The Recruit

by Monica McCarty

  She smothered a cry, holding her stomach in her hands and curling up in a ball as another pain struck.

  “Count,” one of the sailors said from beside her. He was a heavily bearded man with the rough, craggy face of someone who’d spent many years on a boat. “My wife has had ten babes, and she says it helps to count aloud. If you know how long they’ll last it helps to bear the pain.”

  Mary wasn’t sure about that, but at least it would give her something to do. She counted to twenty before the contraction started to release. “Men approaching, Captain!” someone shouted.

  It seemed as if an enormous, silent cheer went up. Apparently, the men were eager to relinquish their responsibility: her. From her place in the curve of the hull, it wasn’t easy to sit up, so she was forced to wait for him to find her.

  “Where is she?”

  The men cleared a path, and she caught her first glimpse of him. He was filthy, covered in dirt and blood, his face streaked with soot, dark hair matted with sweat from his helm, but he’d never looked more magnificent. She wanted to throw her arms around him and bury her head against his chest like a bairn. She tried to sit up, but felt a pinch that made her wince and sink back against the comfortable hull.

  Kenneth swore, his furious gaze shooting to Hawk. “What’s wrong with her? Is she hurt?”

  “Nothing—”

  Not waiting for the rest of Hawk’s answer, Kenneth jumped from bench to bench (or more accurately, wooden trunk to wooden trunk), closing the distance between them. Mary sobbed with relief, finding herself enfolded in her husband’s strong embrace.

  It was going to be all right. He was here. She was safe. She wasn’t going to have to do this alone. She let go of some of the fear she’d been holding, knowing he would take it for her.

  “What’s wrong?” he soothed gently. “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Mother?”

  Mary pulled back in shock. She gazed to the rear of the boat, where her son had just boarded beside Magnus MacKay. “Davey?” she whispered.

  Her heart swelled with joy.

  She looked to Kenneth. “How?”

  He smiled tenderly. “I will tell you everything later, but first tell me—”

  He stopped when she cried out in pain again. Holding her stomach, she started to count. This time she counted to thirty.

  Vaguely, she was aware of her frantic husband beside her. “What’s wrong with her, damn it? Why is she counting? Do something to help her!”

  Mary didn’t know to whom he shouted the last order, but it was Magnus MacKay who responded.

  “Congratulations, Recruit.”

  Kenneth answered, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re about to become a father.”

  Kenneth’s gaze shot to hers for confirmation. The pain had relaxed enough for her to nod.

  His eyes widened for a fraction of an instant, and she saw the same fear and helplessness she’d seen in the other men’s faces. But then his expression changed into one of steely determination. “Not yet, I’m not. This babe is going to be born in Dunstaffnage, with my sister’s help.”

  No one dared argue with him.

  “How fast can you take us home, Hawk?” he asked.

  Mary’s heart caught. Home. To Scotland. With her husband and her son. She’d never dared to dream of this.

  “By tomorrow night. Maybe a little sooner if the winds are with us.”

  “Tomorrow night!” she exclaimed. She couldn’t do this for a whole day. How long had it taken with Davey? Nearly that long, she realized glumly. It wasn’t something she liked to remember. “What if the baby comes before that?”

  “He won’t,” Kenneth said with such conviction, she almost believed him.

  He sat beside her and pulled her back against his chest into the protective circle of his arms, settling in for the long battle ahead. He held her like that for hours. Her volatile, hot-tempered, passionate husband had become her anchor in a stormy sea. He smoothed her hair, mopped her brow with a cool cloth, whispered gentle words of love in her ear, and helped her count as the contractions became more frequent, more intense, and longer. He calmed her with stories when the pain became too unbearable and she started to cry, telling him she couldn’t do this any longer.

  “Yes, you can,” he said softly. “You can do this. You’re strong. I have you.”

  His calm, steady voice kept the panic at bay. He told her of the life they would have together. The castle in the north of Scotland that he kept for his brother. The green of the grass, the white of the beaches, the impossible blue of the sea, the white foam of the waves crashing against the black rocks, the briny tang of the air. He told her of his family. Of the children they would have. He spoke of the quiet, peaceful years they would spend together.

  It sounded like heaven. Even when she didn’t think she could bear it a moment longer, those stories kept her going. She wanted to live that life with him.

  Mary had almost forgotten about the other men on the ship until she heard a cry go out, “Castle ahead, Captain!”

  The relief around her was almost palpable.

  “You did it, love.” The pains were only a minute apart, and another one hit. He held her, almost as if trying to absorb the pain for her. “Hold on just a little longer …”

  But Mary couldn’t hold back anything. She was too weak. She screamed as the pain took hold and the urge to push became overwhelming.

  “He’s coming,” she gasped, her voice racked with panic.

  Their eyes met. His steely determination, his absolute confidence, his unwavering certainty that everything was going to be all right eased her fear.

  “Someone get me some light!” he shouted at one of the men. Day had turned to night again without her noticing. A torch was handed back, and he handed it to one of the men seated nearby. Most of the men had given her a wide berth. Though at the time she didn’t care, she knew she would be glad later that her modesty was preserved when he moved her skirts up to see what was happening. She watched his face the entire time, but if he was concerned, he gave nothing away. “Hawk, you’d better make it quick.”

  Twenty-seven

  Kenneth had never been more scared in his life, seeing the top of his son’s head between his wife’s legs. But the brash confidence that had gotten him in trouble more than once proved a useful mask. The wife who calmed him needed him to calm her.

  It had been the most harrowing twenty-four hours of his life. He felt as if he’d been chewed up by a great beast and spit out in ragged pieces. Every nerve ending in his body was raw and frayed. But this wasn’t over yet. If he had to deliver his son on this damned boat, he would do it.

  Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Hawk defied the laws of nature and sailed them into the small harbor in record time. Their ship had been sighted, and his sister was at the shore, waiting to greet them. Instead, she was rushed into service. As there wasn’t time to move Mary, men were sent running for the things Helen would need.

  A look of shock broke through the pain when Mary caught sight of Helen. “Your sister? The woman in the stables was your sister?”

  Under the circumstances, the look of outrage on her face nearly made him laugh. “I told you it wasn’t how it looked.”

  She glared at him until the next pain took hold. He held her hand, letting her squeeze his, her tiny nails digging into his skin as a spasm seemed to envelop her entire body.

  He didn’t know how she could bear it. He wanted to shout out his frustration. To kill someone for doing this to her. To take her pain for himself. But he couldn’t. So instead, he stayed by her side, calmly and soothingly trying to ease her suffering.

  After all the hard work he’d endured during their long journey, it seemed unfair that Helen arrived in time for three long pushes and all the glory when a few moments later, the future Earl of Sutherland made his appearance. Tiny and wrinkled, the laddie nonetheless possessed a remarkable set of lungs
, and his fierce wail had the makings of a formidable future battle cry.

  Kenneth was so happy that both Mary and the child were all right that once he could pry his arms from his wife, he enfolded his sister in a fierce embrace. “Thank you.”

  A sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes as Helen hugged him back. “He’s beautiful. But you look horrible. Let’s get you all back to the castle.”

  He insisted on carrying Mary—who had fallen into an exhausted sleep—and Helen carried the babe as they walked up the beach and through the sea-gate of the royal castle of Dunstaffnage, Bruce’s headquarters in the West Highlands. His fellow guardsman, Arthur Campbell, had been appointed keeper of the castle, and his wife, Anna, had already readied chambers for them.

  He didn’t remember much of the next twenty-four hours. Once he’d assured himself that Mary and his son were being well cared for, he’d collapsed in an adjoining chamber and slept most of the next day. He woke and would have gone to Mary, but his sister told him that she and the child were still sleeping. So he took a much needed bath, and recalling his duty, found his way down to the Hall to fill in the king on what he’d learned.

  His mission hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d returned the Earl of Atholl into the Scottish fold. But he’d wanted to give them more. “I’d hoped to find proof,” he explained to the king about his theory of the route the English planned to take. “But Felton used my illegal fighting to secure an arrest warrant. I had to leave.”

  “Aye, well, we’ll talk about that, Ice.” The king’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “Although from what MacKay and the others say, you earned the name on that journey back. MacKay said it was the most nerve-wracking experience he could recall, but you were icy calm the entire time.”

  Kenneth’s mouth twitched. “I did what the situation called for.”

  The king laughed. “You did indeed. That is what you are here for, is it not? Although not even I anticipated that much versatility. You did well, Sutherland. If you think there is something to this scouting foray of Clifford’s, that’s enough.” Kenneth looked around the room filled with his fellow guardsmen, surprised to see the universal agreement in their expressions. They trusted his instincts—even without proof. “Once Edward marches from Berwick Castle, we’ll have men ready all along this route. We’ll hit him hard and fast, making sure his sojourn in Scotland is a short one.”

  They discussed the coming battle for a little while longer before Kenneth excused himself to check on Mary.

  She was sitting up against the back of the bed, holding the baby, when he walked in. His sister was standing there, along with a few other women, but he didn’t notice any of them. His eyes were only for his wife and son. His heart squeezed so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

  But when he thought of what had happened to her, how she must blame him for putting her in danger, the squeezing knifed. Could she forgive him?

  He crossed the room, feeling suddenly uncertain. In the turmoil of their escape and sea journey there hadn’t been time for awkwardness and questions. Emotion had been stripped to the bone. Love, simple and unfettered by complication. But now, the hurt and pain hung in the air between them.

  The babe was swaddled in a soft woolen blanket and tucked into her arm. “He looks so small,” Kenneth said, overwhelmed.

  “He is,” Helen said. “But he’s a fighter.”

  “Will he …” Kenneth’s voice cracked; he couldn’t even let himself say the words.

  Helen smiled. “He seems a strong lad. He’s breathing well, and already had a few meals while you slept the day away.”

  Kenneth scowled at his sister. “You should have woken me.”

  Helen laughed. “You needed your sleep. From what I hear from Magnus, you all had a long night. I don’t think my husband has recovered yet. It will be some time before he wants to go through that again.”

  Kenneth wasn’t looking forward to the battle of wills between his sister and MacKay when she became pregnant. Helen was enjoying her position in the Guard, and Kenneth didn’t see her relinquishing it without a fight.

  Mary watched the interplay between the siblings with a wistful expression on her face. He knew she was thinking of Janet. He was going to have a talk with Bruce about that very soon. If he knew anything about her sister, Kenneth intended to find out. Mary deserved an answer.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Their eyes held. “Much better.” She held out the babe. “Would you like to hold him?”

  Kenneth hoped the horror didn’t show too plainly on his face. But when all the women in the chamber started to laugh, he knew it had.

  Helen was still chuckling when she reached for the baby. “Here, I’ll take him. You two will want some privacy. And once my brother gets over his irrational fear”—he didn’t bother denying it—“I suspect I won’t get a chance to hold him very often.” Helen turned to him. “Have you decided on a name?”

  Kenneth looked to Mary. “I thought William would be nice,” she said. “In honor of your brother.”

  His chest swelled, touched by the gesture to a brother who would have no sons of his own. He could see that Helen was as well. He nodded, remembering another William, too.

  Helen left the room, taking baby William and the other ladies with her.

  Kenneth felt himself strangely at a loss for words. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, Mary. I’m sorry for getting you into this. I know you didn’t want to come here—”

  “But I did,” she interrupted. “You were right. It was time to come home.”

  “I should have given you a choice.”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “But I can see why you did not at first.”

  “I was scared of losing you,” he said, trying to explain what kept him from telling her.

  She nodded. “I can understand that, too. When I heard you were to be arrested—” She stopped, her face paling. “I knew nothing else mattered as long as you were safe. I was so scared that they’d taken you. What happened?”

  He gave her a short explanation, piecing together what he knew as well as what Sir Adam had told him. “I knew that I had to reach you before they took you into the castle. It’s not impenetrable, but it would have taken time and been much more dangerous to get you out.”

  “You convinced Sir Adam to help you?”

  “It wasn’t too difficult. He wanted to help.”

  “He said something strange before he left. He asked for my forgiveness.”

  Kenneth watched her eyes widen with surprise, and then fill with tears, as he told her the part Sir Adam had played in what had happened the last time she’d tried to escape.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said. “He betrayed me?”

  “He didn’t think he was betraying you, he thought he was protecting you. The English were too close. He thought they’d catch up to you and you would be imprisoned. He made a deal with the English soldiers, giving them Lady Christina’s men in exchange for the promise that you would be kept safe. But when the MacRuairis defeated the soldiers, everything went wrong. He tried to prevent you and your sister from being trampled on the bridge by destroying it, but then your servant fell and your sister ended up where she shouldn’t have been. He blamed himself for what happened to her, even though he couldn’t have known she would turn back.”

  Mary appeared stunned. “No wonder he became upset every time I asked him to help me find her.” Her brows drew together. “That sound at the bridge last night—the boom and crack of lightning—it was just like that night with my sister. What was it?”

  “Black powder. My foster brother William Gordon, Sir Adam’s nephew, had knowledge of it as well. As do I, although not at the level of theirs. I was looking for the recipe in those journals when you found me in the baby’s room. I didn’t find anything, but I suspected after what you told me about that night that Sir Adam had similar knowledge.
I knew that it would help our chances of getting away, and he agreed to give me what I needed to see you free.” He smiled. “I wish I’d been able to carry more of it; it would come in handy the next few months.”

  Suddenly, Mary seemed to recall something. “If you’ll hand me my bag, I think you will find that won’t be necessary.”

  Puzzled, he handed it to her. She pulled out a folded piece of parchment and gave it to him. He scanned the page, his eyes widening when he saw the recipe he’d been searching for. “He gave this to you?”

  She nodded. “To give to you.”

  He shook his head in amazement. Without realizing it, his wife had just handed him a place in the Guard.

  Nay, he realized. He’d done that on his own—even without the powder. He’d brought Mary and Atholl back to Scotland. He’d uncovered key information about the castles for the upcoming war. Not to mention single-handedly defeating nearly a score of English soldiers. He’d proved himself more than equal to the task. He’d proved himself one of the best.

  He’d achieved what he wanted—more than he wanted—so why wasn’t he happy?

  Because looking at his wife, he knew that none of it mattered if he didn’t have her by his side. Kenneth had been fighting his whole life, but winning her was the only fight that counted.

  He took her small hand in his, looking deep into her big, blue eyes. “Can you forgive me, Mary? I know I hurt you. I should have told you sooner, but I was scared to lose you. I love you. Just give me a chance to prove it.”

  Mary had never seen him like this. The cocky, too-handsome-for-his-own-good knight looked worried and unsure of himself. Didn’t he know he’d proved himself many times over in the past few days? Not just during the long, horrible hours on the ship where he’d gotten her through some of the most difficult and terrifying hours of her life, but by giving himself up for her, seeing her and her son to safety, coming for her, protecting her.