Page 18 of Sighs of the Highland Wind
He shooed away the thought that had immediately slipped into his mind. It would be wonderful to hold her in his arms and kiss her all afternoon, but clearly that was never going to happen. She was too innocent and he was too honorable to take advantage of her.
“I think you have done enough for today,” he declared. “All I have done is…well, nothing.”
He felt ashamed, but then, he was becoming accustomed to feeling that way.
Kenna reached over to a shelf and picked up a book, which she handed to him.
“King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,” he read, and smiled.
“I have only five books in my little library,” Kenna told him. “I have read this one dozens of times, but I never become tired of it. It might amuse you for a while.”
“Thank you,” he said gratefully, smiling at her. “You are so kind. Can you tell me a little about yourself?”
Kenna shrugged. “There is nothing much to tell, really. I have lived here all my life, and I don’t know any other home. I came here when I was four years old.”
“You were not born here?” he asked curiously. “I thought you were.”
“No.” She began to twist her hands in her lap. “I-I was born on one of the tenant farms, but it was attacked by bandits when I was very small…and I lost my family. I was the only one who survived. I was brought here and adopted by the cook, who had lost her own daughter to smallpox.
“I don’t remember anything about my father and mother at all. I have only ever known Flora Bowie as my mammy, and we love each other as a mother and daughter should. The two men who rescued me, Jack Johnstone and Frank Young, are still employed as guards, and I regard them as my uncles.”
“I am so sorry. I hope I did not bring up bad memories.” Maxwell reached out and took her hand in his. “I don’t wish to cause you pain in any way. You have been so good to me.”
“I don’t feel pain about the loss of my family,” Kenna admitted. “I don’t remember anything about any of it.” The feel of his hand on hers was warm and somehow thrilling since it was such an intimate gesture. “I feel angry sometimes, and occasionally I think I am about to remember something, but the memory always disappears before I can catch it. And sometimes I have bad dreams, but when I wake up I can never remember them.” She shrugged, then smiled happily. “I suppose I never will. But I am lucky to have my mammy. She is my whole life. I don’t think I could love her more if she was the woman who gave birth to me.”
Maxwell took her hand and turned it over. It was tiny compared to his own, and the palms were roughened, used to hard work. He felt ashamed again. He had led such an easy life! Yet here was a young woman who had endured such a tragedy and still managed to find someone to love and a reason to be grateful. He could learn lessons from her, he realized.
His sister Lindsey had often befriended the servants in the castle where his family lived, and many times he had thought her foolish to do so, but he resolved never to think that way again. This lovely young woman had shown him the error of his ways, and he would be forever grateful.
8
Darkness crept in after that. Maxwell watched its slow progress in silence as if mesmerized by it. He had emptied his mind, and even the trouble from which he was running away seemed to fade as long as he was watching Kenna.
She began to have difficulty seeing her needlework and lit the candles while he watched her, trying not to be too obvious about doing it. Everything about her fascinated him.
“I have to go and give the horses their treats,” she announced suddenly, putting down her work.
“Does nobody mind that you give them fruit that should be used for the people in the castle?” Maxwell asked, frowning.
“Well, as you may have noticed, the apple I gave you the first time was past its best,” Kenna told him. “And I give them cores and skins too. They also get vegetable peels and whatever else I can find. You were lucky to get a whole apple the night I met you.”
“It was the best apple I ever tasted!” he said, laughing.
Even now he could feel his mouth watering. “Your horses are very well looked after. I have never seen so many glossy coats!”
“I love horses,” she replied, with a soft smile on her face. “They are all my friends.”
“Have you ever ridden one? Alone, I mean?”
He was curious, but immediately her expression became animated.
“I was very lucky,” Kenna replied. “The two men who rescued me looked after me and taught me to ride, and that is not a skill that servant girls usually learn. But there are certain advantages to being one of the working class.”
“Now I am interested.” Maxwell was curious. “Tell me what they are.”
She smiled. “I can marry whomever I like,” she answered. “I have seen how miserable highborn lords and ladies are when they are forced to marry those they don’t like or even completely despise.”
She looked at him pointedly, her eyes asking a question.
