The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(84)

“Drubbings, you mean. One-sided, for the most part.”

“It’s hard to think of you being on the losing end.”

He shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. “It made me work harder. My brother made me the warrior I am today.”

“You are close?”

Suddenly, he realized his mistake. Damn it. He’d been jabbering on as if he hadn’t just broken from his family.

“Were close,” he corrected.

But from the way she was looking at him, he feared she’d picked up on the mistake as well. “Why did you change your allegiance?”

Damn. “It’s complicated,” he hedged, and then turned the question back to her. “Did you ever consider returning to Scotland?”

A sharp look of pain crossed her face. She nodded.

“Aye. Once.”

“What happened?”

For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer. She reached over and picked a piece of grass, making tiny knots over and over. “I lost my sister.”

She gave a brief rendition of what had happened. How her sister had appeared one night at Ponteland to bring her home after Atholl’s arrest, how Sir Adam had arrived ahead of the king’s men, how they’d raced across the countryside only to be caught in the middle of the battle. “I’ll never forget that moment. One minute I was looking at her and the next, the bridge exploded into flames. It must have been lightning, though I didn’t recall hearing any before. There was a loud boom—the strangest thunder I’ve ever heard—and then everything went black. I woke up, and my sister was gone.”

Something about the story niggled at his consciousness. “Sir Adam was there?”

She nodded. “I heard his voice right before I fell. He was a godsend. Were it not for him, I’m sure David and I would have been imprisoned. He had his men look for Janet for hours, but it was as if she’d vanished.”

All his instincts were hammering now. Could it be possible? God, if it were true, it could be just what he needed.

“Do you remember anything about the smell?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “How strange that you should ask. I remember it smelled like rotting eggs.”

Damn. It was true. Sir Adam Gordon shared the same knowledge his nephew had. He knew how to make black powder.

Mary knew she had said too much. She was supposed to be guarding her heart, and here she was spilling all her secrets to him. But for such an outwardly hard and imposing man, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He listened, and actually seemed interested in what she had to say, which was a novelty among men of his station. At least it was in her experience. But she was beginning to realize that her experience wasn’t the only experience. Kenneth was right; he wasn’t Atholl.

But eventually his interest in her—in this game—would wane, and when it did, she wasn’t going to let him break her heart.

She was going to have to be careful, very careful. She could see how easy it would be to slip and let herself believe in faerie tales and happy endings.

He had married her, given their child a name, and promised not to do anything reckless that would put them in danger without telling her. It was enough. She would be content with what she had.

And the passion. Aye, he’d given her that. She was going to savor every minute of it, knowing that it wouldn’t last.

He was strangely contemplative after she’d told him about her sister. She finished eating the bun, forcing herself not to eat the second, and accepted the wine he offered her from a leather pouch to wash it down.

When she was finished, she handed the pouch back to him and reclined against one of the large stones where he’d set the plaid.

It was still warm, and the sun felt so good on her face, she felt her eyes fluttering.

“You aren’t going to fall asleep again, are you?”

She blinked. How had he moved so close without her realizing it? “Are you ready to leave?” Her heart was fluttering so fast, her words came out high-pitched and nervous.

One corner of his mouth curved in a very wicked smile. “Not quite yet.”

She thought about scooting away but knew it would be useless. He’d only catch her. And kiss her. And make her dissolve into a mindless bundle of sensation.

She tried to sound unaffected. “What else did you have planned?”

He leaned closer, his mouth achingly close. She could smell the wine on his breath and it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.”

His mouth fell on hers with a groan that tore through her heart. It was only for a moment, but long enough to make her breathless and hungry for more. His mouth slid over her jaw, down her throat, to the bodice of her dress. He started to tug at it, when she stopped him. “We can’t. Not here.”

“Why not?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “It’s the middle of the day. Anyone could see.”

He grinned. “There isn’t anyone around. I won’t undress you.”

She eyed him skeptically, not trusting him. “I thought you offered to take me on a ride, not seduce me.”

A wicked glint appeared in his eye. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and put her on his lap so that she was facing and straddling him. She gasped, feeling the hard swell of his erection against the intimate juncture between her thighs. “You’ll have your ride, Mary.”