The Thief (26 page)

‘Aye.’

Lachlan strode across the bailey, his thoughts centring on his wife. Warmth flared in his chest. Scaling the stairs to the keep, he entered the hall. And saw her. The warmth in his chest surged to flame.

She turned a fraction, looked at him, and a beaming smile lit her face.

The air stalled in Lachlan’s lungs. His heart seemed to swell with every swift beat. He wanted to lay his hands on her, to touch her. He curled his fingers into tight fists against such want. Christ! He was a grown man of twenty-seven summers, yet her radiant expression at seeing him made him feel like a young lad.

He marched toward her and suddenly noticed his steward standing beside her. How could he have not noticed she wasn’t standing alone? Kenzie continued to watch Lachlan as she said something to Murdoch. His steward nodded, inclined his head in Lachlan’s direction and then left her side.

She remained at the base of the stairs as he prowled closer. Her dark eyes trailed down his length as he drew near. Desire surged in his blood at the sight of appreciation brightening her gaze. The slow blush colouring her cheeks fed his manly pride.

He understood desire, welcomed it. But it was all the other things he didn’t understand that troubled him: the unfamiliar sensations he’d been suffering of late that now besieged him with great intensity; his failure to notice the hall was filled to bursting when he’d believed he and Kenzie were alone; his growing need to hear her voice.

‘Welcome home,’ she said softly.

The sweet sound rippled through his senses, seeped into his chest like the most potent mead. It was then that he knew he’d broken his vow; broken his own promise not to fall in love with Kenzie, not to fall in love with his wife.

‘I trust your errand concerning Father Tremayne went well.’ Her gaze on his face felt like a caress.

‘Aye.’ It was all he could manage now he knew the priest had been right.

‘Good. I postponed the noon meal until you returned.’

Lachlan had no stomach for food. He stared at the woman he loved. His chest ached, burned. How could he have let it happen?

‘Oh, and we have guests.’ A flicker of uncertainty doused the glow in her eyes.

‘Guests?’

‘I’ve asked them to stay. ‘Tis my—’

‘Laird Elliot.’

A smooth, sultry voice cut off his wife’s answer and pierced his spine with shards of ice.

‘—Sister, Jeanne, and her companions,’ Kenzie finished quietly, and turned toward the staircase.

He also turned to the woman standing on the bottom step. Jeanne’s two ‘companions’ appeared to be struggling to stay within the confines of her low-cut gown. She was supposed to be in mourning, for God’s sake.

Jeanne glided down the step and across the short space to where he stood beside Kenzie. She stopped and offered him her hand. The scent she wore wafted about him, reminding him of something aromatic, yet deadly. Like nightshade, the plant with bonny flowers and handsome red berries Iona warned everyone to avoid.

He grasped her fingers lightly. ‘Welcome to Castle Redheugh.’

‘It is a pleasure to see you again,’ Jeanne said.

With the barest of nods he released her and turned to find his wife’s confused gaze darting between Jeanne and himself.

‘Lady Johnstone and I were introduced at Irvine Keep. She was there the night your father called for my assistance.’

‘Aye,’ Jeanne said, drawing a square of linen from her sleeve. ‘Your husband kindly offered his condolences for my loss.’

As Jeanne bowed her head and mopped up her invisible tears, Kenzie threw him a questioning glance. ‘Jeanne, come and sit,’ she said, compassion colouring her tone. She stepped forward, tentatively placing a slender hand high on her sister’s back, and coaxed her to the chair beside her own at his table.

Seeing the two sisters together for the first time, Lachlan couldn’t help but notice how different they were in appearance. He already knew how vastly different they were in nature. While Kenzie, sleek and dark, inspired feelings of warmth and compassion, Jeanne’s golden looks exuded cold, false emotion. His gut tightened at the memory of Lennox Irvine’s suggestion for him to cast Kenzie aside to wed her sister. A suggestion he believed Jeanne supported and was more than likely the reason she’d come to Castle Redheugh now.

His attention once again rested on his gentle wife. He hadn’t mentioned seeing Jeanne that night, believing his silence would keep the ugly truth from her. But now …

‘Your frown tells all.’

Murdoch’s low voice interrupted Lachlan’s thoughts. He turned his glare on his steward. ‘What in God’s name does she give as her reason for being here?’

‘Lady Elliot believes her sister had nowhere else to go.’

‘Kenzie would believe anything the manipulating witch told her.’

‘I’m not so sure. I have sensed a wariness about your wife since her sister arrived.’

‘Good. And her companions?’ Lachlan asked studying the two men sitting idle by the fire.

‘Dalziel and Geordan are Johnstone men. Both surrendered their weapons willingly before passing through the gates.’

‘What does your gut tell you?’

‘To have them closely watched at all times.’

‘It seems we suffer the same ailment,’ Lachlan said, casting Murdoch a grim look. ‘Cal and Dair will enjoy the task.’

Murdoch nodded. ‘I’ll speak with them and pass on your command. When you’re ready, I’ll have the servants bring out the noon meal.’

Lachlan’s appetite had fled along with his desire, but his people were surely hungry.

‘Have them serve now.’

With a nod, his steward made for the kitchens.

Lachlan looked back to where Kenzie sat consoling Jeanne and wondered how best to protect his caring wife from her scheming sister—without revealing he’d fallen in love.

***

Kenzie took back the cup she’d pressed into Jeanne’s hand and placed it on the table. She stared at the golden crown of her sister’s bowed head.

‘Are you all right?’

‘As well as can be expected,’ Jeanne sniffed. ‘Considering what I’ve been through.’

Kenzie couldn’t imagine the depths of her sister’s suffering. She’d said everything she thought appropriate, expressed her sorrow for Jeanne’s loss, all more than once. There was nothing new she could say in an attempt to ease her sister’s pain, so she held her silence, hoping her presence offered some form of solace.

Lifting her lashes, her gaze settled on Lachlan. The feverish intensity that had gripped him and had leaped across the small space between them on his return had been replaced by another sort of tension. She’d glimpsed raw desire in his expression and something else she couldn’t name. But a frown now strained his features, making him look as if his iron control was being tested. His fixed look never left Jeanne.

Why hadn’t Lachlan mentioned meeting her sister at Irvine Keep? He’d had ample time. She grasped her hands in her lap and twisted her fingers. Had he been enchanted by Jeanne’s golden beauty? A beauty he appeared to be struggling to look away from.

‘You look troubled, little sister.’

Kenzie flinched inwardly at Jeanne’s observation. She’d need to work harder to mask her feelings. Despite the sadness she felt for Jeanne’s loss, Kenzie couldn’t silence her clamouring suspicions. She turned and met her sister’s probing gaze. ‘Troubled? Nae. There is nothing to trouble me here at Castle Redheugh.’ She conjured a brief smile. ‘How are you faring?’

Jeanne’s tone lowered, as did her lashes, while she spoke of the pain she had been forced to endure since Douglas’s death.

Kenzie silently sighed with relief. But her respite was short-lived as she glanced across the room and saw Lachlan approaching. Her stomach knotted as he took his seat beside her. His warmth touched her, but didn’t thaw her inner chill. Again, Lachlan appeared to see no one but Jeanne. And with Lachlan’s presence, her sister’s fragile demeanour brightened. Kenzie’s inner light flickered, dimmed.

The servants delivered the meal.

She stared at the savoury dishes as Jeanne leaned forward to chat with Lachlan about the weather, the neckline of her dress gaping. Kenzie concentrated on ensuring Jeanne ate well, while she accepted Lachlan’s offerings without meeting his eyes.

Jeanne declined the second helping of fresh bread Kenzie offered, and again leaned forward, this time to praise Lachlan for the meal. Her husband’s reply was polite, yet Kenzie sensed an underlying preoccupation in his tone. Her gaze slid to his forearm, its muscles locked tight, and then down to the hand fisted about his goblet. A definite sign something troubled him. Her mouth dried. She grasped her cup and sipped.

How could he not be comparing them? One fair and radiant, the other dull and plain. He must feel cheated. How could any man look upon Jeanne and not be enchanted by her rare beauty?

How could any man not wish to have Jeanne as his wife, even if he already had one?

Chapter 22

Lachlan sat throughout the postponed meal thinking it would have been better to have missed it altogether. Despite his busy morning, not the sight of succulent smoked ham or the assortment of tasty cheeses, nor the inviting smell of freshly baked loaves, could ignite his appetite. While his people ate and chatted as normal, Lachlan’s attention was divided between Kenzie and her sister.

Not that his wife would know. Despite her accepting every morsel he offered, not once did she glance his way. For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, he couldn’t read her expression, had no hint of her thoughts. It was as if they were once again strangers. A hollow feeling opened inside his chest.

Murdoch was right. There was a new caution about Kenzie, like a laird zealously guarding all that was his. Her body was her walled fortress. Her mind, her heart, were her keep. But Jeanne wasn’t the only one Kenzie denied access. She’d barred her gates, donned her armour and was denying him entry too. Never before had she refused to meet his eyes.

He reached forward and claimed his goblet as he peered further along the table to the woman he knew was to blame. Jeanne chose that moment to drape her upper body on the table and direct a remark at him about the pleasant weather.

Light shone down on the golden strands of Jeanne’s hair. He wondered how such beauty could encase such coldness. He also wondered if she knew how to feel. If she’d ever suffered anything close to true emotion.

She pressed her chest forward again and praised him for the fare. He murmured it was Cook and the kitchen maids who deserved her acclaim.

She turned to Kenzie, and the sudden downward curve of her mouth and the way she lowered her lashes altered her manner to one of helpless sorrow. A completely different bearing to a moment ago. His fingers tightened, strangling his pewter goblet. He couldn’t help but worry that Kenzie wouldn’t see through her sister’s false grief. Jeanne was preying on Kenzie’s compassionate soul, stealing her sense of peace. And his.

After his recent visit to Irvine, Lachlan knew why she was here. Knew what she wanted.

He also knew she’d never succeed.

Once the meal was done, Lachlan escorted Kenzie and her sister to the hearth. Before they sat, he closed his fingers more firmly about his wife’s hand. ‘You must excuse us, Lady Johnstone,’ he said to Jeanne. ‘I need to speak with Lady Elliot.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Jeanne said.

Lachlan ignored Kenzie’s frown, tucked her hand under his arm and led her to the hall’s entrance and into the bailey.

The crisp air brushed chill fingers over his face. He peered down at Kenzie, pleased to see colour rise in her too-pale cheeks.

‘Do you need a cloak?’

‘Nae.’

Pace slow, Lachlan headed toward the keep’s south side.

‘You wished to speak to me?’

He wanted her alone. Away from her sister’s poisonous grasp. ‘I want to know if you are all right.’

She glanced at him. ‘You’re referring to Jeanne.’ He nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

He knew she wasn’t. The slender arm beneath his hand rivalled the rigidity of his sword. ‘You weren’t surprised she came?’

She stared ahead and inhaled deeply. ‘I was shocked when I first saw her.’ The breath she’d drawn escaped as a long sigh. ‘It’s strange having Jeanne here, but where else does she have to go? I doubt my father will comfort her after her loss. He wouldn’t know how. We’re not close, but she’s my sister. I couldn’t turn her away.’

Lachlan’s gut turned.

She peered up at him. ‘Are you annoyed that I invited Jeanne and her companions to stay?’

‘Is having Jeanne here what you want?’

She looked forward and slowly shook her head. ‘I don’t know Jeanne, nor does she know me.’ She glanced at him then away. ‘After seeing the friendship you have with your brother, I would like to spend some time with her.’

His protective instincts rose, urging him to tell Kenzie she’d be wasting her time. But she needed to learn the truth about her sister for herself. All Lachlan could do was guard her and be steadfast for her when she finally did. ‘Then you shall.’

She glanced in the direction of the armoury then looked back at him. ‘Why did you not mention meeting Jeanne at Irvine?’

He stopped and turned to her. Despite knowing she’d ask, he still wasn’t sure what to say, how much he should tell her. His need to shield her, both her slender body and her soft heart, surged through his veins like molten steel, pulsing, burning, and left him shaking.

Wrapping his hands about her upper arms, he met her gaze. ‘Your father introduced me to Jeanne as I was leaving. I was angry.’ A line appeared between her fine brows. ‘There was nae trouble at Irvine that night.’ Her frown deepened. ‘It was a test to see if I’d keep to our agreement and offer assistance when needed.’ A ruse to draw Lachlan and a score of his men from Castle Redheugh so Lennox’s traitorous pact with the English could succeed. And it had. But Kenzie didn’t need to know the full extent of her father’s greed. If Lachlan’s final threat had the desired effect, she’d never see her father again or be hurt by his selfishness.

‘Agreement? Was it part of the bargain for wedding me?’

He nodded.

Shadows flickered in her dark eyes before she lowered her lashes.