Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

" M ilaird."

Kendrick turned to look for the voice that had called out to him.

He was surprised to see Reed. His friend's sun-battered face was visible beneath the moon's light. His right shoulder was dangling in a makeshift sling of light linen wrapping.

"Reed… what has happened to ye?" Kendrick urged as he darted to his feet.

"Help me, milaird…" Reed rasped as he held onto Kendrick for purchase. "Help me!"

"What happened to ye?" Kendrick shouted. His heart thundered in his chest.

All at once, Reed dropped his act, doubling over with laughter. "Ah, but it is easy to fool ye, my friend!" Reed patted Kendrick on the back. " What happened to ye , he cried like a wee lass!" he teased. The Laird did not find his jape funny, but he should have expected nothing less. He had been truest friends with Reed all his life.

Kendrick knocked him on his injured shoulder, pushing past him and making for the keep.

"Ach!" Reed howled, dashing after him. "Easy, milaird," he cried. "Do ye nae ken how to take a joke?"

"Say, I break yer other arm. We can see how ye take a joke yerself," Kendrick mumbled. "Ye ken how worried I am for ye, but yer jokes are always there to torment me." After a short bout of silence, Reed stopped laughing. "What really happened to ye?"

"Ah, ‘tis only my old mare," his friend replied. "Ran wild. She gets madder with age, ye ken."

Kendrick rolled his eyes. Reed adored riding, and this was hardly the first time he had fallen from one of his mares. "And ye fell off her?"

"Nae, she ran round the stable. Knocked wee stable lad, Douglas, out. I had to tame the beast myself."

"Ye've never been able to tame yer horses. It's nae a surprise." Kendrick huffed. "How is wee Douglas?"

"The lad is fine. Slept off his injury for a while and returned to play with the other boys."

"All braw, then."

"What about ye?" Reed looked at Kendrick's bruised and bloodied fingers. "Ye were ready to punch down the keep's oldest oak, and the eve is hardly underway."

"Naething, my friend. Naething."

"Are ye sure o' it?" Reed put a hand to Kendrick's back, halting the both of them. "It cannae be naething , I ken ye."

Kendrick took a deep breath, he had to share his thoughts with someone, he supposed. Logan would never understand. It had to be Reed. "Ye ken, I must marry soon, and ‘tis nae easy to choose a lassie."

"I ken. What I cannae understand is why ye cannae wed our lass, Sophia."

"It cannae be Sophia," Kendrick declared.

"And why? Ye loved her when we were bairns, did nae ye?"

"Aye." Kendrick nodded. "I loved her."

"Do ye still find her sweet on the eyes?"

"O' course, Reed. Who would nae?"

"Then why cannae ye ask her to marry ye?"

"Ye dinnae understand. Naeone can. I must keep her safe," Kendrick whispered, yet he realized how ridiculous it sounded.

"Keep her safe from who?" Reed looked around the dark field in search of any possible danger. "Dinnae tell me it is from yerself, because I will punch ye, I swear it."

Before Kendrick could think of a lie, one of the keep's footmen ran up to them. His face glistened with sweat as he gasped for air. "Milaird, yer uncle calls for ye!"

"Tell him ye couldn't find me, lad," Kendrick groaned.

"Pardon me, milaird, but yer uncle demanded I do nae return without ye."

"Then dinnae return to him." Kendrick knew he was getting the boy in trouble. "Ye may tell him I ordered ye."

With that, the footman sprinted away. As he vanished into the darkness, Kendrick and Reed shared a laugh between themselves.

"Ach, but it is good to see ye chuckle," his friend observed.

"Ye bring out the bairn in me, old friend," he teased.

It sparked Reed's memories. "Do ye recall the first time I told ye I had funny tingling for Sophia?" Reed elbowed him.

"Ha!" Kendrick exclaimed. "And I told ye I had such feelings for her as well."

"Ye told me she would never choose me because ye were always kinder to her." Reed picked up a stone and threw it high into the sky. "I never had the courage to tell her."

"We were silly wee lads back then," Kendrick said, catching the pebble. "I thought it was love, and I did nae even ken what love was."

"It was love for me," Reed said gravely. "My feelings for her never changed."

Kendrick furrowed his brow. He had not heard Reed speak about his feelings for Sophia in years. "It was nae for me, not then. I only realized I loved her that day on this field… when I told her to leave the keep and never come back." He sobered. "She was standing just by the well, over there."

"Surely ye did love her always. Yet ye avoided her from that moment on." Reed snapped his fingers. "Love can make even the strongest lads do silly things."

" Silly ?" Kendrick echoed. From what he knew of love, there was nothing silly about it. Only destructive. His mind wandered to the memory of his mother's body. "Silly or not, we cannae indulge it."

Reed took a step toward the keep, blocking his passage. "I ken something troubles ye deeply."

Kendrick crossed her arms. He looked at the crescent moon as though it might bestow upon him some wisdom.

"My da. I ken he was the one that killed my mother that night." Kendrick opened his hand to reveal the luckenbooth brooch. "I discovered this beside her body."

Reed gaped. He seemed to labor over his words before he rasped, "Ye cannae be sure of it." He plucked the brooch from Kendrick's hand. "Laird MacNeil loved yer ma— he could nae have done that."

"I am sure of it," he countered, taking the trinket back. "I saw him leave the study that night."

"It's nae possible. Everybody ken that he loved her," Reed insisted. "Ye are misremembering."

"Nae. Ye are right—he did love her, yet he killed her." Kendrick looked back to the sky. "Tis why I cannae marry Sophia, nae if that is how things may go."

"Ye cannae marry Sophia… or ye willnae?"

"I cannae and I willnae. History will not repeat with me."

"What does history have to do with ye?" Reed pressed. "Ye are nae yer da, my friend. Dinnae ruin yer future because of things that may never happen."

"But I am his son," Kendrick retorted. "He was nae mad as a bairn. It took years. I might grow madder still and hurt Sophia. I cannae let that happen."

"Ye will only end up hurting yerself and her, because ye dread becoming yer father." Reed hummed. "Ye love Sophia and she cares for ye. Ye may never forgive yerself if ye lose her."

Perhaps Reed was correct, but the more hetried to persuade Kendrick to marry Sophia, the more determined hebecame to avoid her. He had seen the way his father looked at his mother. He remembered clearly the afternoon when his father found Logan talking to her in a darkened corner in the castle. His eyes were filled with envy. Jealousy and madness.

"I cannae marry her. And dinnae talk about it any further," he spat and resumed walking.

They ambled the remaining distance in silence.

"I shall return to the stable now, milaird, and check on my mare," Reed announced as they reached the grand doors to the hall.

"Why?" Kendrick asked. "Will ye nae join the feast?"

"I'm not fit for a feast, my friend," Reed complained. "I'd be quite ashamed to appear like this if there are such pretty lasses in attendance."

"Tis unfortunate, then." Kendrick forced a smile. "I could have really used yer presence. Our stroll alone improved my mood." It was true. He felt lighter than he had earlier.

Reed bowed. "I will be off then, milaird." He walked halfway away from him before turning back. "I would kindly request a thing o' ye. If ye choose to nae marry Sophia, I would forever be grateful if ye let me marry her." With that, he turned his away and faded into the night.

Whatever lightness he had found in Reed's company had vanished with those words. He basked in the moonlight, his mind replaying his friend'swords.

Sophia pressed her back against the wall in the great hall, having barely moved since Kendrick had left. She couldn't tell if she had stood there hoping that he would return or if she had atrophy. Her toes wriggled in her slippers.

"Sophia!" she heard someone call. The name sounded faraway, odd.

" Sophia …" The voice was closer now, more like a song. A cold hand seized her by the shoulder, and then she felt herself shake.

She turned abruptly, and her sight fell on Lorena.

"Heavens, Sophia!" Lorena cried, releasing her sister with a sigh. "Ye look like a demon possessed ye."

Sophia coughed, edging herself away. "Ye should stop yer grousing, Lorena. I can hear ye."

Lorena looked her over, before mouthing, "Are ye alright, sister?"

"I am," she assured. "Just a wee occupied in my thoughts."

"Where is the Laird?" Lorena asked. "Dinnae tell me he left ye standing here alone!"

"Nae," she lied. "He had to attend to some… other matter."

Lorena placed her hands on her waist. "Are ye sure? I could have sworn I saw him walk out on ye—"

"Well, ye must have seen wrong."

"We should join Father at the table," Lorena suggested, and Sophia could hardly argue.

"Look! Sir Logan," Lorena pointed out. "He was driving me mad with questions before I went to find ye. "The girls sat beside another landholder's daughter. The girl rolled her eyes at Sophia before taking another serving of pork, dressed with onions and plums.

Logan, who had been sat beside their father, finally turned to Sophia.

"It is a pleasure to meet ye once again, Sophia," he said to her with a wide grin, reaching for his goblet.

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Logan." Sophia returned his smile.

"Ye nae longer grace our keep with yer blossoming presence," Logan continued. "I was wondering if we mayhap offended ye in some way."

Sophia shifted on her seat. "Nae, Sir Logan—it is nae so. I have been… occupied with my studies. That is all."

Logan leaned forward on the table. "Yer studying? Ye mean ye still learn all about herbs and other… growing things?"

"Yes, Sir Logan. An' ‘tis all thanks to my father. He lets me venture out and explore."

"If that is so, ye should visit whenever ye can. I am certain ye can assist the keep's surgeons and healers in some such way."

"I will be glad to do so," Sophia thanked him.

He turned to Lorena, who grimaced. Suddenly, a manservant came rushing.

"Sir Logan," he began, though he seemed to be pinching at his skin. "The Laird…" He pointed outside. "I am afraid the Laird…."

"What happened to the Laird?" Logan rose from his seat.

The footman hung his head low. "I could nae find him."

"It took ye long enough to say just that, lad." Logan sank into his chair with a huff. "What do ye mean, ye cannae find the Laird? Did he vanish into thin air?"

"I-I searched the k-keep," the manservant stuttered, and a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.

"Ye may leave us now," Logan said to the boy who scurried to the back of the hall. He returned his gaze to Sophia. "Have ye any idea where the Laird might have gone?"

"Nae, Sir Logan. He left rather abruptly," Sophia answered. Her eyes caught Lorena's, and she quickly turned away.

"Ach… how the young laird troubles me so."

Catherine stood behind the door with a smirk, she dragged the footman to a dark corner as soon as he departed the hall.

"Tell me, then—where is the Laird?" she demanded.

The footman looked her from head to toe and back again. "Is there a reason why I must tell ye?"

She leaned closer to him. "Ye lied to Sir Logan, and I am well aware of that. He will be too if you dinnae tell me right this instant where the laird is."

The boy clamped his hands over his mouth, searching for a way out. "It was at the Laird's insistence—"

"Aye—but will Sir Logan pardon ye if he came to ken of yer lies?" Her grin was menacing. "Tell me, or I will out ye as the liar ye are."

"By the oak tree," he squeaked. "The Laird was by the oak tree."

With a mischievous smile, Catherine walked away from the boy. She adjusted her skirts and revealed a little more from her bosom than was appropriate.

After all, she had a laird to seduce.