The Recruit (30 page)

Sir John
. She bit her lip. He would not be pleased. But it could not be helped. She could
only hope he would understand.

Mary knew she was trapped. She had no choice. She
would steel her heart and hold Sir Kenneth to his word.

“You will protect me and my children?”

He eyed her warily. “Aye.”

“And do nothing that will put us in danger without consulting me?”

His expression shuttered, his face utterly still. For a moment she thought she saw
something flash in his eyes, but when his mouth fell in a hard line she realized it
must have been anger. “We are at war, Mary. But you have my promise that I will do
all in my power to keep you safe.”

“That is not good enough. I need your word that you will not make decisions that will
affect us without telling me. I won’t have another marriage like the first.”

His mouth thinned. She could tell he didn’t like being pushed into a corner. Well,
too bad. She didn’t either. And that was what he was doing by forcing her to marry
him.

“I will do my best,” he agreed.

Their eyes held for one long pause. She sensed there was something more that he wanted
to say, but she also sensed that he was telling the truth. What could she do but trust
him? She just prayed he was more worthy of that trust than Atholl. Her life and that
of her children’s she put in his hands. She nodded. It was enough. “Then I will await
your return from London.”

She turned away. He hesitated for a moment as if he would say something, but then
moved to the door. He was about to close it behind him when something made her stop
him. “Sir Kenneth.”

He looked back over his shoulder. “Aye, my lady?”

Their eyes held again.
Be careful
. “Godspeed,” she whispered.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a boyish half-smile, and he nodded.

Her heart stabbed with a longing so strong it took her breath away. When he looked
at her like that she could
almost believe in faerie tales again, of handsome, gallant knights who made a young
girl’s heart dream.

Dear God, how could she protect herself against that?

What was she going to do?

What she always did. Make the best of it. But when the door closed softly behind him,
Mary sank onto the chair, covered her face with her hands, and cried.

Sixteen
 

One week later, Kenneth was standing under the chancel arch of Coldingham Priory beside
Sir Adam and the Bishop of St. Andrews, who’d recently returned from Scotland, waiting
for his bride.

The journey to London had been easier than he could ever have expected. He knew it
was due in large part to one of the men standing beside him. Sir Adam had smoothed
the way, first with Cornwall and Percy in enabling Kenneth to leave Berwick, and then,
when he’d offered to accompany him, with King Edward.

Thanks to his old friend, he and Mary not only had their permission, but also a tale
to explain the surprise announcement of their marriage. A chance encounter in Scotland
of enemies, a secret betrothal, and a love so strong as to compel him to change allegiance.
Ironically, their marriage would serve not only to legitimize their child, but also
his motives for being in England.

If their story were true, they would actually already be married. A betrothal promise
to wed coupled with consummation created a marital bond. But as the church frowned
on clandestine marriages, they would have a ceremony—albeit a private one. As there
had not been time to read the banns, at the king’s bequest, the Bishop of Durham—who
had authority over both Coldingham
Priory and the Scottish Bishop of St. Andrews while he was being kept in England—had
granted them a dispensation to wed without them. Perhaps thinking of Mary and their
recent trip, Sir Adam had suggested Lamberton as the officiant. Since Kenneth suspected
the good bishop was still in league with Bruce, he knew he had better apprise the
king of his marriage soon. A task he wasn’t looking forward to discharging.

About the only thing that could have made the journey a greater success was if Kenneth
had been able to uncover any information that would help his mission. But the single
nighttime foray into the king’s chambers that he’d managed under the watchful eye
of Sir Adam and his men had yielded nothing of value. Indeed, so far Kenneth had done
nothing more than corroborate what they already knew: the English were mustering at
Berwick, and the king would follow in the spring. All he’d gained on this mission
so far was an injured arm and, in a few minutes, a wife. Neither of which was likely
to impress the king or his fellow guardsmen with his abilities. He might be on the
team, but until he proved himself he was going to feel like a recruit.

When one of the monks approached the bishop to tell him that the lady had arrived,
Sir Adam pulled him over to one side. “Are you sure you wish to go through with this?
If you are having any second thoughts—”

“No second thoughts,” Kenneth insisted adamantly. It was true. Although he was still
angry at Mary for trying to keep his child from him, and he still had every intention
of teaching her a lesson, he was thinking more rationally now. He regretted the threat
he’d used to force her to agree. He’d lost his temper and wished he hadn’t put it
quite that way. He wouldn’t have taken the child from her—he wasn’t a monster—but
all he was thinking about was getting her to agree. That was all that had mattered.
Which didn’t make sense. Whom he married—as long as
she was acceptable—wasn’t supposed to matter to him. He’d like to think it was about
the baby, but he knew it wasn’t just that. Part of him
wanted
to marry her.

God knew why. She gave him more trouble than any woman ever had before and didn’t
seem to waste any opportunity to challenge him. She didn’t fit any of his prerequisites.
Well, except for lusty.

With the considerably more pleasant thought of the wedding night to look forward to,
he added, “I know what I’m doing.”

Not for the first time, he saw something in the other man’s face that gave him pause.
The older knight had gone to a great deal of trouble for them, and though Kenneth
was grateful, he’d also begun to suspect why. It wasn’t Sir Adam’s friendship with
Kenneth or Atholl driving him, but his feelings for Mary.

“The lass has already suffered so much. The loss of her parents, both brothers and
sisters—including her twin.” He hadn’t realized she was a twin. “Having her son taken
from her when she was so young, and then Atholl …” Sir Adam’s voice dropped off as
if he were struggling to find the right words. “Atholl broke her heart well before
he embroiled her in his rebellion. Not even she knows how close she came to imprisonment.”

Kenneth felt an uncomfortable stab. He wasn’t sure whether it was the mention of a
husband she’d obviously loved or his own guilt about his plans to do the same. Perhaps
both. The promise she’d managed to extract from him didn’t sit well. He regretted
the need to deceive her about his true purpose here, but even were he tempted to confide
in her—which he sure as hell wasn’t—it was safer for her if she were in the dark in
case anything went wrong.

She’d made her choice when she gave herself to him in the library that night. They
would both have to live with the consequences.

How Bruce would react to the marriage, he wasn’t sure.
Certainly, it complicated Kenneth’s mission, and he knew the king wouldn’t want her
to be in any danger, but he also knew that if Mary could be persuaded to convince
her son to change sides, Bruce would be thrilled to have the young earl back in the
Scottish fold. Thrilled enough, hopefully, to overlook the fact that Kenneth had seduced
his “dear” sister-in-law and managed to get her with child.

It wasn’t just stung pride driving him now, but his mission. He had every intention
of making sure that when the time came, she was eager to go with him. Damned eager.
Over-the-moon-in-love eager. But Mary was proving difficult. Normally women came to
him. He had little experience in the pursuit. He’d never wooed a woman before, but
how hard could it be?

She wasn’t as indifferent to him as she wanted to think.
Godspeed
. Her parting words had surprised him. She’d been worried about him. Aye, perhaps
this wouldn’t be too hard after all.

For some reason the subject of Atholl bothered him. It seemed once again that he was
coming in second, this time as a husband. But it was a chance to learn more about
her. “What happened?”

Sir Adam hesitated again, his loyalty to Atholl obviously making him weigh his words
carefully. “Mary was only a girl when they were married, and Atholl … well, he was
in his prime. He was one of the best knights at court. Handsome. Charming. Everyone
loved him. Including his young bride. But he was too busy lifting his sword for glory,
and half the skirts of the women at court, to worry about a young girl’s feelings.
He found the task of bedding ‘a child,’ as he’d called her, distasteful, but did his
duty. After that, I don’t think he ever really saw her as any older. He had his pick
of any of the ladies at court, and didn’t see the need to hide them from his wife.
I’ll never forget her face when she learned the truth.” There was a far-off look in
the older man’s eyes that couldn’t
help but rouse Kenneth’s sympathy. But then Sir Adam turned and gave him a sharp look.
“I hope you will have more care.”

Kenneth looked away, almost regretting having asked. He’d wanted insight, and he’d
gotten it.
Profligate
. He understood now the source of her disdain and wariness.

But that didn’t mean he was going to bind himself to one woman for eternity. He would
have laughed if he didn’t feel so much like frowning. Mary of Mar had certainly occupied
his thoughts—hell, his dreams—for five months more than any woman before, but it wasn’t
likely to continue much longer.

Still, he wasn’t a completely unfeeling arse—most of the time. He would take care
not to flaunt his liaisons. “I will.”

Kenneth could see that his answer hadn’t pleased Sir Adam. He looked as though he
wanted to say something else, but at that moment Mary entered the priory and all eyes
turned to her.

He forgot to breathe. The burning that had made his chest feel so tight a few moments
ago intensified. She looked … 
beautiful
. A fey creature. Something not of this world. A ray of sunlight caught her hair in
its golden glow, casting a shimmering light around her. Her gown was of such pale,
iridescent blue silk it almost seemed to be silver. It, too, shimmered with each step
she took as she made her way down the wide aisle toward him.

He barely noticed David walking beside her. All he could see were big blue eyes gazing
at him with wariness, and the paleness of her translucent milky-white skin. She loomed
so large in his mind, he forgot how small she was. But in the massive church with
its high cathedral-worthy ceilings, she looked very tiny and very vulnerable.

She was scared, damn it. And no matter how angry he was with her, it didn’t sit well
with him. He strode down the aisle, crossing the distance in a few long steps. He
held out his hand, offering for hers. “My lady.”

Her eyes widened a little more at his gallantry, but after a few moments of hesitation
she placed her tiny fingers in his. Christ, they were soft—and cold. Tucking them
firmly in the crook of his arm, he escorted her the rest of the way down the aisle
to where Sir Adam and the bishop waited for them.

Wooing his bride, he suspected, wasn’t going to be as much of a hardship as it should
be.

Mary had been more anxious than she could have imagined for word of a marriage that
had been forced upon her. Would King Edward be angry? Would he agree? It wasn’t that
she was worried about
him
.

At least that’s what she told herself. But when the note came last night for her to
meet Sir Kenneth at the priory, and then when she’d seen him across the church, standing
there …

The tug in her chest told a different story.

He looked so big and strong. So handsome. It didn’t seem possible that in a few minutes
he would be her husband.

What was she going to do? How would she harden her heart against this surge of emotion
every time she saw him?

No matter how open her eyes were, she feared her heart would always be blind.

His consideration only made it worse. When he came forward to offer her his hand—to
offer her reassurance—she almost wished for Atholl’s indifference. It was far easier
to fight against than kindness.

But she had to admit that the strength of the arm under her hand throughout the short
ceremony was like a lifeline. Something solid to hold onto in the daze that threatened
to overwhelm her. She might be going into this with her eyes opened, but it seemed
to make no difference in the bundle of nerves twisting inside her.