The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(25)

Sir Kenneth exuded confidence and brash arrogance. He probably thought she would fall at his feet just like all the other young, starry-eyed ladies seemed to be doing. But she was no longer young, and the stars had been wrenched from her eyes a very long time ago.

Still, she felt an unmistakable thrill shooting through her veins, a spark of excitement that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was probably her temper. He seemed to bring out a heretofore unknown streak of combativeness in her.

It was the way he looked at her. Confident and arrogant, yes, but also provoking. As if he were daring the world to come at him. As if he were always trying to prove something. He didn’t think she could resist him and was daring her to try.

“Running away again, my lady?” he taunted softly. “This time I might have to come after you.”

She kept her voice steady, but her heart was fluttering like the wings of a butterfly trapped under glass. “I told you, I’m not feeling well. I need to rest.”

But he was right. She was running away, and she didn’t like him pointing it out.

She turned to face him and looked into his eyes. It was a mistake. She could feel it again. That piercing, riveting hold. And the heat that pulsed through her body.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” His voice spread over her skin like a seductive, warm caress.

“I’m not embarrassed,” she protested. But the heat that rose to her cheeks told a far different story.

“It’s much more fun doing than watching, you know.”

Mary blinked at him in shock, not quite sure that she’d heard him right. But she had. She looked around to make sure no one had overheard him. Fortunately, Margaret was still speaking with her daughter. There were a few curious stares from passersby, but no one seemed to be listening.

He didn’t give her a chance to reply. “Meet me tonight. After the feast.” Mary stared at him in something between outrage at his sinful suggestion and awe at the bold straightforwardness with which it had been made. He was truly something. “Once you are done with your duties,” he finished.

A small frown gathered between her brows. “My duties?”

“To your lady,” he said, motioning to Lady Margaret. “You are one of her attendants?”

My God, he didn’t know who she was! Mary was about to correct him when something stopped her. She wondered what he would do when he realized he’d just propositioned the woman the king wanted him to marry?

“You certainly don’t waste any time,” she said wryly. She didn’t know why she was surprised; she’d seen his aggressiveness on the battlefield.

“I don’t believe in playing games. We both know what we want.”

He wanted her? But why, when he had a flock of women following him around like a retinue? Given the efforts she’d taken to dull her appearance, she was oddly flattered. And more surprisingly, she found herself oddly charmed by this too-handsome, too-arrogant, outrageous warrior with his cocky, provoking smile who knew what he wanted and went right for it.

She tilted her head, looking at that gleaming smile flash in the sun. “Does anyone ever refuse you?”

His mouth quirked. “Not very often. If you recall, I have much to recommend me.”

She remembered. She remembered exactly what he looked like under all that mail. Remembered the body that was every bit as steely and hard. Mary was more tempted than she wanted to admit—the man was a walking platter of confection. A sultan of sin. But she had no interest in joining another harem.

“Alas, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you.”

He didn’t seem to have taken her refusal to heart. “Are you married?”

She shook her head. “Widowed.”

He nodded as if he’d anticipated her answer. “Then there is nothing to prevent you.”

“Prevent you from what?” Margaret asked.

“Joining me for a dance after the feast,” he answered without missing a beat. “With your permission, of course, my lady.”

“My permission?” Margaret said. “Why would—?”

“Lady Margaret is very accommodating to all her attendants,” Mary interrupted.

Margaret was looking at her as if she had two heads, but Sir Kenneth didn’t appear to notice.

He bowed to Margaret, and then herself, with far more flourish than the situation warranted. “Then I shall look forward to seeing you both after the feast.”

The look he sent her gave her no doubt of what he intended. He really was wicked. And a suddenly wicked part of her thought it would be fun to knock this champion-in-the-making down a few pegs. Mary felt a smile turn her lips. Perhaps she would attend the feast after all. She was going to enjoy seeing his face when he realized his mistake.

Five

Mary managed to avoid an immediate interrogation by Margaret, who was dragged off to the sword dance by her daughter after Sir Kenneth took his leave, but a few hours later she came bursting into the chamber Mary shared with her attendants and a few of the other ladies.

“It was you!” she said excitedly.

Looking around at the curious gazes of the other women, who were already starting to ready themselves for the feast, and realizing this was something she probably wouldn’t want everyone to hear, Mary put down her embroidery and steered Margaret over to the mural chamber inset into the thick stone wall. It wasn’t as much a chamber as a large stone bench with a cushion, and a heavy velvet curtain for privacy.