The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(86)

“I have to go,” he said, pulling away even more as if he sensed her impulse. “I need to get this done.” It sounded like he muttered “again,” before he hurried out of the Hall.

Mary watched him go with the familiar sense of helplessness rising up inside her. Being the mother of a thirteen-year-old lad was like walking through a thick forest. At night. In the snow. Without a guidepost. Just when she thought she found the path out, another obstacle blocked her path.

She startled, an idea taking hold. Maybe what she needed was another set of eyes.

That was it! Who better to have insight into the mindset of a young lad than someone who’d been there? Perhaps Kenneth would be able to help?

Feeling as if a weight suddenly had been lifted from her shoulders, Mary hurried about her tasks. For more reasons than one, she was looking forward to the night ahead.

Kenneth stormed out of the tower after breaking his fast and headed across the yard to the armory. For a man who had spent the morning being pleasured in the way every man dreams of being pleasured, he was in a foul mood. His body might be well sated from more than three weeks of increasingly passionate lovemaking, but the rest of him was teeming with frustration.

Nothing about this mission was going well. Bruce was furious that he’d married Mary without his permission; Kenneth hadn’t been able to offset his anger with any information of value; they were annoyed at him for straying from his task (apparently, someone was watching him and had informed them of his little journey to Roxburgh with Clifford); each day without practice he felt his battle skills withering like a grape in the sun, Felton lost no opportunity to give slight and offense, making MacKay look subtle by comparison; and to top it all off, his wee wife was proving infuriatingly resistant to his attempts to woo her.

He didn’t understand it. He—one of the most elite warriors in Scotland only months away from what might be the biggest battle of his life—had been dancing attendance on her for more than two weeks like some lovesick swain from one of the troubadours’ songs. The worst part was that he didn’t even mind. He liked spending time with her. Which was odd, as he could hardly characterize her as uncomplicated and eager to please. Complicated and constantly challenging was more like it.

“Maybe they would hold your attention longer if they had something more interesting to talk about?” Her words came back to him. Well, she sure as hell had his interest.

Women weren’t supposed to be this difficult, damn it. But every time he thought he was getting close to breaking through the wall she’d erected around her heart, she countered with a bold, sensual attack guaranteed to make him lose control.

Like this morning. He’d woken to see the sun streaming across her sleeping form and felt an unexpected wave of tenderness strike him. She looked so young and sweet. So peaceful and uncomplicated. Unable to resist, he’d started to make love to her while she was still half asleep. Slow and lazy, he stroked her with his hands, with his mouth, with his tongue. He’d felt her resistance slipping away, damn it. He’d seen it in her eyes. She was falling for him.

But then she turned the tables on him.

She’d kissed his chest before, so at first he didn’t realize what she meant to do. It was only when her mouth slid to his stomach that he had the first inkling, and by then it was too late.

His mind shut off and base instinct set in. With her mouth hovering inches from the tip of him, she could have had anything she wanted from him. He didn’t think he was the type of man who could be led around by his cock, but she’d proved him wrong.

The feel of her lips brushing him, her tongue darting out to lick him, and then—God help him!—lips wrapping around him and taking him deep into her mouth was more than any hot-blooded man could withstand. He’d been so out of his mind with lust—as no doubt was intended—his slow, tender lovemaking went to hell.

It was obvious that the skill was a new one to her, but she’d taken to the task with such enthusiasm that he had no doubt she’d be a master in no time.

Wonderful.

He should be counting his blessings, damn it. A wife who took to the marriage bed with all the passion of a harlot was every man’s dream, wasn’t it?

But he didn’t want just her passion; he wanted her heart.

For his mission, damn it.

God was sure as hell having a good laugh at his expense. The first woman he’d ever set out to woo wanted only one thing from him. And blast it, it grated. Stud.

His mouth tightened. It was a good thing he had no intention of letting emotion interfere with his marriage. He wasn’t like his sister and brother. He was different.

Except he didn’t feel so different right now.

He was so irritated, he barely noticed the other soldiers gathered in the yard readying for practice. But when he caught sight of Felton and David near the door to the armory, his irritation turned to full-fledged anger.

The bastard was berating the lad again.

Though he hid it well around Mary and the others, Felton was taking out his anger at their marriage on the lad. But Kenneth knew it would only be worse if he interfered. Until he was awarded David’s wardship—which could take some time—Percy, and through him, Felton, was David’s lord and master. Still, he couldn’t stand to see the strong prey on the weak. Kenneth already bore the bulk of Felton’s ire, but he wanted all of it directed toward him.

With a few more harsh words, Felton stormed off. Shoulders slumped, David slipped dejectedly into the armory.