The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(43)

He was a man to be taken seriously, even if his wee wanton in a nun’s habit didn’t think so. Part of him wished she were here to see it. But he wasn’t going to think about her anymore. He was in for the battle of his life, and he couldn’t afford to let anything distract him.

Sangfroid, damn it. He’d better remember it.

* * *

“Surprised to see me, Sutherland?” MacKay taunted as they squared off in the arena a short while later.

They circled one another, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I’d wager I’m not the only one,” Kenneth replied. “Did you tell the king what you had planned, or did you come up with this little disguise all on your own?”

He could see the other man’s eyes harden through the steel slits in the helm. “I told you you’d have to get past me first.”

“Beating you will only make victory that much sweeter.”

“You sound confident for a man who’s already suffered a few blows today.”

MacKay feigned a step toward him as if he meant to attack, but Kenneth wasn’t fooled into taking the opening as MacKay quickly retreated.

“What are you talking about?” He’d won all his contests so far.

“Why, Lady Mary, of course. I assume that since she’s still leaving, you did not convince her to marry you. The king will not be pleased.”

Kenneth didn’t need to see his face to know that MacKay was grinning. He could hear it in his damned voice. He wanted to lunge at him, but forced himself to get a rein on his temper and stay back. Be patient, he told himself. Don’t let him get to you. But MacKay was a provoking bastard. “You let me worry about the king.”

“It won’t be necessary.” MacKay made the first move. It was a good one. He stabbed a hard punch with his right and then threw a low uppercut with his left. When Kenneth moved to block it, he attempted to get a lock on him by twisting his body and locking him in a stranglehold. But Kenneth read the move and rallied with one of his own, hearing the satisfying crunch of MacKay’s jaw as his fist connected with his chin under the helm to snap his head back.

MacKay swore, and that was the last recognizable sound they made for a while as the two men launched into a fierce battle. Nothing was off limits. They pounded with their fists, kicked with their feet, pummeled with their bodies. They took turns at wrapping one another in deadly holds and fighting to break free.

They were evenly matched. Too evenly matched in both strength and stubbornness. Neither of them would give up.

And they both knew how to fight dirty. MacKay lost no opportunity in targeting Kenneth’s bad side, landing whatever punches he could on his bruised ribs. “How are those ribs feeling, Sutherland?” he managed to taunt through deep breaths. “I hope nothing is broken.”

If they hadn’t been, they were now. But Kenneth didn’t care. All he could think about was seeing that bastard on the ground, and finally putting the matter of who was best behind them.

And he was close, damn it. He could feel it. One mistake, that was all he needed. One little opening and he’d have him.

“The ribs are fine,” he managed, his breath just as short as MacKay’s. “How’s your jaw?” Kenneth feigned with his right and landed another satisfying uppercut with his left to MacKay’s jaw. “Helen isn’t going to be too happy if it’s broken for your wedding.”

Something flashed in the other man’s eyes.

Guilt? Kenneth shook his head. “She doesn’t know about this, does she?” He laughed. “Maybe there won’t be a wedding to worry about.”

MacKay swore and launched himself at Kenneth, pummeling and swinging with a violent ferocity that took every ounce of his skill to defend against.

MacKay had to tire eventually. Kenneth just had to be patient awhile longer.

Finally, they broke apart, both bending over heaving great gulps of air as they fought to breathe.

Unconsciously, Kenneth glanced toward the castle and stiffened. A handful of guardsmen were gathered in the yard, and a small figure had just emerged from the donjon and was making her way down the tower stairs.

He looked away quickly, but it hadn’t been quick enough. He’d made a mistake. MacKay had caught the movement and recognized what was happening. “If you want to go after her, I’ll wait,” he taunted.

Kenneth bit out something foul, telling him he could go do something that was physically impossible.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” MacKay added. “Don’t tell me you actually wanted to marry the lass.”

Kenneth felt his blood spike but tamped it down. Stay cool. But his fists clenched at his sides with the urge to retaliate. It wasn’t in his nature not to fight back—or to be patient, for that matter.

MacKay let out a low whistle. “I never thought I’d see the day. I guess the lady wasn’t impressed?”

“Shut the hell up, MacKay.”

“Or what?”

Kenneth held himself still, refusing to be baited. But the urge to wipe that taunting grin off the face behind the helm was nearly overpowering.

“Or maybe that was all she wanted? Is that it, Sutherland? Tell me, do you get paid a fee like a prized steed? Aye, a stud fee.” He laughed.

That was it. The last thread Kenneth held on his temper snapped. He lunged toward MacKay, not thinking about anything other than shutting him up.