Sweet heaven! Bruce’s phantoms! Her husband had sent Scotland’s most famous band of warriors to protect her? She didn’t know how he managed to do such a thing, but it did soften the sting of his deception somewhat. It was a bit awe-inspiring to realize she had the most elite group of soldiers in Scotland looking after her. But how was Kenneth connected to them?
Sir Adam seemed to realize who they were as well. Yet it was only after Mary assured him that she knew one of the men that he agreed to let her go.
But before he left, Sir Adam strode over to Magnus. “You knew my nephew. He was part of this…secret army.”
Magnus appeared startled. “I did.”
“He died well?”
Magnus clenched his jaw. “He did,” he said solemnly. “Your nephew was one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
The two men held gazes for a long time. Finally, Sir Adam nodded, seemingly satisfied. He removed something from his pocket and slid it into Mary’s hands. “See that your husband gets this.”
Mary frowned, puzzled, staring at the folded piece of parchment. “I will.”
Her old friend seemed troubled, as if he were searching for the right words. “When he tells you…I hope one day you will forgive me. I was only trying to do what I thought best.”
Her frown deepened, not understanding. He’d done so much for her. But there was no time to question him. Magnus sent Sir Adam on his way, ordered her to go with two men he called Hawk and Viper, and took the two other men he called Hunter and Striker with him to find Kenneth.
They’d been riding for a few minutes when the first pain struck with rather alarming intensity. She pulled up on the reins of her horse so sharply that she nearly fell off.
The marginally less terrifying of the two—the one who smiled—swore and managed to get her horse back under control. “What’s wrong?”
Mary put her hand over her stomach. “I don’t know.” But she did know. “I think I might be…that is, I think the babe—”
It was too early. The baby wasn’t due for at least another month.
The one Magnus had called Viper swore. “Bloody hell, don’t tell me you’re having the baby right now?”
If she wasn’t wracked by another painful cramp, she might have laughed at the terrified expressions on the faces of the two men who themselves looked as if they were the bogeymen of children’s nightmares.
“Not right now,” she hedged.
“But the pains have started?” the man they called Hawk asked in a far gentler voice.
She nodded.
The man called Viper swore. He looked at the other man. “You take her. You’ve done it more than I have. I don’t think I can handle it again.”
“I thought you could handle anything, cousin. You actually sound scared.”
“And you’re not?”
Hawk grimaced. “Point taken. Damn, I wish Angel was here.”
Mary was trying to prevent herself from crying out, but a small sound must have escaped.
The two men swore in unison, although the one called Viper used a far more vile word. She found herself lifted from her saddle and put in front of the man who used to be smiling—he wasn’t smiling anymore.
She could feel the tension emanating from him in the seemingly interminable ride to the eastern seaboard, though it couldn’t have been more than a few miles. Every time a pain wracked her—the pains were erratic, but seemed to be about twenty minutes apart—she could feel the anxiety building in him.
“Just hold on, lass,” he said, trying to soothe her.
But the two men were clearly out of their element and their tension and anxiety increased her own. She wanted her husband. Where was he?
She must have spoken her question aloud.
“He’ll be here soon, lass,” Hawk said, leaving off the “I hope” that she heard unsaid.
