The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(21)

“It’s the man the king mentioned,” Margaret said. “Sir Kenneth Sutherland of Moray. He’s been something of a surprise. No one expected him to do this well. His brother was a champion a few years ago, but Sir Kenneth has never won anything before.”

Mary’s heart lurched for one silly beat before she tamped it back down to reality. It was only natural to experience a flicker of girlish delight at the prospect of an alliance to such a handsome man, she told herself. But she wasn’t a young girl anymore. She was a woman who knew better than to let herself get carried away by illusions. She’d married one arrogant, handsome knight, and it had led to enough misery for a lifetime.

“It would be quite a coup, you know,” her former sister-in-law said.

Mary’s brows gathered across her nose in question. “A coup?”

“To bring him to the altar. There isn’t a young, unmarried woman here who wouldn’t like to do that. Especially since his brother the earl named him heir.”

Margaret appeared to have picked up on the king’s intent, as had she.

“But surely that is only temporary, until the earl has sons of his own?”

Margaret shook her head. “The rumor is that the earl will have no sons. One day Kenneth Sutherland or his son will be earl. If his handsome face wasn’t enough of a temptation, a future earldom has made him one of the most sought-after men in Scotland. And it seems the king is offering him to you like a stuffed bird on a gold-encrusted platter.”

Mary’s mouth quirked in spite of herself, the image was so ridiculous. She’d had her fill of overstuffed peacocks. “If that is what Robert intends, then I’m afraid he will be disappointed.”

Mary could feel Margaret studying her face and kept her expression impassive. “You can’t tell me you aren’t the slightest bit tempted.”

She was tempted, but not for marriage. The sinful thought popped in her mind before she could stop it.

Good God, what was wrong with her?

She sighed, knowing full well what was wrong with her. She’d seen exactly what was wrong with her. She shook her head firmly. “I’ve no wish to marry again.”

Margaret gave her a sympathetic look. She had witnessed the heartbreak and disappointment of Mary’s marriage firsthand. “Wishing has very little to do with marriage for women in our position though, does it?”

It was the harsh truth. But Mary would rather enter a nunnery than be forced to marry again. At least then she would be in control of her own destiny.

“Not all men are like my brother, Mary.” Margaret frowned, watching as Kenneth Sutherland took the field to square off against his first opponent in the hammer event. “But perhaps you are right not to be tempted by him. I fear Kenneth Sutherland has left a trail of broken hearts behind him every bit as long as my brother’s.”

Hearing her suspicions confirmed was oddly disappointing. But the comparison, once made, was hard to dislodge. As the competition got underway, it only became more solidified in her mind.

She might have been eighteen again, sitting in the stands watching her husband for the first time and witnessing a hero in the making. Atholl, too, had been magnificent. She’d never forget how excited she’d been. How she’d sat in her seat, heart in her throat, and watched the man she’d been married to for three years but who was still essentially a stranger to her compete in the various events.

Separated from her by imprisonment during the first year of their marriage, and forced to fight for Edward in Flanders during the second, Atholl had only been permitted to return to Scotland a few months prior. He’d joined her at Blair Castle for only a few weeks before leaving to attend his duties at court. She’d been so looking forward to the Games, not simply because it was the first time she’d been allowed to attend, but also because she would finally be spending time with the handsome man to whom she was married. The unpleasantness of the first coupling on their wedding night had given way to a slightly more pleasurable experience on his return over two years later, and she had a very unmaidenly interest in learning more.

At first it had felt like a faerie tale, with him cast as the handsome knight in shining armor and her as the pretty maiden for whose favor he fought. She’d never forget when he’d won the spear event and he’d turned and bowed to her in the stands. The crowd had gone wild at the romantic gesture. She’d thought her heart would burst with pride and happiness.

But the faerie tale hadn’t lasted long. Atholl always knew how to play to the crowd. The gesture had been for them, not for her. A few nights later she’d learned the truth. Her husband did not come to her bed because he’d found another. Indeed, if the conversation she’d overheard the following morning was accurate, he’d found many to choose from.

When she’d tearfully confronted him, he hadn’t bothered to deny it. Instead, he’d been angry at her for interfering in matters that did not concern her. Yet even after that horrible conversation, she had refused to accept the truth. She’d thought that if she could make him fall in love with her, he would forget about the other women. But her attempts only seemed to make it worse. The harder she tried to hold on to him, the more he distanced himself from her.

She was his wife. The mother of his son. His occasional bedmate, when he was reminded of his duty. But one woman would never be enough for a man like him. There were some men that craved—nay, thrived on—the admiration of many. Atholl was one of them. It had taken her years of disappointment, jealousy, and heartbreak, however, to understand it.