The Saint (32 page)

Helen shook her head and stood, reaching for the ewer. “I was just fetching some water.”

He blocked her with his body. “I was hoping you might have a moment. I’ve been trying to speak with you alone for over a week. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

She hoped the fading daylight hid her guilty flush. It
wasn’t Donald she wished to avoid really, but the unpleasantness of the conversation that she feared was coming.

“I really should go,” she said, unable to stop her gaze from scanning the camp behind him, hoping someone would come to her rescue. Nay, not someone: Magnus.

“He’s not here. MacKay and some of the other men have gone to scout the road ahead.” His mouth had hardened. He anticipated her next thought. “Your brother is with the king.”

He sneered the last, but she didn’t attempt to chide him. At least he was saying “king” now and not “hood” or “usurper.” Resolved to having it done, she took a deep breath and faced him. “Very well. What is it you would like to speak to me about?”

“I think that should be obvious. I’m a patient man, lass, but I’ve been patient long enough. I’ll have your answer.”

Helen lifted her brows, annoyed by his high-handedness. “I wasn’t aware I owed you one.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. Harder and more roughly than she liked. Water sloshed from the pitcher onto the sleeve of her gown.

“Don’t play games with me, lass. I want you to be my wife. Now will you or won’t you marry me?”

Helen felt her own temper rise, anger overriding her concern for his feelings. She jerked her arm free. “Our longstanding
friendship
may excuse your presumption, but it does not give you a right to touch or speak to me like this. I’ve done nothing to warrant your anger. I’ve never encouraged your suit or given you any reason to expect that it would be welcome.”

The look of cold fury on his face sent a chill across the back of her neck. Belatedly, she realized her mistake. Her anger had struck in the most dangerous place: his pride.

“I meant no offense,
my lady
.”

His jaw was clamped shut, but his eyes burned into her with such intensity, she felt an immediate twinge of regret.

“I’m sorry, Donald. I don’t wish to hurt you.” She put her hand on his arm, but he flinched away. “It has nothing to do with you. I’ve no wish to marry anyone right now.”

Though kindly meant, it wasn’t true, and he wouldn’t let it stand. “I may be a fool, but I’m not a blind one. Do you think I don’t see the way you’re throwing yourself at MacKay? I don’t know why he’s suddenly decided to dance attendance on you, but if you think he will marry you, you are a bigger fool than I.”

“Is something wrong here?”

Magnus! Saints preserve her, she was glad to see him.

The two men squared off in the shadowy twilight. For a moment, she feared they might come to blows. Equally stubborn and proud, neither of them was the type to back down from a challenge.

But to her surprise, Donald took a step back. “Nay, we are finished, aren’t we, my lady?”

Helen was so grateful there wouldn’t be a fight, she nodded furiously. “Aye. Thank you, Donald. I’m sorry—”

She stopped, not knowing what to say. She didn’t want to embarrass him further. She could already see his eyes darkening.

He smiled thinly. “I’ll bid you good night.” With a curt nod, he stomped back to camp.

Magnus put his hand on her arm. She was surprised how unsettled she was by what had happened, and the solid comfort of his touch proved immediately steadying.

“Are you all right?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

He slid his finger under her chin to tip her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Helen …?”

She melted at the concern in his warm brown eyes. A wry smile curved her mouth. “Really, I’m fine.”

Now that you are here
. And she was. He’d always made her feel that way. God, how much she loved him!

“Was it as unpleasant as you feared?”

“It’s over,” she said firmly.

He appeared undecided as to whether to pursue the matter further, but after a moment he dropped his hand. “It’s late. You should get to bed. We have a long day ahead of us.”

He said the latter with such dread, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “I hope we won’t be traveling at such a fast pace tomorrow?”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Minx.” He swatted her on the backside and pushed her back up the bank.

Despite Helen’s assurances, Magnus was still worried the next day. Munro had upset her. God knew what she saw in the arse, but she obviously considered Munro a friend and refusing him had caused her distress—undue, to his mind.

If her exuberance as they painstakingly—and he did mean painstakingly—made their way through the boggy hills and forests seemed more muted than the previous day, Magnus knew exactly whom to blame.

And the bastard wasn’t exactly helping matters with his barely concealed fury.

When Magnus wasn’t riding ahead, helping pull a cart out of the bogs (he hoped they would move faster once they hit the rocky terrain of Shgurr Mor and Beinn Dearg) or doing his best to ensure they were moving as fast as they could, he tried to distract her by identifying the names of the forests and mountains they passed: Ben Wyvis, Garbat, Carn Mor, Bein nan Eun, and Strath Rannoch on their right, and Corriemoillie, Carn na Dubh Choille, and Inchbae on their left.

But it wasn’t until they stopped on the banks of Loch Glascarnoch for the night that the pixie smile that seemed to light up her whole face returned. She came up to him,
just after he’d finished overseeing the erecting of the king’s tent, holding one hand behind her back. “Guess what my brother found?”

“Another retinue to travel with?”

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand, opening her fist slowly. “Averins!”

Magnus smiled. The English called them cloudberries, but by whatever name, the rare red and orange brambles were delicious. Before she could pull her hand away, he plucked one from her palm and popped it in his mouth. The bright flavors of orange, apple, and honey were a burst of sweetness.

“Hey!” she protested, yanking her hand back.

“Thanks for sharing,” he said with a wink. “I used to make myself ill eating them as a lad when I could find them. They only flower every so often around here.”

She ate the last one before he could try to snatch it away—which he’d been contemplating.

“Will you take me to find some more? I should like to surprise the king. I think he should prefer them to the peas the cook has prepared for the evening meal.”

He made a face. “I should think so. Where did your brother find them?”

“A few miles back—I wish he’d thought to mention it earlier. But as the patch was close to the road, he said most were already gone. Is there someplace else we might look?”

He thought for a minute. “They grow in the bogs and forests around Ben Wyvis, but there might be a place we could try that’s not too far away. But I’m afraid your surprise for the king—if we can find them—will have to wait until after the evening meal. I cannot sneak away right now.”

She frowned, noticing her brother watching them from the other side of the king’s tent. “Sneak away is right. Perhaps you could send my brother and Donald on a long scouting mission? To Ireland perhaps?”

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. But as I recall, you were always fairly good at eluding them.”

Her mouth twitched mischievously. “I think I feel the beginnings of a horrible headache.”

Fortunately, the headache wasn’t necessary. Sutherland and Munro volunteered for scouting duties, and after attending his duties and leaving MacGregor to watch the king, Magnus found Helen with her tiring women by the loch. She muttered a hasty excuse that the king must have need of her and raced away before the poor women could stop her.

“I feel a bit sorry for them with you for a charge.”

She grinned unrepentantly. “Don’t worry, they’re used to it. You did notice all the gray hair beneath the veils?”

He shook his head. She’d given him one or two that he could remember as well. Some of the places she used to hide …

He shuddered, glad those days were past.

With the long days of summer, there was still an hour or two left of daylight as Magnus led her away from the camp into the forests along the lower slopes of Beinn Liath Mhor. They fell into a familiar banter of her talking and him listening. It was so reminiscent of the way things used to be, he had to force himself not to reach for her hand, reminding himself that it wasn’t the same—and never would be again.

But if his hand lingered on hers as he helped her over boggy patches and uneven ground, he told himself he had a duty to ensure she didn’t stumble.

They had to walk about a mile before a telltale patch of orange appeared low on a hillside ahead of them.

Her cry of delight went right to his chest. His heart tugged so hard, he had a hard time reining it in. He was in trouble and knew it. He’d let his guard down. The forced proximity had drawn him in. But like Icarus from the sun, he could not pull himself back.

After they gorged themselves silly, and she filled her veil (as a makeshift basket) with dozens of the plump and juicy berries, he reluctantly told her it was time to go back. It would be dark soon; already the forest was filled with shadows.

“Do we have to?”

“If you’d rather, we can wait here for your brother to come looking for you.”

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, a hint of a challenge in the tilt of her chin. “I don’t mind.”

“Aye, well, as much as I’m tempted to put another crook in your brother’s nose, I’d prefer to end the day on a pleasant note.”

She bit her lip, eyes twinkling. “It has been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Aye.” The temptation was getting harder to resist. The hopefulness in her gaze …

Forcibly, he tore his eyes away and started back through the forest.

Not yours …

But she had been, damn it. The past few days—weeks—had brought it all back to him. She could be again.

His mouth tightened. That was, if her family disappeared and he could forget …

Not bloody likely.

“Does this remind you of anything?” she asked from behind him. The path had narrowed and he had taken the lead.

There was an amused edge to her voice that should have alerted him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’d say it looks like most forests around here.”

She knew he was being purposefully obtuse. She was remembering all those times before, just as he was—how easily they slipped back into their old camaraderie. If he turned back around, he wouldn’t be surprised to see her
lips slam shut, hiding the tongue that he suspected was aimed at his back.

But it wasn’t just camaraderie, it had always been more than that. And stirring up memories best forgotten was dangerous. He’d touched her, damn it. In a way he’d never forget. He’d die with the memory of that silky, wet flesh, the tightness, how her hips had moved against him, and hearing the little breathing sounds she’d made as he stroked her.

Christ, he got hard just thinking about it.

“It reminds me of when I used to sneak away to meet you,” she said, refusing to be put off.

This time he didn’t turn around. He feared if he saw that look of expectation and hope in her eyes again, he’d do something foolish. Like pull her into his arms and kiss her in a way he’d never dared to do all those years ago.

After a few moments of silence, he knew something was wrong. She was too quiet.

He turned his head and stopped dead in his tracks. His heart thudded to a skittering halt, his pulse leaping right out of his chest.

His eyes scanned the area behind him, but he already knew: Helen was gone.

Helen didn’t want the day to end. Her long siege was toppling the wall Magnus had erected between them, and he was close to surrender.

The memories were drawing them back together. So when they passed the stack of boulders, and she saw the small opening, she entered it. Her hiding and him finding her was a game they used to play. It had started after she’d boasted that she’d always been able to hide from her brother, and Magnus told her she would never be able to hide from him. She’d set out to prove him wrong, only
he’d
proved to have an uncanny ability to ferret her out—the blighter!

To her surprise, the boulders she’d noticed were actually the entrance to a small cave. The darkness and dank smell gave her second thoughts, but she sniffed and, not detecting any musky scents that might harken a beast who wouldn’t like being disturbed, cautiously stepped inside. Magnus’s shout a few moments later propelled her forward another few steps.

She blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust, but the darkness in front of her was impenetrable—a black hole of nothingness. The cave must be deep. She shivered,
deciding to go no farther. Magnus finding her was the best part of the game anyway.

The cave didn’t just swallow the light, it also swallowed sound. Magnus’s shouts were growing fainter. Her heart pounded. Or maybe he’d started to look in the other direction?