The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(110)

She stared at him in horror. “So you gave me two days to decide.”

“I gave you two days to prepare.”

She stared at him mutely, understanding. He wasn’t giving her a choice. He’d stuck the last blade through her heart. “It seems you’ve decided everything, then.”

“It’s not like that.” He reached for her, but she flinched from his touch. The look of hurt in his eyes was mildly satisfying. She wanted him to feel as bleak and horrible as she did now. If he could only know an ounce of the pain he’d just inflicted on her. “I love you, Mary.”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare say that to me! If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this to me.”

He dropped his gaze, looking away from the challenge in her eyes. “Very well, I’ll go. I need to be back at the castle by morning as it is.” He took her chin and forced her gaze to his. “I know you are angry and scared, but we have our whole lives for me to make it up to you. I’m asking you to have faith in me, Mary.”

She turned away coldly, the sting of betrayal still reverberating through her. He asked for more than she could give.

It was still a few hours before dawn when Kenneth arrived outside the walls of Berwick Castle. With the gate closed for the night, he dismounted and found a rock to sit on while he waited.

It had been worse than he expected. He’d known Mary would be upset, but the look of betrayal in her eyes had cut him to the quick. She’d looked shattered. Disillusioned. Hurt. She’d looked at him as if she didn’t know him. As if he’d let her down beyond repair.

But that wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that she wouldn’t forgive him. She was hurt now, but she’d come around eventually.

Wouldn’t she?

A knot of uncertainty lodged in his chest. What if she didn’t? What if he’d wounded her so deeply and shattered her illusions so thoroughly that he’d lost her love forever?

Jesus. His stomach turned, and he felt the sudden urge to retch.

Nay, he couldn’t let himself think like that. She would forgive him. Once she had time to think, she would see that he’d had no choice. That he’d done the best he could under the circumstances.

He only hoped she thought quickly. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do if he showed up to take her away and she refused to go. Recalling her taunt, he didn’t relish the idea of abducting his own wife.

What a bloody mess.

Knowing there was nothing he could do about it for now, he exchanged his rock for a tree to lean back on, closed his eyes, and tried to sneak in a few hours of sleep.

But given the events of the night, the cold morning mist, and the general discomfort of using a tree for a bed, it was a fitful sleep—which proved fortunate. About an hour before dawn, when the blackness of the evening sky had just started to soften to gray, he heard the faint sounds of grinding metal.

Jolted fully awake, he peered through the cold, shadowy mist to the castle, where the metal portcullis was being raised. It was the sounds of the chain being winched and the gate sliding through the grooves that he’d heard.

He came immediately to attention, thinking it odd that the gate was being opened so early. Peering through the mist, he watched as a team of a half-dozen men rode out. He recognized the “Chequy Or and Azure, a Fess Gules” of Clifford’s arms. That pricked his senses immediately. English knights much preferred to travel in large war parties. Where was Clifford going so early in the morning without a score of men to protect him?

It had all the vestiges of a secret or clandestine mission.

Every instinct urged to follow them. But Percy was expecting him. How would he explain his absence?

He debated for all of ten seconds. He would think of a way. This was just the opportunity he’d been awaiting.

“Let us worry about Clifford.” He pushed aside MacKay’s voice. Kenneth’s mission might be to stay close to Percy, but part of his skill was his versatility. Adapting. Fitting in where they needed him. And every instinct clamored that this was important.

Mounting his horse, he set off after them. He might not be as ghostlike as Campbell or MacRuairi, or as good a tracker as Lamont, but for second best he was damned good.

“Are you sure there is nothing wrong, my dear? You look a little pale.”

Mary gazed over her bowl of stew to the concerned visage of her old friend. Everything was wrong. She’d given her heart to a man only to have him betray her in the worst way possible. He was a traitor. A rebel. She wanted to sink her face into her hands and weep. But she’d already done that for most of the night, and it hadn’t helped.

She forced a wan smile to her face. “I did not sleep very well.” It was the truth, albeit only a small portion of what was making her such poor company for the midday meal.

Sir Adam gave her a wry smile. “I remember the last month or two was always the most difficult for my wife. She often slept poorly. Are you very uncomfortable?”

“It’s not so bad yet.”

He studied her, as if he suspected there was more. “Perhaps I should have told you I was bringing David. I wanted to surprise you, but I should have realized—”

“Nay!” she protested. “It is a wonderful surprise. I’ve missed him terribly since I left the castle. I’m just fortunate that Huntlywood is so close. I can’t thank you enough for allowing us to stay here.”