The Recruit Read online

  Felton exploded in fury. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with what happened! No one could have anticipated they would attempt to escape by jumping over a cliff. The earl was well protected.”

  “Then how the hell did he nearly die, and I end up with this?” Kenneth lifted his injured arm, which was stinging like the devil. “I warned you it was too dangerous to take the lad. Next time don’t let your attempt to impress a lady affect your judgment.”

  “By God, if you weren’t injured right now you would pay for your arrogance. I am still the best knight around here, and I won’t have a disloyal, opportunistic Highland traitor question my decisions. Winning a few barbarian games doesn’t make you a champion. Here, you are nothing until you prove otherwise.”

  The smug bastard had managed to strike a nerve—a rather raw nerve. Anger ran hot through Kenneth’s veins and being wise was forgotten. “I don’t know, perhaps you could use a little Highland instruction. The ‘barbarians’ seemed to have put you on your arse easily enough.”

  The look of raw hatred in the other man’s eyes almost made Kenneth regret his words. Almost.

  “I’ll see you pay for that, you traitorous bastard.”

  “You can sure as hell try.”

  They might have come to blows—injured arm or not—if Kenneth hadn’t glanced over to the gate and seen something that made his blood run cold and his anger at Felton fizzle like water on hot rocks.

  Jesus. Christ. God damn it to hell. A string of more oaths and blasphemes followed—silently, thank God. But it took every scrap of his training not to react. Keeping his expression carefully blank, Kenneth looked away from the group of women entering the castle gate, but fear prickled on his skin like a sheet of ice.

  Before Felton could reply or notice his distraction, he added, “I will look forward to it.” And walked away, heading toward the practice yard where the women had gone.

  It wasn’t unusual for women from the village to watch the soldiers practicing. Nor was it unusual for the soldiers to find the evening’s entertainment from amongst the spectators. Every camp had its followers, and a castle was no different. By the time he’d made his way over to the far side of the yard near the barracks, the women were already mingling with the soldiers who’d finished their duties for the day—including the beautiful red-haired woman who’d caught his attention.

  Long auburn hair tumbled down her back in a veil of loose waves. Her rough, homespun kirtle was low on her chest, revealing far more of her bosom than he cared to see, but which left no doubt of her plans to attract a companion for the night.

  She was flirting with one of the older men-at-arms as he approached. A relatively safe choice, but it didn’t temper his anger any.

  When she saw him, her eyes widened in feigned excitement and a slow, seductive smile curved on her mouth, as sensual and promising as any wanton’s. “My lord,” she said in a husky gasp. “Where have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

  The man-at-arms turned to him, disappointment keen on his face when he recognized Kenneth. “Sir Kenneth,” he bowed. “I did not realize mistress Helen was yours.”

  “She’s not,” Kenneth said, looking into the twinkling eyes of his sister. Damn it, she was MacKay’s responsibility now. What the hell was the bastard thinking? He managed to control his anger long enough to play his part. “We met the last time I was in Berwick.” He took her hand and placed a gallant kiss on it. “Though I am looking forward to renewing our acquaintance.”

  Seeing that another had claimed his entertainment for the evening, the man-at-arms made his graceful retreat.

  For the next few minutes they made a very public show of “renewing” that acquaintance. Helen sidled up next to him, flirting, batting her lashes, and flaunting her heretofore-unknown ample wares for all to see. If he were MacKay, he’d toss her over his knee for acting like such a jade. Hell, he was glad for his sister’s sake that the fierce Highlander wasn’t around to see the appreciative English glances at her breasts, which were practically falling out of her gown. As her brother, he had to stop himself from pulling the useless scrap of wool up to her neck and putting his fist through a few sets of teeth.

  She ran her fingers up his arm. “You’re hurt!” Her eyes flashed naughtily. “Perhaps there is something I can do to make it feel better?”

  It wasn’t easy to pretend seduction with his little sister—especially when he’d like nothing more than to throttle her—but Kenneth played along. “Why don’t we go someplace where you can examine it in private?”

  He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, turning around to address one of the men who was standing nearby. Percy was still keeping a close eye on him. “Tell Percy I’ll be back in time for the evening meal. The lady is going to tend my wounds.”

  “Aye, I’m going to make you feel all better,” she said with a lecherous wink.

  Before the soldier could object, Kenneth started to pull her toward the nearest storeroom but changed direction when he heard her mutter “stables” under her breath.

  “Give us a few minutes, lads,” he said to the stable boys. “This won’t take too long.”

  The boys snickered and moved outside.

  The moment the door was closed, Kenneth turned to her in fury. “What in God’s name do you think you are doing here? And why the hell did Saint let you come alone!”

  “He didn’t,” MacKay said, jumping down from the rafters above where bales of hay were stored. He was dressed as a peasant, and Kenneth detected the strong whiff of fish. “And keep your voice down, Ice, unless you want half the English army to come investigate.” He glanced angrily toward his wife. Though he’d called Kenneth by one of the “ironic” names MacSorley had coined to prod him about his hot temper, MacKay seemed to have forgotten his own. “And pull up your damned gown!”

  Helen ignored the directive, put her hands on her hips, and looked at them both angrily. “If you two would just relax—”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Both Kenneth and MacKay exploded, expressing the depths of their very unrelaxed anger at seeing her acting the jade in a yard full of Englishmen. Apparently, MacKay had caught quite a bit of her performance.

  Helen let them have their say, but she clearly paid it no heed. “If you are both finished acting like overprotective nursemaids, perhaps I can see to what we came for?”

  Before Kenneth could bark out another “why the hell are you here?,” MacKay explained, “She insisted on seeing to your arm herself.”

  “And you let her?”

  MacKay shot him a deadly glare. “I’d like to see you stop her. She said you were part of this now, and it was her duty.” He spat the last word, mumbling under his breath that he must have been crazy to let her do this—a point to which they were in agreement. “That it was my fault you were hurt in the first place, and if you lost your arm, she would blame me.”

  Kenneth turned to his sister, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been hanging around Viper too long.” She was learning to fight dirty.

  Helen lifted her chin. “It worked, didn’t it? Now, let me see it.”

  MacKay handed Helen a leather bag, and she removed a few things as Kenneth shrugged off his surcote and unwrapped the linen bandage that the doctor had used to bind the cut. She gave a soft cry when she saw the ugly-looking mass of bloody, singed flesh, but went immediately to work on it.

  MacKay distracted him from the pain of her examination by asking him about what had happened. Kenneth gave a quick explanation, hearing MacKay’s muttered oath when he learned the identity of the soldier he’d almost killed.

  “It was too dark to see his arms.”

  Kenneth nodded. “I figured as much. It was just bad luck that your blade found a gap between my mail shirt and gauntlet.”

  He winced as Helen poked and prodded the wound, then applied a salve. “Ouch,” he said, pulling his arm away. “That burns.”

  “Yo