The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(46)

How far will you go? he seemed to be asking.

To the death. That was what was required of them. Chief had told them many times before. If you want on this team, you have to be willing to sacrifice your life for the good of the team. Did Kenneth want it that badly?

He thought he did, but it wasn’t until that moment that he knew it for a certainty. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be part of something that was not just important but also historic. He’d been working for this moment his entire life, and he wasn’t going to turn back now.

“Aye, you’re right,” he said equitably. “I’ll be able to see much better from there.”

Something flashed in the other man’s eyes. Respect? Kenneth didn’t know. Truth be told, he no longer cared. He wasn’t proving anything to MacKay, he was proving it to himself. He turned and started toward the peak. Almost impossible wasn’t impossible. He would do this, damn it.

He’d reached the base of the area from where he would start his ascent when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. It was bloody disconcerting how he knew who it was. Apparently, he didn’t even need a shadow to recognize his old nemesis.

“Have you learned nothing in three months?”

Kenneth turned slowly to face his brother-in-law. He bit back a few choice replies, and simply stared at him. For once he didn’t feel like fighting, even with MacKay—he was too bloody tired.

MacKay gave him a long look. “If you’re going to get yourself killed, don’t do it without your partner.”

“Aye, well you sent my partner on a fool’s mission for fresh meat.”

He couldn’t bite back all the sarcasm, and MacKay shook his head. “You had me worried for a minute. I’ve grown so used to seeing that belligerent, ‘I dare you to try’ look on your face, and I thought we’d actually beaten it out of you. Hell, without the prickly attitude I could actually learn to like you.” He gave a dramatic shudder from behind the long wool scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face. Like the rest of them, he hadn’t shaved in nearly two weeks and tiny droplets of ice clung to his face. They had all begun to look and smell like wild beasts. “And you never know, the recruit might find something. You just have to know where to look.”

Belligerent? What was he talking about?

MacKay had retrieved a rope from his pack and had started to tie it around his waist. He handed him the other end.

“You’re going to be my partner?” Kenneth couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

A flash of pain crossed the other man’s face, and Kenneth knew he was thinking about his first partner, the man who’d been a friend to them both: William Gordon.

Rather than lash out as he usually did, however, MacKay merely shrugged. “Aye, well, the rest of them are too exhausted. Besides, your sister would have my hide if I let you crack your pretty head open on those rocks. She’s still mad about my taking advantage of your injury at the wrestling event.” He shook his head. “I must admit, you’ve surprised me these past few months. I didn’t think you had it in you. But you’ve shown more control than I thought possible. Hell, even I lost my temper a few times with Hawk’s needling.”

Kenneth couldn’t believe it. He stared in shock at the man who’d been his enemy since the day he was born. “Does that mean you won’t stand in the way of my joining the Guard?”

The Highland Guard was how they referred to the team.

MacKay gave him a long look. “It isn’t over yet, but if you make it through training and the rest of it, I won’t object.”

Kenneth wondered at “the rest of it,” but he knew he had to focus on one thing first: getting himself up this damned mountain. Whatever they threw at him these next few days—what remained of Perdition—he was going to be the last man standing. After that, “the rest” was going to be easy by comparison.

Alnwick Castle, Northumberland, English Marches

Mary sat before the looking glass in the tower chamber that had been provided for her and her attendants, as the serving girl put the finishing touches on her hair. It had been brushed to a shimmery veil of gold, twisted, and then braided around her head with a cerulean silk ribbon that matched her gown and—not coincidentally—her eyes. The back had been left loose to tumble around her shoulders in the manner of a young girl. She actually felt like a young girl. The intricate hairstyle was said to be popular on the Continent, and she had to admit it was flattering.

After years of hiding and fading into the background, it felt strange to have her hair so visible. Strange, but also freeing. Slowly and cautiously, in the months since Mary had returned from Scotland, she had cast aside the dour armor that she’d used to protect herself. Armor that had kept her safe and hidden but had also prevented her from living a full life. A life of not just contentment, but passion and happiness. She was done hiding.

She forced herself not to think about the man responsible for her transformation. The man who’d brought passion and so much more into her life. She’d thought of that night—thought of him—far more often than she wanted to admit, even to herself.

The feeling that she might have made a mistake had not waned. She’d panicked, beset by a cacophony of feelings she hadn’t expected. She regretted the cold manner of her dismissal of his suit and wondered if she’d misjudged him. Admittedly, she barely knew him. But he’d reminded her so much of her husband and so much of her painful past that she’d felt her heart breaking all over again.