The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(28)

He heard MacKay mumble something along the lines of “it better be important” behind him, but he was already striding—stalking was probably more accurate—down the corridor.

As he drew nearer, his instincts were confirmed. It was his nun. She’d changed for the feast into a gown of deep emerald silk and a matching veil, albeit without the ghastly wimple. He could actually see her neck. It was a pretty one, long and slender, with creamy-smooth, milky-white skin. His eyes narrowed. What else was she hiding? The cut of the gown was still shapeless and the embellishments still plain, but he supposed green was a marginal improvement over black. The color, however, was too dark and harsh against her fair skin—

He stopped himself. Bloody hell, he sounded like a lady’s maid. He couldn’t recall ever noticing a lady’s attire before—except perhaps to figure out how to get it off.

His steps fell a little harder and his mouth grew a little flatter as he drew closer. He didn’t know why he was so irritated. But when she put her hand on MacGregor’s arm, looked up at him, and smiled, Kenneth felt a spike of something hotter and edgier than mere irritation.

MacGregor saw him first and nodded. “Sutherland.”

Kenneth could tell by the tone in his voice that he’d sensed something was wrong, though damned if he knew what it was any better than MacGregor did.

Lady Mary turned on hearing his name. The smile immediately slipped from her face. Why that reaction bothered him, he didn’t know, but it damn well did.

His jaw clenched. “The feast has started,” he bit out.

The lady ignored him. “Thank you, my lord,” she said to MacGregor. “I fear I would have been looking for hours without your help.”

MacGregor explained. “Lady Elizabeth lost her kitten.”

“Lady Margaret’s youngest daughter,” Mary clarified when it was clear he didn’t know to whom they were referring. “I was able to recruit Sir Gregor in our search.” The smile on her lips and flush on her cheeks when she looked up at the other man made Kenneth’s fists and jaw clench even harder. She didn’t look dull and colorless at all.

“Fortunate, indeed,” he said, unable to completely mask the dryness of his tone. Sir Gregor wasn’t a “Sir” at all; MacGregor wasn’t a knight.

He and MacGregor exchanged glances over her head. Back off, he told McGregor wordlessly. “I will escort Lady Mary to the Hall.”

MacGregor looked more puzzled than put out, but he conceded without argument. Kenneth was too angry to wonder about that.

“My lady,” MacGregor said with a bow, and then to him, “Sutherland.”

Kenneth hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, until his muscles started to relax as the man reputed to be the most handsome in Scotland walked away.

Lady Mary was watching him with furrowed brows. “What was that about?”

He didn’t know himself, damn it, and suddenly he felt as if he’d revealed something he shouldn’t have. He buried his anger behind a mask of feigned concern. It was his duty as a knight to warn her off, he told himself. “You should watch yourself with him. MacGregor has made more than one woman forget herself.”

She had the gall to burst out laughing. “This, from you? Isn’t your warning a bit ironic considering our first meeting?” Their eyes held, and he felt the strange urge to shift his feet. If he believed it possible, he would have thought he was embarrassed. “Nor did he invite me to his bed the first time we spoke.” She allowed her gaze to follow the other man’s disappearing form. “Pity,” she said under her breath.

But he heard it. His blood spiked hot. That edgy irritation returned full force. His muscles flared and his mouth fell in a hard, uncompromising line. He took her arm and forced her gaze back to him. “Stay away from him.”

She should be terrified. He never spoke to women like this. He was in full, fierce warrior mode. But her eyes only narrowed at his tone, and then on his hand when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to be able to shrug him off so easily this time. “What right do you have to speak to me like this? You have no claim on me.”

He told himself to cool down, but there was something in her gaze that snapped the precarious hold he had on his temper like a dry twig. She might not have meant it as a challenge, but he’d taken it as one. Young, uncomplicated, eager to please, and lusty. She might be the last, but he was already regretting not sticking to his typical sort of bedmate.

Seeing a door behind her, he opened it and pulled her inside. It probably had been a storage room at some time, though judging from the shelves of books and folios, the thickly cushioned bench and chairs, and the brazier, it had been turned into a library. But he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He closed the door behind him, spun her around, and pinned her against it with the hard slam of his body.

She gasped—in surprise at the suddenness of his movements or at the sensation of contact, he didn’t know.

Damn. He’d forgotten about his ribs. Yet pressed against her, it wasn’t pain he was feeling but awareness. She was more slight than he’d realized, slim and delicate. He had to be careful not to crush her. He could feel the bones of her hips, but also, he noticed, the small, soft curves of her br**sts. For unremarkably sized br**sts they seemed to be eliciting quite a reaction. His body crackled with a frantic, unfamiliar energy. It was lust, but lust unlike any he’d ever felt before.