The Recruit (48 page)

Sir Adam held her eyes and nodded.

“I will leave some of my men, just in case Sutherland attempts to return here,” Sir
John said.

They understood his meaning: if Sir Adam thought to warn Kenneth, he wasn’t going
to be able to do so.

But wherever he was, Mary knew Kenneth would find a way to get them out of this. He
would not leave her to face danger alone. She only wished it hadn’t taken this to
make her realize it.

Despite the urge to race through the gate to reach Mary, Kenneth forced himself to
watch the appropriately named Huntlywood Castle from the safety of the surrounding
forest. His atypical caution was rewarded when he saw the increased guard at the gate.
Closer inspection of the arms identified at least one of the men as Felton’s.

Damn
. He knew Felton couldn’t have beat him here from Berwick, so he must have already
been here—which meant Kenneth had just lost whatever advantage he’d had in time.

He thought quickly. Not knowing what awaited him inside, he would have to sneak his
way past the guard. He decided to employ one of the Highland Guard’s favorite tactics:
diversion and speed.

After removing anything he might need from the bags tied to his saddle, he gave the
trusty steed a fond stroke on his muzzle and thanked him for his faithful service.
Even though he knew the stallion was spent and would be of no further help to him
tonight, it was with much regret that he gave him a smack on the flank and urged him
to the castle.

The horse shot off through the trees, heading for the gate. Kenneth circled around
to the opposite side of the castle on foot, waiting for the cry to go up when the
horse was sighted before making his move.

He had just reached his position when he heard, “Rider approaching.”

He hoped it would cause just long enough of a distraction for him to climb over the
palisade wall. He was more than a little grateful for all the times MacLeod had forced
him to lift himself up from a dead hang. Still, without a good grip and laden down
with weapons and mail, it wasn’t easy to propel himself over in one smooth—and silent—move.
He was just fortunate that Sir Adam had yet to build the much higher stone wall that
he had planned.

He’d chosen a place in the wall opposite the gate, in a dark corner between the stables
and armory. Slipping into the shadows, he drew his sword and waited to see whether
anyone had noticed him.

But his ruse had worked. He could still hear the commotion at the gate where the riderless
horse had arrived. As he slid around the armory, he could tell that something indeed
was wrong. There were too many people around. Too many soldiers. He counted at least
a half-dozen of Felton’s men. But interestingly, they weren’t interacting with Sir
Adam’s men. Indeed, it seemed as if the two groups were eyeing one another suspiciously.

With his fear for his wife intensifying, he didn’t hesitate a minute longer. As soon
as he had an opening he took it, crossing the yard and climbing the stairs to the
tower.

Once inside, he took a quick scan of the Hall. Noting Mary’s absence, he headed up
the stairwell in front of him. His heart pounded as he raced up the two flights. It
was almost as if he sensed even before he opened the door that she wasn’t there. Still,
he felt a hard jarring in his chest when only dark silence greeted him.

Where the hell was she?

Perhaps the babe’s room?

Holding out hope, he raced up the next flight of stairs, opened the door, and felt
an even harder jarring than the first when he found only emptiness.

His heart was pounding even faster now, panic slipping in.

She had to be here. He would find her if he had to tear apart every inch of this castle—Felton’s
men or not. The entire English army wouldn’t be enough to keep him from her.

But it would be easier with help. Those pottery jars he’d seen earlier in the trunk
would work, but the trunk was gone. Which left Sir Adam. The older knight cared for
Mary; Kenneth just hoped he was right about how much.

Retracing his steps down the stairs, Kenneth stopped at the level below Mary’s room.
Not bothering to announce himself, he pushed open the door.

Sir Adam stood by the small window staring out into the yard below. Glancing over
his shoulder toward the door, his gaze met Kenneth’s. “I wondered how long it would
take you to arrive. The horse was a clever distraction.”

Kenneth strode into the room. “Where is she?”

“Felton took her a short while ago.”

Kenneth’s heart dropped. “Took her? Where?”

“To Berwick Castle.” Sir Adam’s eyes narrowed. “He came here looking for you. He has
a warrant for your arrest.”

Kenneth swore.

“Aren’t you going to ask the charges?”

“Do they matter?”

Sir Adam shook his head. “I suppose not.”

Kenneth tried to steel himself against the disappointment he saw in the other man’s
eyes, but it didn’t work. Betrayal was never easy, and this one was particularly difficult.
He hoped one day they would meet again as true allies.

“How long ago did they leave?” he asked.

“Not long. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes.”

“Then I still have time to catch them.”

“What makes you think I won’t have you arrested right now?”

Kenneth stilled, eyeing the other man carefully. “Because I know you love her and
want her to be happy.”

“And you think you can make her happy?”

“I know I can.” He paused. “I also don’t think you are as opposed to Bruce as it appears.”

The other man bristled. “My fealty is to King John.”

“Balliol is deposed and living in France. You know he will never be accepted again
as king.”

Sir Adam didn’t argue.

“I suspect that is why you have not told the English of your knowledge of the Saracen
powder.”

The older knight stiffened. Kenneth could see he was going to deny it and cut him
off. “I know about the explosion on the bridge when Mary lost her sister. It was you,
wasn’t it?”

Sir Adam paled. “My nephew shared our family secret, it seems. I suspected as much.
It was an accident. Does she know?”

Kenneth shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But you will tell her.”

“Aye. But you can make it up to her. I need your help.”

Sir Adam considered him for a long moment. Kenneth could see the warring going on
inside him between the fealty he owed his deposed king and the love he had for Mary.
Eventually, his shoulders sagged, as if the battle had proved too much. “Tell me what
you need.”

The ride to the castle could be done in as little as an hour, but due to Mary’s condition
and the darkness, the journey was progressing at a much slower pace.

She could claim to be slowing them down purposefully,
but she was genuinely uncomfortable. Her back had started to hurt, and she felt an
occasional cramp.

Despite his anger toward her, Sir John was a chivalrous knight, and when quietly reminded
of her condition, he slowed the pace considerably.

Her heart jumped at every little sound. She scanned the darkness, half expecting her
husband to jump out of the blackness like some avenging apparition. She knew it was
silly to think he could take on nearly twenty English soldiers by himself, but part
of her knew he would try if he could. The other part feared he would do exactly that.

Where was he?

A short while later, she had her answer. They were a couple of miles from the castle
when they neared the bridge over the Tweed.

Riding near the back of the procession, at first all she heard was a shout, followed
immediately by a burst of action in the men around her. Sir John shouted orders, and
a dozen of his men circled around her and David. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s
happening?”

No one answered. She managed to catch a glimpse through the line of mailed soldiers
in front of her of a solitary torchlight about twenty yards ahead. A man stood holding
it. She didn’t need to see the yellow shield with three red stars to recognize her
husband.

Her pulse jumped and a soft cry tore from her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes. She
didn’t know whether it was happiness at seeing him alive or fear that he might not
be so much longer. It was Kenneth. But what was he doing?

“Release my wife,” his voice rang out clear and strong, cracking the darkness like
a whip.

Sir John moved forward a few feet to address him. “You are in no position to be giving
orders. You are under arrest.”

“Very well, but Lady Mary has nothing to do with this.
My men are on the other side of this bridge. Let her go, and I will put down my sword
and come to you.”

Sir John laughed. “Why would I do that?”

She could almost hear her husband’s shrug. “Would you prefer to try to catch me?”
He paused. Mary was sure they were both thinking about the last time they’d done battle.
“Look,” Kenneth continued. “Your fight is not with Mary. I know you do not wish to
see her hurt. Let my men take her, and you will have what you want: me. This could
be over quickly—you decide. But don’t take too long; my men are growing restless.”

And just like that, a smattering of torches appeared out of the darkness on the other
side of the bridge.

If Sir John thought Kenneth was bluffing about support, he quickly reconsidered. “Fine.
Throw down your weapons and surrender.”

“I have your word as a knight that you will let her go?”

Sir John stiffened. “You do.”

“I’ll put down my weapons and walk to that tree. Just in case you are tempted to reconsider
before she is across the bridge.”

“Very well,” Sir John spit out, obviously irritated by the slight at his honor.

She heard a few thumps of weapons being tossed to the ground, and then after a few
minutes, Sir John motioned for her to come forward. “Go,” he said.

Mary turned to David. They both knew Sir John would never let him go. “I’m sorry,
Mother.”

“I am, too.” Not knowing how long it would be before she saw him again, she leaned
over and threw her arms around him. “Don’t forget what I told you,” she whispered.

Drawing back, she saw him nod. The venomous glance he cast in Sir John’s direction
told her that her son’s admiration of the English knight had taken a beating from
which it might not recover. Perhaps, Sir John had done
them a favor by taking her. His actions might help sway her son when the time came.

Maneuvering her horse through the wall of English soldiers, she passed by Sir John
without a glance. Catching sight of Kenneth, their eyes met for the first time. Her
heart lurched. She had to fight the urge to run to him. “Go,” he said. “Don’t worry
about me. I’ll be fine.”

Their eyes held. He seemed to be asking her to trust him.

She did. But she dearly hoped his plan included more than surrendering himself for
her.

Nodding, she gave him one long last look and steered her horse toward the bridge.
The sound of hooves clopping over the wooden planks brought back memories of the last
time she’d tried to flee England.

Her heart squeezed.
Please let this turn out differently
.

She was surprised to be surrounded not by Kenneth’s men, but by Sir Adam’s.

“Come,” Sir Adam said. “We don’t have much time.”

“Wait,” Mary said. “We can’t just leave him. Where are we going?”

“To the coast. Don’t worry. He will catch up with us.”

It took every ounce of her faith in him to force herself to agree. “Thank you,” she
said. “Thank you for helping us.”

Her old friend nodded. “I hope this time turns out better than the last.”

So did she.

They took off at a much faster pace, her discomfort temporarily pushed aside. The
bridge was not yet out of view behind them when Mary heard a sound that shook her
to her core: a loud boom, followed by a crack of lightning. The memories came back
to her. It was just like before, except this time there was no storm to explain the
strange sounds.

She glanced around behind her and cried out when she saw a burst of flames in the
distance. The bridge was burning. “Wait! We have to go back. We have to help him.”

Sir Adam reached over to grab her reins, preventing her from doing just that.

“That won’t be necessary.”

She stilled at the sound of the disembodied voice coming from the darkness ahead of
them. She looked to Sir Adam, but he seemed just as confused as she did. The half-dozen
men he’d brought with him fanned out around her.

She kept her gaze fixed in the direction of the voice. A few moments later, one of
the most terrifying-looking warriors she’d ever seen stepped into a beam of moonlight.
She shivered, instantly recoiling in fear.

Good God, he was even more heavily muscled than her husband! Four additional impressively
tall and muscular warriors came out behind him. All wore blackened nasal helms, black
war coats, and oddly fashioned plaids around their shoulders. Even their skin appeared
to be darkened with something. They seemed to blend into the night like phantoms.
Bruce’s phantoms!
she realized. Could these men be the phantom warriors who’d struck terror in the
hearts of the English?

She was so scared, it took her a moment to recognize the smile beneath the helm. “My
lady,” he said with a bow. “We meet again.”

His face half hidden beneath a ghastly looking steel nasal helm, Mary found herself
staring into the eyes of the fearsome warrior Robert had introduced her to last summer:
Magnus MacKay, Kenneth’s brother by marriage.

Twenty-six