The Recruit by Monica Mccarty Read Free Book Online Page A

be on his best behavior, even if it bloody
     well killed him. And not just with the women. He was determined to keep his temper
     in check and not let his bastard of a soon-to-be brother-in-law get to him, even if
     MacKay seemed to be making it his personal mission in life to rile his temper and
     prove him unworthy for Bruce’s secret army.
    He wasn’t rash—or a hothead—damn it!
    Magnus MacKay had been his enemy, nemesis, and all-around thorn in his arse since
     Kenneth had been old enough to hold a sword. MacKay had bested him on the field when
     they were youths more times than he wanted to remember. But he did remember, every
     one of them. No more. Kenneth was done coming in second. He’d spent the better part
     of the past three years honing his skills in battle, becoming one of the best warriors
     in the Highlands. He was determined to prove it by winning a place in Bruce’s army.
     If MacKay didn’t stand in his way, that is.
    He smiled at the man his sister planned to marry at the conclusion of the Games. “As
     I recall, neither did you.” Magnus’s face darkened. He didn’t like losing any better
     than Kenneth did, and they’d both lost at the hands of Robbie Boyd that year. “But
     that was four years ago. Perhaps we’ve both improved?” And because he never could
     resist taunting the bastard back, he added to the women around him, “Although I’m
     afraid you won’t get to see MacKay fight. He is still nursing an arm injury.”
    The women immediately expressed their disappointment and well-wishes for his swift
     recovery, while Kenneth grinned at the glowering Highlander. He knew full well that
     MacKay’s arm was fine, but Bruce had prohibited him from entering the competition.
     He also knew just how much the warrior who prided himself on toughnesswould bristle at the idea of “nursing” anything. He would feel the same.
    “I’m not—” MacKay stopped so suddenly and with such an “oof” of air that Kenneth suspected
     his sister’s elbow had just connected rather firmly with his ribs. After looking down
     at Helen, who smiled angelically back up at him, MacKay’s anger fizzled. “Fortunately,
     I have a very talented healer to nurse me back to health.”
    It was Kenneth’s turn to glower. Although no one else at the table had picked up on
     the sensual innuendo of MacKay’s words, he sure as hell had. The idea of MacKay marrying
     his little sister was bad enough, but the bastard had better damn well keep his hands
     off her until
after
the wedding. Noticing the heat rising to his sister’s cheeks, however, Kenneth suspected
     it was too late.
    He was reconsidering his vow not to fight with MacKay, when the door to the solar
     opened and men began to emerge from the room. Intent on reaching the king before he
     left, he quickly excused himself and crossed the twenty or so feet to the solar. The
     guardsman standing at the door would have refused him entry if the king hadn’t glanced
     over and waved him in.
    “Just the man I wanted to see. Come in, Sutherland, come in,” Bruce said.
    As the king had seemed to be avoiding him, Kenneth was surprised by his words. “You
     wished to see me, Sire?”
    Bruce motioned him forward toward a seat opposite him at the council table. Only a
     few men remained in the room. Kenneth recognized the famed swordsman and trainer Tor
     MacLeod on his left, Sir Neil Campbell on his right, and to his surprise, William
     Lamberton, the Bishop of St. Andrews, next to him. He’d heard the bishop was part
     of Edward’s truce delegation, but why was he here now?
    After greetings were exchanged, Bruce said, “Have you given any more thought to our
     last discussion?”
    It took Kenneth a moment to realize to what he was referring.
    Then he remembered. The last conversation he’d had with the king was after Kenneth’s
     brother William, Earl of Sutherland, had announced his plans to marry their clan’s
     healer, Muriel, rather than the