The Viper (15 page)

Bella swallowed.
Or longer
.

"My orders were to take you to Norway if the English drew too close," Lachlan said.

Her fists clenched. Every bone in her body recoiled at the idea of leaving the castle. At leaving Scotland. At leaving her daughter--again.

The queen put her hand on hers. "It's what Robert wished," she said gently.

Bella held the other woman's gaze for a moment, seeing her own fear reflected there, and nodded.

Forgive me, Joan. I swear it will not be much longer
. The distance might be greater, but her goal would never change: to have her daughter back in her arms as soon as possible.

She felt Lachlan's eyes on her again and when she turned, was surprised to see the flash of anger before he shifted his gaze back to Nigel.

What had she done now?

"We do have an advantage," Lachlan said.

"What advantage can we possible have?" Christina Bruce asked.

"Nigel said there are spies and roving war parties all over the area, and that they probably have marked our arrival. If we can get out of the castle without being seen, they will think we are still inside and won't be hunting us."

"But how can we leave without being seen?" the queen asked.

Lachlan turned to Nigel. "Is there still a passage to the well-house on the other side of the riverbank through the old cistern chamber?"

Nigel lifted a brow. "You know about that? Aye, it still exists. The well dried up years ago and 'tis no longer needed since the new one was dug at the base of the Snow Tower. The passage hasn't been used in some time; I would not vouch for its state of repair."

Lachlan explained his plan. They would leave from the postern gate before dawn and enter the sunken stepped passageway that descended the steep wall of the riverbank to the cistern chamber and emerged on the other side in a tunnel to the abandoned well-house. They would disguise themselves with dark cloaks over plain clothing, and travel on foot until horses could be procured.

"You will not be able to take much," he said.

None of the women said anything. They didn't have much left. Most of their belongings had been left behind after Methven.

"But it must be over sixty miles to Moray," Christina Bruce cried. "My son will never be able to walk that far."

"We'll find horses as soon as we can. Until then we'll take turns carrying the young earl," Lachlan said.

He had a plan for everything, Bella thought glumly, wishing a reason could be found not to go.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. A man of about forty years with enormous arms--rivaling those of Robbie Boyd--passed by the table with a sack of grain on each broad shoulder. Another man soon followed. And then another.

She waited until the men had finished discussing their plans before asking Nigel, "What are they doing?"

"The blacksmith and his sons are helping to move the grain into the Great Hall for the siege."

Her eyes widened with understanding. The Great Hall was built of stone and wouldn't burn as easily if fire were pitched over the walls.

The gravity of what had befallen them knotted in her chest.

Bella lingered at the table after many of the others had left to start preparations. Her cousin and a few of the other ladies had returned from putting the children to sleep, and Lachlan had gone over to inform them of the plan. She could see from their pale faces that the news was not being received well. They were all exhausted and scared.

He seemed to be trying to ease their worries. How gallant of him, she thought with a pinch in her chest. A pinch that grew worse when she saw him lead them out of the Hall. She watched them go, not knowing why she suddenly felt so forgotten.

"He's not interested in them, you know."

Bella turned to find William beside her. She hadn't even heard him approach. Her cheeks flushed. "Who?"

He smiled at her attempt to feign ignorance. "MacRuairi. He's relaxed around those women because they're safe."

And I'm not?

William laughed, guessing her thoughts. "Exactly. He avoids you on purpose."

Embarrassed, she tried to dissuade him, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "It doesn't make any difference to me. He's hardly the sort of man a lady would be interested in."

Something she needed to remember.

Though it was the truth, Bella felt a pang of conscience in saying it. She sounded priggish. But a bastard, a heartless mercenary, a disreputable scourge, wasn't an appropriate suitor for ladies of their ilk. Even if he wasn't as wholly unredeemable as she'd initially thought.

William frowned. "Don't judge him too harshly. MacRuairi's had a rough time of it."

The dangerous spark of curiosity rekindled. "What do you mean?"

The young warrior shrugged. "Ask him. He'll tell you."

She hid her disappointment with indifference. "No matter. It's not important." Not wanting William to get the wrong impression, she changed the subject. "Will you be going with us?"

"Aye." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Norway isn't all that far, my lady. It's faster to get to Norway by ship from the Isles than it is to get to Edinburgh. If your daughter needs you, you can reach her. She'll know you had no choice."

Bella smiled, a fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes. He was a kind man. "I know, but thank you for saying it. At least Joan knows that I did not intend to leave her. I can take solace in that. I'm grateful to Robert for thinking to take word to her."

Gordon's brows drew together. "Bruce didn't have anything to do with it."

"But he told me a messenger had gotten word to Joan."

"Aye, but the king didn't order it."

"Then, who ...?" Her voice slowed to a stop. Her gaze snapped to William's in silent question.

He pushed back from the table and cast a glance toward the opposite end of the dais. "Who do you think?"

Bella was stunned, following the direction of his gaze. Lachlan had returned to the Hall and stood talking to Nigel. Had he been the one to take the message to Joan? But why, why would he do that?

It was kind and thoughtful. Two words that didn't usually come to mind when she thought of him.

Had she misjudged him? Was he not the opportunistic brigand, loyal only to his purse, that she first thought? Was he not immune to what was going on around him? Did he care more than he let on?

Did he care for ...
her
?

It shocked her how much she wanted it to be true.

Barely had the question formed when Nigel withdrew a small leather bag from the sporran at his waist and handed it to Lachlan, who quickly tucked it in his
cotun
.

It was like a slap in the face. There was no noble purpose hiding under his mercenary facade. He'd never pretended differently; why should she try to make him into something he wasn't? She knew why: to find an excuse for this illogical attraction to him.

Feeling foolish and not a little angry with herself, Bella left the Hall. If she was walking a little fast, it was because there was so much to do before they left. She wasn't fleeing. And if her eyes were blinking a little too rapidly, it was because they were burning from the dry air of the peat fires.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she fled the Hall as if the devil were nipping at her heels?

Lachlan followed her out the door and into the courtyard. "Countess!"

He knew she heard him when she flinched, but she didn't stop. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "Damn it, what's the matter with you?"

In the torchlight, her eyes shimmered. "Nothing." She tried to jerk away. "Let go of me."

He dropped her arm, surprised by the coldness of her voice.

"Was there something you wanted?" she said tonelessly, not looking at him.

He frowned, confused. "You should be more careful with your ankle. You were walking too hard and too fast."

Hell, he sounded like a nursemaid. The lass was making him daft.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Damn it, Bella. What's the matter? Why are you so angry? Is it about Norway? We can't stay here. Surely you see that? It's the king's orders," he reminded her. It hadn't escaped his notice what had persuaded her before. "
It's what Robert wishes
," the queen had said. It was clear Bruce held great power over her. The question that kept grating on him was why.

"And how much is our safety worth?"

He jerked back at the scorn in her tone. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw Nigel give you the bag of coin. I don't know why it surprises me. You would probably sell your mother if the price was high enough."

He stilled; every muscle in his body went hard. Slowly, he forced himself to relax. A smile curled his mouth. "She wouldn't have been worth much."

Bella gasped in shock. "How can you say something so horrible?"

He shrugged indifferently. "It's the truth."

She studied him in silence for a moment. He knew she'd sensed there was more to the story when she asked, "Who was she?"

"A Welsh princess my father caught sight of on one of his raids and decided to take, in keeping with my Norse ancestors' penchant to take thralls." He didn't waste time on bitterness. The past was the past; it couldn't be changed.

"What happened to her?"

He held her gaze, deciding to tell her the truth. No matter how ugly. "She killed herself after my youngest brother was born rather than bear more bastards."

The petite, beautiful woman who'd once been a princess had hated the sight of them. Servants had raised him and his brothers.

She put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

He was long past the point of compassion, but he accepted the gesture with a nod.

A sharp bark of laughter rose in his throat. "She won in the end, though." The countess's brows furrowed together over her nose. He answered the silent question. "She died cursing my father, and her curses came true."

She hesitated. "What did she say?"

"She vowed that he would have no more sons. He didn't. Leaving one of the most ancient kingdoms in the Western Isles without a legitimate male heir."

"Your sister might have inherited the land, but you could still have been chieftain." He didn't say anything. "Why have you turned your back on your clan?"

They were better off
. He smiled, unable to resist. "It's more lucrative escorting countesses."

Her mouth tightened a little, but his words didn't prick as much as he intended.

It shouldn't bother him that she'd jumped to the conclusion she had about the money. Usually it was warranted. He wasn't ashamed of what he did. And he sure as hell didn't explain his motives to anyone. But her scorn bothered him, damn it. For the first time in a long time, someone's opinion mattered.

And he sure as hell didn't like it.

"Did you take a message to my daughter?"

The quick change of subject disarmed him. It took him an instant too long to respond. "What are you talking about?"

His annoyance didn't put her off. He must be losing his touch.

"Someone took a message to my daughter. Was it you?"

He held her gaze in the moonlight, looking for something he didn't expect to find. "Does it matter?"

She didn't answer right away. "I think it does."

Lachlan felt himself pulled by the strange emotion he saw in her eyes. Curiosity. Attraction. And most dangerous and tempting of all: possibility.

He could almost believe she meant it.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned closer. Her lips parted instinctively at his movement. He smothered an oath. Knowledge surged inside him, hot, primitive, and raw. He could kiss her. And God, he wanted to! Wanted it so badly it scared him. Christ, he could almost taste her on his lips.

He'd been careful to hide his desire after that night by the loch, but it was still there, simmering just under the surface. And he felt it now. Felt it rise up and grab him in its steely grip, trying to drag him under.

His hand reached out. Slowly. Carefully. As if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain, his finger grazed the side of her cheek.

His heart jammed in his chest.
Jesus!
He groaned. So damned soft. As smooth and velvety as a bairn. His big, battle-scarred hand looked ridiculous against something so fine.

He tipped her chin, feeling himself falling, lured by the promise in her eyes. His mouth lowered ...

He caught himself at the last moment.

He dropped his hand. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't like this feeling at all. It almost felt like--Jesus--
tenderness
. But only a fool would let himself believe there could ever be more between them. He was a bastard. A man stripped of his lands and reputation. A brigand. He wasn't ashamed, but he was also a realist.

She was curious, that was all. Intrigued by what she perceived as an inconsistency in his character. She thought she saw something in him worth saving. But it was all black.

He didn't want to confuse either of them.

"Nay," he lied smoothly. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

He saw a flicker of hurt in her gaze but forced himself to ignore it.

Taking a step back, he gave her a curt nod. "Good night, my lady. Have more care as you are walking. You will need all your strength over the next few days."

He walked away, pretending not to notice that she watched him the entire time.

He's lying
. Bella didn't know how she knew, but she did. Lachlan had taken the message to her daughter.

Why didn't he want her to know? Was it the same reason he hadn't kissed her? Was it the same reason he tried to scare her off by telling her he'd killed his wife? She knew there was more to the story than he'd let on.

She would have pushed him away, of course. She was almost certain. Sanity would have prevailed before his mouth touched hers. She would have seen past the nearly overwhelming desire of how wrong it was to give in to the strange current drawing them together.

Her husband had set her aside, but his accusations had been pounded into her for too many years to forget. Lachlan could never be her husband; all he could be was something illicit. Letting him touch her would make her exactly what Buchan had always accused her of being.