Eleven
 

Kenneth would never have guessed how quickly he would come to appreciate his training. But being tossed in a dank, pitch-black hole all night—Berwick’s pit prison—seemed luxurious compared to some of the “accommodations” he’d had on Skye. He’d actually slept quite comfortably once his nose desensitized to the lingering scent of shite and piss from the last occupant.

The first part of his plan hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as he’d hoped. His arrival and request to speak to Percy had caused a stir. He’d expected that. He just hadn’t expected that the first person he’d see would be Sir John Felton. It had definitely been a spot of bad luck to come face-to-face with Percy’s champion.

There had been tension between the two men from the first. Felton hadn’t liked the friendship that had sprung up between him and Percy. Nor had he liked it when Kenneth came close to besting him on the practice field with the sword one day—an act that he’d perceived as a challenge to his place as Percy’s greatest knight.

Upon seeing him and hearing that Kenneth was changing his allegiance once again, Felton had tossed him in the pit prison until he could find Percy. As it had taken him all night, Kenneth suspected he hadn’t been looking very hard.

The frosty reception from Percy hadn’t been much better, though the chill had warmed considerably when he’d heard what Kenneth had to say. Percy had barely blinked when Kenneth claimed to have had a falling-out with his brother after a heated argument over the recent attempt on Bruce’s life by his henchman (with whom Kenneth feigned sympathy). Shifting alliances were all too common in the long war, and Kenneth’s maneuverings to be in a position to claim his brother’s estates should Bruce lose might be opportunistic, but that also made it understandable. Kenneth also knew his well-known temper—damn MacKay for saying so!—was as much to blame for the ready acceptance of his story.

Perhaps he should be offended by how easily they’d believed him—except for Felton, who’d stormed out a short while ago in a huff—but he was just pleased that his stay in the pit prison would not be an extended one.

His new brethren wouldn’t have to come rescue him. At least not yet. He was being given a chance to prove himself. Kenneth was going to prove his loyalty to the English by betraying Bruce. At least that was how it would look.

He looked around the small solar at the decidedly more friendly faces. With Felton gone, there was only Percy, a handful of his most trusted knights, and Sir Adam Gordon.

Kenneth had been genuinely glad to see the older warrior. Sir Adam had been William Gordon’s uncle and head of the family. He’d been good to Kenneth when they were young, and when William had decided to fight with Bruce, they’d shared the disappointment.

When Kenneth had fought with the English, Sir Adam had looked after him, doing what he could to advance him in Edward’s army with choice words in the right ears. If there was anyone he looked forward to betraying less than Percy, it was Sir Adam.

“We will leave at sunrise,” Percy announced. “That should give us plenty of time to reach Ettrick Forest and intercept the supply carts before darkness falls. You are sure the attack is set for tomorrow night?”

Although English garrisons still held most of the important border and lowland castles in Scotland, including Edinburgh, Sterling, Bothwell, Roxburgh, and Perth among others, keeping them provisioned—especially those not accessible by the sea—proved a challenge. If the English controlled the strongholds, Bruce controlled the countryside, and the cart trains were often attacked by “the rebels.” Advance knowledge of one of these attacks was a difficult lure to resist. Adding Bruce’s phantom army made it impossible.

Kenneth wasn’t surprised that Percy had decided to go himself. The chance to capture members of Bruce’s secret army would tempt any Englishman with ambition or pretensions toward greatness. The reward from the king would be considerable, but being known as the man who’d finally caught the phantom band … that would make him a legend.

He nodded. “Bruce’s men like to attack at night in isolated areas. This pass in the forest right before the junction in the road to turn east toward Roxburgh,” he pointed to the spot on the map near the Aln River and the small village of Ashkirk, “was chosen for exactly that.”

“Furtive tactics,” Percy said with distaste.

“Aye,” Kenneth pretended to agree. “Bruce’s pirate warfare might work to capture supply carts, but it merely proves how ill-equipped he is to meet Edward’s army like knights on the battlefield.”

The coming war had been another reason given for Kenneth’s change of allegiance. But he understood what these men did not: that Bruce had no intention of taking the field against Edward until he was ready.

Percy stood and gave him an assessing gaze. “I hope you are right about this. It will go very badly for you if you are wrong. Now I have a feast to attend and a delay to explain to Gaves—” he stopped and corrected himself—“Cornwall. He may have some questions for you. After you change.” His gaze slid over Kenneth with a shudder. “It seems Felton was a bit overzealous in his greeting. He should have let me know of your arrival immediately.”

Kenneth tipped his head, acknowledging the semi-apology.

“You have some men with you?” Percy asked.

“Just a few of my household men,” he said. “I dared not attempt to leave with more. They are waiting for me in the forest.” His mouth turned. “I was unsure of my reception.”

Percy smiled for the first time. “Your caution was understandable in the circumstances.”

“I will send some of my men to fetch them,” Sir Adam said. “Sutherland can stay with me in my chamber.”

Under guard. Neither Percy nor Sir Adam said it, but Kenneth heard it nonetheless. He wasn’t surprised. They would keep a close watch on him for a while.

Kenneth was escorted a short while later by two of Sir Adam’s men to the Constable Tower, where a bath had been arranged while his horse and the bag holding the few items he’d brought with him was tracked down. Exchanging the mail shirt he’d been captured in for a surcote, he left one of his men to clean it while he was escorted to the Hall. The Earl of Cornwall did indeed have some questions for him.

Unfortunately, as he hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, the tables had already been moved for the dancing and music. He was able to snatch a few pieces of cheese, however, from a passing serving girl who was removing the remaining trays.

The music had already begun and the revelers had formed the circle carol dance. He gave the dancers no more than a passing glance, weaving his way through the crowd to the dais at the back of the room.

Sir Adam leaned over and murmured something to the man at his side. Though Kenneth had never met him, his pretty face, fine ermine-lined mantle, and heavy gold chain with one of the biggest sapphires Kenneth had ever seen hanging from his neck identified him as the king’s favorite. Hell, he looked like the king himself.

The earl frowned, watching him with interest as Kenneth came forward at Sir Adam’s motion.

“Sutherland,” he said. “I hear you have had a change of heart.”

“Aye, my lord.”

The gaze that held his was more intense than he’d expected. For all the hate and condemnation he inspired, Kenneth could see right away that Sir Piers Gaveston was not a man to dismiss. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being a fool—not a complete one, anyway. “I will hear more about it after the feast.”

The brief interview concluded, at least for now, Kenneth and Sir Adam took their leave.

They’d just stepped off the dais when he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of golden-blond hair swinging in a cloud of shimmering silk.

He stilled, a buzz of awareness shooting up his spine, every nerve ending in his body coming alive.

He turned, looking at the woman who’d caught his eye. She had her back to him, and by any objective measure, there was nothing about her that should be familiar. She was laughing, for one thing. Dancing, for another. Her hair was tumbling loose about her shoulders for all the bloody world to see, not hidden behind some hideous veil. She was not skinny as a starved bird who looked like he could blow her over with one breath, but healthy-looking with gentle curves—nay, substantial curves, he corrected, looking at her shapely round bottom.

There was no way in hell he should have recognized her.

But he did.

It was only when he saw the man’s hand linger on her waist that he glanced over at her partner. At the man who was making her laugh.

Kenneth stiffened again, this time with rage. Every possessive bone in his body—bones he hadn’t even known he had—flared to life.

Felton. What the hell was she doing with Felton?

His mouth thinned, the reason for Felton’s early departure from the meeting suddenly clear.

“Is something wrong?” Sir Adam asked.

Kenneth forced his fists to relax, not realizing they’d instinctively clenched. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without the venom spewing through his blood.

The dance came to an end, and Felton started to lead her off the floor toward them. She was only a few feet away when she finally looked in his direction.

His breath caught, feeling as if he’d been poleaxed across the chest. The beauty that he’d glimpsed behind the nun-nish facade was revealed in its full glory. Her face was fuller, softening the features that had seemed too sharp. Her skin was luminous, a flawless ivory, pinkened with the flush of her dance. Her eyes were a bright and sparkling blue, her lips red and smiling. She even had a small dimple just to the left of her curving mouth.

His mouth, by contrast, fell in a hard line.

She didn’t see him right away, noticing Sir Adam first. But almost as if she sensed him, too, her gaze shifted to his.

He had the satisfaction—and right now, it was bloody well satisfying—of seeing her eyes widen, and every drop of the blush Felton had put in her cheeks drain from her face in shock.

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.