The Recruit (37 page)

Kenneth was anxious to ask him more about Edward’s plans, but it was clear Percy was
finished with the subject. Was he purposefully avoiding discussing it with him? He
didn’t know. But the fact that Percy was keeping the battle plans so secret alone
suggested that they were up to something. The English didn’t typically rely on stealth,
but on strength in numbers and weaponry. Perhaps they were taking lessons from Bruce.

“I look forward to the challenge,” he lied. Though he would like nothing more than
to silence Felton, he knew he couldn’t, and the idea of having to lose to the bastard
rankled. But he couldn’t put it off much longer. Felton had already accused him of
delaying his recovery. “But it may take a few weeks yet to get back my strength. The
ligament was nearly severed.”

“Aye; Welford is surprised by how well the injury has healed.”

Not surprising, since it hadn’t been the physician’s skills that had healed it. “I
feel fortunate indeed.”

“I will see you on the practice yard?”

Kenneth nodded. “If I can track down my squire. I sent him to sharpen my sword some
time ago. I fear it has grown dull with disuse.”

Much like his battle skills. Kenneth had been in the peak of physical condition and
battle readiness when he’d arrived. He intended to be ready when the time came both
for war and for another chance at MacKay. But how the hell was he going to do that
if he was sluggish from holding back?

Stepping away from Percy, Kenneth started back toward the armory.

Upon entering, he found his squire speaking to a very irate young Earl of Atholl.
David’s voice was raised, and it was obvious he was complaining about Felton to a
sympathetic ear. Despite the circumstances, Kenneth was actually relieved to see some
emotion on the lad’s face. For his age, David had an unnaturally blank expression
most of the time, making it difficult to guess his thoughts.

Kenneth’s status as hero and rescuer had taken a blow since the wedding. It was clear
young Atholl didn’t know what to make of the sudden marriage, and his behavior had
been watchful and wary.

The two squires fell immediately silent upon seeing him.

Willy jumped up guiltily. “My lord, I was just coming to find you. I’ve finished your
sword.”

Kenneth gave him a look that told him he knew better. But he’d deal with his squire
later. He took the sword from him—one of the shorter arming swords—and after giving
it a brief inspection, fastened it in a scabbard around his waist. “Wait for me outside.
I should like to speak to David for a moment.”

Willy jumped to do his bidding, shooting a glance of apology to David on the way.
But it wasn’t necessary. Kenneth had no intention of adding to the lad’s woes.

When they were alone, Kenneth sat on the bench beside David that had been recently
vacated by his squire. The wariness had returned to the boy’s face as he resumed sharpening
the blade of Felton’s sword.

“May I see that?” Kenneth asked.

David frowned, but after a moment handed it to him. Kenneth held it up to the light
streaming through the wooden slats of the building, inspecting the edge, and then
ran his gauntleted finger over the blade. “ ’Tis fine work. Though I take it Sir John
does not agree?”

David’s mouth fell in a belligerent line. He knew better than to speak against his
lord.

“I’m afraid this is my fault,” Kenneth said.

David shot him a look of surprise. “It is?”

He nodded. “Aye. Sir John hoped to marry your mother. He’s angry at me for doing so,
and since he can’t take it out on me,” he lifted his arm, “I’m afraid you are an easy
scapegrace.”

“I thought he was going to marry my mother, too.”

“Are you upset that he didn’t?”

The boy eyed him with far too much composure and maturity. It was hard to believe
he was only three and ten. He shrugged noncommittally. “It was a surprise, that’s
all.”

He bowed his head and resumed working on the blade. Kenneth debated what to say. David
was obviously confused. The lad deserved an explanation. “If I tell you something,
will you promise to keep it a secret?”

Puzzled, David nodded.

“We
needed
to marry quickly,” he said meaningfully. But it was clear the lad didn’t understand.
“Your mother is carrying my child.”

Shocked, David’s hand slipped. He would have sliced his finger had he not been wearing
gloves. Once he’d composed himself, he turned to Kenneth. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I suspect she’s embarrassed and was waiting for the right time.” Belatedly, Kenneth
realized that she might not appreciate him telling her son.

“That’s why she’s seemed so happy lately,” David said, almost to himself. He thought
for a minute, appearing to try to sort out his own feelings. “I’m glad for her. My
mother has had a difficult time.”

Once again, Kenneth was struck by how unnaturally
composed and mature David seemed. Because of his long captivity? “As have you,” Kenneth
said quietly.

David met his gaze and shrugged.

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore, David. I will protect your mother—and
you, if you’ll let me.”

David gave him a look as if he wanted to believe him, but his long-held wariness held
him back. Given what the lad had been through, it was understandable.
Like his mother
, Kenneth realized. Mary, too, was wary because of her past. Earning her trust was
the key to unlocking her heart. But how the hell was he going to do that when he wasn’t
telling her the truth about his allegiance and purpose for being here?

The lad stood. “I need to return this to Sir John or he’ll have me spending the rest
of the day mucking stalls and cleaning garderobes like a serf.”

Kenneth chuckled. “There’s no shame in hard work, lad. I’ve had to muck a few stalls
and dig in a few cesspits myself.”

He might as well have announced he’d grown wings and flown to the moon.

“You have?”

“Aye. Name any unpleasant task, and I assure you I’ve done it.”

David eyed him skeptically. “When you were a squire?”

“Nay, when I was a knight. In war, you do what needs to be done, no matter how unpleasant
or menial. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I actually find ‘menial’ labor relaxing.”

David laughed as if he knew he must be jesting now. “I’ll know who to come to then
the next time I’m punished.”

Kenneth smiled and watched the boy hustle away. A few minutes later he followed. Reluctantly.
David wasn’t the only one not looking forward to Felton’s punishment. Kenneth knew
it was going to take everything he had to keep his temper under control.

* * *

It was late morning by the time Mary finished her transaction with the merchant recommended
by Master Bureford in the village. But if she hurried, she should have time for one
more errand before returning to the castle.

There was a small church and nunnery nearby, and she couldn’t pass by either without
inquiring about her sister. She gazed up at the sun, already high in the sky. She
bit her lip, knowing that the feast would be underway soon. But this wouldn’t take
long.

Collecting the two soldiers who’d accompanied her from the place where she’d asked
them to wait while she went about her business—not wanting them to see that she wasn’t
shopping, but selling, she mounted the old horse that she’d borrowed from Sir Adam
and informed them of their next destination. Assuming that she meant to pray or give
a donation, the men didn’t protest the change in the instructions given to them by
Sir Adam to see her to the market and back. Though the horse was docile and it was
still safe for her to ride, she had to admit she wouldn’t have minded Kenneth’s protective
arms around her.

Mary felt a stab of guilt at not telling Kenneth where she was going. But she knew
he would question her, and she didn’t want to lie to him. She would not be caught
in the position of helplessness and dependency that she was in before. The money she
earned from her embroidery work was her protection against that. It belonged to her,
no matter that the law would see it otherwise. She had nothing to feel guilty about.

Yet she did. And not just about hiding the money from him, but also for this morning.
I’ll make it up to him, she vowed, but still couldn’t completely assuage the niggle
of disquiet.

The small church and nunnery were located just on a hill above the bustling Berwick-upon-Tweed
market. It took only a few minutes to reach the gate. Walls protected most
of the churches in Berwick and other border towns, not that they seemed very efficient
in keeping out raiders.

Leaving the soldiers with the horses, she approached the church first, and then when
her inquiries proved fruitless, the nunnery.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” the abbess said. “I was here three years ago, and I don’t recall
a woman as you describe seeking refuge.” She studied Mary a little closer. “You say
she was your twin?”

Mary nodded. “We look very much alike.” Even more so now that Mary no longer looked
like a “half-starved sparrow.” She glanced down at the gown she wore. For her journey
into the city, she’d donned one of her old veils and gowns. She was surprised how
much she disliked doing so. She’d grown used to pretty things again. But it had seemed
wiser not to draw attention to herself at the market. Her mouth quirked. “Although
she would have been far more colorfully dressed than I am. With long golden hair—”

The nun shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lady. She was not here.”

Mary tried to smile. But no matter how many times she asked, she couldn’t hide her
disappointment. “Thank you.” She handed her a coin. “Please, take this, and remember
her in your prayers tonight.”

The woman nodded but seemed to avoid meeting her gaze. Mary was almost out the door
when the nun called after her. “I hope you find her, my lady. Someday.”

Mary smiled for real this time, tears glistening in her eyes. “So do I.”

Lost in thought, she wasn’t watching where she was going and nearly collided with
a monk outside. He dropped a book he’d been holding—obviously, he hadn’t been looking
either—and bent down to pick it up. “I’m sorry, sister—” He startled when he saw her
face. Mary saw the flicker of recognition before he smiled. “You’re back!”

A buzz ran up her spine and spread over her skin. Her
entire body froze with excitement. “Do you know me, brother?”

He looked surprised again, taking in the details of her face and clothing that he
hadn’t before. “You aren’t a nun.”

“But have you seen me before?”

His expression grew troubled. “I thought so, but now I can see that I made a mistake.
You look a great deal like a young nun who traveled through here before.”

Mary felt every nerve ending in her body flare with excitement. This was it. This
was the break she’d been waiting for. She tried to control the frantic pounding of
her heart, but it was blaring in her ears. “When?” she breathed.

He stroked his chin. “About a year ago, I think.”

“What do you know about her? Whom was she with?”

Without realizing it, Mary had grabbed onto the monk’s arm. He was looking at her
as if she were a madwoman. “No one, my lady. She stopped for the night to take a meal,
that is all.”

“Where was she going?”

Obviously wishing he hadn’t said anything, the young churchman carefully extracted
his arm. “I don’t know, my lady. Do you know her?”

“I think she is my sister. She’s been missing for over three years.”

His eyes filled with sympathy, and something else. Pity, she realized.

“I’m sorry, my lady. It couldn’t have been your sister. The young woman I spoke of
was Italian.”

Mary felt her heart sink. “Are you certain?”

He nodded. “She didn’t speak a word of English and very little French.”

The disappointment was even more crushing than before. Despite the monk’s certainty,
Mary wondered if maybe he was mistaken. But why would her sister be pretending to
be Italian? Janet had been horrible with languages.

Mary apologized to the monk for her zealous questioning and quickly took her leave.
But she could think of nothing else on the ride back to the castle.

It was later than she’d realized by time she passed through the gates. The feast had
already been going on for nearly an hour by the time she’d changed and started toward
the Great Hall.

She’d half hoped Kenneth would be waiting for her. Not only was she eager to speak
to him about Davey, she also wanted to get his impression about what had occurred
at the church. Usually she would have gone straight to Sir Adam, but her first instinct
was to find Kenneth.

She had to apologize for what had happened this morning. A blush stained her cheeks.
Well, maybe an apology wasn’t necessary in light of how much he’d enjoyed it, but
she knew things could not go on as they had been. She wanted to give him—them—a chance.

The Hall was a flurry of sound and color as she entered. Obviously, the ale and wine
had been flowing freely for some time. People were swarming about the room. She stood
on her tiptoes, trying to see where Kenneth was seated but was unable to see over
all the heads.

Finally, after fighting her way through the crowd near the door she saw him. The smile
that had become reflexive in such a short time rose and then fell. The blood drained
from her face, as everything inside her body seemed to curl inwardly. Her heart. Her
stomach. Her hope.

The sear of white-hot pain across her chest was nearly unimaginable.

He was surrounded by women and basking in the glow of their adoring light, like some
Greek god at a temple. The women on either side of him were leaning so close their
bodies were pressing against his. He wasn’t doing anything to encourage them. Yet.
But it was only a matter of time. He’d made her no promises. The picture before her
was brutally familiar and a reminder that she could
not forget that. No matter how much she wanted to. If she’d wanted her eyes opened,
they were now.