Page 68 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

“What sort of stupid promise did ye make?” Rob asked.

What could she have asked of him that has him acting like this?

“I canna say.”

Rob rolled his eyes. “Fine, then keep yer secrets. Look, without knowing the particulars, all I can say is that ye ought to just make the mess and keep yer promises. Ye’ll always be able to clean it up.”

“And ye’d forgive me fer it? If things got really disordered?”

“Aye, stupid lad, I’ll always forgive ye.”

With that, Rob picked up his ax and the next log, leaving Hugh to ponder his dilemma in silence.

* * *

“Hugh, how about we go to Father’s—” Rob started to say, but Hugh was already marching through the courtyard on his own, putting as much distance between them as he could. “Fine, I’ll find Father myself.”

With the hour late and the air freezing, Rob wasn’t particularly surprised to find that most of the castle had already gone to bed. Only a few drunken stragglers hung around in the hall, and he didn’t pass a soul on his journey up to the top of his castle, where his father’s solar sat at the highest point of one of the castle’s many towers.

Rob knocked softly before slipping inside. The solar wasn’t a particularly large room, but it was certainly extravagant. His mother, like Florence, had been passionate about spending coin, and his father’s solar had been her particular point of interest when it came to decoration. Where everything else in the castle was adorned with a sort of practical elegance, a bit of finery intermixed with the simple, this room was nothing short of opulent. Rich green fabric embroidered with the Fraser crest hung along the walls and the chairs that were scattered here and there were fatly stuffed with down. His father’s desk at the very back of the room was both massive and topped with imported Italian marble.

“I heard a rumor that ye would be back this evening, though many said it could not be done,” Florence said from her position behind the desk.

“What are ye doing here?”

“Waiting fer ye. Father needed to rest, so I volunteered to wait fer ye and Hugh to return. Where is Hugh?”

“Hopefully, he is locked away in his room where I’ll not have to deal with him fer a few hours. He is acting moodier than a lass during her least favorite turn of the moon.”

Florence cocked an eyebrow. “I shall do my best not to resent the comparison. Strange that Hugh, of all people, is acting so poorly.”

“Aye. Was Ellen acting at all strange today?”

Florence pursed her lips. “I did not see much of Ellen today. She hounded me all morning about Kenna’s health and then disappeared to do her needlework alone all afternoon.”

“Kenna’s health?”

“Aye. She has fallen ill.”

Rob tensed where he stood, resisting the urge to immediately run from the room and back to his chambers. “What is wrong with her? Will she be alright?”

“How would I ken? I am not a healer,” Florence replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Then a healer was called?”

“Of course. He will be here tomorrow. Well, the whole reason I was to wait up fer ye at all was to inform ye that Father wishes fer ye and Kenna to sleep separately until the cause of the illness is discovered. The room around the corner from yer own has been prepared fer ye.”

“Great.” Rob sighed.

Would he ever feel the sweet warmth of his wife again? It was starting to seem that fate was stacking the odds against him, punishing him for all of the years that he had not wanted a wife by depriving him of one now that it was his greatest pleasure.

“Do not look so depressed,” Florence teased as she stood and crossed the room, rising onto her tiptoes to peck him lovingly on the cheek. “Well, I have done all I have stayed awake fer. I’ll see ye in the morn.”

Rob waited for her to leave before he sought a piece of paper and scribbled his father a quick note to explain why they had returned before they were expected. Then, with a bit of frustration, he decided to make his way back to his bed.

His lonely bed.

The room just around the corner from his own, as promised, was prepared for him. A fresh change of clothes had even been set out, robbing him of any excuse to go next door. But then, he couldn’t resist the temptation to at least go and see her, excuse or not. He slipped back out into the hall, rounded the corner, and opened the door to him and Kenna’s shared chamber with a carefully practiced speed that kept the door from squeaking in the hinges. With the quietness of a ghost, he crossed the room and crouched down beside the bed. Kenna was asleep, a slight sheen of sweat visible on her forehead in the dim light of the dying fire. Her face seemed a bit paler than normal, though he supposed he could have been imagining that. What he knew he wasn’t imagining was the ragged edge to her breaths.