“I will explain what happened to the king after the competition,” he said to MacKay, who was still glaring at him from Helen’s side. “And apologize to Lady Mary.”
McKay gave him a hard look. “Aye, well in that you were fortunate. Lady Mary sent word late that she was not feeling well.”
Kenneth frowned, thinking it fortunate indeed. Almost too fortunate. A prickle of unease teased his consciousness.
“What’s that?” MacKay said, pointing to the veil.
Damn. “Nothing,” he said, scrunching the silk in his hand and tucking it more firmly against his side.
But MacKay wasn’t having it. His eyes narrowed on the swathe of fabric at his side. The very feminine swathe of fabric. “Don’t tell me you ignored the king’s invitation for a woman? What were you thinking? It seems you have as much discipline over your co—” He stopped, giving Helen an apologetic look. “Over your desire as you do over your temper.” He shook his head. “I bloody well hope she was worth it.”
Kenneth’s teeth clenched. Surprisingly, he realized, she was, but he wasn’t about to explain himself to MacKay. And he sure as hell didn’t like being scolded as if he were a wet-behind-the-ears squire.
Damn it, he was tired of this. He was tired of his boyhood nemesis lauding it over him as if he were his superior. He wasn’t. And today Kenneth was going to prove it.
“I need to get ready,” he said, refusing to let MacKay bait him. He needed to have his sister wrap his ribs. “Helen, if you would meet me in the barracks—”
“There you are,” Gregor MacGregor said, walking toward them from the loch. From the damp hair and drying cloth wrapped around his neck, Kenneth assumed he’d been bathing. Half the castle’s population—the female half—was probably still at the beach right now. “I thought you said you were going to escort Lady Mary to the feast?” His eyes were laughing. “I bet the king is wondering what happened to you both. I thought she wasn’t interested in a betrothal. But maybe you convinced her?”
Kenneth froze. The blood drained from his face. “Who?”
MacGregor’s brow creased with his confusion. “Lady Mary. I assumed after you saw us in the corridor that—”
“Mary of Mar,” Kenneth said tonelessly, feeling as if a stone had just dropped in his gut. She’d deceived him. The wee nun wasn’t a lady’s attendant at all, she was the widowed Countess of Atholl. The woman the king had picked out for him as a bride.
Why hadn’t she told him?
His mouth fell in a hard line, anticipating that he wasn’t going to like the explanation.
“You didn’t,” MacKay said under his breath, looking at the veil.
Kenneth stiffened. The tic in his cheek jumped. He glared at him, daring him to say a bloody word.
But like him, MacKay never backed down from a challenge. That was probably one of the reasons they were always at one another’s throats.
The bastard laughed. “My God, you didn’t even know who she was! I knew you’d find a way to screw this up. When the king finds out, your being champion isn’t going to matter.”
Kenneth clenched his fists, the laughter grating like nails under his skin. Worse, he knew MacKay was right. The king wasn’t going to take kindly to him seducing his former sister-in-law. So much for avoiding the gauntlet of dangerous women! He couldn’t have picked a more inappropriate bedmate if he’d tried.
MacGregor wasn’t any better. He let out a low whistle. “I doubt that was what the king had in mind to convince her.”
“There will be no reason for the king to find out,” he warned them.
Neither man disagreed, but neither did they agree.
Helen gazed up at him with a worried look on her face. She knew how much this meant to him and feared he might have just done something he could not undo. “You’d better do something to make it right,” she said. “And I’d do it quickly. Lady Anna told me Lady Mary is leaving soon.”
His blood spiked. Lady Mary wasn’t going anywhere, damn it. Kenneth turned on his heel and stormed toward the donjon, rage surging through his veins. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this much anger toward a woman. Women were easy. They didn’t give him trouble. He had no reason to get angry with them. But it seemed Lady Mary possessed a singular ability to elicit any number of strange reactions from him.
“Don’t take too long,” McKay taunted. “The Games are about to begin. You wouldn’t want to be late and forfeit your place in the competition.”
Kenneth shot him a black look. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”
He and his soon-to-be betrothed were going to have a very short conversation.
The flurry of activity going on around them didn’t stop Margaret from trying to question her.
“But why must you go now? I thought you planned to stay until after the feast tomorrow. There will be a great celebration to close the Games.”
