Page 43 of Sighs of the Highland Wind

“It is a very long story, M’Laird, and I am afraid no one can tell it but me,” she replied. Then she screwed up her courage and asked, “May I come with you?” Her eyes were pleading with him to agree.

He nodded. “Of course, but afterward you must go straight to your mother.”

“I will,” Kenna agreed.

She felt more nervous than she ever had in her life, and not just because she was going to have to do something she found terrifying, but because she was doing it on behalf of the man she loved. If anything should happen to Maxwell, she thought, she might as well go to a nunnery since she did not want to live in a world without him in it. Now, his fate was in her hands.

When they arrived at Laird McDonald’s study, they were surprised to find Douglas waiting for them. Kenna shrank back at the sight of him, but Maxwell enclosed her small hand in his big one and gave it a reassuring squeeze, then looked Douglas straight in the eye.

“Douglas,” he said gruffly, bowing his head.

“Max,” Douglas returned the greeting, then turned to Kenna. “First of all, forgive me, please. I was a brute to you, and I deserved to be punished. You would think, after Lachlan…well, I am sorry, Kenna.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology,” Kenna answered softly, with a little smile.

She was truly touched because she had been prepared to hate him. He had lived only for his own pleasure for a long time, but he was making an effort to change, and she respected that.

“I have sworn to give up wine and whiskey,” Douglas went on. “But please accept a glass from me.”

He handed her a fragrant glass of deep red wine, and she thanked him and sipped it politely.

“Now,” Laird McDonald said with a deep sigh, “I know why you have come, Max.”

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak and leaned forward in his chair, but Laird McDonald put up his hand to stop him.

“Since Douglas has been sober, even though it has only been a few hours, he has remembered and confessed to quite a few things he might have been mistaken about before.”

Maxwell allowed himself a sliver of hope as he looked at Douglas and saw him squirming slightly. Suddenly he did not look at all sure of himself.

“Max, answer me truthfully…” He swallowed nervously. “Did you push Lachie down the stairs?”

There was a deafening silence for a moment.

“No, I did not.” Maxwell met Douglas’s eyes squarely, hiding nothing. He was tired of telling the story and hoped this was the last time. “I took the serving girl out of his arms. He overbalanced, and nobody was close enough to stop him from falling.”

“I can back him up,” Kenna said suddenly.

“Kenna? Were you there?” the laird asked, frowning.

“Yes, but I could not speak up because we were all afraid of losing our positions.” She shot a glance at Douglas. “Master Douglas was not so forgiving then.”

Douglas nodded slowly.

“Why did you run, Max?” the laird asked. “If you were innocent? You must have realized how it looked.”

“I panicked,” Maxwell admitted, running his hand through his hair. “I was sure no one would believe me. I was not thinking properly. M’Laird, do you believe me?”

The laird sat back in his chair and nodded slowly. “I do. But where have you been? Both of you? There is a story here, and I need to hear it.”

He looked at his and Kenna’s joined hands, studied the way Kenna was gazing at Maxwell, then smiled to himself and listened as he started to speak.

Maxwell felt his face growing hot as he began his story, but he gained courage as he proceeded, particularly when he felt Kenna’s hand tighten around his, and he forgot his self-consciousness. He only had to tell the truth, after all, but he became a little hesitant when describing his rescue from the stables, so Kenna took over.

“I was feeding the horses scraps as I always do, M’Laird, when I found him,” she began. “I did not recognize him at first, but I took him to my chamber, and he slept on the floor until he had recovered a little. After a few days, the incident with Douglas happened and we fled. The rest you know.”

“If it were not for this wonderful woman, I would not be alive,” Maxwell said huskily, gazing at her with eyes that were shining with love.

Kenna saw the light in his eyes, but she knew that it was gratitude and nothing else. She was still only a serving maid, even though her whole being ached with love for him.