The Recruit (45 page)

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.”

Twenty-four
 

Mary stared at him, at first not understanding what he was saying. But a dark shadow
of premonition had begun to creep its way up her consciousness. “I can’t go home.
King Edward would never allow it.”

“Edward won’t know. Not until it’s too late, anyway.”

Fear washed over her. She shook her head. “No. I lost my sister the last time I tried
to flee. Why are you talking this way? Has something happened? Is Sir John making
it difficult for you? Surely, it couldn’t be so bad as to make you question your loyalty?”

He didn’t say anything, and all of a sudden the truth hit her.
Loyalty
.

She drew back in horror, understanding sinking like a stone in her gut. She knew why
he’d been asking her all those strange questions earlier. Why his sudden shift of
allegiance hadn’t made sense. Why he’d talked so fondly about a brother he was supposed
to hate.

“Oh God.” She covered her mouth, feeling sick. Betrayal ripped inside her like a jagged
knife. “You never changed allegiance, did you? You are working for Robert.”

She inched back, but he reached out to catch her arm. “Mary, wait. Let me explain.”

Heat choked her throat, hurt and disbelief filled her eyes with tears. “Explain what?
That you deceived me?”

“I had no choice. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I made you a
vow.”

Anger helped to forestall the tears. She made a harsh sound of disbelief. “It’s rather
late to remember that, isn’t it? You promised not to embroil me or my children in
anything dangerous, but you did that the moment you forced me to marry you.”

From the glint in his eyes, she could tell he took exception to her choice of words.
“I couldn’t tell you then. Not when I wasn’t sure of your feelings for me.”

A second wave of understanding hit, this one even harder than the first—if that were
possible. “And now you are,” she said numbly. “I see. Was that why you went to such
an effort to seduce me? So that I would follow you willingly like one of your starry-eyed
admirers when the time came?”

Had he ever loved her?

Thin white lines appeared around his mouth. “I will not deny that I wanted you to
come with me, and I thought it would be easier if you cared for me, but that doesn’t
change how I feel about you. I love you, Mary. I’ve never said those words to another
woman in my life. Hell, I never even thought it possible for me to feel this way about
a woman.”

Bile rose to the back of her throat. God, it was true. He had set out to make her
fall in love with him. She’d thought it was a game, but it was an even bigger one
than she imagined. The stakes weren’t just her heart, but her life and the lives of
her children. Her heart curled like a piece of burning parchment.

How could he have made love to her all those times, knowing what he was going to do?

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she said hoarsely, her voice raw with emotion.
“ ‘I betrayed you. I lied to you. I used you. But I love you, so it’s all right?’ ”

A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “I deserve your anger but not your scorn. What choice
did I have?”

“You could have told me the truth.”

“And what would you have done with that knowledge? Could I be sure you wouldn’t run
to Sir Adam or someone else and tell them the truth? You made your opinion of me quite
clear many times. People are counting on me; I couldn’t take the chance.”

She turned away. “Then you should have left me alone.”

“I couldn’t do that. I wanted you. And you were pregnant with my child.”

“And what about my other child? Where does Davey fit in all this? I assume it would
be quite a coup for you to bring the Earl of Atholl back into the Scottish fold.”

He stiffened, not flinching from the truth. “Once I get you to safety, I will follow
with David.”

Terror struck her heart. She shook her head frantically. “No. It’s too dangerous.
They are watching him too closely. They will not let you slip out of Berwick Castle
with the Earl of Atholl.”

“I have a plan. Trust me.”

She had, and look where that had gotten her. Was she doomed to have her life destroyed
by thoughtless husbands reaching for glory? He’d thrust her right back into a nightmare
and never considered her at all. She’d put her fate in a man’s hands again and he’d
betrayed her.

She squared her shoulders. “You ask for too much. Davey won’t go, and neither will
I.”

His mouth drew even tighter, and Mary knew he was fighting to keep a rein on his temper.
“Your son is a Scottish earl, Mary. He belongs in Scotland. Yet sounds as bloody English
as Edward.”

She prickled, perhaps because she knew there was more than a grain of truth in what
he said. Had she not thought the same thing many times? But it didn’t matter. She
would rather have David in England alive than in prison or with his head hanging in
the same place as his father’s. “It is for me to decide what is best for myself and
my son, not you.”

His eyes flashed. “Wrong. You gave me that power when
you married me. I vowed to protect you, and I will. You will just have to trust me.”