The Recruit (22 page)

Kenneth did not question the importance of the mission, just his role in it. He’d
never spied before, and frankly, deception didn’t sit well with him. He was a Highlander,
but he was also a knight. MacRuairi had warned him that if he wanted to fight with
the Highland Guard he was going to get dirty, and he suspected this was his first
test. He just hadn’t anticipated that his first test would be alone. He wasn’t going
to break through the tight bond these men had forged from England.

Part of him couldn’t help wondering whether there was another reason he was chosen.
Was this a test of another kind? Was his loyalty still in question?

The acid of bitterness rose to the back of his throat, but he tamped it back down.

“They will be suspicious,” Kenneth said. He’d be fortunate if the English didn’t throw
him in the closest dungeon.

“Perhaps at first,” the king agreed. “But your past should work in our favor. Your
change of allegiance was both recent and reluctant.”

Kenneth’s jaw hardened, wanting to argue but knowing he spoke the truth. “At first,
perhaps.”

“They don’t know that,” MacLeod pointed out.

“You aren’t exactly known for your even temperament,” MacKay added. “That hot temper
of yours just might work in our favor. A falling-out with your brother the earl and
Bruce won’t seem out of character.”

Kenneth bit back the angry retort, forcing himself to stay cool, though he wanted
to point out that a hot temper didn’t equate to disloyalty. Instead, he addressed
the king. “Percy will still be suspicious.”

The king smiled. “Well, then, you will just have to prove it to him.”

Any reluctance Kenneth might have felt was dismissed when he heard Bruce’s plan. It
wasn’t without danger, but it should work to prove his “loyalty.”

Being sent to England on his first mission might not be his first choice, but he supposed
there was one side benefit. He smiled. Lady Mary was in England. He just might have
his chance to rekindle their “friendship” and exact a little retribution sooner than
he’d anticipated.

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.