She felt the gasp rise in her throat and only barely managed to prevent it from escaping. She could only hope her expression gave no hint of the panic surging in her chest. She nodded, as if it had merely been a polite comment, as innocuous as it sounded.
But it wasn’t polite or innocuous. His meaning rang clear to her. The moment she passed through the entry of the Great Hall, she started to run. Only later, when she’d reached the safety of her chamber, did she remember her attendants.
Twelve
By the time they neared the place in the royal Ettrick Forest where they would “surprise” Bruce’s men who were lying in wait to attack the supply cart from Carlisle, it was taking everything Kenneth had not to give Felton the fight for which he was so obviously clamoring. During the long ride west from Berwick Castle, Percy’s champion knight took every opportunity to insult, discredit, and argue with him about every facet of the mission.
Kenneth knew he should be used to it. Hell, he’d heard far worse from MacKay over the years. And after the past few months of nonstop prodding by the other members of the Highland Guard, he’d thought he had a steel rein on his temper and ice in his veins.
He did. Except, it seemed, when it came to one subject. Each time Felton mentioned Lady Mary—which seemed to be in every other sentence—Kenneth could feel that steel rein start to slip between his fingers. The muscles in his shoulders were so knotted with tension, he’d developed a damned crick in his neck.
If Felton was to be believed, they were as good as betrothed. And if Felton’s relationship with the young earl was any indication, it was probably true.
David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl, had come along as one of Percy’s squires. At dawn, when they’d gathered in the courtyard to depart, Kenneth had taken one look at Lady Mary’s young son and had argued against it.
“It’s too dangerous for the lad,” he’d said to Percy. “He would be a valuable prisoner if something were to go wrong and Bruce’s men were to get hold of him.”
It was the truth. Hell, Bruce would love to get his hands on the young Earl of Atholl. So why was he trying to prevent it?
Percy had seemed about to agree when Felton interrupted. “If Sutherland is telling the truth, the danger should be minimal.” His voice left no doubt as to his thoughts on the matter. “If he isn’t, I will watch out for the lad. He won’t come to any harm under my command. He’ll stay in the rear, well protected and well away from any danger. Besides, the lad is ready to see action beyond the practice yard, aren’t you, David.”
The solemn lad with his mother’s startling blue-green eyes had looked uncertain, but at Felton’s praise he puffed up considerably. “Aye, my lord,” he said to Percy. To Kenneth, he cast an unfriendly glare. “I’m ready, and I should like to be there to see the usurper’s phantoms captured.”
The lad sounded so bloody English, it was hard to believe his father had died for that “usurper.”
Kenneth hadn’t known the previous Earl of Atholl well, but from the way he was spoken of amongst Bruce and the Guard, Lady Mary’s former husband had been a fierce patriot, gallant knight, and skilled warrior. An honest-to-God hero, Kenneth thought, not knowing why his jaw was clenched so tight.
In any event, Felton’s recommendation and the boy’s eagerness proved enough for Percy. “’Twill be good experience for the lad. I was his age when I served as squire in my first battle. Just keep a good eye on him, Felton.”
Felton nodded as Percy rode forward and cast a smug look of victory at Kenneth.
It was to David that Felton spoke of Lady Mary during the long day of riding, but Kenneth knew it was more for his benefit than the lad’s. Felton was making his claim loud and clear. The boy seemed thrilled by the prospect of a union between his mother and the lauded knight.
Kenneth, however, felt his blood growing hotter and hotter by the minute. His teeth had been clenched for so long his jaw had start to hurt. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was jealous.
Of a woman. How bloody ridiculous! He had his pick of just about any woman he wanted; he didn’t need to trouble himself withone. Even one who made his blood rush hot just standing next to her.
The changes in her appearance should have made him happy. God knows it helped explain his strange attraction to the lass. But he wasn’t happy about it at all. He wanted her back the way she was, when he had been the only one to see the passion beneath the colorless facade.
Suddenly, an image of her softly rounded bottom sprang to mind. Well, perhaps he wouldn’t take backallthe changes. The curves could stay.
He wasn’t jealous. The only reason Felton’s taunts were grating on him was that he intended to teach Lady Mary a lesson and didn’t want anyone interfering.
Kenneth hadn’t forgotten how she left him, or how it cost him the battle with MacKay. Her ready dismissal of him still grated. Both at Dunstaffnage and the day before.
“I’d almost forgotten.”
To a man whose first instinct was to fight, those words were like a gauntlet tossed at his feet. A challenge he couldn’t resist. And this was a battle he had no intention of losing. For a man who preferred to keep his challenges confined to the battlefield, he was surprised by how much he was looking forward to it.
Aye, he was going to make her pay for all the trouble she’d caused him. First with that delectable little body of hers, and then with her heart. By the time he was done with her, she’d be looking at him like he hung the damned moon. His mouth curled with annoyance, glancing at the riders behind him. Not unlike the way her son was looking at Felton.
“How much farther?” Felton bit out, coming up beside him. “It will be dark soon, and if this attack of yours is real, we should be getting into position. If this is some kind of trick, I’ll see you hung by your—”
“Relax,” Kenneth said, as if he were pacifying an over-eager bairn. “We’re almost there. If this is a trick, you’ll know soon enough.”
Felton flushed angrily. “Is that supposed to convince me?”
Kenneth gave him a hard look, letting some of the rage he’d been bottling inside show. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I don’t give a shite what you think, Felton. Hell, I’ve heard you boast countless times what would happen to Bruce’s phantoms if you ever came face-to-face with one. Well, here’s your chance. If you’re worried that you and half a bloody garrison of men aren’t enough to defeat a few rebels—”
