The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(11)

Sir Adam guessed to what she referred. “The king is quite fond of David. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to relinquish him. A decision as to which of his barons will have the Earl of Atholl as his squire has not been made. But I think there is a good chance Percy will win the honor.”

Her fingers clenched even harder. It was almost too much to hope for. Lord Henry Percy, 1st Baron Percy, had just purchased the Castle of Alnwick in Northumberland. Her son would be so close. “Do you think …”

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

Sir Adam finished for her. “I don’t see any reason why you should not be allowed to see him as often as his duties permit. That is—” He stopped.

But she guessed what he was about to say. “That is as long as I do Edward’s bidding.”

He shrugged apologetically. “Davey—the earl—is most eager for you to go on his behalf.”

Her heart leapt with embarrassing eagerness. “Did he say so?”

Sir Adam nodded. “He has not forgotten that it was you who petitioned the king two years ago to return the English lands that had been forfeited upon Atholl’s death.”

It was the only time she’d ever purposefully brought herself to the English king’s attention. With the help of Sir Adam and Sir Alexander Abernethy, who’d raised the coin to pay off de Monthermer, who’d been temporarily given the earldom, her petition had been successful. Her son had half his patrimony—the English half.

If she’d ever had a thought to refuse, she knew she could not. Her son had never asked her for anything before. This was her chance to do something for him. He was nearly ten and three, and still almost a stranger to her. The divide between them would only widen as he approached knighthood. This might be her last chance to bring them closer.

It was time to hold to her vow to see her son restored to the earldom. And perhaps this was a chance to hold to her other vow as well. There was one question that had haunted her the past three years, despite the improbability: Could Janet have somehow made it back to Scotland? It seemed unlikely, and Lady Christina had assured her the men had returned to the Isles alone, but Mary had never asked Robert if he knew anything. Now she could.

Echoing her thoughts, the bishop urged gently, “It is time, lass.”

Mary met the prelate’s gaze. The years of imprisonment had not been kind to William Lamberton. Like her, he was thin to the point of gaunt. But his eyes were kind, and oddly understanding. His words tugged at her, almost as if he were trying to tell her something.

Resolved, she nodded. “Of course. Of course, I shall go.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be as painful as she feared. It could be worse. She’d thought when Edward finally remembered her, it would be to try to marry her off to one of his barons. She shuddered. Being a peace envoy to Scotland was infinitely more palatable than that.

She had no intention of spying for Edward, but she would do her duty and return to her quiet life in England, hopefully with more opportunities to see her son.

Sir Adam looked much relieved. He took her hand, patting it fondly. “This will be good for you, you’ll see. You’ve been too long alone. You’re only six and twenty. Far too young to lock yourself away.”

Having heard similar words a few hours earlier, Mary bit back a smile. No doubt the proud knight turned respected statesman would be surprised to realize how much he had in common with a merchant. Sir Adam didn’t approve of her choice of attire either, but she suspected he’d guessed the reason for it.

“I haven’t been to the Games in years,” Lamberton said. “As I recall, your husband was quite a competitor.” She remembered. It was where his armor had begun to shine. “It will be fun.” Then, apparently forgetting which side he was supposed to be on, he added, “Perhaps one of the competitors will catch your eye.”

Mary thought she was more likely—and perhaps more eager—to catch the plague.

Two

Late August 1309

Dunstaffnage Castle, Lorn, Scotland

Kenneth Sutherland was surrounded as soon as he entered the Great Hall of Dunstaffnage Castle. He was accustomed to a certain amount of feminine attention, but the frenzied atmosphere of the Highland Games took some getting used to. The competitors enjoyed an almost godlike status, with the favorites such as himself having large entourages of followers. Very enthusiastic followers.

Though usually there was nothing he liked more than being the focus of so many beautiful women, tonight he was on a mission. While the king had been here at Dunstaffnage negotiating with the envoys from England, Kenneth had been on a peacekeeping undertaking of his own. He’d just returned from a two-week-long journey north to pacify the Munros, longtime allies of his clan, after a misguided attempt by Donald Munro, his brother’s henchman, to kill the king.

Now that Kenneth was back, he was anxious to speak with the king. The Bruce, as the men had taken to calling him, had been putting him off for too long. But as the king seemed to be locked away in the laird’s solar with his men, it seemed their conversation would have to wait.

He should be enjoying hearing his deeds on the battlefield recounted minute by minute, but it was out of habit more than true enthusiasm that Kenneth laughed, teased, and accepted the ladies’ compliments for a few minutes before taking his seat at one of the trestle tables just below the dais. Normally being the heir to an earldom would warrant a place at the high table, but with the Highland Games about to begin, most of Scotland’s nobles—at least those loyal to Bruce—were here.