“You think nothing of putting yourself in the line of a blade, but whinge about a little medicine? By God, you men are all alike. I don’t know why I don’t wash my hands of the lot of you.”
He could see her blinking away tears and realized how worried she’d been about him. He took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I’m fine, Angel.” He used the war name the Highland Guard had taken to calling her as the team’s healer. “Thank you.”
She blinked up at him, nodded, and then proceeded to give him a long list of instructions on how to care for the wound and what to look for, and extracted his promise to send for her if it festered. MacKay gave him the name of a friendly barkeep in town who could be trusted with a message, though they’d previously devised other ways of communicating should the need arise.
Kenneth took the opportunity to apprise MacKay of what he’d learned from the English warriors. So far, it wasn’t much—which bothered him. “I would have expected more activity by now. More supplies going north to bolster the English-held castles for the additional men.”
“There is still plenty of time.”
“Aye.” It was true. He frowned.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I guess I would have expected Clifford to be more involved. He and Percy are close, and with his interests in the Borders”—Sir Robert Clifford had vast holdings in the North of England and had been given James Douglas’s lands in Scotland by Edward—“I would have expected him to stick close to Percy. But he seems to be coming and going from Carlisle Castle quite a bit. I was thinking of volunteering on his next—”
“Let us worry about Clifford. Your job is to stay close to Percy. Stay on task, Sutherland. You don’t want to screw this up.”
Kenneth’s jaw clenched, hearing the warning he didn’t need: he was on probation. He nodded. Message received loud and clear.
Realizing the stable lads wouldn’t stay away for long, Kenneth said, “You need to get out of here. I assume you have a plan?”
“I will go out the way I came in,” Helen said.
“Striker and Hunter are waiting outside,” MacKay said before Kenneth could object. “I came in up the postern gate from one of the fishing boats.” That explained the smell. “I left a very pungent bag of salmon near the kitchens to retrieve for my descent.” He smiled. “The stench should be enough to prevent too many questions.”
While Helen packed up her bag, MacKay asked in a soft voice, “Everything else is all right? They do not suspect anything?”
Kenneth shook his head. “The ruse worked. How is Dragon?”
MacKay frowned. “Angry, bitter, and short-tempered as usual, but he’ll mend.”
Kenneth had been surprised that the Yorkshireman was part of the Guard. From what he’d seen, the disgruntled, England-born, Scotland-bred Alex Seton was often at odds with the other members of the Guard—especially his partner, Robbie Boyd.
Kenneth thought about mentioning Lady Mary’s presence at the castle, but something held him back. He supposed he knew MacKay would warn him off, and he didn’t want to hear it.“Bàs roimh Gèill,”he said. Death before surrender.
MacKay repeated the favored parting words of the Highland Guard and gave his wife a too-long-for-Kenneth’s-mind kiss before retreating to his hiding place.
Kenneth was about to put on his surcote, when Helen told him, “Leave it.” She reached over and untied his shirt, pulling it loose from his breeches. “There, you look more rumpled.”
He reached down and picked up a handful of hay, tossing it over her head, laughing as she waved her hands in protest. Then he reached over, snatching a piece of hay from her hair, and grinned. “So do you.”
She shook her head in mock chagrin. “Lord knows you probably have far too much practice at this. I assume the English lasses are as silly and adoring as the Scottish?”
She was right about the practice, he thought with a wry turn of his mouth, his mind going back to the last time he’d been caught in the stable. But his grin fell at the mention of “silly and adoring.” Helen’s words were all too close to the accusations Mary had made. She was wrong. He didn’t surround himself only with women who flattered him. He was sure he’d had countless conversations on other subjects, though damned if he could think of any that hadn’t been with his sister—or Mary. But she held his attention more than any woman before, and he didn’t like half of what she said.
It also reminded him of what he’d learned before his sister’s arrival. But if Mary of Mar thought she was going to escape from him again, she was in for a surprise.
Arm in arm, they exited the stable, looking to all who might see like very contented lovers. Kenneth wasn’t surprised to see the men who Percy had watching him standing nearby, nor was he surprised when they followed him to the gate.
He pushed her out with a playful pat on the bottom. She giggled and turned around, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek, whispering for him to be safe, before scattering through the gate in the fading darkness.
Kenneth turned and started walking back toward the Hall. He’d taken only a few steps when he felt the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze on him. He looked across the courtyard and saw a woman rushing down the stairs and across the courtyard toward the donjon.Lady Mary. He knew it was her, just as he knew she’d seen him.
He swore, wondering how much she’d seen.
If her pace was any indication, it was enough.
He hoped to hell she hadn’t recognized Helen. At the same time, he realized what she would think if she hadn’t. His mouth fell in a grim line. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He had every right to be with another woman. It was she who had made clear exactly what she thought of him: a good tumble. He was just playing to profligate form.
