Call of the Sea, page 8
She continued pretending he wasn’t there as she finished eating. But as she walked away from the table to refresh herself in her rooms before the afternoon activity, she saw him approaching her in her periphery.
She sped up her steps to try and slip away among the crowd that had arisen from the table, breathing a sigh of relief when she made it into the hallway. But her relief was short-lived as she heard footsteps shuffling behind her and a deep voice that sent shivers down her back calling out her name.
Chapter Nine
“Kenna?” Mackenzie’s voice caught up to her right before he did, not even slightly out of breath after running down the hall after her, which was frankly unfair. “I was hoping I could escort you to wherever you were walking?”
Kenna’s immediate reaction was to find a way to politely decline, keeping him and the way he affected her at a safe distance. He deserved it for still refusing to call her by her title. You like it, a small voice whispered inside her. She ignored it.
Instead, Kenna forced herself to nod in acceptance. She was curious to find out which version of him she would get this time. More of that sly teasing, slipping right under her skin and igniting something in her she couldn't control? More of the perfectly proper and polite chatter?
She smiled at him, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as she felt, wrapping her hand lightly into the crook of his proffered elbow. He was so warm through the thin cotton of his shirt.She gulped, forcing herself not to react as goosebumps raced up her arm from where they touched. It was getting harder to convince herself that she wasn’t attracted to him.
The sound of Mackenzie clearing his throat snapped her back to attention, and she realized she had yet to say anything.
“Oh, um, thank you.” She stumbled over her words, her face flaming. He chuckled lightly, and she tensed up, immediately on the defense. But she realized quickly he was laughing with her, not at her, and she joined in.
“My apologies, Mackenzie, I often get lost inside my own head.”
He smiled, a hint of that mischief he seemed to carry around with him peeking through, “I remember.”
All at once she remembered she had already said that the afternoon before, as he had escorted her to her rooms. And he had remembered.
“And no apologies necessary. I was not seeking niceties, merely direction on where to escort you?” He raised his brow at her, and she only flushed further. Of course, he didn’t know where she had been heading to; she hadn’t even noticed they had been wandering aimlessly, too busy pretending he had no effect on her while she lost her mind whenever she was near him.
His smile was wide and humorous, if a little teasing.
“We are headed to my rooms.” At the flirtatious glint in his eyes she realized the way her words had sounded and rushed to correct herself, “I don’t mean we, I mean—that is to say, I was headed to my rooms, and since you asked to escort me that would make us a we, but you wouldn’t also be coming in. Because that would hardly be appropriate of course, and—” Kenna sucked in a large breath to cut off her rambling and stared at the ground wishing it would swallow her whole.
Gods, how did he do this to her? Yesterday he had wormed his way under her skin, lighting her up and setting a fire in her with his pestering, his needling. He was lighting a fire in her still, but this time it was a different kind.
His laugh rang out, loud and bright through the hallway, and Kenna bit her lip trying to hold back the giggle wanting to join him. “Whatever you say, Kenna.” His eyes danced with warmth, and her stomach clenched at the way her name rolled off his tongue. So she was getting the playfully antagonistic Mackenzie today.
“Why do you call me that?” She couldn’t have stopped the words even if she wanted to. And she was finding that around him, she didn’t want to stop herself at all. She was always so careful to be the perfect princess when she was in front of anyone other than her brother. Never giving her peers something to use against her. But with Mackenzie, she found it impossible to keep up that mask.
He cocked his head, looking at her questioningly.
“Kenna,” she clarified. “You only ever call me Kenna.”
“That’s who you are, is it not?”
Did he know what he was doing to her? How is it that this man who had known her for less than two days could so easily cut to the core of her, in a way no one else ever had been able to? How is it that everyone in the world saw her as nothing but a crown and never acknowledged her for who she was outside of the throne, and yet this man refused to call her anything but her name? As if it was as simple as that.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, attempting to regain her composure, and responded in a daze. “That it is, Mackenzie.”
“You could call me Ca-Cameron.” He seemed to almost trip over his name, but it all happened so fast, and she still felt like her head was stuck in a cloud, so she couldn’t be sure.
“Cameron,” she said his name slowly, warmth rising to her cheeks. Gods, it was just a name. What was wrong with her?
Something flashed in his eyes, and she felt the warmth in her cheeks deepen, sure that she was scarlet all the way to her shoulders by that point.
Thankfully, he decided to be nice and save her from herself by continuing their conversation.
“So, Kenna.” He shot a devilish smile at her. “Is it just me you dislike, or is it all of us in general?”
“Excuse me?” she spluttered at his words. So much for him being nice.
He raised his brow at her in challenge. “You don’t seem to be very happy about this arrangement, and I find you avoiding me whenever you’re able.”
Kenna kept her eyes trained on the ground, and she weighed her response. She couldn’t be fully honest with him. She couldn’t even be fully honest with herself. But she had to give him some answer. “I have been rather standoffish, haven’t I?” she replied wryly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye only to see him staring back at her appraisingly.
“Someone might say that,” he murmured. “But I’d say it feels more like caution.”
Kenna’s throat tightened. She didn’t think that was an observation any of the other men would make, and yet here he was, reading her like a book.
Cameron continued before she could confirm or deny his observation. “I can’t imagine how intimidating and exhausting this entire process can be. It must be a lot to take in.”
At his words Kenna felt her shoulders loosen, part of her mask starting to slip. Gods, it felt so good to be seen. For someone other than her twin to understand her, and she felt that tight grip on her control release the slightest bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him in, just a little.
“Yes, it truly is. I’m not—that is to say, I am not always the most outgoing person. I realize that might be odd coming from a princess whose entire purpose in life is to serve her people.” She laughed self-deprecatingly, pausing only a moment to consider if she should reveal so much of herself, before blurting the rest of her words. “Social interaction, while something I do enjoy when I choose it, is an activity that drains me in a way that’s hard to explain. I know not all people are this way, but it takes a lot out of me.”
Bracing herself for his judgment, Cameron simply pondered her words thoughtfully, before responding, “I can understand that. Sometimes it’s hard for me as well. To hold up the persona expected of me around other people.” Kenna looked down to the floor so Cameron wouldn’t see the expression on her face at his words. How did this man understand something about her that no one else seemed to, that she barely understood herself?
“And this is quite a bit of social interaction in a very short time. I imagine you would require alone time to gather yourself in between all of these events. Hopefully I’m not taking up too much of that personal time.”
“You’re not,” she surprised herself by saying. “I mean, I don’t mind spending this time with you.” She couldn’t look at him, terrified to know his reaction to her words, but she thought she saw a smile out of the corner of her eye.
“Besides the fact that it can be draining, how are you feeling? I imagine you have been waiting most of your life for this?”
Kenna knew there were rules and decorum to consider in this situation. You didn’t just tell a man courting you that you were doing it against your will, and you had no interest in marrying him or anyone else at the moment. But she also craved to speak openly and honestly, and something about him seemed to crack her open. Maybe this frankness would be what finally drove him off so she didn’t have to worry about him anymore.
She chose the middle ground in her answer, tentatively responding, “I did of course know this day would come, even if it came sooner than I thought it would. To be truthful, if it were my choice, it probably would not happen at all.”
He stared at her intently, allowing her to continue at her own pace.
“In all honesty, I would much rather marry for choice, when I’m ready. Marry for love, instead of duty.” She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, terrified of how he would respond even as she lied to herself that it didn’t matter.
“But your parents, they love each other, do they not?” His eyes were focused on her, and she found herself struggling not to drown in them.
“Yes,” she breathed, “Very much so.”
“And they met in one of these Winchin Festivals?”
“Of course they did, the same as every monarch before them. Surely even all the way on Mackenzie land you all know this.”
He chuckled, responding quickly, “Of course. I merely meant to point out they met this way and are still a love match. So could that not happen for you?”
He looked so deep into Kenna’s eyes she felt as if he were staring straight at her soul. She couldn’t drag her eyes away, like she was hypnotized by them, trapped in his spell.
“I guess… I guess you’re right. It’s possible I could fall in love with one of the men. With one of you.” She hated how breathless she sounded, staring into his eyes as she said she could fall in love, feeling like she was saying it straight to him.
Suddenly, Cameron broke their contact, a wall seeming to come down around him, between whatever connection they had been forming. He cleared his throat, dropping her arm and taking a step back.
“I shall let you continue on to your rooms.” He bowed to her, stiff as a board, his shoulders pulled tight.
“I—”
“Hopefully I did not keep you too long.” He gave her a small wooden smile before turning on his heel and marching away in the direction they came from.
Kenna continued the short journey to her rooms in a daze, agonizing over what had just happened. What she had might have said wrong. Once safely ensconced in her rooms, she leaned against the door, closing her eyes against the tears that wanted to come. Gods, she had already cried way too much the past few days. But her emotions had always sat too close to the surface of her skin. She always felt too much, felt too strongly. Unable to control her emotions the way everyone else seemed to be able to. The way she was supposed to.
This was exactly what she had been afraid of. She opened herself only the smallest amount to him, and already he had the power to affect her.
To hurt her.
Caught in her torrential thoughts, she barely paid mind to her maids gathering her hair to wrap the ends around the braided rose at the back of her head in anticipation of the heat of the afternoon to come, when she would have to go back for the next challenge. She was stuck in an endless loop, analyzing their conversation from every angle. Imagining that closed-off look in his eyes over, and over.
So caught in the trap of her own mind, she didn’t even hear the knock on her door, jumping in surprise when she found Tristan in front of her, a worried expression on his face, as if he had been trying to speak to her.
“How are you holding up?”
“Oh, just lost in my thoughts. You know me.” She forced a chuckle out, but this time it was easier. It was always easier when she was with her favorite person.
She took in his clothes, dressed similar to the men, but with breeches instead of his kilt. His soft stomach gently pushed against the fabric of his shirt, hips slightly bulging over the cinch of his waistband. His hair was just long enough to be pulled back in the smallest ponytail at the nape of his neck, a few unruly curls loose and framing his round face.
“Much better now that you’re here, of course,” she continued, forcing all her thoughts of Cameron out.
“But of course!” He held a hand over his heart, his face a mask of mock modesty. “I don’t know how you even function when out of my glorious presence!”
Kenna couldn’t stop her chuckle as she walked up to him. Slinging her arm around his waist, he tossed his over her shoulder as they fell into easy conversation about the men and made their way back to the field.
“And do you have a favorite so far?”
“I still don’t know…” She paused, collecting her racing thoughts. That wasn’t necessarily true. She had spoken to Hamilton a few times now, though she wasn’t ready to think anything further of him just yet. And of course her mind wandered to Cameron yet again. After their conversation she was left even more confused. Her gut wanted to say he wasn’t here for the crown, but she still didn’t know what he was here for, and that was even worse.
Kenna had spent her whole life feeling as if she was on the outside of what people were feeling, thinking, saying. She tried her best to learn how other people thought, but she couldn’t always figure it out. In those instances she always felt left on the outside looking in, and it frustrated her more than she could put into words.
That was how she felt with Cameron. Kenna didn’t know what exactly she was missing, but she knew she was missing something, especially after his abrupt exit, and it made her nervous.
She pushed her thoughts aside, realizing she had left Tristan waiting and continued, “I know I only have until tomorrow to decide, but I feel as if I still know almost nothing about any of them.”
“It might help if you didn’t run off every chance you got.” Tristan raised a brow, looking down at Kenna, and her cheeks flushed with guilt.
“I know,” she responded quietly, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. “It’s just all so overwhelming. I know I promised I would dedicate myself fully. That I would let go of any hopes I had this day would never come. But now it’s here and I just… I don’t know how to face this future.”
Tristan stopped, halting her movements with him, and he turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You face it because you are amazing and brave. You face it one day at a time, listening to your heart one step at a time. And you face it with me by your side.”
“You know I would do everything forever with you by my side if I could.”
He smiled sadly at her. “But?”
She closed her eyes, trying to hold in the damn tears that hadn’t fully retreated for days now. “But everyone keeps telling me to follow my heart. And something in my heart keeps telling me this is wrong. That this isn’t where I’m meant to be.”
“I’ve already told you, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to really hear me, I am with you. No matter what.”
Chapter Ten
When they got to the field, Kenna saw it had once again been rearranged. The dais was still in its place, but this time it faced a large circular arena of sorts.
Benches were laid out in a large ring, leaving a wide-open space in the middle. A rope had been laid out in a circle at least twenty feet across. On the opposite side of the ring from the dais was a rack full of swords of all different shapes and sizes.
Now this competition Kenna was actually interested in. She didn’t know why, but she had always found something about men sword fighting attractive. Sometimes it was hard to decipher the way she felt attraction. She didn’t feel attraction specifically for someone until she had formed some sort of connection with them, but she did still feel arousal and attraction in general. It was one of the reasons she loved reading her romance books. It was a safe way for her to explore her sexuality in a way that felt comfortable to her.
And one of the things she had learned was that even if she wasn’t specifically attracted to them as a person, watching men sword fight, the power and control displayed in the activity, was exciting to watch. And think about later, when she was alone with her thoughts and her hands.
Although these men had mostly proven themselves to be uninteresting to her, she wouldn’t deny that all of them were marginally attractive. Except for Reid, but she was fairly certain that was more to do with the way she felt about him than what he actually looked like. If she was forced to participate in this, she was glad she would get at least one afternoon with a good show.
As they settled into their seats, waiting for them to appear, Kenna was surprised to have arrived before them, seeing as she was chronically late to everything.
She turned to comment as much, but stopped when she looked past Tristan’s shoulder. All five men walked towards the arena. They were all wearing their kilts.
And only kilts.
She snapped her jaw shut and tried to keep herself from looking too closely. She couldn't be caught ogling the men when she was so adamant about not liking any of them. Tristan didn’t need any more fuel to tease her. Their kilts all slung low across their hips, and those with hair long enough had it pulled back and tied with leather at the back of their heads.
All of them looked different, their bodies ranging from chests and arms that were baby smooth (Reid and Bruce) to coated in a layer of hair (Murtagh). Bodies small and spindly through round and sturdy. Her eyes inevitably made their way to Cameron, and her brain must have malfunctioned because she found herself continuing to stare.
She already found him attractive, but now that she could see everything hiding under his shirt, the muscles she had felt under her hand earlier that afternoon… Well, it was unfair was what it was. Because he was her exact body type preference. Having found herself at least aesthetically attracted to the full range of body types in her life, the way Cameron was built had always been her favorite.
