Chapter 6

Amongst other things, Kenna's duties included the mending of the laird and lady's clothes, which was how she had acquired the former laird's old garments. She often took these to her chamber to sew, and it was a duty she enjoyed. She had also taken over the teaching of some of the servants' children, and her favorite duty was telling them bedtime stories. Sometimes she read these from storybooks, and sometimes she made them up, but the children always loved them and consequently loved her too. The feeling was entirely mutual, and although she had no definite plans to marry, Kenna could definitely see herself as a mother.

That night, however, she was distracted and a little distant, which the children noticed immediately. She was standing by the window after reading their story, thinking about how she was going to smuggle any food out of the kitchen. This was the time before she checked that all the bedrooms were tidy before the laird and lady retired, that she devoted a little attention to each child before kissing them goodnight.

"Kenna, are ye a' right?" a little boy of five, John Dunn, asked her, frowning. He looked genuinely worried, and Kenna felt ashamed.

"I am so sorry, Johnny." She smiled at him and placed a soft kiss on his head. "I am fine. I was daydreaming, that is all."

John grinned at her. "My mammy tells me off all time for daein' that!"

He yawned, then smiled at her. He was missing his two front teeth, as were many of the children of the same age, but instead of thinking them ugly, Kenna thought they were enchanting.

"Oh, dear! Time for bed."

Kenna shepherded all the children into the care of their mothers and wished them goodnight before dashing off to check the bedrooms. It was always her last task before she went to bed.

Kenna was so desperate to get back to Ewan that she carried out her tasks in a hurried, slapdash manner in half the time it usually took her. However, she was so used to doing the same job that she could have done it in her sleep, and she was fairly certain that she had left nothing out.

Right, she thought. Now for the hard part.

The hard part was sneaking some food out from under her mother's nose without her noticing. Kenna had devised a plan already, but she did not know if it would work, and she had no believable excuse if she was caught.

She took a pile of mending and put it in a basket, leaving plenty of space for the food, then went into the kitchen where her mother was preparing dough for the morning bread. The other kitchen maids had gone to bed for the night, so they were alone.

"You are very early," Flora remarked suspiciously. "Were some o' the rooms shut already? Laird an' Lady gone tae bed?"

Kenna shrugged. "No," she replied. "I just managed to do things more quickly tonight." She flopped down on a chair, rubbing her forehead.

"What is the matter, darlin'?" Flora asked worriedly as she knelt down by Kenna's side. "Are ye no' well?"

"I have a bit of a headache, Mammy," Kenna replied. "I had a lot to do today, and I think I skimped a bit on my food. You know how easy it is to do that when you are busy."

"Is that a'?"

Flora jumped to her feet and began to assemble some food on a tray. She began to cut some bread, and while her back was turned, Kenna put some dried meat into her basket, carefully concealing it among the clothes. She followed this with more bread, although she knew it would be stale by now. Before her mother turned back to her, she had added a few more assorted items of food.

Flora gave her some warm ale, then yawned.

"I think I might have a wee early night," she announced, then she kissed her daughter and gave her some cold meat and cheese on a plate. "Can ye carry a' that, hen?" she asked anxiously, looking at the plate and the basket.

Kenna chuckled as she balanced the plate carefully on the clothes.

"Mammy, you have seen me carrying far bigger things than this! Remember the time I carried a dozen wine glasses and three bottles of wine on a tray half the size of this one? I think I can do this."

Flora made a face as she remembered the party at which they had been serving. At the age of only thirteen, it was Kenna's first experience waiting on guests, and she was terrified. So was Flora as she watched her daughter descending a steep staircase carrying a tray of glasses and bottles which threatened to fall and smash on the floor at any moment. However, Kenna somehow made it to the bottom of the stairs and carried out her duties for the rest of the evening without incident. It had been a baptism of fire, but she had survived.

"I remember," Flora answered, smiling. "Now go tae yer room wi' that an' dinnae stay up tae late! Goodnight, darlin'." She kissed her daughter before turning back to her bread.

Kenna felt a warm blanket of love settle over her as her mother kissed her. She had never loved anyone more, and she felt guilty for deceiving her, but what other choice did she have? She could not very well throw the stranger out into the night.

She set aside her bad feelings and started up the stairs to her chamber. Despite herself, she was looking forward immensely to seeing Ewan again, even though she knew she would have to guard her heart against him, for he would be gone in a few more days. She felt sad at the thought but was glad to have known him, even for such a short time.

It occurred to Kenna, however, that if he had somehow managed to unlock the door, he could have taken the chance to wander around and steal a few small objects. He was, after all, a very poor man, and some of the ornaments in the castle were made of bone china, silver, and ivory, amongst other precious substances.

Perhaps she could help him by finding him some kind of work in the vicinity; from what she could see, there was nothing wrong with his muscles! However, there was still the strange question of his way of speaking. It was a mystery to her how such a poor man could speak like a laird. Clearly there was more to Ewan Montgomery than met the eye.

Whatever she did for him would be taking a risk. Despite her rather privileged position, she was still a servant, and her position would be in peril if she was caught sneaking strangers in.

She unlocked the door and only just stopped herself from laughing out loud at the sight of Ewan dressed in the huge shirt and breeches she had brought for him. They were so big that despite his best efforts, they were falling off him.

He looked up, embarrassed, as she opened the door. He had just about managed to keep the breeches up by means of a belt, but the shirt looked as if two of him could fit into it comfortably.

"Oh, dear," Kenna said, frowning. "They are just a wee bit big, are they not?" She frowned, then began to giggle.

Maxwell, after a moment, grinned.

"Just a wee bit," he admitted. "But I am sure I can tuck them all into my belt. The previous owner must have been a very large man indeed!"

"I never knew him, but I believe he was. There will be no need for any tucking in," Kenna said firmly. "I will make them fit."

She set down her basket on the bed, then took the tray from it and set it on the table. She produced the fruit from under the clothes in the basket and ordered: "Eat."

For a moment, Maxwell sat looking at the table, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. There was a whole chicken leg, what looked like a quarter of a loaf of bread, some roasted chestnuts, and two whole boiled eggs as well as an apple and a cup of ale.

"Thank you!" he said incredulously as he dived into the food and wolfed it down without stopping before drinking the ale.

Kenna smiled as he saw that he was at least partially satisfied. She gave him a handkerchief with which to wipe his mouth, and he smiled at her.

"I am so glad you found me," he said softly. "I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

Kenna gave him a brief, tight smile as she cleared the dishes away.

"Please don't thank me anymore. You are a human being, and so am I. This is what we do for each other."

She stood back and looked him up and down, trying to size him up while ignoring his powerful masculinity.

She thought to herself that she could not have chosen a better man to be imprisoned with. He was handsome, kind, and had at least tried his best to be clean. That morning she had brought him a bucket of warm water and a bar of coarse soap to clean himself with, and she could see the difference in his appearance already. He looked cleaner and smelled fresher, she thought, although she could tell that something was bothering him.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" she asked curiously.

"No," he replied as he looked out of the window, then he turned and faced her, looking uncomfortable. "Well, yes, Kenna. I know it sounds ungrateful, but I am beginning to feel very confined. I must leave, if only out of consideration for you. I don't want to make any more trouble for you. You are taking too many chances."

"Let me worry about that," she replied. "You must concentrate on standing still while I alter these clothes. It will take a good few hours, but you cannot go out looking like a scarecrow. You will have to stay here tonight 'til I am finished."

"Are you sure?" He was doubtful.

Kenna knelt down awkwardly in front of him and began to pin tucks into the trousers. It did not take her long to realize that she would have to unpick the seams to take in the width, so she pinned them so that they fitted his girth properly. She was uncomfortably aware that his body was reacting the way a man's usually did to the touch of an attractive woman and worked as quickly as she could so that she could move on to the shirt.

To stick the pins in, Kenna had to brush against the muscles of his thigh, and she could feel the firmness of his flesh even through the fabric. There was so much power there! She felt herself almost melting with desire, and her face was beginning to flush with heat before she stood up and immediately turned away from him.

"Take them off and wrap yourself in a blanket," she ordered.

Maxwell was glad to do so. Ever since Kenna had knelt down in front of him, her light touch had begun to arouse him, and he was immensely relieved when she turned her back on him. It was at times like these that he felt that, despite his strength, he was helpless before the charms of a woman, especially one as lovely as Kenna.

When Kenna sat down on her bed and began to sew, he paced over to the window and looked out. This little room did not have a well-favored view, and it was dark, so all that was visible were the lights of the village.

Maxwell was not a great drinker, but at that moment he could have killed for a good bottle of wine. The back of his throat tingled at the thought, and he sighed with longing.

"What is wrong?" Kenna asked, looking up from her needlework. She was sitting by a lantern that brought out the gold in her brown wavy hair, and her eyes were concerned as she looked at him.

"Nothing," he replied, smiling a little too brightly.

"I can see that there is," she observed. "You look sad."

"I am going to sound very ungrateful, but I would love a glass of wine."

He turned to look out of the window again, thinking of his sister, Lindsey. She loved her wine and was an expert on the subject. How he wished he could see her again, but no doubt she would be yet another of those with whom he had fallen out of favor. Maxwell had not seen her or any of his other relatives and friends since his flight from Invercree.

"I am sorry, but I cannot help you with that," Kenna said regretfully. "The wine steward likes me, but not enough to make me presents of his best vintages. I too like a glass of claret, but I prefer port."

Maxwell grinned. "I imagine many of the young men around here like you," he observed, then realized the tone of what he had said. "I am sorry. I only meant to pay you a compliment."

"Thank you," she murmured. Then she brightened up. "Sometimes the laird and lady leave a half-finished bottle on the table after their meal. Usually the servants get it, but I can try to steal one away."

Her emerald eyes glinted with excitement at the prospect.

Maxwell felt wretched suddenly. What if she was caught?

"Don't do that," he said hastily. "Not for me."