Chapter 4

"Is there anything else you need?" Kenna asked him.

She was trying not to look at him too closely. He was far too handsome, and there was something about him that called out to her in a strange, unsettling way.

"No, thank you. You have been too kind to me already."

His voice was husky, and for a moment Kenna thought he was going to burst into tears.

"Then please turn your back while I undress and prepare myself for bed," she ordered. "I am trusting you, so please don't let me have to throw you out."

Her voice was stern. She could call a guard at any time, and they would recognize him at once, but fortunately that was something she did not appear to know.

Maxwell thought he might be dreaming. He had landed on his feet in a cozy room with a beautiful woman, and even though he was not going to bed her, it was far more pleasant to sleep beside a warm woman than a warm horse!

"I understand," he replied, nodding.

He lay down on the floor and turned his back, then listened to the rustling of Kenna's dress as she took it off. It took every ounce of willpower Maxwell had to restrain himself from looking around because, from what he had seen so far, his rescuer was a very desirable woman.

His traitorous body had already begun to respond to her in the most primitive way possible, and the thought of her being half-naked and within reach of her was almost too much to bear. He rolled over on his blanket and pressed his face into the floor, his manhood stiffening painfully until he heard the sound of the bed creaking as she climbed into it.

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Goodnight, and sleep well," he replied, then turned over to look at Kenna as she closed her eyes.

She had turned off the lantern, and the room was illuminated by only a single candle and the light of the dying fire, but he could still see her hair as it flowed over the edge of the pillow like a waterfall.

He sorely wanted to reach up and touch it, but he did not want to disturb her again, so he had to be content with watching her. He could see that she was having a pleasant dream by the way her eyes moved back and forth, and presently she let out a little giggle, which made him want to laugh too. He sighed.

Maxwell was truly exhausted, but he did not wish to stop looking at her, and when she stirred in her sleep and moved her arm so that it hung over the side of the bed, he was unable to resist. He touched her hand with his fingertips and was surprised when her hand closed around his, gripping it tightly. Kenna murmured something unintelligible, then sighed happily. Maxwell grinned. It looked like a very pleasant dream indeed!

Kenna was dreaming about meeting a handsome man—a very handsome man indeed. He was standing on one of the walkways around the battlements looking out over Invercree Glen, apparently deep in thought, but as he heard her approaching him, he turned to her and smiled.

Good God,she thought. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

The stranger was tall, muscular, and had shining light brown hair. He had a thick beard too, which could have made him look very ugly and fierce, but it was neatly trimmed and suited his striking face perfectly making it look even longer.

Above the beard was a slightly aquiline nose and high, sloping cheekbones, above which his deep-set eyes were shadowed by thick brown brows. His lips were full and firm and made Kenna think of kissing for the first time in a long while.

She had not had much experience in that particular pastime. Those she had experienced had only been fumbling attempts by stable hands and farm laborers, none of which had given her much pleasure. However, somehow she knew that this man would be much more experienced than they had been, and she longed to find out if she was right.

Presently he extended his hand, and she took it trustingly, loving the feeling of his warm, strong fingers closing over his own. She sighed and smiled; then, when he pulled her closer, she went willingly. She was not quite sure what she wanted, but she wanted it more than anything else she had ever desired in her life.

"Kenna, come to me," he said in a voice that was deep and gravelly.

It had a strange effect on her, making her want to step into his arms and press herself against him. Her heartbeat speeded up and she felt a warm, wet feeling between her thighs, as well as a sweet pulse. It was all very new and completely delightful. She could see as she drew closer to him that his eyes were such a light grey they were almost silver, but strangely he did not smell too good.

His scent was that of an unwashed body that had lain on wet ground and slept among horses, and when he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away, revolted. He stepped backward, startled, and she turned away.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice confused. "Kenna! Please stay with me. I need you."

Kenna turned to answer him, but to her surprise and disgust, he had turned into someone else, someone she would not have dreamt of kissing in a thousand years.

This man was filthy. His hair was dirty and matted, and his beard looked as if someone had pulled tufts of it out with some force. His face, too, was covered in mud and bore scratches and bruises as though he had been in a fight. Muddy, torn, and ragged clothing completed the look of poverty and dissipation, and Kenna wondered why she had ever found him attractive.

"What is wrong?" the man asked, walking toward her again. He looked confused and uncertain.

Kenna shrank back, raising her hands to ward him off, and watched as his shoulders slumped and a defeated look crept over his face.

"I don't want you to touch me," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "Please go away."

The man stood stock-still for a moment, staring at her with tears in his eyes. Then, as she watched, he slowly dissolved into nothingness.

Kenna stood staring at the place where he had been standing for a moment. She was not surprised that he had disappeared. In fact, she felt nothing. She drifted back into a dreamless sleep and did not open her eyes again until morning.

At this time of the year, the beginning of winter, dawn came very late, so it was still half-dark when Kenna woke, and she opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about the dream she had had the night before.

She remembered the feeling of utter revulsion that had assailed her; it was still with her, even though she was wide awake. She shuddered at the thought that she had even contemplated kissing those filthy lips but consoled herself with the thought that it had been only a dream.

It is time to get up, Kenna, she told herself as she tried to put off the evil moment when she would have to climb out of bed and put her feet on the cold floor. She took in a deep breath, then let out a long sigh, tossed aside the covers, and began to climb out of bed. She had one foot on the floor when she squealed in fright. There, lying on the floor, was the man from her dream.

For a moment, Kenna did not believe what she was seeing.

I must be seeing things! she thought in alarm as she looked down at him for a long moment. His face was clean now, though, as were his hands, and he no longer smelled like a midden.

Suddenly the memories from the previous night came rushing back. She recalled finding the stranger in the stables, speaking to him, and giving him her last apple. She had fed him and allowed him to wash, then let him use her blanket—this perfectly strange man whom she did not know from Adam. What had possessed her? She studied him for a moment, gradually beginning to relax. He was such an attractive man, she thought. If only he were not a tramp!

Standing up, she stepped over him and washed quickly in the water she had used the previous night. Still feeling slightly dirty, Kenna took one last look at her "guest" before she left, locking the door behind her. She hoped he would have the sense to stay quiet.

When Kenna arrived in the kitchen to eat her breakfast, her mother was already there, as well as two other kitchen maids who were scrubbing the long table and scouring a big cast-iron pot. They all looked up and smiled as she entered.

"Hello, sleepyhead!" Janet Mulholland, one of the kitchen maids, greeted her. "Ye are late up this mornin'!"

Kenna glanced out of the window and yawned, then realized, to her surprise, that it was almost full daylight.

Flora, her adopted mother, frowned and shook her head as she looked at Kenna.

"Well, ye will go out feedin' those horses at a' hours o' the mornin'. See the teeth on them things? One o' these days one o' them will bite yer fingers off an' it will serve ye right." She nodded as if to underline her statement.

"Mammy." Kenna smiled and put her arms around her mother's waist from behind. "Don't worry. My fingers will be just fine and so will I. You worry too much!"

"I dinnae worry too much!" Flora said irritably.

She was guilty of being overprotective sometimes since she knew what it was like to lose a child.

Kenna knew this and understood only too well. She had no real recollection of her birth mother, only a shadow at the edge of her memory, and as far as she was concerned, her parents might never have existed.

Yet she knew that Flora still wept bitterly sometimes over the death of her little daughter Bettina, who had been snatched from her by smallpox at the tender age of four. At such times she felt helpless because, although she knew that Flora loved her very much, Kenna could never be the daughter she had given birth to. How could she love a child who had come suddenly into her life out of nowhere as much as one she had so carefully nurtured inside her womb?

"Yes you do, Mammy, but that is one of the reasons I love you so much."

Kenna's voice was soothing as she hugged her mother more tightly, then kissed her cheek.

Flora turned and flapped the dishcloth she was holding at her daughter, then smiled and returned the kiss.

"Away wi' ye!" she chuckled. "I love ye as well, silly lass. Go an' eat!"

Kenna laughed and dished herself up some porridge for breakfast, then sat wondering how she could steal some food for her guest. With Janet, her mother, and another maid, Tammy, in the kitchen, it would not be easy. Still, he would be gone soon, she thought, but strangely the thought gave her no joy.

She peeped over the edge of the porridge pot to see if there was any left. There was plenty, but there was no way she could think of stealing away with a heaped bowl of it. However, she could quite openly take fruit, so she helped herself to two apples and stuffed them in her pocket.

Flora looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Is one no' enough for ye?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "If I find out ye are feedin' them horses…" She trailed off, leaving the words unsaid.

The meaning was quite clear. Flora had threatened Kenna with a thrashing many times when she was younger but had never laid a finger on her.

It had terrified her in her younger days, but when she realized that there were never going to be any physical consequences, she realized that Flora's disapproval was even more painful. She would have done anything for her mammy.

"Don't worry, Mammy," she assured Flora. "I am keeping one for later in case they are all eaten by the afternoon."

Flora grunted but went back to washing the dishes. She could always tell when Kenna was lying, but what did a few apples matter as long as she was happy? Kenna was her whole life.