The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(48)

It wouldn’t be with Sir John. There were too many … complications. But perhaps it could be with someone else when she returned from France late in the summer—yet one more thing she had to thank Sir Adam for. He’d arranged for her to accompany him on his journey to the French court in the late spring.

Had he guessed the truth? At times, she wondered. Something about their relationship had changed, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He didn’t seem pleased by Sir John’s courtship.

Unlike her son.

Her mouth quirked with a smile, thinking of Davey, as she murmured her thanks and took the proffered seat between the two men on the bench. He would be vastly disappointed. Her son idolized Sir John in the way of a young squire who looked up to a great knight. He’d been shocked by his hero’s interest in his mother.

Actually, it was probably Davey’s reaction just as much as Sir Kenneth that was responsible for Mary’s transformation. The first time her son had complimented her on her appearance, she’d realized it pleased him to see her looking well. She wanted to make him proud of her. Had she unwittingly embarrassed him by her former drab appearance? She cringed, hoping not.

She knew preciously little about young boys, but since Davey had joined Percy’s household a few months ago, she’d begun to feel as if she was beginning to understand her son a little more. He was at an impressionable age, but also an age when he was trying to assert his manhood. As Sir Adam had suggested, the king had been pleased by her efforts on his behalf—even if it had yielded little—and had permitted her to see Davey as often as her duties allowed. Sir Adam had brought him to see her at Ponteland every other Sunday, but it wasn’t until the invitation came to Alnwick that they’d been able to spend any extended amount of time together.

The polite reserve that had characterized their relationship had relaxed enough to make her think she glimpsed the occasional sign of genuine affection. Sir John was partially responsible for that, she knew. She peeked out from under her lashes at the formidable knight beside her. If he approved of her, she followed her son’s thinking, she couldn’t be all that bad.

Mary was trying not to press Davey on their relationship, but her normal patience seemed to have deserted her. She longed to be closer to him and feared her eagerness showed along with her pride every time she looked at him. He was a favorite of the king and was on his way to becoming the same with Lord Percy. Having recently turned thirteen, her son was already exhibiting hints of his father’s prowess on the battlefield. He was a well-formed lad, tall and boyishly handsome. Though quiet and more reserved than his father had been, he was also more thoughtful—and more deliberate. Cautious, she realized. Like she. She had every right to be proud of him, and she was.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sir John said from her side. “But I arranged for David and a few of his friends to join us at the dais tonight.”

“Mind?” Mary turned to him in surprise, just in time to see her son enter the hall and look toward her. Tears of joy pricked behind her eyes. It wasn’t just at Sir John’s thoughtfulness—it must have taken some persuading to allow squires to sit at the dais—but also at what her son was wearing. Beneath his velvet surcote, she could see the edge of his shirt. A shirt she’d embroidered for him. She’d given him things before, but this was the first time she could recall seeing him wear one. “Thank you,” she said to Sir John, her eyes damp.

He took her hand and bowed over it as he stood to make way for the youths. “You’re welcome,” he said with a smile that hovered just on the edge of intimacy. “I hope I shall have many more opportunities to bring a smile to your face.”

She lowered her eyes, feeling the blast of heat to her cheeks. She knew she should stop him, that it wasn’t fair of her to encourage him, but it had been so long since a man had shown an interest in her. Appropriate interest, she amended, thinking once again of the man about whom she’d vowed not to think.

But she couldn’t stop seeing Sir Kenneth’s face. Hard and intent in the semidarkness as he’d held himself over her—

She pushed the image away. It hadn’t meant anything. He probably looked at every woman he’d made love to like that. Except she knew for a fact he hadn’t—at least he hadn’t with the woman in the stable.

She had to stop this. But that one night had given her far more than she’d bargained for, in more ways that one.

If Sir John noticed her momentary distraction, he didn’t show it. “I hope you have decided to accept Lord Percy’s invitation and travel with Sir Adam to Berwick for Gaveston’s arrival?”

Mary nodded. She could hardly refuse. Piers Gaveston, the recently created Earl of Cornwall and King Edward’s much despised favorite, had been recalled from exile in Ireland (where Edward had been forced to send him when Gaveston had riled the anger of many important nobles) and been ordered to Berwick to ready for the planned campaign against Scotland when the truce expired in March. The king would follow in late spring. The barons had been called to rally at Berwick, including Sir Adam and Lord Percy—which meant Davey as well. Despite the call to war, her son’s presence guaranteed her eager acceptance.

“Good,” he said, a decidedly anticipatory glint in his eye. “I want you to know, Lady Mary, you can rely on me for anything.”

Mary didn’t know what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was rely on a man again, but she heard the heartfelt honesty in his words, and the tiniest part of her—the girl-who’d-longed-for-a-handsome-knight part of her—responded.