If they hadn’t been, they were now. But Kenneth didn’t care. All he could think about was seeing that bastard on the ground, and finally putting the matter of who was best behind them.
And he was close, damn it. He could feel it. One mistake, that was all he needed. One little opening and he’d have him.
“The ribs are fine,” he managed, his breath just as short as MacKay’s. “How’s your jaw?” Kenneth feigned with his right and landed another satisfying uppercut with his left to MacKay’s jaw. “Helen isn’t going to be too happy if it’s broken for your wedding.”
Something flashed in the other man’s eyes.
Guilt? Kenneth shook his head. “She doesn’t know about this, does she?” He laughed. “Maybe there won’t be a wedding to worry about.”
MacKay swore and launched himself at Kenneth, pummeling and swinging with a violent ferocity that took every ounce of his skill to defend against.
MacKay had to tire eventually. Kenneth just had to be patient awhile longer.
Finally, they broke apart, both bending over heaving great gulps of air as they fought to breathe.
Unconsciously, Kenneth glanced toward the castle and stiffened. A handful of guardsmen were gathered in the yard, and a small figure had just emerged from the donjon and was making her way down the tower stairs.
He looked away quickly, but it hadn’t been quick enough. He’d made a mistake. MacKay had caught the movement and recognized what was happening. “If you want to go after her, I’ll wait,” he taunted.
Kenneth bit out something foul, telling him he could go do something that was physically impossible.
“Hit a nerve, did I?” MacKay added. “Don’t tell me you actuallywantedto marry the lass.”
Kenneth felt his blood spike but tamped it down.Stay cool. But his fists clenched at his sides with the urge to retaliate. It wasn’t in his nature not to fight back—or to be patient, for that matter.
MacKay let out a low whistle. “I never thought I’d see the day. I guess the lady wasn’t impressed?”
“Shut the hell up, MacKay.”
“Or what?”
Kenneth held himself still, refusing to be baited. But the urge to wipe that taunting grin off the face behind the helm was nearly overpowering.
“Or maybe that was all she wanted? Is that it, Sutherland? Tell me, do you get paid a fee like a prized steed? Aye, a stud fee.” He laughed.
That was it. The last thread Kenneth held on his temper snapped. He lunged toward MacKay, not thinking about anything other than shutting him up.
He lost control, and with it, the battle. MacKay took full advantage of his anger, lulling him into a false sense of victory before snatching it back at the last minute. MacKay feigned submission, bending over and letting Kenneth pound on him until he was exhausted. Then he rose from the apparent dead and attacked, striking blows against Kenneth’s weak side until he collapsed on the ground.
He must have passed out. Either that or he was deaf to the cheers of the crowd, because he never heard the call for MacKay’s victory.
He’d lost.Lost!
He stayed on the ground, not wanting or having the strength to get up.
MacKay stood over him, looking down on him with that superior smirk of his. “Your temper, Sutherland. It will get you every time. Until you can learn to control it, you’ll never be one of the best.”
The worst part was that he was right. Kenneth had let his temper get to him. Had letherget to him.
He picked himself off the ground and struggled to his feet, as he’d done many times before. Too many times. The knowledge burned in his gut. He’d been so close…
But this wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to give up. He’d find a way into Bruce’s army, if it killed him.
And heaven help Mary of Mar if their paths ever crossed again. He would teach the wanton little siren in nun’s clothing a lesson she would never forget.
Nine
Mid-January 1310
