Their eyes held, and all the emotions that he’d felt that morning five months ago, the stinging anger that had led to his loss of control and defeat, came rushing back. He stared at her like a hunter who’d just caught a prey that had been eluding him. Nay, a prey that had run away from him.
But now she was his.
His mouth curved in a slow, anticipatory smile. “Hello, Lady Mary. It seems we meet again.”
And his voice left no doubt that this time there would be no escape.
Mary had felt something odd swirling in the air all day. She’d arrived at Berwick Castle the night before, but she’d seen little of the men all day. Sir John had been late to escort her to the feast for the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, or Candlemas as it was also called. Sir Adam had arrived even later with Lord Percy and had given her an apologetic smile as he’d taken a seat on the bench near Gaveston—or rather, the Earl of Cornwall.
The earl was known as being extremely sensitive to any lack of regard for his position. Even referring to him by the name Gaveston rather than Cornwall could be cause for disfavor. But when he wasn’t within hearing, many of the nobles refused to call him by the name of the earldom that had always been reserved for members of the royal family. The more titles and riches Edward lavished on his favorite, the more the other barons hated him.
Though Lord Percy had answered the king’s call to muster—one of the few English barons who had done so—the acrimony between him and Sir Piers was well known. Yet the men had been locked in discussion for most of the meal.
Something was commanding their attention. She wondered what it was.
Barely had the question formed when she felt a prickle of awareness. Nay, a prickle of danger. It was the feeling of being watched. She felt a twitch, like that of a mouse under the predatory gaze of the hawk.
She turned in the direction of the oppressing weight and froze. The bottom fell out of her stomach. Her legs swayed as if she might swoon.
It wasn’t possible. But it was …
Dear God, it was him. Sir Kenneth Sutherland in all of his aggressively masculine perfection. He was even more handsome than she remembered—and she would have sworn she remembered everything about him. But his eyes were an even deeper blue than her imagination would allow, his jaw harder and more challenging, his face leaner and with a few more nicks, his shoulders broader, and his arms even thicker with muscle. She’d forgotten how it felt to stand so close to him. How tall he was. How powerfully built. How stomach-knottingly handsome.
But most of all, she’d forgotten how it felt to be caught in that magnetic gaze. Caught. That was exactly how she felt.
Panic surged through her. “Why are you here?” she blurted, as if he might have discovered the truth.
But he couldn’t have, she reminded herself. He couldn’t know.
“You’ve met?”
Sir John’s question startled her from her trance of panic—and fear, she realized. Deep-seated fear.
He didn’t sound pleased.
Suddenly the reason for his question hit her. She stared at Sir Kenneth in mute horror, unsure what to say. Had she given him away? Did they know he was with Bruce?
But apparently it wasn’t a secret. “Aye,” Sir Kenneth said. “In Scotland at the Highland Games last fall.”
From the glares shooting back and forth, it was obvious these two men didn’t like one another.
“Aye, that was it,” she said as if the matter were beneath her regard. “I’d almost forgotten.”
She caught the spark in Sir Kenneth’s eyes and knew he hadn’t mistaken her implication.
“Of course,” Sir John said, giving her a smile that was both too indulgent and too proprietary. “You attended the Games while on your peacekeeping mission for the king. You would have occasion to meet many of the rebels.” He gave a small sneer of distaste.
Sir Adam finally took pity on her bewilderment. “Young Sutherland has declared his allegiance for Edward.”
Mary couldn’t hide her shock. Her gaze flickered to Sir Kenneth’s. “You have?”
A muscle tightened in his jaw, as if sensing her disapproval. “Aye.”
“When?”
“Only last night,” Sir John said, a hint of snideness in his tone. “How fortunate for us that Sir Kenneth has once again decided to switch sides.”
She could tell by the tiny white lines that appeared around Sir Kenneth’s mouth and the sudden glint in his eye that he hadn’t missed the disparagement, but he did not rise to defend himself. Which, from what she knew of him, was strange. He definitely didn’t seem the type to let a slight go by. Rather the opposite. She’d gotten the impression he was usually raring for a fight.
Though it was hardly uncommon to jump from one side of the border to the other, Mary was unaccountably disappointed to hear that he’d left Bruce’s army. Over the past months, she’d wondered if she’d somehow been wrong about him. But this show of loyalty—or rather, disloyalty—seemed proof that she wasn’t.
She wanted to ask him why, but dared not prolong the conversation that had already gone on too long. So instead, she merely agreed, “Fortunate indeed.” Going on as if the matter meant nothing to her, which indeed it shouldn’t, she added to Sir Adam, “I’m feeling rather tired. I think I shall return to my chamber.”
“I will see you back—” Sir John started, but she cut him off. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was an insistent suitor. “That won’t be necessary. Lady Eleanor and Lady Katherine are waiting for me. I will see you on the morrow.”
“Unfortunately, it seems I must delay the ride I promised you,” Sir John said.
“Oh?” She couldn’t completely hide her disappointment. He’d promised to take her for a ride tomorrow and bring Davey along. Of course, he’d left that part out. Clearly, he was trying to stake some kind of claim, as if he’d sensed something between her and Sir Kenneth.
But there was nothing between them. There couldn’t be.
“Something has come up,” he explained. “I will be away from the castle for a day or two, but I promise we shall go as soon as I return.”
She didn’t need to look at Sir Kenneth to see him tense. She could feel the anger radiating from him in hot, powerful waves. She was beginning to feel like a meaty bone being fought over by two snarling hounds, and she’d had enough of it. Neither man had a claim on her.
But a tiny voice in the back of her head told her that wasn’t completely true. And the longer she stayed here, the more danger she was in of Kenneth discovering the truth. She had to leave. But where could she go? And what of Davey? They’d only just begun to get to know one another again.
Feeling as if her world was being ripped apart all over again, Mary fought the urge to run and started slowly away. But she’d taken only a few steps when his voice reached out to snake around her.
“Lady Mary.”
She gave a cautious turn over her shoulder.
He smiled. A smile that twisted through her chest and coiled low in her belly. “I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.”
She felt the gasp rise in her throat and only barely managed to prevent it from escaping. She could only hope her expression gave no hint of the panic surging in her chest. She nodded, as if it had merely been a polite comment, as innocuous as it sounded.
But it wasn’t polite or innocuous. His meaning rang clear to her. The moment she passed through the entry of the Great Hall, she started to run. Only later, when she’d reached the safety of her chamber, did she remember her attendants.
Twelve
By the time they neared the place in the royal Ettrick Forest where they would “surprise” Bruce’s men who were lying in wait to attack the supply cart from Carlisle, it was taking everything Kenneth had not to give Felton the fight for which he was so obviously clamoring. During the long ride west from Berwick Castle, Percy’s champion knight took every opportunity to insult, discredit, and argue with him about every facet of the mission
.
Kenneth knew he should be used to it. Hell, he’d heard far worse from MacKay over the years. And after the past few months of nonstop prodding by the other members of the Highland Guard, he’d thought he had a steel rein on his temper and ice in his veins.
He did. Except, it seemed, when it came to one subject. Each time Felton mentioned Lady Mary—which seemed to be in every other sentence—Kenneth could feel that steel rein start to slip between his fingers. The muscles in his shoulders were so knotted with tension, he’d developed a damned crick in his neck.
If Felton was to be believed, they were as good as betrothed. And if Felton’s relationship with the young earl was any indication, it was probably true.
David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl, had come along as one of Percy’s squires. At dawn, when they’d gathered in the courtyard to depart, Kenneth had taken one look at Lady Mary’s young son and had argued against it.
“It’s too dangerous for the lad,” he’d said to Percy. “He would be a valuable prisoner if something were to go wrong and Bruce’s men were to get hold of him.”
It was the truth. Hell, Bruce would love to get his hands on the young Earl of Atholl. So why was he trying to prevent it?
Percy had seemed about to agree when Felton interrupted. “If Sutherland is telling the truth, the danger should be minimal.” His voice left no doubt as to his thoughts on the matter. “If he isn’t, I will watch out for the lad. He won’t come to any harm under my command. He’ll stay in the rear, well protected and well away from any danger. Besides, the lad is ready to see action beyond the practice yard, aren’t you, David.”
The solemn lad with his mother’s startling blue-green eyes had looked uncertain, but at Felton’s praise he puffed up considerably. “Aye, my lord,” he said to Percy. To Kenneth, he cast an unfriendly glare. “I’m ready, and I should like to be there to see the usurper’s phantoms captured.”
The lad sounded so bloody English, it was hard to believe his father had died for that “usurper.”
Kenneth hadn’t known the previous Earl of Atholl well, but from the way he was spoken of amongst Bruce and the Guard, Lady Mary’s former husband had been a fierce patriot, gallant knight, and skilled warrior. An honest-to-God hero, Kenneth thought, not knowing why his jaw was clenched so tight.
In any event, Felton’s recommendation and the boy’s eagerness proved enough for Percy. “ ’Twill be good experience for the lad. I was his age when I served as squire in my first battle. Just keep a good eye on him, Felton.”
Felton nodded as Percy rode forward and cast a smug look of victory at Kenneth.
It was to David that Felton spoke of Lady Mary during the long day of riding, but Kenneth knew it was more for his benefit than the lad’s. Felton was making his claim loud and clear. The boy seemed thrilled by the prospect of a union between his mother and the lauded knight.
Kenneth, however, felt his blood growing hotter and hotter by the minute. His teeth had been clenched for so long his jaw had start to hurt. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was jealous.
Of a woman. How bloody ridiculous! He had his pick of just about any woman he wanted; he didn’t need to trouble himself with one. Even one who made his blood rush hot just standing next to her.
The changes in her appearance should have made him happy. God knows it helped explain his strange attraction to the lass. But he wasn’t happy about it at all. He wanted her back the way she was, when he had been the only one to see the passion beneath the colorless facade.
Suddenly, an image of her softly rounded bottom sprang to mind. Well, perhaps he wouldn’t take back all the changes. The curves could stay.
He wasn’t jealous. The only reason Felton’s taunts were grating on him was that he intended to teach Lady Mary a lesson and didn’t want anyone interfering.
Kenneth hadn’t forgotten how she left him, or how it cost him the battle with MacKay. Her ready dismissal of him still grated. Both at Dunstaffnage and the day before.
“I’d almost forgotten.”
To a man whose first instinct was to fight, those words were like a gauntlet tossed at his feet. A challenge he couldn’t resist. And this was a battle he had no intention of losing. For a man who preferred to keep his challenges confined to the battlefield, he was surprised by how much he was looking forward to it.
Aye, he was going to make her pay for all the trouble she’d caused him. First with that delectable little body of hers, and then with her heart. By the time he was done with her, she’d be looking at him like he hung the damned moon. His mouth curled with annoyance, glancing at the riders behind him. Not unlike the way her son was looking at Felton.
“How much farther?” Felton bit out, coming up beside him. “It will be dark soon, and if this attack of yours is real, we should be getting into position. If this is some kind of trick, I’ll see you hung by your—”
“Relax,” Kenneth said, as if he were pacifying an over-eager bairn. “We’re almost there. If this is a trick, you’ll know soon enough.”
Felton flushed angrily. “Is that supposed to convince me?”
Kenneth gave him a hard look, letting some of the rage he’d been bottling inside show. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I don’t give a shite what you think, Felton. Hell, I’ve heard you boast countless times what would happen to Bruce’s phantoms if you ever came face-to-face with one. Well, here’s your chance. If you’re worried that you and half a bloody garrison of men aren’t enough to defeat a few rebels—”
Felton’s stiff English control cracked. “I’m not worried, damn it.”
“Good,” Kenneth said curtly. Ignoring the blustering knight, he turned to Percy. “The pass I mentioned is just ahead. You’ll want to have your men in position and hidden well before Bruce’s men arrive, in case they send a scout ahead to watch for the supply train.”
Percy’s plan was to hide a short distance away from where Bruce’s men intended to launch their “surprise” attack. The carts and armed soldiers from Carlisle would proceed as originally planned, but when Bruce’s men attacked, the soldiers would be ready for them. Once the two sides were engaged in battle, Percy and the rest of his men would circle around them, catching them in an impenetrable net.
But “impenetrable” wasn’t enough to hold the Highland Guard.
Kenneth might have been worried about the number of men Percy had brought with him—fifty in addition to the soldiers from Carlisle guarding the carts (he wasn’t taking any chances in letting the illustrious phantom warriors slip through his fingers)—but he’d seen the Highland Guard in action. He doubted a hundred men would be enough to hold them. Moreover, Striker—Eoin MacLean—had planned the “attack” with a second route of escape if it proved necessary.
Percy turned to Felton. “Your men are ready? I will be counting on you to make sure they cannot break through. I don’t care what it takes, do not let them escape!”
Felton appeared unconcerned. “If Sutherland is telling the truth, my men will be ready. The place on the road they’ve chosen leaves them little room to maneuver.” He knelt down to draw a crude map in the dirt. “It is dense forestland with a steep rise on one side and the Aln River on the other. We will circle around from all directions once they have launched their attack. As long as the soldiers protecting the cart can hold them off while we get in position, we will have them.”
Percy looked at the ground for a long moment, studying every possible escape route. If he considered the cliff, he quickly discounted it. Who would jump over twenty feet into a narrow river in the darkness? “Good,” he said with a curt nod of the head.
When he’d moved off, Kenneth turned to Felton. “Don’t forget about the lad,” he said, indicating the young Earl of Atholl. “I don’t think his mother would appreciate if you got him captured.”
Even in the fading daylight, Kenneth could see the angry flush flood Felton’s face. “The boy is none of your concern, and neither is his mother.”
Kenneth was being warned off, and if he were wise he would have walked away. But Felton had driven one too many stakes in his claim.
He smiled. “Are you so sure about that?”
Felton’s fists clenched, and for a moment, Kenneth thought—hell, hoped—he was going to strike him. But instead, he looked Kenneth over with a coldly assessing stare and returned his smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve competed for something. And like all the other times, I’m sure the result will be the same.”
Outwardly, Kenneth showed no reaction to the taunt, but inside was a different matter. He would love nothing more than to prove to Felton just how wrong he was, but Bruce had warned him to keep a low profile. To do nothing to bring attention to himself or his skills. Besting Percy’s champion would sure as hell do that.
Kenneth had newfound sympathy for MacKay, who’d been forced to do much the same thing in the face of Kenneth’s taunts last year.
All he could do was grit his teeth once again. “Just be ready.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Kenneth’s Highland Guard brethren—or the majority of them at least; MacLeod, MacRuairi, and MacSorley had stayed with the king—arrived about an hour after dusk to take their positions. Campbell and MacGregor had passed within a few dozen feet of the English position, as they’d ridden south to supposedly scout the arrival of the provision train. Kenneth knew they’d been spotted, although the two warriors gave no indication of it. Campbell was too good to miss them. The clear night and full moon provided enough light to see the signs on the landscape left by fifty men.
Not long after Campbell and MacGregor passed by, they heard the clomp of horses and the clatter of carts being pulled along a bumpy road. Felton motioned to one of the soldiers in the carts as they passed, alerting them that the place was near, but taking care that he could not be seen from the road ahead.
The air was thick with tension now as the train rumbled by them. They would not be able to see the attack, but they would be able to hear it.
The Recruit Page 17