The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(63)

But Felton made it damned hard to turn the other cheek. The knight leaned closer so his words would not be overheard, his eyes narrow and hard. “I know why you’re doing this. But it won’t work. Winning over the boy won’t win over his mother.”

The mention of Lady Mary was enough to loosen Kenneth’s tongue. “And getting him killed will?”

Felton exploded in fury. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with what happened! No one could have anticipated they would attempt to escape by jumping over a cliff. The earl was well protected.”

“Then how the hell did he nearly die, and I end up with this?” Kenneth lifted his injured arm, which was stinging like the devil. “I warned you it was too dangerous to take the lad. Next time don’t let your attempt to impress a lady affect your judgment.”

“By God, if you weren’t injured right now you would pay for your arrogance. I am still the best knight around here, and I won’t have a disloyal, opportunistic Highland traitor question my decisions. Winning a few barbarian games doesn’t make you a champion. Here, you are nothing until you prove otherwise.”

The smug bastard had managed to strike a nerve—a rather raw nerve. Anger ran hot through Kenneth’s veins and being wise was forgotten. “I don’t know, perhaps you could use a little Highland instruction. The ‘barbarians’ seemed to have put you on your arse easily enough.”

The look of raw hatred in the other man’s eyes almost made Kenneth regret his words. Almost.

“I’ll see you pay for that, you traitorous bastard.”

“You can sure as hell try.”

They might have come to blows—injured arm or not—if Kenneth hadn’t glanced over to the gate and seen something that made his blood run cold and his anger at Felton fizzle like water on hot rocks.

Jesus. Christ. God damn it to hell. A string of more oaths and blasphemes followed—silently, thank God. But it took every scrap of his training not to react. Keeping his expression carefully blank, Kenneth looked away from the group of women entering the castle gate, but fear prickled on his skin like a sheet of ice.

Before Felton could reply or notice his distraction, he added, “I will look forward to it.” And walked away, heading toward the practice yard where the women had gone.

It wasn’t unusual for women from the village to watch the soldiers practicing. Nor was it unusual for the soldiers to find the evening’s entertainment from amongst the spectators. Every camp had its followers, and a castle was no different. By the time he’d made his way over to the far side of the yard near the barracks, the women were already mingling with the soldiers who’d finished their duties for the day—including the beautiful red-haired woman who’d caught his attention.

Long auburn hair tumbled down her back in a veil of loose waves. Her rough, homespun kirtle was low on her chest, revealing far more of her bosom than he cared to see, but which left no doubt of her plans to attract a companion for the night.

She was flirting with one of the older men-at-arms as he approached. A relatively safe choice, but it didn’t temper his anger any.

When she saw him, her eyes widened in feigned excitement and a slow, seductive smile curved on her mouth, as sensual and promising as any wanton’s. “My lord,” she said in a husky gasp. “Where have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

The man-at-arms turned to him, disappointment keen on his face when he recognized Kenneth. “Sir Kenneth,” he bowed. “I did not realize mistress Helen was yours.”

“She’s not,” Kenneth said, looking into the twinkling eyes of his sister. Damn it, she was MacKay’s responsibility now. What the hell was the bastard thinking? He managed to control his anger long enough to play his part. “We met the last time I was in Berwick.” He took her hand and placed a gallant kiss on it. “Though I am looking forward to renewing our acquaintance.”

Seeing that another had claimed his entertainment for the evening, the man-at-arms made his graceful retreat.

For the next few minutes they made a very public show of “renewing” that acquaintance. Helen sidled up next to him, flirting, batting her lashes, and flaunting her heretofore-unknown ample wares for all to see. If he were MacKay, he’d toss her over his knee for acting like such a jade. Hell, he was glad for his sister’s sake that the fierce Highlander wasn’t around to see the appreciative English glances at her br**sts, which were practically falling out of her gown. As her brother, he had to stop himself from pulling the useless scrap of wool up to her neck and putting his fist through a few sets of teeth.

She ran her fingers up his arm. “You’re hurt!” Her eyes flashed naughtily. “Perhaps there is something I can do to make it feel better?”

It wasn’t easy to pretend seduction with his little sister—especially when he’d like nothing more than to throttle her—but Kenneth played along. “Why don’t we go someplace where you can examine it in private?”

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, turning around to address one of the men who was standing nearby. Percy was still keeping a close eye on him. “Tell Percy I’ll be back in time for the evening meal. The lady is going to tend my wounds.”

“Aye, I’m going to make you feel all better,” she said with a lecherous wink.