The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(38)

He grabbed a piece of bread and cheese from a tray as one of the servants passed by and washed it down with a swig of wine. As he exited the Hall, he winced, shrinking back from the head-piercing rays of sunlight that blasted him. Damn, his head felt like he’d drunk far more than a tankard of whisky. Squinting, he scanned the courtyard, and then winced again. It wasn’t because of the sun this time, but who he saw striding toward him.

“Where the hell have you been?” MacKay demanded. “I hope you have a good explanation for disappearing last night. The king was furious.”

Kenneth ignored MacKay and greeted his sister, who had come up next to him.

“Are you all right, Kenneth? You don’t look well,” Helen said.

His side hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to tell her that with MacKay standing there. “What did you give me?” he asked. “I fell asleep and just woke up.”

“Nothing that should have—” She stopped, biting her lip. “Did you drink any wine or whisky last night by chance?”

“I drink wine or whisky every night. What difference does that make?”

She looked up at him guiltily. “I must have forgotten to mention that mixing the draught with wine or whisky might make you a tad sleepy.”

Kenneth’s mouth tightened. “Aye, you seem to have forgotten that part.”

Well, at least he knew why he’d slept so hard. Although he suspected there was another cause that had affected him as much as the whisky. He’d slept the dead sleep of a man who’d been well satisfied. Too well satisfied. Instead of worrying about what had happened to his wee wanton, he should be preparing for the Games.

“I will explain what happened to the king after the competition,” he said to MacKay, who was still glaring at him from Helen’s side. “And apologize to Lady Mary.”

McKay gave him a hard look. “Aye, well in that you were fortunate. Lady Mary sent word late that she was not feeling well.”

Kenneth frowned, thinking it fortunate indeed. Almost too fortunate. A prickle of unease teased his consciousness.

“What’s that?” MacKay said, pointing to the veil.

Damn. “Nothing,” he said, scrunching the silk in his hand and tucking it more firmly against his side.

But MacKay wasn’t having it. His eyes narrowed on the swathe of fabric at his side. The very feminine swathe of fabric. “Don’t tell me you ignored the king’s invitation for a woman? What were you thinking? It seems you have as much discipline over your co—” He stopped, giving Helen an apologetic look. “Over your desire as you do over your temper.” He shook his head. “I bloody well hope she was worth it.”

Kenneth’s teeth clenched. Surprisingly, he realized, she was, but he wasn’t about to explain himself to MacKay. And he sure as hell didn’t like being scolded as if he were a wet-behind-the-ears squire.

Damn it, he was tired of this. He was tired of his boyhood nemesis lauding it over him as if he were his superior. He wasn’t. And today Kenneth was going to prove it.

“I need to get ready,” he said, refusing to let MacKay bait him. He needed to have his sister wrap his ribs. “Helen, if you would meet me in the barracks—”

“There you are,” Gregor MacGregor said, walking toward them from the loch. From the damp hair and drying cloth wrapped around his neck, Kenneth assumed he’d been bathing. Half the castle’s population—the female half—was probably still at the beach right now. “I thought you said you were going to escort Lady Mary to the feast?” His eyes were laughing. “I bet the king is wondering what happened to you both. I thought she wasn’t interested in a betrothal. But maybe you convinced her?”

Kenneth froze. The blood drained from his face. “Who?”

MacGregor’s brow creased with his confusion. “Lady Mary. I assumed after you saw us in the corridor that—”

“Mary of Mar,” Kenneth said tonelessly, feeling as if a stone had just dropped in his gut. She’d deceived him. The wee nun wasn’t a lady’s attendant at all, she was the widowed Countess of Atholl. The woman the king had picked out for him as a bride.

Why hadn’t she told him?

His mouth fell in a hard line, anticipating that he wasn’t going to like the explanation.

“You didn’t,” MacKay said under his breath, looking at the veil.

Kenneth stiffened. The tic in his cheek jumped. He glared at him, daring him to say a bloody word.

But like him, MacKay never backed down from a challenge. That was probably one of the reasons they were always at one another’s throats.

The bastard laughed. “My God, you didn’t even know who she was! I knew you’d find a way to screw this up. When the king finds out, your being champion isn’t going to matter.”

Kenneth clenched his fists, the laughter grating like nails under his skin. Worse, he knew MacKay was right. The king wasn’t going to take kindly to him seducing his former sister-in-law. So much for avoiding the gauntlet of dangerous women! He couldn’t have picked a more inappropriate bedmate if he’d tried.

MacGregor wasn’t any better. He let out a low whistle. “I doubt that was what the king had in mind to convince her.”

“There will be no reason for the king to find out,” he warned them.