Passion and Plaid - Her Highland Hero (Scottish Historical Romance) (16 page)

Kenna clenched her jaw, but stayed quiet. She
twisted to try and free herself, but Willard simply held her tighter.

“Fine,” he said. “That’s fine. I’m not a tyrant.
I’m not an unfair man. If you wish to throw your life away, I won’t stop you.”

For a moment, Kenna felt relief rush over her.

“Don’t look so happy. I’ve got a choice for you to
make.”

“What...what are your terms? What is my choice?”

Again, Willard stroked her cheeks for a moment.
“Your choice is whether or not they’ll die for what they’ve done.” His smile
almost trembled as he spoke. “I could have them hanged. Gavin, John, the whole
lot. I suppose I could have you hanged too for breaking him out, but you’re worth
saving. You just want to help. But them, oh no – they’ve hurt plenty of
people.”

I can’t...I can’t let him hurt Gavin, hurt my
friends. I’d rather die than see them hurt. I’d rather be kept as this
monster’s wife than see Gavin hurt, but
...

Willard took a step toward the window, then
another. “Commoners, Kenna, commoners stealing from nobles. Punishable by
death. You know this, do you not? I could have all of their necks stretched.”

“N – no,” Kenna said. “Death? Why would you-”

“Because I can. I can keep you from them. I can
have them arrested and killed, and then you’ll be safe from their corruption.”
He paused for a moment. “Or, you can agree to be my wife. If you do that, then
I’ll see them merely jailed instead of hanged.”

“I’ll need a decision now,” Willard said. “Things
already are moving to apprehend your criminal fiancé.”

Kenna’s face was stone. Her jaw was tight, her
gaze dead. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be your wife.”

Willard smiled, turned on his heel, and left
without saying anything else. “But don’t expect Gavin to take this lying down,”
Kenna said through clenched teeth as the door slammed behind him.

When Rollo came
back to check on her, Kenna was face down on her bed, sobbing bitterly into a
pillow.

F
estival Grounds

August 19, Morning

––––––––

G
avin, John, Elena, Rodrigo, Olga and Lynne all
made their way up the small runt of a hill leading to the main area where the
Duncraig-Mornay’s Cleft joint village festival was to take place. Duggan had
promised Lachlan and Egan a week’s worth of free porridge and beer if they were
willing to watch the inn while he escorted the motley gang including an
exceptionally tall colonial governor, a wild-looking fellow painted in blue
woad from the waist-up wearing a gauchely-colored kilt, and a man wearing a
vest and brown leggings, all of which were very tight, and who had a hood
shrouding his face in shadow.

 Behind them, giggling almost uncontrollably, were
three ladies, all wearing clothes of Germanic origin with billowing skirts,
snugly-waisted and bunched under the bosom. When he looked back at them, Gavin
had to marvel that Olga owned so many different sizes of the same outfit. Each
of them had bonnets as well, intended as much to hide them from unwanted
glances as from the sun.

Already the crowd was swelling. Gavin looked
around, marveling at the number of people sitting up from where they’d slept on
the ground, or beginning to mill around. There were three-fold, maybe five-fold
as many people here
already
as he thought lived in the two small towns
year-round.

“Look at all these people,” he said to John, who
was looking around as well.

“I knew the inn was uncomfortably full,” John
replied, “but this. There must be hundreds of people laying around out here.
Not to mention the ones who will be coming in as they day goes on. How do they
pay for all this?”

“The vendors, I assume, bring a great deal of what
is needed. What concerns me is how long it must take to clean up. Remember the
fairs in Edinburgh that took a week’s worth of the town militia’s time to
clean? And I think there might be as many people here as come to those.”

“Aye,” John said. “If you’ve got only one thing to
do all year, I suppose you’ll spare no expense.”

As they approached the fairgrounds, some vendors
had already managed to set up their tables and their goods, while others were
just arriving and beginning to lay out their wares. Meats were being skewered
over spits, turnips and carrots impaled on sticks to be roasted, and even a few
large, golden ears of corn had emerged. Gavin and John had once talked about it
– the stuff was well known in England by then after coming from the New World
years before, but it was rare in Scotland, being so far north that the climate
was bad for growing it.

“Look,” John said, grabbing his friend’s wrist,
for he had no sleeve to pull. “I canna go without trying some. You there! How
long until that’s cooked?”

A squat man with fewer teeth than he should have
had looked up from what he was doing and said, “A time still. Fire’s not ready,
takes a couple of hours to roast. You can eat it raw if you like but it’ll suit
you much better after a time in the heat.”

John nodded to him in thanks.

From somewhere near the roughly assembled stands
which Gavin assumed would later be the grounds for the contests, pipe and drum
band began to exercise their instruments and tune them to one another.

“I thought everything Scottish had been banned?”
John said in a whisper to Duggan.

“Oh no lad, not everything. The mayor likes pipes
quite a lot and insists on them at every gathering. And the banning of Mornay
plaid and tartan is only a year old. He says that without it, there would be a
great deal of...oh, what does he say – dissention and rebellion – some such
thing like that anyway. A load of nonsense, though he’s convinced of the truth
of what he says.”

“I just canna imagine the thought that leads to
such a conclusion. Come to a place not your own, and start puttin’ rules on
everyone.” John spat into the dirt.

“Come, John, but anger won’t do anything. Keep
calm and we’ll come out on top of this whole thing,” Rodrigo said, clapping his
friend on the shoulder. “Besides. The main point of our battle has nothing to
do with the mayor or even the things he’s done. All of that will come in time.
Remember we’re here for Gavin. We’re here for Kenna.”

“Aye,” John nodded. “I fear I lose my mind at
times.”

“We all do, friend. But you’ve got things to think
about. You’re our star archer.”

“That...is true. I hope I dinna make a fool of
myself and ruin the whole plan.”

“I thought you said you were a competent archer.
Is that not the case?” Rodrigo stopped, and John did too. “That was a poor
choice of a thing to lie about.”

“No, no, no, it wasn’t a lie at all. I am a
competent archer. The problem is, that’s all I am, is competent. If they’ve got
any real Robin Hoods here, I’m in trouble.”

“Not many people compete, Duggan said that. More
in the tossing of the log.”

“Caber, Rod.”

“What?”

“It’s not a log. It’s a
caber
. It’s
carved.”

“Oh my apologies,” the Spaniard swept his hand and
his hat in a low, laughing bow. “Just keep your wits about you, and there won’t
be any problems. As well as you can use knives, you should be able to aim a
thing or two. Although...”

“Hey, why are you squeezing my arm, Duke
Marlborough? Leave me alone!” John tried to pull away from Rodrigo’s grasp, but
couldn’t work free.

“Your arm, there’s something the matter. I’m a
little concerned, suddenly. I’d call you a name but I’ve not a clue what except
for ‘whooping savage’ but that may be unkind.”

“These are my ancestors’ ways, I-”

Rodrigo interrupted him shaking with a deep laugh.
“I’m sorry friend, it’s just – you look so uncomfortable. And there’s that
problem with your arms.”

“What do you keep talking about my arms?” John
hissed, getting more than a little red in the face. “Speak up!”

“Oh nothing, I’m sure. They’re just so thin. I’m
not sure you’ll be able to draw the bow!”

Another slap on the back sent John forward with a
start, and caused Lynne to look back and shout ‘come along lovers!’ at the two
men. They exchanged a short glance at one another, shook their heads, and away
they went.

––––––––

“I
trust you’re without needs, Kenna?” Mayor
Willard, ever dressed in his black long coat, adjusted his hat, then removed
it, ran his hand over his hair, and replaced the hat. Kenna wondered how he
could ever wear such a thing, especially with the heat that she knew was coming
as soon as the sun warmed the valley and the mist settled down into making the
air thick and oppressive. Nonetheless, he showed no signs of anything except
his regular stoicism.

Kenna thought that the weather, as difficult as it
could be that time of year, was good for the day. It was just what she expected
out of a summer’s day in the Lowlands, and even better, there seemed not to be
any storm clouds on the horizon. She took as deep a breath as she could,
replied that yes she was perfectly satisfied, and sat down on a decently built
seat. 

All around the growing crowd, she swept her eyes.
Up in the Governor’s box, where she and Willard, along with Rollo and a couple
of servants were seated, it was difficult to make out the particulars of faces,
but she felt deep in her heart that if she caught a glimpse of Gavin she’d know
him immediately, no matter the costume he wore or the distance that separated
them. She moved her hand to her throat, letting two of her fingertips caress
the thistle flower under her collar.

Suddenly, an urge caught her. An urge that doubled
as an idea.

“Mayor Willard?”

“Hmm? Did you say something, dear?”

Kenna nodded and said, “Aye. Do you think I could
go down and see the festivities? I’d like to try some of the food the vendors
have. The smells even this far away are intoxicating. And I’d love to look at
all the different fabrics and perfumes people have brought to sell.”

“It does seem fascinating, does it not?” Willard
tipped his head in the direction of a man who was obviously having a lot of
trouble standing up straight. “This early, too. It’s a shame this sort of thing
has to happen. Such behavior brings disgrace.”

“Ach, I dunno, he just seems to be having a good
time. These farmers work themselves hard all the year. Surely they deserve to
have a break from time to time, aye?” When she realized how freely she was
speaking, Kenna clapped her mouth shut, but Willard only smiled in his thin,
tight-lipped way.

“Kind girl,” he said. “Someday you’ll understand
why such low morality is an impediment. Temperance and decency and dignity are
three things you cannot possibly take away from a man, even when his health
deteriorates and his mind is wracked with age. No, I don’t think you need to go
down and mix among the rabble.”

Kenna’s gaze caught sight of a rather odd looking
group of individuals, and immediately, she felt warmth, then a rush of chills
creep down her arms. The six – no, seven – people she saw had all taken the
costume theme very liberally, except for the biggest person in the group who
she saw was Duggan when he came a bit closer. It was all she could do to not
scream or grab Rollo’s arm and jerk him over to her side. If there was any
question in her mind, the second she saw the three ladies – Olga, Elena and
Lynne – all dressed up alike, she got so excited she had to sit down, then
stand up and then sit again.

Seeing her restlessness, Rollo moved beside Kenna
and put his hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded emphatically and shot him a sideways
glance before tipping her head toward the strangely costumed gang.

“Oh what bizarre costumes!” He said. “They’re
impressive this time. Even the out of town festival-goers seem to have got into
it. Look over there, there’s the Duke of Marlborough, and over there looks to
be Louis, the Sun King. One year Mayor Willard employed half the boys in town
to dress as Highland soldiers and a small mock battle was staged. It was a
great deal of fun. Don’t you remember that, Mayor?” Rollo’s voice was almost
desperate as he talked. It broke Kenna’s heart to hear him speak in such a way
to a man who only stiffened and straightened one of his buttons.

At the same time, she couldn’t free herself from
the fear that at any moment, Willard might announce their marriage to the
world. How badly she wanted her beautiful Gavin to just climb to the Governor’s
box and sweep her away like a prince from a fairy tale. What she wouldn’t give
for that to happen.

“Miss Kenna, why not use this?” Rollo unfurled a
spyglass and handed it to her. “Enjoy the costumes.” His voice was tempered
with a warm smile. “Some of them are truly remarkable.”

“Oh thank you, Rollo.” Her voice was absent when
she took the device. She was already gazing directly at her Gavin, imagining
his arms around her waist, his lips pressed to hers. No longer was she at a
festival, no longer was she even outdoors in her imagination. She was in Fort
Mary, and running her fingers through Gavin’s hair and he was kissing her with
soft, fluttering brushes behind her ear. Finally alone after a day-long wedding
ceremony, Kenna was in Gavin’s arms, waiting for him to make love to her and
watching every movement of his face.

“You have to look through it,” Rollo said with a
little chuckle.

“Oh yes of course, quite sorry.” She lifted the glass
to her eye and when she saw him, it was three times as powerful as it was when
he just lived in her mind’s eye.

Gavin turned, speaking first to John, who Kenna
laughed to see was dressed in the most absurd woad and kilt she’d ever seen.
Then he patted Rodrigo, dressed in a lavish waistcoat and powdered wig, on the
shoulder, and then he took a bite of some sort of a roasted haunch of meat. The
three of them were standing just close enough that she could make out details
on their faces, so when Gavin threw his head back and laughed at something – no
doubt some bawdy joke from John – the dimple in his left cheek made her gasp
and put her hand to her throat, feeling the thistle.

Thinking of home. Of happiness. Of what she needed
more than anything in the world.

Thinking of Gavin.

“When do the events start?” She said to no one in
particular, more to keep herself from swooning as she looked at her fiancé than
to actually ask. “The place it seems to be filling quickly.”

“Oh not for a time still,” Rollo said, still
grinning. “We’ve still got to have the pipe and drum band perform, a little
singing, a little dancing.”

“That’s a contest this year,” Willard said in a low,
disgusted voice. “The dancing. And where the Devil are those boys from the
Company? They were supposed to be here by now. And the sheriff? Although if I’m
being honest I actually hope he stays wherever he is.”

“I can’t speak for the sheriff, but most of the
Company men departed this morning after you’d already gone. Or at least that
was what they’d decided to do when last I spoke with them. Captain Jameson and
rest of them were getting restless. Though they left a contract with me for the
lumber, I-”

“Not now. Today, we should relax and not worry
about those things.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Although,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you see the
terms? Are they what I proposed? A home in Jamaica for myself and my bride? A
portion of whatever they do with the land here?”

Kenna’s throat clenched, but she knew she mustn’t
say anything. Rollo squeezed her shoulder as if to say ‘everything will be
fine, just stay calm’.

“I didn’t check the terms, sir, though I expect
they are what was agreed upon.”

“Good. Ah, very good! In that case we have two
things to celebrate – a wedding and the beginning of my life away from these
barbaric people and their endless complaints. I can’t think of anything more
perfect to cap off a festival day. Can you, dear?”