The Recruit Read online

  Putting the book aside, Mary rushed down the stairs to meet him. She was winded and glowing with exertion by the time she reached the bottom of the third level. She entered the hall at the same time he did from the opposite side. With a cry that told her exactly how worried she’d been about him, she raced into his arms.

  She could hear the reverberation of his laugh in his chest as he lifted her up and spun her in his arms. Still in his embrace, he set her feet back on the ground and pressed a quick kiss on her lips, the brevity of which she suspected was due to their audience. His voice was low and husky. “Miss me?”

  An unexpected threat of tears rose behind her eyes. She seemed to cry at the drop of a pin lately. “Very much. I’m glad you’re back.”

  His face clouded ever so slightly. “Not for long, I’m afraid. I have to return to the castle, but as Huntlywood was on the way, I couldn’t resist a brief stop to check on you.”

  She smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and released her.

  Suddenly conscious of the men standing behind him, and remembering her duties, Mary blushed and immediately arranged for food and drink to be brought out.

  They were seated at the trestle table and halfway through the meal when Kenneth glanced around with a frown. “Where is Sir Adam?”

  “He was called to the castle.”

  “I thought he was leaving tomorrow.”

  “He was. His journey has been delayed a few days.”

  “Why?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t say anything? Did something happen?”

  She frowned at the intensity of his questioning. “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “If it’s anything important, I will find out soon.” He tried to dismiss it as if it didn’t matter, but she sensed it did. He was edgy again.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  He lifted his goblet, taking a long drink of wine. “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. She couldn’t put her finger on it herself. “You seem preoccupied. As if something is bothering you.”

  “Tired, that is all. And regretting that I cannot delay my return to the castle any longer.”

  Mary held his gaze, wishing she could believe him. “Must you go already?”

  He nodded. “I will return as soon as I am able. What do you have planned—other than cleaning?”

  How did he …

  Suddenly, she blushed, glancing down at her skirts. She’d forgotten all the dust. Her hands went to her hair. “I must look a fright.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  The look in his eyes made her blush deepen for a different reason. “I was cleaning out one of the rooms in the garret for the baby.” She knew she was smiling like an excited child, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s going to be perfect. There’s a nice window where I can put a chair, and a small antechamber for the nursemaid to sleep. I wish that I’d had time to make something myself, but Sir Adam said he has some tapestries I can use for the walls. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “Mary, you know this is only temporary.”

  The gentle reminder made her flush with embarrassment. “I know. It’s just hard not to get carried away a little when I’m so happy.” She thought he would be, too. But he didn’t look happy. He looked a little pained. “I thought you would understand.”

  “Of course I do. I’m sorry. You’re right. I must be more preoccupied than I realized. I should love to see the room, when I return.”

  He seemed so genuinely contrite that she smiled. “I shall put you to work. You can help me move the trunk. It’s the most wonderful thing. I think it must have belonged to Sir Adam’s father.”

  He seemed to go very still beside her. “What makes you say that?”

  “It is filled with the most wonderful treasures from the east. Sir Adam’s father went on crusade many years ago with King Edward.”

  “And my grandfather,” he said carefully.

  “That’s right, I’d forgotten. You must see the journals, then.”

  The cup slid from his hand, but he steadied it before it tipped over. “Journals?” he said hoarsely.

  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 th