The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(55)

Of a woman. How bloody ridiculous! He had his pick of just about any woman he wanted; he didn’t need to trouble himself with one. Even one who made his blood rush hot just standing next to her.

The changes in her appearance should have made him happy. God knows it helped explain his strange attraction to the lass. But he wasn’t happy about it at all. He wanted her back the way she was, when he had been the only one to see the passion beneath the colorless facade.

Suddenly, an image of her softly rounded bottom sprang to mind. Well, perhaps he wouldn’t take back all the changes. The curves could stay.

He wasn’t jealous. The only reason Felton’s taunts were grating on him was that he intended to teach Lady Mary a lesson and didn’t want anyone interfering.

Kenneth hadn’t forgotten how she left him, or how it cost him the battle with MacKay. Her ready dismissal of him still grated. Both at Dunstaffnage and the day before.

“I’d almost forgotten.”

To a man whose first instinct was to fight, those words were like a gauntlet tossed at his feet. A challenge he couldn’t resist. And this was a battle he had no intention of losing. For a man who preferred to keep his challenges confined to the battlefield, he was surprised by how much he was looking forward to it.

Aye, he was going to make her pay for all the trouble she’d caused him. First with that delectable little body of hers, and then with her heart. By the time he was done with her, she’d be looking at him like he hung the damned moon. His mouth curled with annoyance, glancing at the riders behind him. Not unlike the way her son was looking at Felton.

“How much farther?” Felton bit out, coming up beside him. “It will be dark soon, and if this attack of yours is real, we should be getting into position. If this is some kind of trick, I’ll see you hung by your—”

“Relax,” Kenneth said, as if he were pacifying an over-eager bairn. “We’re almost there. If this is a trick, you’ll know soon enough.”

Felton flushed angrily. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

Kenneth gave him a hard look, letting some of the rage he’d been bottling inside show. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I don’t give a shite what you think, Felton. Hell, I’ve heard you boast countless times what would happen to Bruce’s phantoms if you ever came face-to-face with one. Well, here’s your chance. If you’re worried that you and half a bloody garrison of men aren’t enough to defeat a few rebels—”

Felton’s stiff English control cracked. “I’m not worried, damn it.”

“Good,” Kenneth said curtly. Ignoring the blustering knight, he turned to Percy. “The pass I mentioned is just ahead. You’ll want to have your men in position and hidden well before Bruce’s men arrive, in case they send a scout ahead to watch for the supply train.”

Percy’s plan was to hide a short distance away from where Bruce’s men intended to launch their “surprise” attack. The carts and armed soldiers from Carlisle would proceed as originally planned, but when Bruce’s men attacked, the soldiers would be ready for them. Once the two sides were engaged in battle, Percy and the rest of his men would circle around them, catching them in an impenetrable net.

But “impenetrable” wasn’t enough to hold the Highland Guard.

Kenneth might have been worried about the number of men Percy had brought with him—fifty in addition to the soldiers from Carlisle guarding the carts (he wasn’t taking any chances in letting the illustrious phantom warriors slip through his fingers)—but he’d seen the Highland Guard in action. He doubted a hundred men would be enough to hold them. Moreover, Striker—Eoin MacLean—had planned the “attack” with a second route of escape if it proved necessary.

Percy turned to Felton. “Your men are ready? I will be counting on you to make sure they cannot break through. I don’t care what it takes, do not let them escape!”

Felton appeared unconcerned. “If Sutherland is telling the truth, my men will be ready. The place on the road they’ve chosen leaves them little room to maneuver.” He knelt down to draw a crude map in the dirt. “It is dense forestland with a steep rise on one side and the Aln River on the other. We will circle around from all directions once they have launched their attack. As long as the soldiers protecting the cart can hold them off while we get in position, we will have them.”

Percy looked at the ground for a long moment, studying every possible escape route. If he considered the cliff, he quickly discounted it. Who would jump over twenty feet into a narrow river in the darkness? “Good,” he said with a curt nod of the head.

When he’d moved off, Kenneth turned to Felton. “Don’t forget about the lad,” he said, indicating the young Earl of Atholl. “I don’t think his mother would appreciate if you got him captured.”

Even in the fading daylight, Kenneth could see the angry flush flood Felton’s face. “The boy is none of your concern, and neither is his mother.”

Kenneth was being warned off, and if he were wise he would have walked away. But Felton had driven one too many stakes in his claim.

He smiled. “Are you so sure about that?”

Felton’s fists clenched, and for a moment, Kenneth thought—hell, hoped—he was going to strike him. But instead, he looked Kenneth over with a coldly assessing stare and returned his smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve competed for something. And like all the other times, I’m sure the result will be the same.”