She forced herself not to wither under the intensity of his gaze. His voice when he spoke was deceptively calm, but she sensed he was one hair’s breadth away from snapping. “Are you saying you would be my mistress but not my wife?”
She lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I’m saying I will be neither. I’m returning to England, and that is the end of it.”
She turned away, but not before seeing the dangerous white lines tightening around his mouth. He was struggling to control his temper, and she knew her dismissiveness was testing the limits of that control. She suspected it had been a very long time since someone had refused Kenneth Sutherland anything, and coming from a pinched sparrow of a woman past her youth, she wagered it stung. But she knew it was better this way. He was a fighter, and showing any weakness or vulnerability would give him a place to attack.
“And the king?” he said. “Have you informed Bruce of your intentions?”
“Robert understands my position. He knows I have no wish to marry anyone—Scot or English. Nothing has changed that.” When he looked as if he might challenge that point, she added, “He will not learn of anything else from me, and even were he to discover what happened, such interludes are hardly uncommon.”
His teeth clenched so tightly, she could almost hear them grinding. “Aye, I believe you’ve pointed that out.”
Something in his voice made her uneasy. If she weren’t certain it was his pride speaking, she might think her refusal had genuinely hurt him.
She picked up the veil that was lying on her bed like an albatross and carefully folded it. “Now, if you will excuse me. I need to finish packing.” She peeked out at him from under the edge of her lashes. From the way his muscles were bunched up at his shoulders and his fists were clenching and reclenching, she thought he might argue with her. Her heart raced; she needed a way to be rid of him. “Don’t you have a competition to win?” She glanced out the window at the stands, which even now were beginning to fill. “It looks like they will be starting soon.”
He took a step toward her, and she held her breath when he reached out as if to take her arm again. But he glanced out the tower window behind her and let it drop.
For a long moment he stared at her as if he wanted to say something. Say quite a lot of something, actually. But then, he seemed to think better of it. He gave her a mocking bow. “My lady.”
And in one hard tug of a heartbeat, he was gone.
She thought she should feel relieved, but standing there alone, the room suddenly empty, she felt a loss that didn’t make sense. Nor could she escape the feeling that she’d just made a terrible mistake.
Eight
Kenneth tried to keep his mind clear, but all he could see was red. His temper was running loose, and the heat of battle was only making it run hotter. He grabbed the fist that was heading for his face and twisted it behind his opponent’s back, hearing a satisfying pop.
Not in the market for a husband, damn it!
With a cut of his foot behind the heel of the man now howling in pain from a dislocated arm, Kenneth knocked the other warrior to the ground, pinned him with his foot (which wasn’t necessary, as he wasn’t intending to get up), and claimed his victory—the third of the long morning.
All she’d wanted was a quick tumble in the hay. He didn’t know why it was angering him so much, but he kept seeing those big eyes looking at him wide and unflinchingly.Knowingly.
Profligate? Bloody hell!
The sun beat down on him as he jerked the helm off his head and stormed out of the arena, barely acknowledging the cheers of the crowd. For a man one win away from being declared champion and fulfilling his bargain with MacKay, thereby earning a place in Bruce’s secret army, he sure as hell wasn’t enjoying himself. All he could think about was the earlier exchange he’d had with Lady Mary.Mary of Mar, damn it to hell.
His blood still surged and his pulse still spiked just thinking about it. In fact, he was spending more time thinking about her than he was about his opponents. He knew he’d been lucky so far. None of the men he’d faced had given him much of a battle. But he needed to get himself under control for the final challenge.
He’d retired to the barracks between rounds to rest and have Helen rewrap his ribs, but his squire, Willy, had told him a new contestant had entered the ring and was creating quite a stir. It was probably just the mystery. The man had refused to give his identity. Nothing like a mystery to rile the crowd’s excitement. Hell, had he thought of it, Kenneth might have done it himself.
But Willy said the warrior was a skilled competitor, and nearly as strong as Robbie Boyd. Kenneth knew it had to be an exaggeration—he would have heard of such a man before.
He wasn’t worried, but he thought he’d see for himself.
He sat on a bench just on the other side of the gate reserved for the competitors and allowed Willy to wipe the blood and sweat from his brow and fetch him some ale thinned with water as he waited for the next competitors to take the field.
If anything stung more than his pride right now, it was the throbbing in his side. But his ribs were holding up well enough, and the pain wasn’t anything he couldn’t manage. He’d protected his side without being obvious, not wanting to give his opponents a target. Fortunately, the thin shirt andcotunthe contestants wore as armor hid the bindings. Often the wrestling event was conducted naked to the chest, but Bruce followed the more modern, “civilized” approach of light armor. Usually, Kenneth found it an impediment, but right now he was grateful for it.
His eyes kept straying to the king’s platform, although he knew she wouldn’t be there. Had she gone already, he wondered? It was embarrassing how tempted he was to go after her and stop her. Though why and how, he didn’t know. She’d already made her feelings clear. Damned clear.
She’drefusedhim. He still couldn’t believe it.
His mouth tightened and his temper boiled anew. She’d used him. If it weren’t so bloody humiliating, it would be almost humorous. He conveniently ignored the fact that he was the one that had given her the opportunity, and had started this whole mess, by taunting her in the stable.
What was important was that she’d tricked him. Used him, even though she’d known full well that the king wished for an alliance between them. She’d suspected that he wouldn’t have taken her to his bed if he knew her identity and had purposefully kept the truth from him to take her pleasure.
Why was it bothering him so much? It wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before. He knew there were other women who’d wanted no more from him than she did—a good tumble—but damn it, hearing it from her had been different.
