The Outcast Highlander (16 page)

Broc hung back until everyone had been seated, still not completely certain on his feet. He walked slowly through the crowded hall and tolerated the chatter around him, slowing to speak to those he recognized.

Kensey was seated between Robert and Duncan and looked utterly magnificent in the deep blue, straight-necked gown Brigid had given her. Broc made a mental note to have more clothes made for her, since tonight would also undoubtedly carry the news that he’d been dreading ever since Duncan first informed him of Gabrielle’s death.

She would have to be married, and since she was already betrothed to Duncan, he would make the announcement himself, certainly. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. After hoping that their time together would sway her to him, Broc had been disappointed at her withdrawal.

Her presence so mesmerized him, he felt drawn to her and stopped to kiss her hand as he passed. The wan smile she’d worn for the evening did nothing to fool him. Her heart had been broken when her mother died. He longed to see the shimmering glee in her eyes again and hoped that Duncan’s announcement would return it.

“You look tired, lass.” Broccin lowered his voice, but practically everyone near heard his words. Duncan began to study her, as did Malcolm.

“I’m fine, I assure you, milord,” Kensey said quietly, taking a drink from her cup of mulled wine. The hot drink was working a delicate shade of pink into her cheeks that would only serve to intensify her beauty.

She bowed her head and he took his seat, placated for the moment, but his eyes remained on her through the feast. Duncan rose and sat, announcing and speaking, introducing the new laird, renouncing his title, announcing the celebration of Malcolm and of Robert. But Broc couldn’t break his fascination, no matter what else called to him.

He felt certain, if Duncan did not announce his intentions for the lass soon, they would have to fight off many men for her hand. He noticed, that night, he wasn’t the only one entranced by her beauty. All the men leered at her, and all the women eyed her with wary distrust. They followed every action. The graceful movements of her eating, the laughter she shared when someone amused her, the quiet, fearful way she looked at her brother.

Robert hadn’t taken his mother’s death to heart the way Kensey had. Broc could sympathize. When you hadn’t seen the body of your deceased loved one, it was hard to think of them as other than they had been when you last saw them. Perhaps Robert would come to understand the severity of his situation, but Broc hoped for his indifference. To grow up a happy child. That was all he wanted for the boy.

“You do look a bit tired, Kensey,” Malcolm insisted eventually, taking up the cause.

“I’m fine, I assure you.”

“You do look worn-out,” prodded Duncan. Kensey put down her cup and smiled up at the three brothers.

“Are you trying to tell me that I look less than appealing? Or are you trying to make me quit your company?” she asked, giving them each a hard look.

“Neither, lass,” laughed Duncan. He placed a hand on hers. “We were merely checking on your welfare.”

Broc lurched forward at their touch. Perhaps this would be the moment. Duncan would announce their betrothal and she would be lost to Broc forever.

“Well, I feel wonderful, really,” she assured them. “So you needn’t be concerned for me.” But her gray pallor did little to convince them and when she nearly dropped a pitcher of mead, Broc put his foot down.

“Kensey.” His deep voice must have touched something inside because she straightened her back and lowered her head. He leaned into her. “We know you don’t wish to miss the festivities, but you seem nearly ready to sleep in your chair.”

She took another sip from her cup and clapped her hands. She stood and turned to Malcolm, then to Robert. “Start the dancing, lads. As the guests of honor, it’s your wishes we bow to this evening.”

“I wish to dance with my sister.” Robert bounded from his seat. “A lively jig, Kens. Like you taught me.”

“As you wish, milord.” She bowed low as he held his hand out for her to accept. Broc stood in her path and put his hand on her forearm. The velvety material slipped beneath his grip and she was soon free of him.

“A dance will do me good, Broc, I promise.” She practically whispered to him as she passed, the hot air of her breath resting on his cheek like a kiss.

The moment she took Robert’s hand, the music began and they played a lively jig, just as Robert requested. Others joined them in their turns. As the dance finished, Robert was nearly out of breath and the two of them plopped back into their seats amid cheers and claps from the others.

“Now dance with Morainn,” Kensey encouraged her brother. “Now that Duncan and I have taught her to step dance, I’m sure she’d love to get out there and stretch her legs.”

Robert walked over to Morainn and held out his hand for hers. When they took the floor, Duncan leaned over to Kensey.

“Should we join them, lass?” he asked, his brows rising.

“Of course, sir.” She laughed, bowing her head formally. Broc had to admit. The activity did seem to do her some good. Her smile wasn’t quite returned, but nearly. Malcolm and Broccin sat watching the four of them, Malcolm’s eyes glued to Kensey and Broccin trying not to watch her, but unable to watch anyone else.

Her dark brown hair had been elaborately braided for the party, but the hold was starting to loosen as she bounced and skipped to the music, and strands of her hair were down framing her smiling face. The deep hue of her dress brought out the shimmering blue of her sea-colored eyes and she seemed even more beautiful in the blush of dancing than she ever had before. Broc released the breath he’d been holding and cursed his stupid brother. If Duncan didn’t offer for her today, Broc was going to take his chances.

“She is the most beautiful woman in the whole of the world.” Malcolm’s voice was barely more than a hiss, it was so quiet. Broc didn’t answer aloud, but his heart knew he agreed with his brother’s observation.

“Kensey will make a fine addition to our family.” Broccin still didn’t take his eyes off her.

“That she will.” Malcolm nodded. “I can see it in your eyes that you want her. And written all over your face when you watch her. You cannot have her.”

“I realize that,” Broccin said slowly. He took a long draught from the goblet by his hand and picked up a piece of the bread that had lain untouched on a near plate.

“What?” Malcolm leaned back in his chair and took in the scene. “You’re just giving up? Like that?”

Broccin’s eyes darkened and he saw Duncan and Kensey spinning around before him. The truth hurt, but he knew where he stood.

“I will not try to lay claim to what my brother has already acquired.”

“Already acquired?”

“Aye, already acquired. I can tell when a woman is in love, Malcolm.”

Malcolm didn’t respond and Broc glanced around when he finally peeled his eyes from Kensey and saw an empty chair where the guest of honor once sat. Perhaps he’d just broken Mal’s heart, but it was for the best. They couldn’t all have her. Only one could win in the end, and it should be the man with the first claim. Or, if she was truly in love, the man who held her heart. Titles and birth status would do nothing to make this woman happy. She must be loved.

And for all he was worth, Broccin prayed Duncan would love her.

***

Kensey’s every muscle ached. She’d finally managed to escape without being seen. Putting on a show of happiness for hundreds of people had exhausted her beyond words. She would be the happiest finding her bed and sleeping for a few days in a row.

Or at least just ridding herself of the confines of this dress.

Out of a shadowed corner, Malcolm surprised her. With a hand over her heart, she couldn’t help laughing. What a night.

“Malcolm.” She continued walking and turned down the back corridor toward the far stairs. “I didn’t see you.”

“I need to speak with you, Kensey.”

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” She yawned purposefully, but got caught in the motion and paused to let it overtake her. She was much more tired than she’d realized. Broc had known and if she hadn’t been so intent on pretending to be happy, she might have at least acknowledged his observance and retired early.

“I’d prefer to speak with you in private.” His voice carried so much urgency, but she kept imagining the warmth of her bed and it drove her on. “If you could spare me a few minutes. It’s about something Broccin told me this evening.”

Kensey stopped at the mention of Broccin’s name. She couldn’t help wondering what Broccin could have told him that he needed to speak to her about. Her heart raced, thinking of how he’d held her hand as they’d danced. He’d only asked her to dance just the once, but his nearness had practically made her heart stand still, and even given his injury, he’d done so well. But his hand in hers, his eyes on her, his body’s nearness. She could still remember every moment. She watched Malcolm walk through the huge doors and into the darkened stairway, her mind still on Broccin.

Ever since she’d stopped tending his wounds, she’d noticed his absence and it pained her. She had taken for granted the long hours she used to spend, just in his company. Even while he was sleeping. And being around him had always made her feel so at ease, so comfortable. Taking care of him and helping him to heal made her feel useful and important. Now that he was well and moving about on his own, she felt as though he didn’t care if she were even alive or not. And the way he looked at her, with the veiled disinterest in his eyes, was enough to bring on tears.

As they approached the dark stairs, Malcolm reached up for the torch and she paused as though he planned to escort her up the dimly lit stairwell. Instead, he threw the torch to the ground and it sputtered out. He pushed her against the cold wall and pressed his mouth onto hers in hot desperation.

His hands roamed her body and something hard pressed into her abdomen as he crushed her up against the smooth stone with his large body. Panic rose from her stomach and she tried to scream, but his mouth was so fully covering hers that she almost couldn’t breathe.

With the sudden fright of unwanted contact, Kensey could barely think. When his mouth left hers and began to travel down her neck to the high neck of her dress, she pushed at him. Her hands fought, frightfully trying to pull at his long braids, his clothing, his skin, anything they could find.

“Stop it, Malcolm,” she yelled, tears forming in her eyes. She continued to push at him, but the hulk of his body was so formidable compared to her small frame, she had no power, and she knew it. “Please, please stop.”

“Why stop?” He pulled her dress down over her shoulders and kissed the skin that had been covered only seconds ago. “I love you so, lass. And I was so glad to know you feel the same way.”

His words made no sense. She’d not said she loved Malcolm, not to anyone. Then, she remembered what he’d said to her as he led her from the great hall,
something Broccin told me this evening
.

He kept blathering against her neck. “There’s no need for us to remain chaste if we plan to be married.” He pressed her harder against the wall and his hands went to her waist. “No reason to wait.”

“No, no!” she shrieked with the full capacity of her lungs and pounded her hands on his back. “Stop. Please, Malcolm. I do not want this.”

“What do you mean, lass?” Malcolm’s red eyes pleaded with her. “I thought you loved me.” But his hesitation put him enough off-guard that she was able to push him away from her. He stood, mere feet from her in the dark hallway, his hands spread wide, as she aimed a well-placed kick at his groin.

He crumpled and she ran.

From the floor, he called. “My brother said he was sure you loved me. That you were acquired already for me.”

Duncan came bounding into the hallway, his eyes blazing. He caught Kensey as she nearly bowled him over and gaped at his brother. She sagged against him, weeping so hard she feared she might pass out.

“What are you doing?” Duncan growled. The intensity of his anger seemed to cover Kensey in a blanket.

“I did nothing. She was to be mine.”

Duncan kicked at his brother with murderous look. “You’d best get out of my sight before I forget you’re my brother.”

“You don’t think I would force myself on the lass, do you?” Malcolm spat, climbing to his feet.

“Well, what were you doing with her dress torn off and her crying for you to stop? She was begging for you to leave her alone, Malcolm. Not to take her like this.”

“It is common for women to be unwilling at first,” Malcolm said with a cocky bite to his voice. “But they eventually warm to me.”

Bile rose in Kensey’s throat and she gripped Duncan’s shoulder, keeping him between her and Malcolm. But her knees gave way, and everything went black.

Chapter Fifteen

Broccin rushed through the hallway, trying to find the source of the shrieks and wails that had pulled him from a deep and sound sleep. He finally found the door and pushed it open, filling the door as he stood to see who was the source of all this noise.

Robert was thrashing about on the bed, crying out like a banshee. Broccin took a seat at the side of the bed and placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder to wake him. The boy sat straight up in bed and stared at Broccin with a frightened look in his eyes. But once he realized who he was looking at, the tears started to fall. Robert threw his arms around Broccin’s waist and buried his face in his chest. Broccin put a strong hand on the boy’s head and held him close.

“I want my Papa,” Robert cried. “My Papa.”

“I know you do, lad,” Broccin soothed. “But you have me while you don’t have him. And I promise I’ll not let anything bad happen to you.”

“And my sister?” asked Rob, pulling away from Broccin’s strong chest to look into his eyes.

“Your sister, lad?” Broccin wondered, not sure if he understood the boy’s point.

“My dream. Will you protect Kensey as well as me?”

“Of course I will, lad,” assured Broccin. “I will protect everyone under this roof.” He bent to lay a soft kiss on Robert’s head and sighed deeply. “What was your dream, lad?”