Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

L ater that evening, Kendrick discovered himself attempting to avoid the feast he had organized. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts were scattered and erratic. But he was unable to find a way out of the situation he was in.

One of the maids knocked on his door. "Milaird, some of the visitors have already arrived, and the feast begins shortly. It was asked that I fetch ye." Kendrick snarled, unwilling to answer. His silence only made her knock again. "Are ye in there, milaird?"

Footsteps from the corridor interrupted her knocking. She had to have drawn Logan. "Is something wrong?" Kendrick heard him say from behind the door. He took a step closer.

"The Laird has not responded to my notice, sir."

"Ye may go—I will handle it," Logan answered, though it was clear from his tone he knew Kendrick was spying. The maid must have turned on her heel and walked off, for there was only quiet for a moment.

"Kendrick!" Logan shouted, and he flung open the door to the room. As his uncle entered the chamber, he took a step back, clearly taken aback by its darkness. Logan called out to the maid and asked for the candle she was holding.

"Why are ye still inside with yer candles out, lad?" Logan asked as he saw to lighting the sconces.

In his palm, Kendrick held the luckenbooth brooch, flicking it back and forth. He wasn't sure what to do, and his thoughts of seeing Sophia after all this time kept getting in the way of his thinking.

"Naething. I simply need some peaceful time before the feast begins." Kendrick sat back on the chair and relaxed.

"Ye ought to join yer visitors in the hall, now." Logan lit the last candle. "Nae laying in yer chamber like a lovelorn lad."

Kendrick was at a loss for words. He and Logan had never talked about the night his mother died. Logan was his father's younger brother, and he admired him greatly, so he would not believe such a scandal. Regardless of how badly he needed to express his concerns, Kendrick concluded that telling himwould be futile.

"I will join the feast when I am ready, Uncle. Dinnae worry. In a few minutes, I will be down with all of ye."

"Ye must go now, milaird. Our men and their families are waiting for ye." Logan smiled reassuringly. "Have I not taught ye? A laird does nae show up late to his own feast."

Reluctantly, Kendrick got to his feet, still clutching his father's brooch.

As they made their way to the great hall, Logan must have noticed the weariness on his face for he asked, "Are ye alright? Ye have looked troubled since the meeting was held a few days past."

"Naething troubles me," Kendrick lied. "It may be that I am worried from the thoughts of marriage and preparing the feast."

"By chance, do ye worry that I might take yer position as laird?" Logan asked.

Kendrick turned to him. "Is there a reason why I should be?"

"Nae, lad," Logan promised. "I have nae fancy in yer place as laird, and ye ken that already."

Kendrick looked at his uncle with a half-smile. He never doubted Logan's devotionfor hehad stayed by his side and provided consolation when his mother died, despite his best efforts to isolate himself. He became like afather to him. But despite having Reed and Logan by his side, Kendrick knew that bitterness had taken over a large portion of his heart.

Between the nightmares, the lasses whose faces changed but their purposedid not, and his terrible fear of marriage... Kendrick was certain that without his uncle and best friend, his entire heart would perish.

"I've never distrusted ye, Uncle. Ye've never given me reason."

Logan held a gentle gaze at Kendrick. "Ye ken, my lad, sometimes I wish ye were my own son."

"Has there been a time when I was nae yer son?" Kendrick gently patted Logan's back. "I shall always be yer son."

Logan sighed in relief then went ahead to nag him, "Focus, milaird, ye need to choose yer wife tonight."

As if it is nae already chosen.

Kendrick's face fell as they entered the hall and sat next to each other at the far end of the feasting table. His eyes were secretly searching for Sophia. Part of him wished to see her again, while another wondered if it would be better if they never met again.

A footman poured ale into a silver goblet set on the table. Kendrick drank it in one gulp, hoping it would make him feel better. It made no difference.

"Easy with the ale, milaird," Logan cautioned him. "Ye need a clear head to make the right decision, and the farmers should nae see ye drunk."

"Ye really are getting old," Kendrick mocked. "Ye should fuss less. This is a feast, and feasts are meant for us to drink."

He filled the cup with more ale and was about to drink it when he noticed a squat, stout man with a round face and a grey beard approaching the head of the table where he was seated.

A maiden who resembled the man's female counterpart trailed close behind him, only she was much shorter and rounder.

"That is the second largest landholder, Gregor Gewan, and his sole daughter," Logan muttered. He stared at the pork on the tray in front of him and then at the father and daughter who were now drawing nearer. "I would say she is nae a good fit for ye, this is why I did nae mention her before."

The man lowered his head as he reached Kendrick's table, and his daughter followed suit behind him. "Good evening, milaird."

Kendrick looked at the girl. She was unable to mask her nervousness and tiny shivers rocked her body. "Good evening," Kendrick replied, shifting his eyes back to her father, unsure of what else to say to the landholder.

"Thank ye for this splendid feast, milaird." The farmer raised an eyebrow but Kendrick remained silent and downed more ale. He cleared his throat, "I was a great friend of yer father, milaird, and he fervently spoke of our family's possible alliance by marriage."

Kendrick was exhausted as he looked at the stranger. He had no desire to hear what the man had to say. Such discussions drained him, and at times like this, all hewanted to do was go into the library and lose himself in stories, forgetting about everything that bothered him. Unfortunately, he almost never got around to it because his responsibilities were too great and his time was too limited. He saw the smiles on hispeople's faces and decided it was worth it.

Kendrick approached the girl, feigning interest. She gave him a hesitant grin. A sprig of thyme had become entangled between her two front teeth, and her gown was far too large, nearly drowning her.

She had large ears that were visible through her untamed brown hair. Kendrick thought she looked more like a sheep in a frock than a prospective bride because her eyes were too big for her head. He coughed to cover a laugh, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall.

I should be damned for my thoughts! How do I expect to be happy when I cannae even control my own mind? It is nae the lass' fault she is nae appealing to me.

"Forgive me," he apologized to the farmer and his daughter who were evidently embarrassed. "Tickle in my throat. Yer daughter is a fair lass, indeed," he lied, not wanting to let the poor girl be embarrassed. "But I fear, I must turn down yer proposal."

Confused, the farmer turned to Logan and then back to Kendrick. "But, milaird, ye are nae—"

"If that is all, ye should get seated and await the feast to begin," Kendrick stopped him from speaking further, afraid he might say something much worse. "Enjoy yer eve."

The farmer averted his sight from Kendrick and politely bowed. "Thank ye, milaird, we shall enjoy the feast as ye say," he said and they walked away.

"Have ye decided on one of Angus' daughters?" Logan questioned him.

Kendrick shook his head, not being able to say out loud that he had to choose Lorena.

Speaking of Angus, why was he not at the feast?

"I do not see him," Kendrick commented, hoping to rouse an answer from his uncle.

"I saw him arrive moments ago with both his elder daughters," Logan informed him.

Cold fingers raced down Kendrick's spine. "Ye mean Lorena… and Sophia?"

"Aye, they should be in the great hall in a moment."

Kendrick grew restless. The hall was hotter than it should have been, and his stomach was churning. He couldn't let Sophia see him in this condition.

"Excuse me, Uncle. I shall return shortly."

"Where are ye going?"

Kendrick stepped away from the feasting table when a soft body brushed against his arm as he was about to leave the hall.

He looked down to find himself staring right into Sophia's dark, round eyes. A smile would have been a more appropriate welcome, but he stood frozen, unable to take his gaze away from her. She was no better in her manners, as she seemed to have forgotten the existence of the world itself while staring into his eyes. It only heightened his nervousness.

"Kendrick," she whispered, but he was too bemused to say a word.

Neither of them noticed Angus and Lorena approach. "Milaird," he mumbled causing the pair to flinch. Sophia retreated to stand behind her father.

"Greetings, milaird," Angus and Lorena echoed. The middle daughter curtsied, while Angus nodded with a knowing smile. "I am humbled by your gracious invitation to yer feast," their father said.

"I am rather honored that ye accepted my invitation, Angus," Kendrick muttered, though he struggled to keep his eyes on the man.

The man turned to his daughters. "These are my daughters—Sophia, my eldest, whom I believe ye are quite familiar with and Lorena who is my middle daughter. Ye must have met her a few times as well."

Both girls delivered small curtseys, though Kendrick could not bring himself to watch.

"I do nae see yer wife and youngest daughter. Surely, ye must have brought them along." Kendrick scanned the hall curiously.

"Ah, my youngest, Emilea. She is nae of marriageable age, and hence had nae reason to attend the feast," Angus added. "Her mother thought it would be wise to stay back at the estate with her."

"Ye could have brought them with ye. I would nae mind their presence. It is a feast, first of all." Kendrick thought of what else to say, of anything . He could not let Sophia notice his unease. "I will expect them as well next time. I hope ye and yer daughters enjoy tonight, Angus."

"Aye, milaird. Thank ye for yer hospitality. I believe it's been a while since ye last saw Sophia." Angus took Lorena's hand in his. "I'll let the pair o' ye converse for a bit," he concluded, then proceeded to nudge Sophia toward Kendrick before leaving.

When the pair must have thought themselves out of earshot, he listened for what they said next.

"Father, do ye think he will make a proposal to Sophia?" Lorena whispered in question to Angus.

"We should hope he does, as he seems to care for her."

"What if he does nae, Father?"

"It is up to the Laird to decide, my bairn."

Kendrick and Sophia faced each other. Sophia couldn't take her eyes off him, and Kendrick was desperate to avoid her gaze. The scent of fresh blooms from her skin and hair filled his nose. How he had missed her scent.

Yet life is so unfair, as I cannae bear the thought of hurtingye.

Her long black hair was neatly twisted into a bun, refracting the light from the hundreds of lit candles. Her skin was flawlessly white, with a silky smooth texture. It occurred to him that he wanted to touch her, to feel the softness of her face for himself.

Her eyes glittered with... tears . She sniffled them back, and he was at a loss. Either she was happy to see him again after all this time, or she was frightened she may have to share her life with the cold and ruthless man he had become.

Which is it, Sophia? Are ye afraid, or do ye want me to touch ye as much as I do?

Something compelled him to embrace her and tell her how much he yearned for her presence every night since they parted—how much he hoped to wake up next to her at every sunrise, only to be greeted by another.

The luckenbooth brooch clattered on the ground, bringing him back to the present. He hadn't even realized he'd been toying with it. What was he thinking? He could not let it happen. He would not let it happen. Never. It was insane to entertain such thoughts of her when he could never truly be with her.

"I apologize, but I cannae talk with ye long now," he mumbled. "I have to attend to our other guests too, but please enjoy yerself. I shall see ye later."

She opened her mouth, but he nodded, ending the conversation before she had a chance to say anything.

Sophia sagged, and her eyes went dark.

Kendrick moved away from the feast, away from her, and into the shadows outside the hall.

Outside, he sighed into the darkness, breaking the silence with his agony. He was filled with a sudden, violent wrath. Unable to control his emotions, he dashed to the field beside the keep and pounded his fists into one of the trees. He hit until his knuckles burned, completely oblivious to the blood dripping from his fingers.

Sophia's face.

The way she had looked at him.

That grievous expression.

He hated what he had done to her—when he had put an end to their friendship all those years ago; and when he had scorned her that eve. He hated the idea of causing her suffering.

Exhausted and yearning, Kendrick sat by against the body of the oak. He would not go back to the feast, not if it meant seeing her again.

"Perhaps I should settle for another landholder's daughter," he muttered to the gentle breeze. Rubbing his hands against the brooch, he laughed dismally at his broken life, knowing he could never be with the woman who might fix it.

His choice was made.