Mary turned to give instructions to one of the maidservants on in which trunk to place the limited jewels she had left, before answering. “As I said, King Edward has given the bishop leave to stay in Scotland for a few more months to try to effect a truce, but he is eager for a report, and the bishop thought it best if I give it to him personally.” At her suggestion, of course.
Margaret didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure that is all? You never did say what happened to you last night. I sent one of your ladies to see what was wrong, but she didn’t find you in the room.” Margaret paused meaningfully. “It’s strange. I noticed Sir Kenneth was missing as well. The king was quite vexed by his absence.”
Mary hid her blush by turning to give another instruction. Margaret suspected what had happened, but for some reason Mary couldn’t bring herself to confide in her. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to think about it. Being wicked no longer seemed like something she wanted to laugh about.
By the time she finished speaking with the servant, she’d managed to compose herself. “It was probably when I was at the beach. I needed some fresh air.” She knew she needed to give her sister-in-law more, so she added, “David will be at Alnwick Castle soon, and I should like to be there when he arrives. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen him.”
The longing in her voice left no doubt of the truth of that, and Margaret was instantly contrite. “Of course you do! I’m sorry, I can see why you are anxious to go. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have one of my babies taken away from me.” She shivered as if the mere thought had sent a chill through her blood.
How could Mary tell her it was so much worse than that? You couldn’t imagine the pain until you experienced it. It was one of the worst things any mother could ever go through.
“You are still young, Mary. Have you ever thought about having another child?”
The dull ache in her chest turned into a hard stab. A merciless stab. Even if she let herself admit that she yearned for another child, the price of having one was too high. Independence. Control over her own fate. “I believe you need a husband for that,” she said wryly.
Her words were punctuated by a crash, as the door slammed open.
A half-dozen faces turned as Sir Kenneth Sutherland strode into the room like some conquering barbarian.
Mary froze, feeling the blood drain from her face. He was looking right at her. Nay, “looking” was too benign for the fierce, all-consuming black glare that seemed to reach across the room and capture her in a steely grip.
Instinctively, she took a few steps back.
Despite the fury emanating from him, he cocked a lazy brow. “Going somewhere,Lady Mary?” The emphasis he put on her name sent chills racing up and down her spine. “I hope you weren’t planning to leave without saying goodbye.”
Mary wasn’t fooled by his pleasant banter. He was looking at her as if he’d like to throttle her. Every word was a threat, a challenge. An invitation to do battle.
His gaze skidded over the piles of clothing and open trunks. “There’s something we need to talk about before you finish packing.”
Her heart drummed frantically in her throat. This was how a deer must feel when it turned and found itself in the hunter’s sights, an arrow pointed at its heart. Trapped. Cornered. With nowhere to run.
She managed to find her voice. “You can’t come barging in here like—”
“Leave,” he ordered the other women in the room. “Your mistress and I have something to discuss in private.”
To Mary’s horror, they scatted like terrified mice. Only Margaret paused. But even she recognized his authority.
He had no authority, blast it! This was exactly what she sought to avoid.
Her sister-in-law gave her a worried look. “Will you be all right?”
Mary was tempted to say no, but she read the determination in every inch of his furious, combative face. From the clenched jaw, to the tight lips, to the piercing blue gaze locked on her, she knew that he was going to say his peace—with or without Margaret in the room.
She nodded. Margaret gave her a long, searching look and left.
The shock of his arrival had dissipated, and the brief pause while the others left was long enough to restore her courage. She straightened her back and turned to face him coolly. “What right do you have—”
She stopped, eyes widening when he tossed something on the bed. The dark green billowed in a silken cloud before landing in a pool on the ivory bedsheets, a stark, damning reminder of what she’d done.
“You forgot something before you ran off last night,Lady Mary.” There it was again, that hard emphasis on her name. “Or should I say,Countess.”
Mary cringed inwardly at the confirmation of her suspicions. He’d learned her identity. She’d known he wouldn’t be pleased when he discovered the truth. But she hadn’t expected this kind of extreme reaction to a little tweak of pride.
He closed the distance between them in a few steps, but she stood her ground, refusing to back away even though every instinct in her body urged her to run. Her heart slammed in her chest. Well over six feet of hard, angry warrior looming over her wasn’t exactly unintimidating.
But he wouldn’t hurt her. Somehow she knew that. For all his fire and quickness of temper, she sensed an undercurrent of control.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me and let me believe you were one of Lady Margaret’s attendants?”
