following morning, after bathing, Kenzie broke her fast in the great hall, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that she’d had the forethought to bring tampons and sanitary pads with her to seventeenth century Scotland.
She bade Bruce good morning, along with a few of the other clansmen she’d come to know over the last few weeks, before taking her seat up on the dais. Ben wasn’t seated there, and she frowned, wondering where he was.
Her solitude was short-lived before Athol came and sat beside her, her smug smile leaving Kenzie on edge.
“Good morning, lass. I hope ye slept well.”
The urbane conversation didn’t fool Kenzie, but she would play along for a little while and see what Athol had to say for herself. “I did, thank you. Beltane was wonderful but tiring, as I’m sure you agree.”
“Oh, ay, I agree, and when ye’re sleeping with the laird, it’s even more tiring, isn’t it, lass? But I wouldn’t know about that, since I’m not the one who’s sullied her reputation and is now known as the castle whore.”
“What?” Kenzie coughed, almost choking on her food. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“’Tis true, is it not? My brother informed me himself that he saw ye last evening, pawing the laird at the bonfire. Kissing Ben with such vigor that he’d not been able to breathe. Not to mention, my maid said she saw you on the night of your arrival all but throwing yourself at the laird.”
Kenzie shook her head, heat suffusing her face. “He could breathe well enough.” How dare this woman chastise her. “I wasn’t aware you were betrothed to the laird and he therefore cannot kiss other women.”
Athol gestured to a servant, holding up her cup and waving it about until it was filled. “You’re no woman, only a whore—who I’ll soon get rid of. My father is on his way, and he’ll make the laird see the error of his ways. If ye think to marry Ben, ye can think again. I’ll not have a woman of loose morals raising my nephew and teaching him her own dreadful ideals.”
Kenzie snorted. “For starters, kissing the laird doesn’t make me a whore. Secondly, if I’m kissing the laird, one should assume I have the ear of the laird, and perhaps you should temper your hatred of me. Thirdly, I don’t wish to marry Ben. I like Ben, don’t get me wrong, but I’m young and not looking for a husband.” Just the thought of marrying at her age was too crazy to contemplate. Not to mention the fact that she would be returning to the twenty-first century soon, and poor little Athol’s worry was for nothing. Not that Kenzie could tell her that.
Kenzie looked about the room. Many eyes, mostly the women folk who sat at table or served to break everyone’s fast, were on her. Their attention snapping away as soon as Kenzie noticed their interest. She swallowed her unease. Did they really think her a whore? A trollop without family? The thought was not comforting.
“And ye think I should believe such lies. Do ye think me a simpleton?”
Kenzie shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Athol asked, slamming her cup down and gaining the attention of those seated before them.
“Only that I do think you’re a simpleton. I also think you’re a bitch who needs to stay out of my business. If the Laird of Ross wishes to have you for his wife, I’m sure he’ll ask. Until then, if I want to kiss him, and,” she said, leaning forward, “more than that, I will.” Kenzie stood and left, walking toward the door that led outside.
A walk along the shore was what she needed to get away from this castle and, most especially, the nasty little Athol Grant. Worse of all was that Athol was right in a lot of ways. Maybe she’d been too forward, too public with her interest in Ben. She would have to temper it when in public. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble or shame to Gwen and Braxton.
The beach curved and ran in front of the small town that Kenzie had noticed on her first day here. She walked along the stony shore, alone with her thoughts. Her most worrying one at present, was when should she return home. Already, she’d been at Castle Ross for a month. How much longer should she stay? Her whole reason for traveling back to seventeenth century Scotland had