The Recruit (50 page)

At least she knew how one of the men had earned his name. She didn’t think she wanted
to know the other. “Viper” had all kinds of ominous connotations that seemed to fit
the menacing-looking warrior. The captain—Hawk—helped her into the boat, trying to
make her as comfortable as possible. She could see the wide-eyed look of fear spread
over the crew as her situation became known, which didn’t relax her any. Mary was
scared and in considerable pain, but she did her best to hide it from the others,
seeing their helplessness.

She tried to take long, deep breaths, thinking it would calm her. It didn’t, but at
least it kept her mind focused on something other than the prolonged absence of her
husband. She could feel the men getting restless. Obviously, sitting in wait a few
miles from three thousand English soldiers was making them uneasy.

Surely, Kenneth should be here by now? Her party had been forced to travel at a much
slower pace; he should have caught up. What if he hadn’t been able to get away? What
if they’d taken him to the pit prison in Berwick Castle? How would three men—even
Bruce’s phantoms—be able to get him out?

She smothered a cry, holding her stomach in her hands and curling up in a ball as
another pain struck.

“Count,” one of the sailors said from beside her. He was a heavily bearded man with
the rough, craggy face of someone who’d spent many years on a boat. “My wife has had
ten babes, and she says it helps to count aloud. If you know how long they’ll last
it helps to bear the pain.”

Mary wasn’t sure about that, but at least it would give her something to do. She counted
to twenty before the contraction started to release. “Men approaching, Captain!” someone
shouted.

It seemed as if an enormous, silent cheer went up. Apparently, the men were eager
to relinquish their responsibility: her. From her place in the curve of the hull,
it wasn’t easy to sit up, so she was forced to wait for him to find her.

“Where is she?”

The men cleared a path, and she caught her first glimpse of him. He was filthy, covered
in dirt and blood, his face streaked with soot, dark hair matted with sweat from his
helm, but he’d never looked more magnificent. She wanted to throw her arms around
him and bury her head against his chest like a bairn. She tried to sit up, but felt
a pinch that made her wince and sink back against the comfortable hull.

Kenneth swore, his furious gaze shooting to Hawk. “What’s wrong with her? Is she hurt?”

“Nothing—”

Not waiting for the rest of Hawk’s answer, Kenneth jumped from bench to bench (or
more accurately, wooden trunk to wooden trunk), closing the distance between them.
Mary sobbed with relief, finding herself enfolded in her husband’s strong embrace.

It was going to be all right. He was here. She was safe. She wasn’t going to have
to do this alone. She let go of
some of the fear she’d been holding, knowing he would take it for her.

“What’s wrong?” he soothed gently. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not—”

“Mother?”

Mary pulled back in shock. She gazed to the rear of the boat, where her son had just
boarded beside Magnus MacKay. “Davey?” she whispered.

Her heart swelled with joy.

She looked to Kenneth. “How?”

He smiled tenderly. “I will tell you everything later, but first tell me—”

He stopped when she cried out in pain again. Holding her stomach, she started to count.
This time she counted to thirty.

Vaguely, she was aware of her frantic husband beside her. “What’s wrong with her,
damn it? Why is she counting? Do something to help her!”

Mary didn’t know to whom he shouted the last order, but it was Magnus MacKay who responded.

“Congratulations, Recruit.”

Kenneth answered, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re about to become a father.”

Kenneth’s gaze shot to hers for confirmation. The pain had relaxed enough for her
to nod.

His eyes widened for a fraction of an instant, and she saw the same fear and helplessness
she’d seen in the other men’s faces. But then his expression changed into one of steely
determination. “Not yet, I’m not. This babe is going to be born in Dunstaffnage, with
my sister’s help.”

No one dared argue with him.

“How fast can you take us home, Hawk?” he asked.

Mary’s heart caught. Home. To Scotland. With her husband and her son. She’d never
dared to dream of this.

“By tomorrow night. Maybe a little sooner if the winds are with us.”

“Tomorrow night!” she exclaimed. She couldn’t do this for a whole day. How long had
it taken with Davey? Nearly that long, she realized glumly. It wasn’t something she
liked to remember. “What if the baby comes before that?”

“He won’t,” Kenneth said with such conviction, she almost believed him.

He sat beside her and pulled her back against his chest into the protective circle
of his arms, settling in for the long battle ahead. He held her like that for hours.
Her volatile, hot-tempered, passionate husband had become her anchor in a stormy sea.
He smoothed her hair, mopped her brow with a cool cloth, whispered gentle words of
love in her ear, and helped her count as the contractions became more frequent, more
intense, and longer. He calmed her with stories when the pain became too unbearable
and she started to cry, telling him she couldn’t do this any longer.

“Yes, you can,” he said softly. “You can do this. You’re strong. I have you.”

His calm, steady voice kept the panic at bay. He told her of the life they would have
together. The castle in the north of Scotland that he kept for his brother. The green
of the grass, the white of the beaches, the impossible blue of the sea, the white
foam of the waves crashing against the black rocks, the briny tang of the air. He
told her of his family. Of the children they would have. He spoke of the quiet, peaceful
years they would spend together.

It sounded like heaven. Even when she didn’t think she could bear it a moment longer,
those stories kept her going. She wanted to live that life with him.

Mary had almost forgotten about the other men on the ship until she heard a cry go
out, “Castle ahead, Captain!”

The relief around her was almost palpable.

“You did it, love.” The pains were only a minute apart, and another one hit. He held
her, almost as if trying to absorb the pain for her. “Hold on just a little longer …”

But Mary couldn’t hold back anything. She was too weak. She screamed as the pain took
hold and the urge to push became overwhelming.

“He’s coming,” she gasped, her voice racked with panic.

Their eyes met. His steely determination, his absolute confidence, his unwavering
certainty that everything was going to be all right eased her fear.

“Someone get me some light!” he shouted at one of the men. Day had turned to night
again without her noticing. A torch was handed back, and he handed it to one of the
men seated nearby. Most of the men had given her a wide berth. Though at the time
she didn’t care, she knew she would be glad later that her modesty was preserved when
he moved her skirts up to see what was happening. She watched his face the entire
time, but if he was concerned, he gave nothing away. “Hawk, you’d better make it quick.”

Twenty-seven
 

Kenneth had never been more scared in his life, seeing the top of his son’s head between
his wife’s legs. But the brash confidence that had gotten him in trouble more than
once proved a useful mask. The wife who calmed him needed him to calm her.

It had been the most harrowing twenty-four hours of his life. He felt as if he’d been
chewed up by a great beast and spit out in ragged pieces. Every nerve ending in his
body was raw and frayed. But this wasn’t over yet. If he had to deliver his son on
this damned boat, he would do it.

Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Hawk defied the laws of nature and sailed them
into the small harbor in record time. Their ship had been sighted, and his sister
was at the shore, waiting to greet them. Instead, she was rushed into service. As
there wasn’t time to move Mary, men were sent running for the things Helen would need.

A look of shock broke through the pain when Mary caught sight of Helen. “Your sister?
The woman in the stables was your sister?”

Under the circumstances, the look of outrage on her face nearly made him laugh. “I
told you it wasn’t how it looked.”

She glared at him until the next pain took hold. He held her hand, letting her squeeze
his, her tiny nails digging into his skin as a spasm seemed to envelop her entire
body.

He didn’t know how she could bear it. He wanted to
shout out his frustration. To kill someone for doing this to her. To take her pain
for himself. But he couldn’t. So instead, he stayed by her side, calmly and soothingly
trying to ease her suffering.

After all the hard work he’d endured during their long journey, it seemed unfair that
Helen arrived in time for three long pushes and all the glory when a few moments later,
the future Earl of Sutherland made his appearance. Tiny and wrinkled, the laddie nonetheless
possessed a remarkable set of lungs, and his fierce wail had the makings of a formidable
future battle cry.

Kenneth was so happy that both Mary and the child were all right that once he could
pry his arms from his wife, he enfolded his sister in a fierce embrace. “Thank you.”

A sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes as Helen hugged him back. “He’s beautiful. But
you look horrible. Let’s get you all back to the castle.”

He insisted on carrying Mary—who had fallen into an exhausted sleep—and Helen carried
the babe as they walked up the beach and through the sea-gate of the royal castle
of Dunstaffnage, Bruce’s headquarters in the West Highlands. His fellow guardsman,
Arthur Campbell, had been appointed keeper of the castle, and his wife, Anna, had
already readied chambers for them.

He didn’t remember much of the next twenty-four hours. Once he’d assured himself that
Mary and his son were being well cared for, he’d collapsed in an adjoining chamber
and slept most of the next day. He woke and would have gone to Mary, but his sister
told him that she and the child were still sleeping. So he took a much needed bath,
and recalling his duty, found his way down to the Hall to fill in the king on what
he’d learned.

His mission hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d returned the Earl of Atholl into
the Scottish fold. But he’d wanted to give them more. “I’d hoped to find proof,” he
explained to the king about his theory of the route the
English planned to take. “But Felton used my illegal fighting to secure an arrest
warrant. I had to leave.”

“Aye, well, we’ll talk about that,
Ice
.” The king’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “Although from what MacKay and the others
say, you earned the name on that journey back. MacKay said it was the most nerve-wracking
experience he could recall, but you were icy calm the entire time.”

Kenneth’s mouth twitched. “I did what the situation called for.”

The king laughed. “You did indeed. That is what you are here for, is it not? Although
not even I anticipated
that
much versatility. You did well, Sutherland. If you think there is something to this
scouting foray of Clifford’s, that’s enough.” Kenneth looked around the room filled
with his fellow guardsmen, surprised to see the universal agreement in their expressions.
They trusted his instincts—even without proof. “Once Edward marches from Berwick Castle,
we’ll have men ready all along this route. We’ll hit him hard and fast, making sure
his sojourn in Scotland is a short one.”

They discussed the coming battle for a little while longer before Kenneth excused
himself to check on Mary.

She was sitting up against the back of the bed, holding the baby, when he walked in.
His sister was standing there, along with a few other women, but he didn’t notice
any of them. His eyes were only for his wife and son. His heart squeezed so tightly
he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his
life.

But when he thought of what had happened to her, how she must blame him for putting
her in danger, the squeezing knifed. Could she forgive him?

He crossed the room, feeling suddenly uncertain. In the turmoil of their escape and
sea journey there hadn’t been time for awkwardness and questions. Emotion had been
stripped to the bone. Love, simple and unfettered by complication.
But now, the hurt and pain hung in the air between them.

The babe was swaddled in a soft woolen blanket and tucked into her arm. “He looks
so small,” Kenneth said, overwhelmed.

“He is,” Helen said. “But he’s a fighter.”

“Will he …” Kenneth’s voice cracked; he couldn’t even let himself say the words.

Helen smiled. “He seems a strong lad. He’s breathing well, and already had a few meals
while you slept the day away.”

Kenneth scowled at his sister. “You should have woken me.”