Page 11 of The Curse of McMillan Castle
Relieved that she’d found her voice and that the color was quickly returning to her face, Duncan smiled down at her, but he made no move to set her back down on two feet.
“I’ll see ye to a chair, just as I was asked.”
“Then do so quickly, and go and gather the portrait straight away. I doona wish for Baodan to see it.”
It was no more than a few long strides to the chair Madeline directed him toward. The moment he lowered Kenna into the seat, he turned to gather the portrait but found that Rosie was already carrying it into the sitting room.
He nodded at her as he reached for the wide frame. “Thank ye, lass.”
He could see in the young lassie’s eyes that she worried for Kenna, for the moment he relieved her of the portrait, the young girl rushed to kneel down by Kenna’s side.
“Are you really okay? Are you sure I shouldn’t go and get Baodan?”
Duncan watched as Kenna’s hand shot out and gripped at Rosie’s arms.
“Aye, lass. I’m fine. And doona ye dare go and get Baodan. He is the last person I wish to be in this room. Will ye go and close the door so that the four of us might have some privacy?”
Duncan stepped out of Rosie’s path as she hurried to close the door to the sitting room. Kenna said nothing else until the door was securely closed.
“None of ye are to tell anyone else about this painting, do ye understand?”
Duncan said nothing—there was no one for him to tell. He knew no one else in McMillan Castle outside of those in the very room he found himself in now.
All he wanted to do was leave. He’d returned the portrait. His part was done.
“If ye will excuse me, I think it best if I bid ye farewell. If ye truly are fine, I doona wish to intrude on ye any longer. I only wanted to return what belonged to ye.”
Kenna shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks.
“Ye, sir, are no’ leaving the castle, this night. ’Tis too late now. But we canna tell anyone else why ye are really here, which is precisely why I had wee Rosie shut the door to this room. Sit. We must fabricate a story.”
What had he gotten himself into? He should’ve just burned the painting when the impulse first struck him and been done with it.
* * *
Madeline
While my stepmother might’ve been fine after her brief fainting spell, I couldn’t say the same for myself. My hands shook uncontrollably as I stood near the fire, watching Kenna forbid Duncan to leave. Kenna was tough. She was feisty. Seeing her so rattled nearly scared me to death.
For the first time since directing Duncan to help me move her, I spoke, and my voice shook with every word. “Kenna, what the hell is going on? Who is that in the painting?”
Before Kenna could answer me, Duncan’s arm came around my back to steady me.
“I think ye should sit as well, lass. Ye doona look well.”
I didn’t feel well. Nodding, I allowed him to usher me over to a chair opposite Kenna.
When I was seated, Kenna answered me.
“Take a deep breath, lass. We doona need ye dropping to the floor, too. I dinna mean to frighten ye. ’Twas shock is all.”
I did as she bid, and the intake of air seemed to steady my voice just a little.
“You didn’t answer my question, Kenna. Who is that?”
“’Tis Osla. Baodan’s first wife.”
“What?” My voice broke like a hormonal teenage boy. “His first wife? How did I not know about that?”
