The Thief Read online

  ‘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 The feverish intensity that had gripped him and had leaped across the small space between them on his return had been replaced by another sort of tension.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 t
o 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.

  ‘I’m sorry my father—’

  ‘Kenzie.’ He cut off her apology. His fingers firmed about her arms. Her lashes lifted. ‘You are not responsible for your father’s actions. It was a bargain well made.’ The best bargain he’d ever made.

  He could have retrieved his stolen cattle, had every right to take back what was his. But as he looked at Kenzie he knew he’d give up his entire herd for her. He loved Kenzie, but the memory of his father’s decline into devastation unleashed his fears and held him silent. He couldn’t reveal what his heart told him with its every beat. Too many people needed his guidance, relied on his strength, for him to let emotions weaken him and distract him as they had his sire.

  ‘You said you weren’t close to your sister. I didn’t tell you about meeting Jeanne because I didn’t think it was important.’

  She stared at him, and again inhaled deeply. As she released it, the stiffness claiming her limbs eased.

  ‘I knew there would be a reason for you not speaking of it, but once my cursed curiosity was piqued, I had to ask.’

  Her belief in him twisted the shackles about his heart. ‘Nae doubt the question burned your tongue throughout the long meal,’ he said, trying for a teasing tone.

  He must have succeeded for her eyes twinkled. ‘Just a little.’

  His chest tightened and the air in his lungs stalled at the sight of her radiant gaze. He never wanted the light in her eyes to stop shining—would do all in his power to ensure it never did.

  A tall order with self-centred Jeanne residing under their roof.

  ‘How long will your sister be staying?’

  ‘A few days at most, I think.’

  Lachlan cupped her cheek. ‘Have a care while she’s here, Kenzie, and know I am near if you need me.’

  ‘I will.’ She studied him for a few moments. ‘I’d best return.’

  Lachlan cupped her other cheek. ‘In a moment. Jeanne might need you, but so do I.’

  His lips skimmed her mouth. Her lips parted and he drank in the sound of her sigh. Denied lust burst inside him, swept along by the blood pounding through his veins.

  He wrapped one arm about her waist and pulled her into his body as his other hand cradled her head, holding her close. His tongue delved deep, withdrew, and dove again. She leaned into him and kissed him back, matching his need, his wanting. Her desire for him rocked his senses, stole his mind, and made him ache in places, in ways, that had naught to do with physical desire. She interfered with his control, made him want to let go and open his heart.

  He could not. Must not.

  Tearing his mouth free, heart thudding, groin pulsing, he closed his eyes and waited for his body to calm and his ability to think to return. Ragged breaths filled the space between them, both hers and his. He didn’t dare look at her, not yet. He simply held her with shaking hands, this woman who’d stolen his horse and now had his heart.

  ***

  The stroll outside had refreshed Kenzie’s flagging spirits, but knowing why Lachlan hadn’t mentioned meeting her sister warmed the chill in her heart. The want she’d sensed in her husband’s kiss had restored her self-confidence and stirred her own desire.

  How she wished the day were at an end. She tried to contain her smile at such a wicked thought, but it proved too difficult with her pulse beating in swift anticipation for the night to come and the taste of her husband lingering on her lips.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself, Kenzie.’

  Her stomach clenched. Not at Jeanne’s remark, but due to the venomous tone enfolding her name. She met her sister’s gaze and wondered if it was grief alone she saw in the cold blue eyes. Due to the tiny holes of self-doubt that had appeared in Kenzie’s cloak of happiness since her sister’s arrival, she refused to discuss Lachlan with Jeanne.

  ‘Is there anything I can get for you?’

  ‘Only one man can give me what I want, but he is nae longer with us.’ Jeanne turned away to face the flames.

  Kenzie studied her sister’s clasped hands and the tension stiffening her spine. Fury and hurt poured from her in waves. ‘I did not know your husband, but perhaps it would help if you spoke of him.’

  ‘I don’t want to speak of Douglas,’ Jeanne snapped. She threw Kenzie a sideways glance and said more softly, ‘‘Tis too soon, too painful.’

  Kenzie licked her dry lips. ‘As you wish.’

  She stared into the fire, attempting to regain her composure, a steady state of well-being she lost after only a few moments in her sister’s changeable company. Nerves jumped about inside her as if she’d been tossed upon a crazed horse that no amount of skill or gentleness could tame.

  Uncertain of how Jeanne would respond to any comment she made, she decided to say nothing and wait for her sister to strike up a conversation. But she couldn’t sit and stare into the leaping flames all day. She reached into the basket positioned at the end of the bench and retrieved the garment she’d been making for one of the children at the cottages. She needed to finish two more pairs of woollen hose as well as three small tunics and deliver them by week’s end.

  As she plied her needle, her thoughts centred on Lachlan. Her heart ached to share her feelings with the man who’d awakened her love, but her mind battered her heart into submission with memories of her father’s cruelty and her mother’s long-ago misery.

  Lachlan wasn’t like her father; he had proven time and again precisely how different he was from her sire. His kindness, his concern, for his people—for her—were only two of his strongest qualities. Two of many.

  Despite yearning to tell him how she felt, it was too dangerous. Loving Lachlan was a secret she had to keep. It was too soon, too new, and she wanted to savour these feelings of love a little longer, without risk.

  But she could share something just as precious. When the garments she was making were done, she’d ask him to accompany her to the cottages to deliver the clothes. She would introduce him to the forgotten. He could meet her family.

  ‘What a good little wife you make.’

  Shaken from her thoughts, Kenzie wondered if the remark was meant as a compliment. She took it as one and smiled. ‘Do you sew?’

  Jeanne scoffed in reply. ‘I stopped doing such mundane tasks long ago.’

  Kenzie stared at her sister, wondering how she spent her time and what she did to pass each day. From her earliest memories at Irvine, Jeanne’s prime concern had always been her appearance—their father had made it so. Now, even in her grief, Kenzie noticed Jeanne had still managed to change her attire since she’d ar
rived at Castle Redheugh. Stiffly beautiful, there was an untouchable quality to her. Did she think her beauty was all she had to offer? A deep feeling of sadness welled inside Kenzie. Not for her sister’s recent loss, but for Jeanne herself.

  For the first time in her life, Kenzie saw her father’s neglect as a blessing.

  ‘Is your chamber satisfactory?’ Kenzie resumed her stitching.

  ‘It will do, but am I really expected to sleep well with so few pillows?’

  ‘How many more will suffice? I’ll bring them to your room before you retire.’

  ‘As you are now the lady of Castle Redheugh, little sister, with your instructions, menial tasks such as preparing rooms for guest should be left to the servants.’

  Kenzie lowered the woollen hose to her lap and met her sister’s gaze. ‘I appreciate your concern, Jeanne, but I am not one to sit idle while others carry out tasks I am able to do myself.’

  ‘You will never gain the respect of those beneath you if—’

  ‘I do not look upon these people, or anyone else, as beneath me.’

  A shocked expression claimed Jeanne’s features before she slowly shook her head. ‘But you must. Therein lies your problem.’

  Anger sparked in Kenzie’s chest. She tamped it down by reminding herself of her sister’s upbringing and her recent loss.

  ‘Being the lady of the keep is new for you.’ Jeanne stretched a hand forward and lightly patted her knee. Kenzie’s fingers fisted within the wool as her sister straightened and went on. ‘While I am here, I will try to help you adjust to your elevated position. You must understand the servants expect you to use your authority. It is the only thing that will set you apart from them.’

  Disbelief surged through Kenzie. They were sisters by blood, but Jeanne’s thoughts highlighted the vast differences in their beliefs. Their father had taught Jeanne too well.

  Deciding against informing her sister that the chamber she’d been given was usually reserved for prisoners and unwanted guests, Kenzie returned the garment to the basket beside the bench, straightened and looked at Jeanne. ‘Once again, while I appreciate your concerns, I do not agree with your methods.’