Page 23 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

“What?”

Rob didn’t answer the question; instead, he was behind her, ripping down the laces harshly, making the bruises on her ribs and stomach throb. Kenna didn’t dare challenge him as he pulled it from her; he was at least taking care to avoid the burn. With the dress stripped away, Kenna moved toward the side of the tent, to the trunk where fresh dresses free of burn holes lay in wait, but Rob grabbed Kenna by her good arm and held her in place while making a move for her shift.

Chaos erupted in her brain. What was he doing? He had never seen her completely undressed. He had told her that she would have to beg him—a position he had stuck to and reminded her of nearly every night before they fell asleep. But how could she deny him? He was her husband, and now, even worse, her savior.

Her mind continued to race as he pulled the shift away and threw it with particular force across the tent, where it hit the heavy sidewall and fell to the ground. Kenna waited for his attack. But nothing came.

Slowly, Kenna turned. Rob was standing there, his gaze traveling over her body, not with lust but with horror. Kenna glanced down at herself, and sure enough, there were numerous heavy bruises across her chest and stomach. Blood caked her arms and fingernails from when she had been dragged, and her wrists were red and raw from the ropes they had bound her with.

“‘Tis not as bad as it looks,” Kenna said. “Really, only the burns hurt, but it shouldn’t take too long to heal. Maybe a small scar, but that is nothing terrible.”

Why did she hate this? Why were those wide eyes looking at her with such an awful expression more painful than the wounds? She considered grabbing a blanket or her shift or anything to cover herself, but she was frozen to the spot, waiting for his expression to change, waiting for him to be the Rob she expected and to make some comment on how he had finally gotten her naked.

Kenna reached for him, but he pulled away. Something in her chest cracked.

“Aha, well, ye said there was nothing that would keep ye away from me, but I knew I’d find a way. Some bumps and bruises will do the trick. Far easier than growing as fat as Sutherland, I suppose.” Kenna tried to smile, tried to pass off the whole moment as some sort of joke so that he would come back to her.

“Ye could have been killed,” he whispered. “Ye stupid, ignorant woman, ye could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Do ye ken what it was like to have Murtagh come and say that ye had been taken? Do ye? Do ye ken what it was like to find ye like this?”

“I imagine it was about as painful as being taken away and made like this,” Kenna replied. “I understand why ye are angry, but ye are acting as if this was something I could have prevented.”

“Aye, ye could have stayed in the goddamn tent instead of going off to the pavilion with—”

“With the man who wasn’t accepting rejection? Did ye see Murtagh’s nose?”

“And what did ye say once there? I canna even begin to imagine what ye said in front of the Queen that worsened the situation.”

It was hardly a point Kenna could refute. “Well, I paid fer it with my own blood. ‘Tis not punishment enough fer ye?”

“‘Tis not about punishments; ‘tis about life or death. Kenna, I had to force the Queen’s hand using the honor of my clan. Do ye ken how dangerous that was? Do ye ken how quickly that could have turned into all of our heads?”

“I never asked ye to do so!”

“Oh, was I just supposed to let her keep burning ye with that poker? I was just supposed to stand and watch them do that to ye? Keep listening to ye scream? Think of how far she could have taken it if Murtagh hadn’t found me.”

“But she didn’t. These wounds will heal. All wounds heal, Rob.”

“No, they don’t, ye daft lass,” Rob shouted, grabbing her and shaking her. “And I refuse to lose ye like that.”

His hands reached up to cup her face, and he pulled her to him, his mouth descending on hers so suddenly that she scarcely understood it was happening until it was happening in full force. All of Kenna’s senses were confused, not sure anymore what way was up or down or if it even mattered anymore. Her mouth molded so perfectly against his, opening to his onslaught as his tongue slipped inside. They danced together without taking a single step, each moment filling her with a rosy glow that began to sink deeper and deeper into her until her entire body was shivering with something she could not ascertain. A deep hope, a longing, a desire for him to press himself further into her, to consume her. She would let him. She might even beg him to do it.

With a quick shove, Rob was gone. The dance ended. He stared at her, his eyes full of hurt, twisting the longing in her stomach into pain. Had she done something wrong?

“I’ll go see about something fer the burn,” he said, and with a whirl, he left the tent.

Kenna brushed her fingers along her swollen lips. “Heaven help me.”