The Recruit Read online

  “Aye.”

  She shivered. “Is it safe to be so close without a guard?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mary. You have nothing to fear.”

  She held his gaze. He could tell she didn’t believe him, and it struck something cold in his heart. A wry smile turned her mouth. “I’ve heard that promise before.”

  His mouth hardened, and he tried not to feel the prick of jealousy. Atholl. “But not by me. I’m not your first husband, Mary.”

  She looked up at him, blinking in the sunlight. “No, no you’re not.”

  “What did he do to make you so cynical?”

  “Cynical?” she repeated, as if she’d never made the connection. “I suppose you are right. Atholl swore to protect us, but he gave no thought to what would happen to us when he rebelled. He cared more about glory and being a hero than he did about a wife and son. Aye, he protected us as long as it didn’t interfere with what he wanted to do. I asked him to take us with him, but he refused. He said we would be safe. That he would come back for us if something went wrong. I trusted him. But of course, he never did. He abandoned us to Edward’s mercy, and I was left to pick up the pieces of his decisions. Decisions that took everything from me—my son, my home, my family—but which I never had a say in.”

  Kenneth felt a prickle—nay, a stab—of unease. “That’s why you wanted me to give you that promise?”

  She gazed up at him. “Aye. I swore I’d never let a man put me in that kind of position again.”

  Ah hell. It wasn’t the same, he told himself. He would protect her. He didn’t just care about the glory. That wasn’t why he was so intent on joining the Highland Guard. At least not all of it. He wasn’t making choices for her. She would want to go when the time came.

  But all the rationalizing in the world couldn’t erase the flicker of unease that had crept over the day like a dark shadow. “Come,” he said, taking a bag from the horse. “I’ve a surprise for you.”

  The wariness was back. “I don’t need any more surprises.”

  “Perhaps not, but you’ll like it all the same.”

  He was right. A few minutes later, after he’d led her over to the circle of stones, spread out a plaid for her to sit on, and handed her the bundle, she moaned with delight at the scent of cinnamon and caramel that wafted from beneath the piece of linen. “More sugar buns? I’m going to be as fat as that old cat that hangs around the barn, if you keep having the cook bake these for me.”

  “I like you curvy.”

  She didn’t respond; she was too busy biting into the crusty sugarcoated round of bread. The sounds she made went right to his cock—as did the look of rapture on her face.

  Jesus. He adjusted his breeches. A woman shouldn’t look like that unless she was naked and under him.

  She finished chewing and looked up at him, realizing he was watching her. “Don’t you want any?”

  He shook his head. “I’d rather watch you.” He reached over, running the pad of his finger over her upper lip.

  She sucked in her breath, wide-eyed.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. “You have a little bit of sugar right here.”

  He wanted to lick it off, but instead he swiped it with his finger and brought it to his mouth. “Hmmm. Very sweet.”

  Mary pulled back. “Why are you doing this? Why are you going to all this effort? What do you want from me?”

  It almost sounded like fear in her voice. “I want you.” He was surprised to realize it was the truth. It wasn’t just about stung pride and proving she wasn’t immune; it wasn’t just about winning her heart for his mission. He wanted her for himself.

  “We’re already married. You have me.”

  “Do I?” He smiled. “I very much doubt that.” He leaned back, eyeing her speculatively. “What is it exactly that you object to?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ll not hear a recitation of your finer points from me, my lord. I’m sure you’ve heard them well enough from others.”

  Perhaps she was right, but he was surprised how much he wanted to hear it from her. Not her admiration but her respect. The thought made him frown. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”

  “One who doesn’t fall at your feet?”

  She was teasing him, he realized. He shook his head. “You sound like my sister.”

  “The one who was married at Dunstaffnage?”

  “Aye, I only have one sister. Her name is Helen.”

  A frown gathered between her brows. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet her. Whom did she marry?”

  “The son of the MacKay chief.”

  Her eyes widened. Obviously she knew something of the feuding history between the MacKays and the Sutherlands. “I remember meeting him. That must have been an interesting wedding feast.”

  He laughed. “It was. You should have seen Will trying to keep the peace. You’d have to know my brother, but he’s one of the fiercest warriors I know and always ready to fight. He’s not a peacemaker. I think he spent the better part of three days trying to prevent fights by threatening to beat the men senseless if they did.”

  “That sounds familiar,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure there must have been a lot of fights between you when you were young.”

  “Drubbings, you mean. One-sided, for the most part.”

  “It’s hard to think of you being on the losing end.”

  He shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. “It made me work harder. My brother made me the warrior I am today.”

  “You are close?”

  Suddenly, he realized his mistake. Damn it. He’d been jabbering on as if he hadn’t just broken from his family.

  “Were close,” he corrected.

  But from the way she was looking at him, he feared she’d picked up on the mistake as well. “Why did you change your allegiance?”

  Damn. “It’s complicated,” he hedged, and then turned the question back to her. “Did you ever consider returning to Scotland?”

  A sharp look of pain crossed her face. She nodded.

  “Aye. Once.”

  “What happened?”

  For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer. She reached over and picked a piece of grass, making tiny knots over and over. “I lost my sister.”

  She gave a brief rendition of what had happened. How her sister had appeared one night at Ponteland to bring her home after Atholl’s arrest, how Sir Adam had arrived ahead of the king’s men, how they’d raced across the countryside only to be caught in the middle of the battle. “I’ll never forget that moment. One minute I was looking at her and the next, the bridge exploded into flames. It must have been lightning, though I didn’t recall hearing any before. There was a loud boom—the strangest thunder I’ve ever heard—and then everything went black. I woke up, and my sister was gone.”

  Something about the story niggled at his consciousness. “Sir Adam was there?”

  She nodded. “I heard his voice right before I fell. He was a godsend. Were it not for him, I’m sure David and I would have been imprisoned. He had his men look for Janet for hours, but it was as if she’d vanished.”

  All his instincts were hammering now. Could it be possible? God, if it were true, it could be just what he needed.

  “Do you remember anything about the smell?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “How strange that you should ask. I remember it smelled like rotting eggs.”

  Damn. It was true. Sir Adam Gordon shared the same knowledge his nephew had. He knew how to make black powder.

  Mary knew she had said too much. She was supposed to be guarding her heart, and here she was spilling all her secrets to him. But for such an outwardly hard and imposing man, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He listened, and actually seemed interested in what she had to say, which was a novelty among men of his station. At least it was in her experience. But she was beginning to realize that her experience wasn’t the only experience. Kenneth was right; he wasn’t Atholl.