, locked the door firmly, and went back to the bed. She bent down and said softly, "You can come out now."

Maxwell came out and scrambled to his feet.

"This is becoming far too dangerous for you, Kenna. If anyone found me, you could lose your position here, and then what would you do?"

He sighed irritably as he drew the blanket over himself again.

"I would survive." Her voice was firm. "I would survive because I have friends to help me. Do you not have friends? Is there nobody you can ask for help?"

Maxwell turned away from her. His voice was angry as he replied, "There is no one, Kenna. You have no idea how much I wish there were."

Kenna looked at his broad shoulders, straight back, and firmly muscled buttocks and thighs, thinking about the danger she had put herself in. She had thought at first that any problems would come because he was a big strong man and she was a small weak woman, and that was still part of the reason. However, he had proved himself to be kind, considerate, and trustworthy. Yet now she could see that there was another peril.

She wanted him. It was a strange feeling, and at first she had not recognized it because she had never felt it before. Her mother had told her the bare bones of what she said Kenna needed to know about the "goin's on between men an' women," as she put it. She had gone no further than that, though, and Kenna had no one else to talk to. She could not ask Jack or Frankie because they would die of embarrassment, and Lady McDonald was of a higher social class.

Maxwell turned back to her because, like Kenna, his body was betraying him, and he could not let her see the evidence that would be obvious to her if she looked at the bulging front of his breeches.

"You must rest. You are a working woman, and you need your sleep more than I do."

Having said this, he lay down and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

Kenna lay on her bed, clutching her blankets tightly around her, feeling that they somehow raised a barrier between them, one that she now felt she needed. She was acutely aware of the man beside her, his soft breathing, the occasional murmur that told her he was dreaming. She closed her eyes, but it was a long time before sleep claimed her, and even then it was a restless, disturbed sleep that did very little to refresh her.

She woke with a headache, feeling restless and miserable, before washing quickly and opening the shutters. The room was freezing cold since she had not yet lit the fire, and when she looked out of the window, she groaned.

Overnight, a snowstorm had set in, and the ground was already covered in a few inches of the foul white stuff. Kenna hated snow and the effects it had on everything. The trees, apart from the evergreens, had already been stripped bare for winter, and now they looked like black skeletons against the white snow. All the color had been leached from the world outside.

Kenna realized that if Ewan tried to walk for any distance in this, he would perish in a matter of hours. He might survive the daytime temperatures, but he would never be able to live through the night unless he found some kind of shelter. She could not allow him to leave on a day like this, but his company was becoming difficult for both of them.

She found him so attractive he was almost irresistible, while he was becoming as restless as a caged bear due to the enforced idleness of the past few days. She could not blame him since he was so large that he almost filled the room all by himself, and there was very little room for him to move around.

Maxwell sat up and blinked as he woke up. He saw that Kenna was already fully dressed and ready for the morning, but now, with a stab of regret, he realized he could not stay a moment longer. She was in his blood, and he simply could not be with her and not touch her. He had to leave.

Kenna turned and met his eye, then looked away again, and Maxwell saw that she was blushing.

"I will find you some food, but you can't leave today. You will freeze to death before you have gone a mile."

"Thank you for caring about me," he replied softly, "but you must know that it is impossible for me to stay. I am putting you at risk, and after what I did last night, I am so ashamed of myself."

He sat down heavily on her bed and ran his fingers through the shaggy mass of his hair.

"Why are you always so unkind to yourself?" she asked, frowning. "I am tired of hearing how ashamed you are all the time! You seem like a good man to me."

"Because I deserve it." He sounded angry as he paced restlessly to the window. "There are things about me that you don't know, Kenna. If you did, you would be keener to help me leave."

Then he looked out at the landscape below them, taking in the white blanket that covered the ground, and groaned. This was going to make his journey to Kirklieth doubly difficult.

"You will have to stay another night," Kenna declared. "You will freeze to death if you go out in this. I can't stress it enough, Ewan. Even to the next village, Kirklieth, it is eight miles, and I don't think you will make it, even with your new clothes."

"And if the snow is still there tomorrow? And the next day?" he pointed out. "No, Kenna. I must go today."

As if to torture him into doing just that, an unwanted memory invaded his mind of the moments after Lachlan had died. He would never forget the look of disbelief on Douglas's face as he looked down at the brother he adored lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. He had looked up to Maxwell, who was standing at the top of the stairs, and his face became a mask of rage.

"You killed him!" he screamed. "You murdered my brother!"

"It was an accident!" Maxwell shouted back, but as Douglas came charging upstairs, he turned and fled, running as fast as he could through the guards and the guests and into the night.

He had been running ever since.

Now, remembering his friend, Maxwell felt as though his heart was breaking again. He and the twins had become notorious for their exploits among the fairer sex but on one terrible night, all that had ended. He had turned from a boy into a man. No, not a man.

A murderer.

I have to go, he thought desperately.

"Kenna, I have no choice."

"What are you running away from?" Kenna was mystified.

She could see that he was terrified of something, but for the life of her, she could not figure out what.

"Even if you could leave, you would have to wait until nighttime, and then you would not be able to see. It would be suicide, Ewan. Neither could you sneak out during the day when there are so many people around. It is better if you wait 'til the snow has melted."

At that moment, Maxwell's stomach rumbled, and he flushed. He was ravenous, which was another reason he knew he would have to go—and soon.

Kenna felt wretched. The kitchen would be full of staff now, and it would look suspicious if she went scrounging for food. He would have to go hungry until she returned, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I will try to bring you some food if I can," she told him, looking at him with pity.

He is so beautiful,she thought. Why is he so sad?

"I have to go. Do what you must, but if you are caught, I will deny all responsibility for you. I will say I never met you."

She was looking at him directly, and there was a challenge in her eyes.

Maxwell was not surprised or annoyed since he would have done the same thing himself.

"I understand," he said softly. "Thank you for everything, Kenna."

She opened the door and strode away, but she did not lock it.