Ah hell, he guessed it had been more noticeable than he realized. Kenneth hid his reaction behind a wicked smile.
“I was,” he said.
Lady Moira nearly yelped with pleasure, clapping her hands together. “I knew it. To whom?”
“I’ll leave that to you to figure out,” he said with a playful wink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I see my sister, and I need to have her patch me up so I’ll be ready for tomorrow’s competition.”
It was only partially a lie. The blow he’d taken across the ribs was starting to throb beneath his habergeon. The shirt of mail offered scant protection against the impact of steel on bone, and he suspected he had a fairly nasty bruise brewing. He would see Helen to get it fixed up, butafterhe caught up with his little nun, who was weaving her way through the crowd at nearly a run in her effort to avoid him.
She was only running from the inevitable. Almost as certain as he was that he would win tomorrow, Kenneth was certain that before the night was out, he would have her under him. Or perhaps on top of him.
He felt a pleasant tightening in his groin just thinking about it.
She’d just passed through the gate into the castle when he saw her stop and turn.
“Mary, wait!” he heard someone—a woman—say. He turned, recognizing the speaker as Lady Margaret MacKenzie. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
Mary. He should have guessed. A common, unremarkable name that would draw no attention—just like the rest of her. He was only a few feet away, but she hadn’t seen him yet. “I think the sun—”
She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening and mouth caught in an O of surprise as she saw him. On such a severe countenance, it shouldn’t be so sensual. But it was the same expression that had thrown him over the edge in the barn.
In the sunlight, without the glasses hiding half her face, he got his first really good look at her. Her hair was still hidden beneath an ugly black veil and wimple, her gown was still boxy and shapeless, her skin was still pale, her features were still too sharp—especially her cheekbones, which stuck out prominently over sunken cheeks—and there was still an overall gray, ghostlike quality to her, but on closer scrutiny he knew his instincts had been right. The hint of prettiness and intentional obscuring of beauty was even more obvious in the stark light of day.
There was no hiding her eyes, and they were spectacular. Round and overlarge in her hollow-cheeked face, they were a remarkable greenish-blue, and framed by thick, long lashes that seemed incongruously soft on such an otherwise brittle exterior. Her mouth, too, was soft and full, with a sensual dip that made him think of a bow on a package he wanted to unwrap. Preferably with his tongue.
As soon as their eyes met, she instinctively dropped her gaze as if hiding her eyes from his view.
Hiding. That was exactly what she was doing. The question was why, and from what.
“Lady Mary, Lady Margaret,” he said, approaching the two women with a bow.
Lady Margaret turned to him with a gasp. She gaped at him, and then at Mary. “You’ve met?”
He grinned, seeing the blush rise to Mary’s cheeks.
“Briefly,” she said tightly.
The lass really needed to relax. She was pulled as tight as a bowstring.
“Nottoobriefly,” he corrected, unable to stop himself from teasing her. He liked seeing the color in her cheeks. “I’m looking forward to furthering our acquaintance. I hope you are not bored with the Games already? Perhaps they are notexcitingenough for you?”
He knew he was being horrible, but he couldn’t help teasing her.
She wasn’t shy, though. Her eyes met his full force, flashing at him in outrage.
“Oh, it was exciting, wasn’t it, Mary?” Lady Margaret interposed.
He thought she nodded, but her jaw was clenched so tight it was hard to tell. “I’m sure Sir Kenneth has heard enough accolades for the day, Margaret. He doesn’t need to hear them from us.”
She gave him a smile that made him frown. She had a way of making it sound unflattering. He was used to reading a certain amount of feminine admiration in a woman’s gaze, but with her there was only cool challenge. He didn’t think he liked it.
“There is still the sword dance to be held this afternoon. If Lady Margaret doesn’t object, I would be happy to escort you.”
Lady Margaret looked at him in surprise. “Why would I object?”
“No!” Mary said over her. Her blush deepened as she realized she’d spoken too harshly. “I mean, I regret that I must return to the castle. I’m feeling unwell.”
Lady Margaret became immediately concerned. She put her hand on Mary’s arm. “Is that why you rushed off?” She laid the back of her hand across Mary’s forehead. “You do look flushed.”
