The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(116)

“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

Sir Adam’s torches were still visible when Felton spoke. “She’s gone. Now you will surrender.”