She knew what he was offering, and was deeply touched by it, but she would not do that to him. She would not take advantage of his feelings for her and marry him just to give her child a name. She cared about him too much to hurt him, as her feelings—or lack of them—were bound to do. “I know,” she said softly. “And I thank you for it, but I can do this on my own.”
He nodded as if he’d expected her to say as much. “Then we will go to France in the spring as planned.”
Despite the fact that she had to leave Berwick, Mary felt a surge of relief knowing not all her plans had gone awry. And it was comforting to have someone share her secret.
Sir Adam stood. “I will have my men escort you to Ponteland tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said. He started to turn away, but she stopped him. She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten to ask. She took out two silver coins from the bag she wore at her girdle. “I was planning to send a man around to the local churches. Would you do it for me, and give him this for his troubles?”
Mary did not have to explain, and he didn’t have to ask why. Sending men to the local churches to inquire about her sister was a common request. He took the coins reluctantly but did not comment. He didn’t need to. She knew how he felt: that this was a waste of time and money, and that her inability to put her sister’s death behind her was preventing her from moving past it.
The subject of her sister had always been a difficult one between them. Ever since that night, he’d been uncomfortable speaking of Janet. Almost as if he, too, felt some of the blame for what had happened. But he’d had nothing to do with it. If it was anyone’s fault, it was hers.
She glanced out the window again and frowned. This time, it wasn’t just Sir Kenneth and her son, but Sir John as well. They seemed to be having some kind of argument, but after a moment, Davey left without the eager bounce in his step.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It seems Davey has taken a liking to Sir Kenneth, and I admit, it makes me uneasy.”
Sir Adam’s brow furrowed. “You mean you do not know?”
“Know what?”
“It’s the talk of the castle. Sutherland saved the boy’s life.”
By saving the young earl’s life, Kenneth had become an instant hero among the English ranks and, in the process, had made a bitter enemy. If Felton hadn’t liked him before, he despised him now. Not only had the heralded knight been bested by one of the rebels and suffered the indignity of being set on his arse, he’d also nearly been responsible for the death of the young Earl of Atholl. That Kenneth had been the one to save him, he seemed to take as a personal insult. The fact that the young earl seemed to have transferred his idolatry only made it worse.
Kenneth had just learned from the lad that his mother was once again intending to flee, when Felton interrupted and sent the boy on some fool’s errand. “Stay away from my squire, Sutherland. I do not wish the lad to pick up any bad habits, and you are keeping him from his duties.”
Kenneth quirked a brow. “Yoursquire? I thought David squired for Percy.”
Felton flushed angrily. “As his champion and the best knight in his retinue, Lord Percy has entrusted me with the earl’s training.”
Kenneth wanted to ask him whether that included falling on his arse, but he knew it was wise not to antagonize the knight any further. He was already out for blood as it was, and Kenneth knew Felton would be watching him closely. He needed to keep his temper in check.
But Felton made it damned hard to turn the other cheek. The knight leaned closer so his words would not be overheard, his eyes narrow and hard. “I know why you’re doing this. But it won’t work. Winning over the boy won’t win over his mother.”
The mention of Lady Mary was enough to loosen Kenneth’s tongue. “And getting him killed will?”
Felton exploded in fury. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with what happened! No one could have anticipated they would attempt to escape by jumping over a cliff. The earl was well protected.”
“Then how the hell did he nearly die, and I end up with this?” Kenneth lifted his injured arm, which was stinging like the devil. “I warned you it was too dangerous to take the lad. Next time don’t let your attempt to impress a lady affect your judgment.”
“By God, if you weren’t injured right now you would pay for your arrogance. I am still the best knight around here, and I won’t have a disloyal, opportunistic Highland traitor question my decisions. Winning a few barbarian games doesn’t make you a champion. Here, you are nothing until you prove otherwise.”
The smug bastard had managed to strike a nerve—a rather raw nerve. Anger ran hot through Kenneth’s veins and being wise was forgotten. “I don’t know, perhaps you could use a little Highland instruction. The ‘barbarians’ seemed to have put you on your arse easily enough.”
The look of raw hatred in the other man’s eyes almost made Kenneth regret his words. Almost.
“I’ll see you pay for that, you traitorous bastard.”
“You can sure as hell try.”
They might have come to blows—injured arm or not—if Kenneth hadn’t glanced over to the gate and seen something that made his blood run cold and his anger at Felton fizzle like water on hot rocks.
Jesus. Christ. God damn it to hell. A string of more oaths and blasphemes followed—silently, thank God. But it took every scrap of his training not to react. Keeping his expression carefully blank, Kenneth looked away from the group of women entering the castle gate, but fear prickled on his skin like a sheet of ice.
Before Felton could reply or notice his distraction, he added, “I will look forward to it.” And walked away, heading toward the practice yard where the women had gone.
