The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(15)

MacKay frowned, as if he didn’t like being reminded of it. “What do you want? If you think I’m going to sing your praises to Bruce—”

“I don’t need you to sing my praises. I can do that on my own—on the field. I just need you to stay out of my way.”

His old enemy and longtime competitor eyed him carefully. “I’ll admit, you’re not bad. But ‘not bad’ is far from the best. You aren’t fighting with the English anymore,” he said sarcastically, referring to the Sutherlands’ recent shift in allegiance to Bruce. “Are you sure you can compete with the most elite warriors in Scotland?”

“Not only compete, but win.” He paused. “Look, I know you need someone to take Gordon’s place.”

“No one can take Gordon’s place,” MacKay snapped.

Their eyes met. He better than anyone understood that. Gordon had been his foster brother, but he’d been MacKay’s partner. A friend to them both—ironic, given their enmity. “You’re right. But I’m the next best man for the job, and you know it.”

MacKay’s jaw clenched, and his silence seemed a tacit agreement of sorts.

Sensing an opening, Kenneth went in for the kill. “Bruce has recruited men from the Games before. I’d wager that’s what brought you to his attention four years ago.” More silence. “Let these Games be no different. If I win the overall championship, you’ll agree not to interfere.”

It was a bold offer. The overall champion was the competitor who had the highest ranking across all the events. Given that he was no dancer and only a decent swimmer, he’d have to do extremely well in all the other events.

McKay shook his head. “Not good enough. Many of the best competitors won’t be competing.”

He meant himself, as well as the other members of the secret army.

Kenneth tried to rein in his temper, but MacKay made it bloody difficult. He was a provoking bastard. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Win them all, and I’ll welcome you in myself.”

He couldn’t be serious. “All?”

“Only the weapon events,” MacKay clarified, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

“No one has ever done that.” Kenneth was so outraged, he feared he was sputtering.

MacKay shrugged, not bothering to hide his smile.

Kenneth cursed his own arrogance under his breath. MacKay had turned it against him. “You know I’m not very good with a bow. Neither are you, if I recall. Gregor MacGregor might not be competing, but his young brother John is, and he’s reputed to be nearly as good.”

“Fine. No archery, but you’ll have to win the wrestling competition instead.”

Kenneth gritted his teeth. Sangfroid, damn it. But he could feel the heat rising. MacKay had backed him into a damned corner and knew it. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

He stepped aside to let MacKay pass by—or swagger by, the smug bastard.

“Good luck, Sutherland. You’re going to need it.”

Kenneth wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing his anger. He didn’t care what it took; he was going to win.

If there was anything Kenneth knew how to do, it was fight. He’d been doing it practically since the day he was born. Nothing had ever come easily for him. But he didn’t mind. It had only made him stronger and more determined to win.

He was about to return to the Hall to find a nice big tankard of ale to cool his anger, when a group of women approached and he thought of a better way to soothe his temper.

He supposed there was one thing that had always come easily for him.

Three

Having just made her third mistake in the last ten minutes, Mary put down her embroidery. She had to do something. She was so restless. Stretch her legs, perhaps? Despite the lateness of the hour, she decided to go for a walk.

The journey, the return home after so many years, simply being in Scotland again had affected her more than she’d expected. Though her immediate family was gone, seeing Lady Christina, Lady Margaret (Atholl’s sister who was now wed to the MacKenzie chief), and even Robert had been nearly as overwhelming.

All the memories that she’d kept so carefully bottled up inside were threatening to explode. She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to miss them. Didn’t want to think of Scotland as home when her life must be in England.

She’d been here only a week, yet she felt the pull so strongly it threatened to destroy the contentment she’d fought so hard to achieve. It was as if she’d taken a piece of slate and wiped it clean, only to discover later that the lines had been etched into the stone, not made from chalk.

Worse, her mission had been a failure. The negotiations for peace had stalled, as they always did over the issue of Bruce’s kingship. Robert refused to sign a peace treaty that did not recognize his sovereignty and Edward refused to sign one that did. No woman’s voice could change that.

As she expected, Robert was sympathetic and understanding toward her son’s plight—and had no intention of forfeiting his lands—but he also would not recognize David as Earl of Atholl until he did fealty for those lands. Something that was impossible as long as her son was in Edward’s power.

The stalemate continued.

Moreover, also as she expected, Robert was hardly inclined to share his secrets with her. Her mouth twitched with a wry grin. Especially after she’d told him outright that Edward wished her to spy on him, so if he had any dark secrets, to make sure he made them easy for her to discover.