trying to ignore the small amount of guilt that pressed on her conscience about not being totally honest with Gwen as to why she was here. It was probably best they didn’t know, for they’d probably try and keep her from meeting Black Ben, and then she’d never learn the truth behind the old Scottish mystery.
This was going to be a great trip. One she’d never forget.
Kenzie sat up in bed with a start at the sound of loud banging coming from below stairs. She fumbled about on her bed, trying to find the shawl that Gwen had given her to use and toppled off the bed when she reached into nothing but thin air.
Feeling her way toward the windows, she pulled the thick, heavy drapes aside, allowing the glow of the moon to light the room. The fire had long burned down to nothing but embers, and she tiptoed toward the door, hoping the house wasn’t under attack by some thieving, barbaric Scots.
She opened up the door a slither, the sound of swords being drawn and whispers from the men below stairs making her pause. What was going on? Were they under attack? The pit of her stomach clenched, and Kenzie thought she might be sick. Gwen rushed past her, most decidedly rumpled, and looked over the balustrade, her long, red hair hanging down her back. She stayed frozen on the spot as the men downstairs opened the door and shouts rang out.
Gwen gasped and raced downstairs, and when she heard Gwen tell her men to lay down their weapons, Kenzie tiptoed to the banister and looked to see who was at the door.
Kenzie stifled a gasp of her own at viewing the man below. He was filthy and looked like he’d not bathed in weeks, not to mention…was that vomit on his shirt? Dark locks limply hung over his eyes, as dark as a Spaniard’s but clumping together due to its lack of wash. His cheekbones were sharp, his jaw strong and covered in dark facial hair.
Eww.
Braxton hoisted the man’s limp body from the front step of the door after he collapsed and carried him into the room where they’d earlier had bread and mead. Kenzie noted the guards dispersed after checking outside, some staying outdoors while others headed to their quarters near the rear of the house.
Wanting to help in any way she could, even if she could catch lice from the dirty fellow, Kenzie headed downstairs to join her ancestors.
She found them both huddled over the stranger, Gwen’s brow furrowed in worry. Kenzie studied the man as she came closer. He didn’t look like any of her ancestors she’d seen in portraits and yet, she had the oddest feeling she’d seen him before.
Gwen called for cooling water and cloths, along with the request that a servant head below stairs to light the candles in her healer’s room. The man lay, without speaking, on the settee, every now and then moaning, coughing, and looking as if he had some sort of flu or pneumonia. Either way, he seemed very ill.
“What do you think is wrong with him?” Kenzie asked, coming a little closer.
“I’m not sure as yet, lass,” Gwen said, before thanking the maid as they brought in what she’d asked for. Gwen started to pat down his brow, cleaning away what looked like days of grime, sweat, and dried vomit. Yes, it was definitely vomit that soaked his shirt and parts of his chin. “He’s got the ague and is no very well at all.” She pushed the man’s hair back, long locks that were as dark as night itself. Kenzie’s mouth turned up at the sight of him up close.
The word eww again reverberated around in her brain.
“I must make up a tisane. I’ll be back forthwith.” Gwen met Kenzie’s gaze. “Come sit by Ben, and keep the cooling cloth on his brow. ’Twill help until I can give him some wormwood and mint elixir. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try some horehound syrup to bring down his fever.”
Ben… Could it be? “Gwen, this isn’t the Laird of Ross, is it? Also known as Black Ben?”
Gwen nodded as she strode toward the door. “Aye, the very same. His correct name is Abhainn, Laird of Ross, but Ben to his friends. I’ll be back right quick.”
“Of course.” Kenzie did as she was told. The laird was even more intimidating than he was at a distance or in any painting she’d ever beheld. Braxton looked in on