The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(52)

Percy stood and gave him an assessing gaze. “I hope you are right about this. It will go very badly for you if you are wrong. Now I have a feast to attend and a delay to explain to Gaves—” he stopped and corrected himself—“Cornwall. He may have some questions for you. After you change.” His gaze slid over Kenneth with a shudder. “It seems Felton was a bit overzealous in his greeting. He should have let me know of your arrival immediately.”

Kenneth tipped his head, acknowledging the semi-apology.

“You have some men with you?” Percy asked.

“Just a few of my household men,” he said. “I dared not attempt to leave with more. They are waiting for me in the forest.” His mouth turned. “I was unsure of my reception.”

Percy smiled for the first time. “Your caution was understandable in the circumstances.”

“I will send some of my men to fetch them,” Sir Adam said. “Sutherland can stay with me in my chamber.”

Under guard. Neither Percy nor Sir Adam said it, but Kenneth heard it nonetheless. He wasn’t surprised. They would keep a close watch on him for a while.

Kenneth was escorted a short while later by two of Sir Adam’s men to the Constable Tower, where a bath had been arranged while his horse and the bag holding the few items he’d brought with him was tracked down. Exchanging the mail shirt he’d been captured in for a surcote, he left one of his men to clean it while he was escorted to the Hall. The Earl of Cornwall did indeed have some questions for him.

Unfortunately, as he hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, the tables had already been moved for the dancing and music. He was able to snatch a few pieces of cheese, however, from a passing serving girl who was removing the remaining trays.

The music had already begun and the revelers had formed the circle carol dance. He gave the dancers no more than a passing glance, weaving his way through the crowd to the dais at the back of the room.

Sir Adam leaned over and murmured something to the man at his side. Though Kenneth had never met him, his pretty face, fine ermine-lined mantle, and heavy gold chain with one of the biggest sapphires Kenneth had ever seen hanging from his neck identified him as the king’s favorite. Hell, he looked like the king himself.

The earl frowned, watching him with interest as Kenneth came forward at Sir Adam’s motion.

“Sutherland,” he said. “I hear you have had a change of heart.”

“Aye, my lord.”

The gaze that held his was more intense than he’d expected. For all the hate and condemnation he inspired, Kenneth could see right away that Sir Piers Gaveston was not a man to dismiss. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being a fool—not a complete one, anyway. “I will hear more about it after the feast.”

The brief interview concluded, at least for now, Kenneth and Sir Adam took their leave.

They’d just stepped off the dais when he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of golden-blond hair swinging in a cloud of shimmering silk.

He stilled, a buzz of awareness shooting up his spine, every nerve ending in his body coming alive.

He turned, looking at the woman who’d caught his eye. She had her back to him, and by any objective measure, there was nothing about her that should be familiar. She was laughing, for one thing. Dancing, for another. Her hair was tumbling loose about her shoulders for all the bloody world to see, not hidden behind some hideous veil. She was not skinny as a starved bird who looked like he could blow her over with one breath, but healthy-looking with gentle curves—nay, substantial curves, he corrected, looking at her shapely round bottom.

There was no way in hell he should have recognized her.

But he did.

It was only when he saw the man’s hand linger on her waist that he glanced over at her partner. At the man who was making her laugh.

Kenneth stiffened again, this time with rage. Every possessive bone in his body—bones he hadn’t even known he had—flared to life.

Felton. What the hell was she doing with Felton?

His mouth thinned, the reason for Felton’s early departure from the meeting suddenly clear.

“Is something wrong?” Sir Adam asked.

Kenneth forced his fists to relax, not realizing they’d instinctively clenched. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without the venom spewing through his blood.

The dance came to an end, and Felton started to lead her off the floor toward them. She was only a few feet away when she finally looked in his direction.

His breath caught, feeling as if he’d been poleaxed across the chest. The beauty that he’d glimpsed behind the nun-nish facade was revealed in its full glory. Her face was fuller, softening the features that had seemed too sharp. Her skin was luminous, a flawless ivory, pinkened with the flush of her dance. Her eyes were a bright and sparkling blue, her lips red and smiling. She even had a small dimple just to the left of her curving mouth.

His mouth, by contrast, fell in a hard line.

She didn’t see him right away, noticing Sir Adam first. But almost as if she sensed him, too, her gaze shifted to his.

He had the satisfaction—and right now, it was bloody well satisfying—of seeing her eyes widen, and every drop of the blush Felton had put in her cheeks drain from her face in shock.

Their eyes held, and all the emotions that he’d felt that morning five months ago, the stinging anger that had led to his loss of control and defeat, came rushing back. He stared at her like a hunter who’d just caught a prey that had been eluding him. Nay, a prey that had run away from him.