The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(26)

After settling on the bench, she folded her hands in her lap and asked calmly, “What was me?”

“He was nodding to you, wasn’t he? Oh, everyone is talking about it, trying to figure out whom Sir Kenneth nodded to after his victory. Lady Moira and Lady Alice both insist it was they, but I know it was you!” Margaret was grinning like a young girl with a naughty secret. “It’s so romantic!”

Mary made a face. She knew exactly how much store to put in romantic gestures. She shifted her gaze. “It could have been anyone.”

But Margaret wasn’t fooled. “It wasn’t anyone, it was you. Why else would he have come right up to you afterward? I saw the way he was looking at you. Why didn’t you tell me you’d met before?” Suddenly, her brow furrowed. “But why did you let him think you were one of my attendants?”

Mary bit her lip, feeling the shame heat her cheeks. She met the kind eyes of her former sister-in-law and weighed what she should say. It had been so many years since she’d felt the urge to confide in someone—or had anyone to confide in, for that matter. Not since Janet. But Margaret had always been kind to her, perhaps pitying the young girl her brother had married. She, too, had been a young bride, although her marriage seemed to have turned out well enough.

“I hadn’t met him,” Mary answered. “Not really.” She took a deep breath and gave a very short explanation of what had happened. Margaret’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped with every word. Mary didn’t know what the other woman had expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t this. Shock was written on every inch of her pretty face. Although Margaret had to be nearing her fortieth saint’s day, like her brother, her classical features gave her a timeless beauty.

“So you see,” Mary finished, “it’s merely a game to him. He thinks that because of what I witnessed, I’m an easy mark, and that I am only too eager to be the next woman in line to jump in his bed.”

Although Mary had skipped over the more salacious details, such as the position she’d found him in, the manner of his release, and the embarrassing extent of her reaction, from the way Margaret was looking at her, she must have guessed. “And are you?”

Mary thought about lying, but instead she let out an exasperated sigh. “More than I would like to admit.” The heat in her cheeks intensified. She wasn’t used to talking so openly. “I know it’s wrong, and I would never do something so sinful. I’ve probably shocked you with my wickedness, but he was quite … impressive.” She made a face. “As he is well aware. The man is too arrogant and cocky by half.”

A mischievous smile curved up Margaret’s mouth. “I’ve heard quite cocky.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s reputed to be quite, um, generously formed in a certain male appendage.”

It took Mary a moment to realize what she meant. Her eyes went huge with shock. “Margaret!”

Long sword, Lady Moira had said. Now she understood. Apparently, it hadn’t been her glasses.

Margaret gave an unrepentant shrug. “Ladies talk. It’s hardly a secret, although I admit it isn’t one for polite conversation. But after a long feast and a few goblets of wine, some of the ladies can be every bit as ribald as the men.”

Mary had been more sheltered than she realized. It seemed there was an entire world she was missing.

“He’s the perfect man, you know, for a night of sin. Were you ever to contemplate it.”

For once Mary did not ask herself what her sister would do. She feared the answer. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? A night isn’t an option for women like us. And I could never marry such a man. He only sought me out because he doesn’t know who I am. Seducing a widowed attendant is quite different from a countess the king wishes him to marry.” She smiled. “I admit, I’m looking forward to his surprise when he finds out his mistake.”

Margaret returned her smile. “I am, too. Sir Kenneth is a charming scoundrel, but his behavior has been outrageous. Perhaps it will teach him a lesson.” She paused. “But you could always tell him after. Why shouldn’t you not have a night, if you wish it, Mary? If anyone deserves a bit of sin, you do, after all you have been through. You’re a widow, not beholden to any man. Surely you know it is not uncommon?”

Hardly. Atholl had taught her that. “It doesn’t make it any less wrong,” she said softly.

Margaret smiled and patted her hand. “Of course, you are right. Now who is the wicked one?” She laughed and gave her a mischievous wink. “But don’t forget, if you change your mind, you can always repent for your sins later. I should think he would be worth at least a few dozen Hail Marys.”

More like a few hundred. Mary fought back the smile, but in the end laughed along with her former sister-in-law. Who knew it could be so much fun to be a little wicked?

The torches had already been lit for the coming night when Kenneth finally dragged himself from the soothing hot waters of the bath his sister had arranged for him. Helen didn’t think any of his ribs were broken, but you wouldn’t know it from the ghastly-looking mass of purple, black, and red that covered a large portion of his left side. And you sure as hell wouldn’t know it from the pain. It hurt like the bloody devil.

He’d made a mistake. Become too aggressive. Assured of his victory, he’d tried to end it too soon and in the process had given MacKinnon an opening. The other warrior had taken full advantage of it with a blow that could have put a swift end to all Kenneth’s plans. He knew better, damn it. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let it happen again.