The Recruit Read online

  “Just the man I wanted to see. Come in, Sutherland, come in,” Bruce said.

  As the king had seemed to be avoiding him, Kenneth was surprised by his words. “You wished to see me, Sire?”

  Bruce motioned him forward toward a seat opposite him at the council table. Only a few men remained in the room. Kenneth recognized the famed swordsman and trainer Tor MacLeod on his left, Sir Neil Campbell on his right, and to his surprise, William Lamberton, the Bishop of St. Andrews, next to him. He’d heard the bishop was part of Edward’s truce delegation, but why was he here now?

  After greetings were exchanged, Bruce said, “Have you given any more thought to our last discussion?”

  It took Kenneth a moment to realize to what he was referring.

  Then he remembered. The last conversation he’d had with the king was after Kenneth’s brother William, Earl of Sutherland, had announced his plans to marry their clan’s healer, Muriel, rather than the king’s sister Christina when she was released from English captivity. The king wanted an alliance with the Sutherlands, and now that duty would fall to him, as William had named him his heir. Kenneth didn’t know the details, but Muriel apparently was barren. At some point—he hoped many years from now—the earldom would fall to Kenneth or his son.

  But finding a wife hadn’t been foremost on his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t want one; it simply didn’t matter to him who he wed. As long as she was noble with the right connections and could bear him a few sons, one woman was as good as another. He supposed he’d prefer if the lass was attractive, as it would make the begetting of those heirs easier, but he had enough experience to call on memories if he needed a little help.

  It wasn’t as if a wife would have any effect on his day-to-day life. He’d go on as he had before. His sister and brother might feel differently, but Kenneth was not moved by emotion. For men like him, marriage was a duty. He’d loved lots of women; he didn’t need to love his wife.

  “Aye,” he lied. “I have. Did you have someone in mind?”

  Kenneth was expecting the king to put forth his sister Christina, as he had to his brother Will. The former Countess of Mar was still being held in England, as was her young son, the current Earl of Mar. Kenneth knew how important it was to Bruce to unite all the Scottish earls under his banner, and the countess’s next husband might help influence that decision.

  But it was a different widowed countess that Bruce spoke of—Atholl. “I’m not sure whether you are aware, but my former sister-in-law, Mary, is a part of Edward’s delegation.” Suddenly, the bishop’s presence made a little more sense. He vaguely recalled seeing Atholl’s wife once years ago when he was still a squire with the Earl of Ross. She’d been quite pretty, he thought, and much younger than her husband. He also knew she’d been kept a virtual prisoner these past few years in England after her husband’s execution.

  He nodded, and Bruce continued, “The lass is dear to me, she was still a child when I married her sister, and I thought if she could be persuaded to remarry one of my men …”

  He didn’t need to say the rest. As with Christina Bruce, Mary of Mar had a young son and earl in England. The right husband might be able to persuade her and her son to join Bruce. Of course, there was one major obstacle. “I doubt Edward would approve of the match.”

  Bruce smiled wryly. “You’re right, with the way things stand now. But there are ways we might be able to get around that. There is, however, a bigger problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  It was the bishop who answered. “The lass has no interest in remarrying.” He paused. “She’s had a difficult time of it the past few years.”

  Understandable, given the circumstances. He resisted the urge to rub his neck, thinking of the traitor’s death that had befallen Atholl.

  “Where does her allegiance lie?”

  The king and the bishop exchanged looks, but it was Bruce who spoke. “To her son, but beyond that I am not sure. She holds no love for the English king, but whether she would convince her son to rebel against him and join us, I don’t know.” He smiled. “My former sister-in-law is far more obstinate than I remembered—and far more politic in her answers. I doubt anything will come of it. All I ask is that you meet her, and see if you would suit. If not, I have other women for you to consider.”

  They spent some time discussing a few of the other possibilities, but it was hard for Kenneth to feign enthusiasm when he had something else far more important on his mind. He finally had his opportunity when the meeting dissolved.

  “Sire, there is something I should like to discuss with you if you can spare a few more minutes.”

  The king nodded. Kenneth suspected he knew what it was about when Bruce dismissed Campbell and the bishop but had MacLeod remain.

  He could feel the fierce Island chief’s scrutiny, but addressed his words to Bruce. “I want in. I want to be a part of your secret army.” He considered it a good sign when neither man protested with a “what secret army?” He continued, “I think I’ve proved my loyalty to you these past few months.”

  Kenneth had been part of the king’s retinue on his royal progress across the Highlands. He’d helped save the king’s life a couple of weeks ago when his brother’s henchman and a secret killing team of Saracen-style “assassins” had made attempts on it.

  “You have,” the king agreed.

  He shouldn’t have to prove himself, damn it. “If you doubt my battle skills, I will cross swords with any man—”

  MacLeod arched his brow in challenge, but it was the king who interrupted. “Your skills are not at issue.”

  “I am not as adept as Gordon was with the black powder, but I have some knowledge.”

  His friend and foster brother, William Gordon, had been a part of Bruce’s secret army and had died last year in an explosion. Kenneth suspected the unusual knowledge of the Saracen black powder was part of the reason he’d been on the team.

  MacLeod and the king exchanged another look, but neither said anything.

  Despite his intentions, Kenneth felt his temper prick. “This is about MacKay, isn’t it?”

  “He has expressed some concern,” the king admitted.

  “He says you are rash, have a hot temper, and lack discipline,” MacLeod said bluntly.

  Kenneth swallowed his anger. As he suspected, Bruce wanted him on the team, but he wouldn’t invite him to join unless MacKay went along with it. “If he means fierce, aggressive, and fearless, I won’t argue that. If you wanted discipline, I would think you’d be at a tournament of knights, not at the Highland Games. Highlanders aren’t disciplined. We fight to win.” He paused, seeing the hint of a smile play Bruce’s mouth. “If MacKay agrees, will you consider it?”

  After a moment, the king nodded.

  Kenneth turned to go have a frank discussion with his future brother-in-law, when MacLeod stopped him. “But you’ll have to prove yourself to me.”

  The way he said it suggested he wasn’t going to like whatever MacLeod had in mind. But proving himself wasn’t anything new; Kenneth had been doing it since the day he was born—even in that he’d come in second.

  Kenneth waited for his sister to leave the Hall before confronting the man only God knew why she intended to marry. He stepped in front of MacKay as he exited the tower on his way to the barracks, blocking his path. “I thought we had a deal.”

  MacKay smiled. “What deal?”

  He gritted his teeth, fighting for patience. “I wouldn’t stand in your way of marrying my sister, and you don’t stand in the way of me joining the secret army.”

  “I recall a conversation on the subject, but I don’t remember ever agreeing to anything. And if you think you could stop Helen from marrying me, I’d like to see you try.”

  Kenneth’s jaw locked, knowing he was right. His sister had made it clear that his opinion on her marriage didn’t matter. God save him from a modern “independent” woman! Sweet and biddable suited him just fine.

  The truth w