Twenty-three
 

“When will you be back?”

Kenneth glanced back over his shoulder at the naked woman lying on the bed tangled in bedsheets. With her mussed hair and pouty bruised lips, Mary looked as though she’d just been very thoroughly ravished—which she had been. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to climb right back into bed and make love to her again.

It seemed he could think of nothing else. He had an almost desperate need to bind her to him. It was as if the more he made love to her, the stronger their love would be to weather the storm that was hovering on the not-so-distant horizon.

But if anything, it was making him more anxious about all that he had to lose. What if she never forgave him? He knew it was better to wait until she was somewhere safe to explain, but every instinct told him to tell her now. That every day he waited made his betrayal worse.

Unable to help himself, he set his knee on the bed, bent over her, and slowly kissed the pout from her lips. When she responded, threading her fingers through his hair and drawing his mouth closer to entwine her tongue with his, a shaft of heat ignited inside him and threatened to drag him under.

He had to tear his mouth away. “A couple of days. You won’t even have time to notice I’m gone.” He smiled, unable to resist teasing her. She’d been moving furiously around here the past few days since they’d arrived at Huntlywood Castle, like a bird building a nest. “Though perhaps you will have crenelated the tower house by then, and I won’t recognize the place.”

“Wretch.” She tossed a pillow at him. “Sir Adam said I was free to make the place as comfortable as I like for my stay here. It’s been some time since anyone has stayed in these upper chambers.”

“And you’ve taken to the task with enthusiasm.”

“Since it seems I will have much time on my own, what else is there for me to do?”

He felt a stab of guilt and instantly sobered. “I’ll come as often as I can. I know it’s not the same as being at the castle, but it won’t be for long.”

If she only knew just how short her stay would be. He hoped that in a matter of days—a week, no longer—he would have her safely ensconced in Scotland. Mary could stay with Helen and Campbell’s wife at Dunstaffnage. Close enough for him to reach her when the babe came. Later, he would send her north to Skelbo, the castle he kept for his brother.

She sat up, dragging the sheet along with her. Untangling a few strands of golden-blond hair from her lashes, she tucked it behind her ear. “I shouldn’t complain. I know it could be far worse. I’m fortunate to be this close to the castle. At Ponteland I would see you far less.”

“Sir Adam will be here to keep you company for a few more days.” He knew the answer, but he thought he’d try anyway. “Are you sure you don’t wish to reconsider? France …” He paused. “It might be a good idea. It will be safer for you there.”

Her expression fell, her eyes instantly growing large and round. “I don’t want to go to France, I want to stay here with you and Davey. I thought you wanted that, too.”

“I do,” he assured her. “It’s just that I worry about your safety while I am away. When war breaks out—”

“We have plenty of time for that. The king hasn’t even arrived yet. When you leave for Scotland, I will go farther south. To my dower estate in Kent if need be. But don’t send me away now—it’s too soon.”

He understood only too well what she meant. It was too soon. Their love was too new, too fragile. It needed time to strengthen before it was tested by distance—or deception, damn it. But it was time he didn’t have.

He leaned over and gave her a light peck on the cheek so he wouldn’t be tempted to linger. But the soft, velvety skin and faint floral scent worked its own magic. He wanted to sink into her. To inhale her sweet femininity.

He had to drag himself away. “Very well. You win. But only because I’m selfish and want you near me for as long as possible.”

A wide smile spread over her face, causing his chest to expand. “Are you sure you must go? Is there no one else who can take a missive to Edinburgh?”

“Aye, I’m sure.” The rare opportunity to read Percy’s correspondence couldn’t be missed. Moreover, he’d had a message from his contact in the village that his friends were anxious to see him. This was the first chance he’d had to arrange a meeting with the Highland Guard at a safe distance from the castle—and Felton.

As he’d anticipated, Felton was watching him closer than before. Kenneth had half expected him to insist on joining him on the journey to Edinburgh. That he hadn’t asked bothered him.

He didn’t realize he was frowning until she said, “Is there something wrong? You’ve seemed distracted the past few days.”

His wife had learned to read his moods too well. “You mean other than that I will be spending the night in the cold rain with a half-dozen men rather than in bed with my wife?”

But she would not be so easily placated. She eyed him intently. “I know something is wrong.” She bit her lips, her eyes looming large in her face. “Does it have something to do with my sister? Have you had news?”

His chest squeezed, wishing there were some way to ease her sadness. He’d hoped to soften the sting of his betrayal with news of her sister, but so far he’d run headlong into a stone wall. His inquiries to Lamberton had been met with sharp resistance. Lamberton had instructed him in no uncertain terms to not disturb ghosts that had been laid to rest. Whether that was meant as a warning or a confirmation of her death, he didn’t know.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ve learned nothing more than you already know. The abbess insists no such nun has ever been there, and Brother Thomas has yet to return.”

“When he does—”

“When he does, I will talk to him.”

She relaxed back against the wooden headboard with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“I will return as soon as I am able.”

She nodded, and he turned to leave.

“Kenneth.”

He looked back at her.

“I love you.”

She seemed to be trying to tell him something. Almost as if she were trying to ease the turmoil she sensed wrestling inside him.

He smiled. “I know.”

He only prayed that when this was all over, she felt the same way.

They were pulling him out. Damn it, it was too soon. “I’m not ready,” Kenneth said. “I need more time.”

MacKay gave him a glance sharp enough to see in the moonlit darkness. “From what I hear, Ice, you are plenty ready.”

Ah hell. They must have heard about his fighting. Kenneth clenched his jaw, ready for the arse-chewing that he knew he was about to get.

MacKay didn’t disappoint. He never did when it came to that. “What the hell were you thinking? What if someone from the castle discovered what you were doing? You would have a lot of explaining to do.”

The fact that someone had discovered him made MacKay’s anger even more justified. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him about Felton. “It was the only way I could think of to keep my skills sharp. I won’t be much good to Bruce if I’m not ready when he needs me.”

“What he needs you to do is stay close to Percy and find out all you can about what Edward is planning. He doesn’t need you fighting in secret tourneys and ending up in a dungeon. Nor does he need you to worry about Clifford’s absences—or inquire about missing nuns, for that matter.”

Kenneth stilled. If MacKay knew about his inquiries, that meant Lamberton had told Bruce. It didn’t take Campbell-like senses to know they were hiding something. Which meant he’d just found the source of his stone wall, and worse, he suspected why it had been put there: they knew something. And he couldn’t tell Mary. He’d wanted to find a way to soften the blow for his deception; instead he was compounding the secrets between them.

“Leave him alone, Saint,” Ewen Lamont said from his place in the shadows. They stood in the forest just east of the Pentland Hills, a short distance from Edinburgh. Kenneth had managed to slip away from the rest of the men on his ride north to scout the road ahead, when he’d spotted them. But they didn’t have much time. “From what I hear, the recruit did us proud. No harm has come of it. And he’s brought us more than we could have expected.”

Kenneth didn’t know what surprised him more: that the acclaimed tracker had jumped to his defense or the length of the speech by which he’d done so. He didn’t think he’d heard Lamont string more than two or three words together at a time the entire duration of his training. Lamont, war name Hunter, was the polar opposite of MacSorley in social skills. Blunt was a nice way of putting it. Inept was another. The man said what he thought, when he wanted to, in as few words as possible.

Which made his partnership with Eoin MacLean easily the most muted of any of the pairings, as the famed battle strategist possessed a silent, grim intensity and also tended to keep his words to a minimum.

It was MacLean who spoke next. “This letter is just the confirmation we need. Now that we know Edward is sending supplies to Edinburgh Castle—and probably Stirling as well—in preparation for his campaign, it means we can guess the route he will take, which will make it easier to prepare our attacks. It’s time to put the plan for your exit in motion. From what we hear, one of Percy’s men has been asking a lot of questions about you. Edward’s ship is leaving from London any day. Why wait and risk something going wrong? Part of waging a successful mission is knowing when you should get out. You’ve done well—better than we could have hoped. But now you are needed with us. Bruce wants us with Douglas in the forest, gathering support and readying the troops.”

Kenneth shook his head. “It’s too easy.” He held up the letter that he’d been entrusted to deliver to the constable at Edinburgh. “Percy just happens to send me ahead with a message about an impending delivery? It doesn’t feel right.” The moment he’d read it, he’d known it was too good to be true. “Give me a little more time. As soon as Sir Adam leaves, I can get Mary away without anyone knowing; then we’ll see. We need to wait for Hawk anyway.”

With Mary’s pregnancy, he’d decided it would be easier to get her to safety by ship.

“And the young earl?” MacKay asked.

“Once we have him, I think he can be convinced.” He hoped. But Davey was hard to read and good at keeping his thoughts to himself. He was counting on the boy’s admiration for him, and Mary’s persuasion.

The three men looked at each other. After a moment, MacKay said, “Don’t take any chances. If something doesn’t feel right, get out of there. With three thousand English soldiers garrisoned nearby, we won’t be able to get you out of Berwick’s pit prison anytime soon. And as MacRuairi can tell you, it’s not a place you would wish to stay for long.”

Kenneth remembered. His brief stay had been long enough. “And if something does go wrong?”

His brother-in-law held his gaze. “We’ll take care of her.”

Kenneth nodded. Strange, but there was no man he would trust more with his wife than his former enemy. MacKay would take care of her. Whatever else happened, Mary would be safe. He could take solace in the knowledge that he’d kept one promise.

He just hoped it didn’t come to that.

Mary tugged on the leather handle, but the blasted thing wouldn’t budge. She plopped down atop the trunk and with a deep sigh blew a strand of hair from her face. She’d thought she might be able to move it by herself, but it had to be stuffed with rocks.

She had enlisted a few of the serving girls to help her clean the room in preparation for the baby, but they’d gone to ready the midday meal and she’d decided to continue without them.

The hard work seemed to keep her mind from inventing reasons to worry. Her husband was preoccupied with his duty, that was all. God knew Percy was keeping him busy. She’d seen so little of him since she’d left Berwick Castle. Already, it had been three days since he’d left for Edinburgh. There was no reason to worry. He would come when he could.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. There had been an almost frantic, desperate edge to his lovemaking the last time he’d been here. She’d never felt closer to him, yet at times she felt him going somewhere in his mind that he would not take her.

She wanted his trust. She thought she had it. But what was bothering him and why wouldn’t he confide in her?

With another sigh, she stood. A billow of dust rose from her skirts as she shook them off, wiping her hands on her already filthy apron. For a small room, it had held an inordinate amount of dust—and spiderwebs, she thought with a shiver. Thankfully, the worst of it was gone. By the time they finished, this room would be spotless.

Returning to the problem of the trunk, she knelt down and lifted back the lid. She coughed as another blanket of dust was disturbed and the dank scent of mold and stale air filled her nose. It must have been years since someone had opened this.

She glanced inside. No wonder it had been so difficult to move. It wasn’t loaded with stones, but books. A veritable treasure trove of leather-bound portfolios, wrapped in exotic-looking fabrics that she recognized as having come from Outremer. There were also a few large potted jars, but as they were sealed with wax, she did not try to open them. Curious, she removed one of the books and flipped through the thick parchment pages.

It appeared to be a journal of some kind. Though she had some education, and could make out a few words, many of the entries appeared to have been written quickly, and the lettering was difficult to make out. But the drawings were beautiful. Flowers. Plants. Vistas. A veiled woman. And some of the strangest-looking animals she’d ever seen, including one that looked like a big, gangly horse with a long neck and hump on its back.

The book was magnificent. She would have opened another, but she heard a sound that made her jump to her feet.

She glanced out the small window and let out a yelp of excitement. He was back! Kenneth and a few of his men had just ridden into the yard.

Putting the book aside, Mary rushed down the stairs to meet him. She was winded and glowing with exertion by the time she reached the bottom of the third level. She entered the hall at the same time he did from the opposite side. With a cry that told her exactly how worried she’d been about him, she raced into his arms.

She could hear the reverberation of his laugh in his chest as he lifted her up and spun her in his arms. Still in his embrace, he set her feet back on the ground and pressed a quick kiss on her lips, the brevity of which she suspected was due to their audience. His voice was low and husky. “Miss me?”

An unexpected threat of tears rose behind her eyes. She seemed to cry at the drop of a pin lately. “Very much. I’m glad you’re back.”

His face clouded ever so slightly. “Not for long, I’m afraid. I have to return to the castle, but as Huntlywood was on the way, I couldn’t resist a brief stop to check on you.”

She smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and released her.

Suddenly conscious of the men standing behind him, and remembering her duties, Mary blushed and immediately arranged for food and drink to be brought out.

They were seated at the trestle table and halfway through the meal when Kenneth glanced around with a frown. “Where is Sir Adam?”

“He was called to the castle.”

“I thought he was leaving tomorrow.”

“He was. His journey has been delayed a few days.”

“Why?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know.”

“He didn’t say anything? Did something happen?”

She frowned at the intensity of his questioning. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“If it’s anything important, I will find out soon.” He tried to dismiss it as if it didn’t matter, but she sensed it did. He was edgy again.

“Is there something wrong?”

He lifted his goblet, taking a long drink of wine. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. She couldn’t put her finger on it herself. “You seem preoccupied. As if something is bothering you.”

“Tired, that is all. And regretting that I cannot delay my return to the castle any longer.”

Mary held his gaze, wishing she could believe him. “Must you go already?”

He nodded. “I will return as soon as I am able. What do you have planned—other than cleaning?”

How did he …

Suddenly, she blushed, glancing down at her skirts. She’d forgotten all the dust. Her hands went to her hair. “I must look a fright.”

“You look beautiful.”

The look in his eyes made her blush deepen for a different reason. “I was cleaning out one of the rooms in the garret for the baby.” She knew she was smiling like an excited child, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s going to be perfect. There’s a nice window where I can put a chair, and a small antechamber for the nursemaid to sleep. I wish that I’d had time to make something myself, but Sir Adam said he has some tapestries I can use for the walls. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

A shadow crossed his face. “Mary, you know this is only temporary.”

The gentle reminder made her flush with embarrassment. “I know. It’s just hard not to get carried away a little when I’m so happy.” She thought he would be, too. But he didn’t look happy. He looked a little pained. “I thought you would understand.”

“Of course I do. I’m sorry. You’re right. I must be more preoccupied than I realized. I should love to see the room, when I return.”

He seemed so genuinely contrite that she smiled. “I shall put you to work. You can help me move the trunk. It’s the most wonderful thing. I think it must have belonged to Sir Adam’s father.”

He seemed to go very still beside her. “What makes you say that?”

“It is filled with the most wonderful treasures from the east. Sir Adam’s father went on crusade many years ago with King Edward.”

“And my grandfather,” he said carefully.

“That’s right, I’d forgotten. You must see the journals, then.”

The cup slid from his hand, but he steadied it before it tipped over. “Journals?” he said hoarsely.

She nodded, wondering at his strange reaction. “Aye, a whole trunk of them.”

Kenneth couldn’t believe it. Was it possible the recipe for black powder was hidden in one of those journals? Anxious to investigate, he’d hoped to return later that night. But it wasn’t until the following night that he crept up the staircase of Huntlywood tower.

With King Edward’s departure from London imminent, the preparations for war had intensified, and Percy was keeping them all busy. Moreover, knowing his time was running out, Kenneth was taking every opportunity to discover what information he could before he had to leave. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the English were planning something secretive and that Clifford was at the center of it.

Perhaps it was Striker’s warning, but Kenneth also couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him. The letter conveniently falling into his hands bothered him. As did Percy’s seemingly innocuous comment that he should have more care the next missive he carried did not get damaged before he arrived. There had been a small crack in the seal after he’d broken it open. It should have gone without notice, but apparently the constable thought it significant enough to report back to him via one of the other men.

Could Felton have said something to Percy? It wouldn’t surprise him.

All this added up to one incontrovertible fact: it was time to take Mary to Scotland. Only when she was safe could he extricate himself and the young earl. Her presence had become a liability. It made him vulnerable. If something went wrong, he wanted her far away from here.

The unexpected delay in Sir Adam’s journey had complicated matters, but the older knight was supposed to depart for France the day after tomorrow. As soon as he did, Kenneth would make his move.

Kenneth passed the tower chamber where Mary slept on his way to the garret. He knew it must be after midnight. He intended to surprise his wife, but after he searched the trunk.

There were two doors at the top of the stairs. He chose the one on the right and pushed it open as quietly as he could in case someone was sleeping inside. Fortunately, the room appeared empty. With the shutters closed, it was dark—and cold. The candle he’d brought with him didn’t shed much light, but it would be enough.

As there were only a few items in the room, he saw the trunk right away, heaving a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been removed.

It was clear Mary had been busy. The room was spotless: wooden floors swept clean, plastered walls cleaned and brushed with a fresh coat of lime. Even the low angled ceiling looked clean.

He had to duck as he crossed the room to the trunk. Lifting the lid, he knew at once Mary had been right about the identity of the owner. He recognized the same leather covers of the journal his friend William Gordon had that had burned in the fire all those years ago. A buzz of excitement ran over his skin, crackling like lightning when he saw the sealed pottery jars. Suspecting what they contained, he put one aside to examine later and started in on the journals. He flipped through page after page, looking for anything that might be a recipe or formula. With every minute that passed, his disappointment grew. He’d been so certain, damn it. He was on the third volume when he heard the door behind him open.

“What are you doing?”

Damn, it was Mary. He slammed the volume closed and placed it back in the trunk. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“My room is just below this one. I thought I heard something. But what are you doing up here?”

He smiled. “I thought I would move your trunk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I was curious.”

She immediately brightened. “To see the baby’s room? You should have woken me. What do you think?”

He felt a stab of guilt. Her happiness and excitement ate at him. He hadn’t been thinking about the child’s room because he knew it wasn’t going to be the child’s room at all. He looked around the small chamber. “It’s nice.”

She rolled her eyes, walking toward him. “Nice? It’s perfect. I’m going to put a chair over here,” she pointed to a place before the window, “the cradle will be against the far wall, and the nurse will sleep in the antechamber.”

Kenneth felt ill. “You have it all planned out.”

She gave him a funny look. “It won’t be long now. Davey came a few weeks early. Perhaps this baby will do the same.”

Kenneth hoped the sudden lack of blood in his face wasn’t visible in the candlelight. “I didn’t realize …”

He’d just assumed. Ah hell, he really had to get her out of here.

She laughed. “Babies have their own time. They come when they want to, and I just want to be ready.”

And he was just realizing how unready he was.

“Is something wrong, Kenneth? Is something bothering you?”

Something was bothering him all right. She was so damned happy. What he was doing was wrong. He’d created a world of illusions for a woman who’d already had them shattered once before.

But how was he going to tell her the truth? “I’ve been a bit preoccupied with my duties, that’s all. With the king leaving London, everyone is anxious.”

“Are you sure that is all?”

“What else could there be?”

“I thought it might have something to do with me. Have I done something to displease you?”

He smiled, caressing her cheek with his hand. “You please me very much.”

But she wouldn’t be distracted by sensual teasing. She turned her face from his hand. “That isn’t what I was talking about. Have I done something to make you not wish to confide in me? I had hoped you would trust me to share your confidences.”

“I do trust you.” At least he wanted to. But it was all so new to him. Now that he had her love, he didn’t want to lose it.

“And I you. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” She put her palm on his chest and looked up at him, the trust shining in her eyes making his chest knife. “You are nothing like Atholl. I know that now.”

Kenneth flinched. He wasn’t like Atholl, he was worse. Atholl hadn’t loved her. Atholl hadn’t deceived her.

He needed to tell her. He probably should have done so before. He thought it was wiser to wait until she was safely in Scotland, as by then it would be too late for her to refuse to go. But if he told her now, he could still keep part of his vow to her. He had to have faith in her. In them. She would be angry at first, but he had to trust that she would understand.

“If Atholl had given you a choice, Mary, what would you have had him do? Would you have told him to fight with Bruce or with Edward?”

She blinked up at him in the candlelight, obviously taken aback by his question. “I would have had him protect us.”

“Aye, but after that. If things were different, what side would you have picked?”

Her brows furrowed. “What does that matter anymore? The decision was made for me many years ago.”

“What if it did matter? What if you could go back? What if you and David could be in Scotland with your former brother-in-law right now, would you do it?”

Her face shadowed. He could tell she was beginning to get annoyed with his questions. “What difference does it make? It’s hypothetical. We are here, making the best out of the situation that we can.”

“Don’t you want to go home Mary?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped, finally losing her temper. “I miss my home, as I’m sure you do. But it does me no good to wish for things that aren’t possible.”

He held her gaze intently. “What if they were?”

She stilled, her voice lowered to a whisper—as if the walls had ears. “You should not speak that way. It’s dangerous.”

“I would never let anything happen to you, Mary. You know that, don’t you?”

Her eyes raked his face. “Why are you talking to me like this? What are you trying to tell me?”

“That it’s time to go home.”