Page 29 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

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“Kenna, try this one!” Florence urged, pressing yet another pastry into Kenna’s hand.

It tasted like a summer evening: sweet, tangy, and rich. Kenna nearly shivered in delight.

“‘Tis been so long since I had a French tart.”

“Aye. Scots everywhere moan about having shared our Queen with the French court fer so long, but they must admit that it has blessed us in certain ways.” Florence took a bite from her own berry tart, rolling her eyes up to the sky with pleasure.

The pair had taken a culinary tour of the celebration, skipping from sweet to savory and back with every step they took, flagging down servants with trays heaped with whatever they were yet to try. Florence was a whirlwind, throwing smiles, greetings, and good cheer at any who came close, yet she kept a tight, comfortable grip on Kenna’s arm, whispering little secrets and gossip into her ear.

Kenna felt transported back to Inverness, to Elizabeth and the ladies who had been her closest companions for so long. The Fraser men were fun and welcoming, so much so that she hadn’t even comprehended how sorely she missed female companionship, but spending some time with Florence was like a drop of rain in a drought all the same.

Florence was leading them toward a servant carrying buttery shortbread when a male courtier nearly knocked them both over. He slurred some apologies through a thick English accent, dropping into dramatically low bows, which splashed his wine all across the ground.

Florence glowered. “Leave it to an Englishman to have such foul behavior. I wonder why Queen Mary welcomes them into her court. Oh! Look, he spilled wine on yer dress!”

Sure enough, a large red stain was sinking into the wool toward the bottom of Kenna’s skirt. She wondered how many dresses she would lose to wine before the turn of the season.

“‘Tis fine, Florence, do not give him chase. I am filthy from the road anyway. Another stain is unlikely to worsen my appearance much more than the dust has already done.”

Another drunken man bumped against Florence’s back, nearly knocking her into Kenna.

“Honestly, do they ken that it is barely midday? Come on,” Florence said.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the inn to change and find superior entertainment. This party has reached the dregs.”

They were back at the inn before Kenna processed that there was nothing for her to change into other than another heavy brown riding dress, which was nearly just as dirty as the one she was currently in. The rest of her clothes and all of her finer things were on a cart somewhere in the middle of the Highlands, still a few days away from their arrival in Aberdeen.

“This is the only dress ye grabbed?” Florence admonished when Kenna finally emerged from her room and explained the situation wearing the slightly less stained dress.

“There wasn’t much time to think about it,” Kenna replied, noting the heat rushing to her face.

In retrospect, Kenna knew she should have considered the possibility of looking like a woman of noble birth instead of just relying on the pair of dresses that had been her uniform since leaving Inverness. She had still been so perturbed by Rob’s kiss and embarrassed at how intimately he had rubbed her with ointments and salves, that her mind hadn’t been thinking clearly.

“No, I suppose not. Go back into yer room, and I will bring ye something more appropriate fer court.”

Kenna returned to the small room and sat on the straw mattress, enjoying the soft touch of the green quilt that was draped over it. Her and Rob’s things had already been brought in and unpacked—little as there was—before they had returned from the celebration. It had been odd to open the small chest at the foot of the bed to find her dress rolled alongside one of Rob’s shirts.

This is the way of things now. There is no need to be dramatic about it, she thought.

There was a light knock on the door, and Kenna turned just in time to see a new woman emerge. Her hair was nearly as dark as Kenna’s, though the darkness was contrasted by a few locks that seemed almost red when the light from the window hit it, although the rich redness of her simple linen dress may have been aiding the illusion. Her skin was perfectly fair, surely the envy of other noblewomen who would need to puff powder onto their face for hours to achieve a similar complexion. Her amber eyes looked as if they had been flicked with gold dust and they roved over Kenna appraisingly.

Kenna stood, facing this beautiful stranger with a question already formed on her lips. But before she could voice it aloud, Florence poked her head in from behind the woman.

“I knew ye two would be about the same size.”

Florence slipped past the woman and held up a blue dress, which was a nearly identical cut to the beautiful woman’s red. When she held it up to Kenna, she could see that the fit would be just about perfect.

“Oh, by the way, Kenna, this is Ellen. She has been married to my brother Hugh fer—What has it been? A year now?”

“Aye, we celebrated our anniversary at the start of summer,” Ellen said with a ghost of a smile on her lips, her eyes breaking away from Kenna to travel around the sparse room while Florence pulled at the laces holding on her brown dress.

“Right,” Florence confirmed as she helped Kenna shimmy out of the brown wool. “Anyway, Ellen, this is Kenna, Rob’s new wife.”

“Married fer just over a week,” Kenna added, eliciting a small giggle from Florence as she helped Kenna step into the blue dress.