“Aye; Welford is surprised by how well the injury has healed.”
Not surprising, since it hadn’t been the physician’s skills that had healed it. “I feel fortunate indeed.”
“I will see you on the practice yard?”
Kenneth nodded. “If I can track down my squire. I sent him to sharpen my sword some time ago. I fear it has grown dull with disuse.”
Much like his battle skills. Kenneth had been in the peak of physical condition and battle readiness when he’d arrived. He intended to be ready when the time came both for war and for another chance at MacKay. But how the hell was he going to do that if he was sluggish from holding back?
Stepping away from Percy, Kenneth started back toward the armory.
Upon entering, he found his squire speaking to a very irate young Earl of Atholl. David’s voice was raised, and it was obvious he was complaining about Felton to a sympathetic ear. Despite the circumstances, Kenneth was actually relieved to see some emotion on the lad’s face. For his age, David had an unnaturally blank expression most of the time, making it difficult to guess his thoughts.
Kenneth’s status as hero and rescuer had taken a blow since the wedding. It was clear young Atholl didn’t know what to make of the sudden marriage, and his behavior had been watchful and wary.
The two squires fell immediately silent upon seeing him.
Willy jumped up guiltily. “My lord, I was just coming to find you. I’ve finished your sword.”
Kenneth gave him a look that told him he knew better. But he’d deal with his squire later. He took the sword from him—one of the shorter arming swords—and after giving it a brief inspection, fastened it in a scabbard around his waist. “Wait for me outside. I should like to speak to David for a moment.”
Willy jumped to do his bidding, shooting a glance of apology to David on the way. But it wasn’t necessary. Kenneth had no intention of adding to the lad’s woes.
When they were alone, Kenneth sat on the bench beside David that had been recently vacated by his squire. The wariness had returned to the boy’s face as he resumed sharpening the blade of Felton’s sword.
“May I see that?” Kenneth asked.
David frowned, but after a moment handed it to him. Kenneth held it up to the light streaming through the wooden slats of the building, inspecting the edge, and then ran his gauntleted finger over the blade. “’Tis fine work. Though I take it Sir John does not agree?”
David’s mouth fell in a belligerent line. He knew better than to speak against his lord.
“I’m afraid this is my fault,” Kenneth said.
David shot him a look of surprise. “It is?”
He nodded. “Aye. Sir John hoped to marry your mother. He’s angry at me for doing so, and since he can’t take it out on me,” he lifted his arm, “I’m afraid you are an easy scapegrace.”
“I thought he was going to marry my mother, too.”
“Are you upset that he didn’t?”
The boy eyed him with far too much composure and maturity. It was hard to believe he was only three and ten. He shrugged noncommittally. “It was a surprise, that’s all.”
He bowed his head and resumed working on the blade. Kenneth debated what to say. David was obviously confused. The lad deserved an explanation. “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?”
Puzzled, David nodded.
“Weneededto marry quickly,” he said meaningfully. But it was clear the lad didn’t understand. “Your mother is carrying my child.”
Shocked, David’s hand slipped. He would have sliced his finger had he not been wearing gloves. Once he’d composed himself, he turned to Kenneth. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I suspect she’s embarrassed and was waiting for the right time.” Belatedly, Kenneth realized that she might not appreciate him telling her son.
“That’s why she’s seemed so happy lately,” David said, almost to himself. He thought for a minute, appearing to try to sort out his own feelings. “I’m glad for her. My mother has had a difficult time.”
Once again, Kenneth was struck by how unnaturally composed and mature David seemed. Because of his long captivity? “As have you,” Kenneth said quietly.
David met his gaze and shrugged.
