Page 43 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

“I do not think that ye failed to catch up with him because ye were tired, Rob.”

“Ach, I’d have given it a better go if I was at my full strength. I managed to keep close enough to track him fer a time, but all that did was help me point the Queen’s riders in the right general direction when they overtook me. They’ll not catch him though; he has too great of a lead.”

“I suppose we will find out. Whether he is caught tonight or in a few months’ time, it makes no difference. All of Scotland will ken what he has done soon enough.”

“Aye, ‘tis true.” Rob straightened back up and took a half-step back to look down at the dark singes on her skirt. “Now, lass, I ken ye promised me an unpleasant reunion, but ye delivered on that promise with a wee bit too much force.”

“Oh, ye thought this was unpleasant? I found it to be quite a wonderful night.”

“Did ye now?”

“Aye. I mean, sure, I ruined another dress, and someone else was threatening to kill me, but honestly, that can hardly be considered thrilling anymore. Knives and fire—it all just gets a bit tedious after a time, don’t ye think?”

Rob ran his fingers through his hair, laughing despite the pain on his face. “Ye are a peculiar lass. And I owe ye an apology. ‘Twas not right for me to have doubted ye before. Sutherland, of all people, got into my head. Now I ken why.”

“He fooled many people.”

“So ye’ll forgive me?”

Kenna stared at Rob, his face so clenched with worry. He looked like a terrified child who was waiting for the scoldings of a governess who had caught him making mischief. It was hard not to forgive him, but she also did not particularly want to. His doubts had been as painful as the Queen’s hot irons. They burned into her with the same intensity as her brothers’ betrayal. The realization made her shiver. When had she become so attached?

No matter what he had done, she couldn’t not forgive him, but she couldn’t let it go so easily either.

Kenna pulled back her foot and let it fly forward to land squarely on Rob’s shin. He jumped up and cursed, reaching down to clutch at the already bruising welt.

“What the bloody hell!”

“Fine, I forgive ye. But ken this, it will not be yer shin I kick the next time ye ask me fer forgiveness.”

Rob looked at her as if she were some sort of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve before he finally laughed.

“Christ, woman, ye have a leg on ye. Come on, we ought to go in there.”

Nearly the entirety of the Queen’s inner circle was shoved into Sutherland’s strange, red room. All of the letters had been retrieved from where they had been thrown across the floor, and the table had been set right once more. The candles had been relit, and the maid, whose loyalties apparently rested with whoever was in control of the house, was scurrying around with a tray of her delicious oatcakes.

Lockhart was in the corner, recounting the conversation he had overheard, gesturing widely toward the window.

“We were just coming to pick the lass up and bring her to the Queen fer more questioning when we heard the lady start to call Sutherland a bastard! I ken, ‘twas not very ladylike language, but it intrigued us to listen further. So we went and crouched beneath the window to discern the nature of the argument, and he just confessed everything!”

Rob leaned close to Kenna’s ear, making her skin tingle. “Lockhart’s going to be telling this story ‘til the day he dies.”

“And then he’ll request that it be carved on his tomb.”

Rob smiled and opened his mouth to form another taunt when the Queen’s voice called out over the thrum in the room.

“Laird and Lady Fraser, come over here.”

The Queen sat regally in one of the plush chairs, an advisor standing behind her with a collection of Sutherland’s parchments. He took the one she was currently holding and passed her another, whispering in her ear as her eyes studied the page. She was dressed in her nightclothes, a thin white cotton shift with thin blue ribbons tying the sleeves, but she was modestly covered by a golden robe embroidered with a fleur-de-lis pattern. Kenna wondered if it was a gift from her late French husband—a small token that reminded her of him.

Rob’s fingers entangled themselves with Kenna’s. They were so warm compared to her own. Together, they went forward to the Queen, each lowering their heads respectfully, both of their heartbeats quickening as they waited for her to pass judgment.

“‘It would seem that our dear Earl of Sutherland had quite the collection of letters. There were those he was yet to send as well as those he had received from Huntly and—” the Queen’s eyes shot up briefly to meet with Kenna’s. “—others.”

“Aye, Yer Majesty. When I found the letters, I saw the one from my brother. I can assure ye that I—”

Queen Mary held up a hand to stop her. “Are ye not yet sick of assuring me that ye ken nothing?”

Rob’s hand tightened around Kenna’s, or was it Kenna that was doing the squeezing? What would she have to do to get away from this woman? What would she have to do to prove herself?