Page 34 of Sighs of the Highland Wind
Douglas looked up into Maxwell’s silver-grey eyes that were now black with anger and decided that he would have to comply. He nodded resignedly, and Maxwell took him by the arm and led him downstairs in order to make sure he did not trip and fall head over heels all the way to the bottom.
However, when they reached the bottom of the staircase, Maxwell encountered yet another problem. They were passingthe stairway that led to the kitchen when they saw Lachlan carrying a young, pretty maidservant in his arms. She was struggling and screaming, and judging by the mess on the floor, had dropped her entire load of plates, glasses, cutlery, and food.
Lachlan had a look of evil determination on his face.
“Come and warm my bed tonight, Annie,” he invited with a leer. “You will have fun, I promise.”
“Put me down!” Annie yelled, then she tugged at his hair so hard that he yelped with pain, but instead of obeying her, he tightened his grip around her.
That was when Maxwell intervened.
“Put her down!” he ordered, and his voice was thunderous. “You are not going to rape this woman.”
“Who said anything about rape?” Lachlan asked, laughing drunkenly. “I am just going to love her. You want me to love you, don’t you, Annie?”
Annie’s terrified eyes stared back at him. She was paralyzed with fear, but Lachlan took her silence for assent.
“See?” he asked Lachlan and the few interested spectators who had gathered around to watch.
None of them wanted to intervene in case they lost their jobs, but Maxwell had nothing to worry about in that regard. He could say what he liked, and he did just that. He let go of Douglas’s arm, then went up to Lachlan, and his voice was throbbing with damped-down rage as he said, “Put. Her. Down.”
“No!” Lachlan yelled defiantly.
Maxwell had had enough. Before anyone could stop him, he lunged forward and swept Annie out of Lachlan’s arms. As soon as the young woman’s feet touched the ground, she ran into the arms of an older woman who whisked her away to safety.
However, Lachlan was still standing at the top of the kitchen steps, his heels hanging over the edge, and Maxwell’s snatch had unbalanced him. His arms windmilled in the air for a moment before he screamed and toppled backward. There were twenty stairs, and his head struck every one of them with an audible thump before he landed at the bottom, and a sickening crack announced that his neck was broken.
“And then I ran,” Maxwell said bitterly. “Like a craven coward, Kenna. I did not even stay to defend myself because I knew what was going to happen. The servants would likely have stood up for me, but Dougie’s word is worth far more than all of theirs put together.
“I traveled to Edinburgh, and even there I heard the news of Dougie’s death being gossiped about by servants shopping at a market where I was trying to find food. I ran away there, too, because a man my size is bound to be noticed. I had a beard down to my chest, but I am taller than everyone else I could see, so I fled.”
Maxwell looked up at Kenna as he spoke.
“I am not proud of what happened, Kenna. I lost my best friend, but when I think of what he was about to do, I wonder if he was a friend worth having.”
“He pushed you out of a tree once,” Kenna reminded him. “Remember that.”
“Only by accident,” Maxwell replied quickly. “We were just teenage boys, hardly able to grow a beard.”
“Are you sure about that?” Kenna asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Are you saying that he might have done it on purpose?” Maxwell was horrified at the notion.
“I was not there,” Kenna replied, shrugging. “So I cannot tell. But from what you tell me about his character, it certainly seems like a possibility to me.”
“Then Dougie likely thinks I killed his brother in revenge.” Maxwell sounded bitter. “But I was never as fond of him as I was of Lachlan, and I think the feeling was mutual.” He sighed, then yawned. “However, I must leave now. Perhaps we will meet again sometime, Kenna. I hope so. I have enjoyed our time together, and I wish it could have been longer.”
He took a step toward her and reached out his hands to take hers, looking down into her beautiful eyes.
“You cannot go out in this.” Kenna was decisive. “You will have to stay overnight. I cannot in good conscience let you go out in this weather, or you will freeze to death.”
She stood up and spread his blanket on the floor, then looked up at him and was surprised to see the tenderness on his face.
“What about you?’” Maxwell asked. “Are you not tired of me yet?”
His words were serious but belied by the twinkle in his eyes.
Kenna knew what the answer to his question was. She would miss him dreadfully when he was gone, but she would not tell him that. He had become a solid presence in her life, and she had, in a strange way, come to enjoy and even depend upon him being with her. She would miss him—morethan miss him. Her heart would ache for him.
