The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(113)

He held perfectly still, despite the maelstrom raging inside him. Not one flicker of the emotion showed on his face. Her pleas would not penetrate. Not this time. Never again would he allow her—anyone—to compromise his duty.

“Help?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Apparently, it is difficult for you to understand, but I don’t want, nor do I need, your help. You are my wife, by God, not one of my men. I warned you not to interfere. I told you to never—under any circumstances—come to the broch again. Your ‘help’ has put my clan, the men I’ve been training, and me in grave danger. If the clerk is not found, King Edward will have a price on my head big enough to send even my closest allies after me. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Though she looked ready to fall apart, she stiffened at his words. “You’re right, given that you’ve never seen fit to tell me.”

He struggled to maintain his control. Only she would dare reproach him after what had just happened. His gaze darkened, biting like the blistery edge of his voice. “With good cause, after what you just did. This is exactly why I didn’t want you involved. I should have known better than to trust you with any of this.”

Her temporary bravado faltered, as she seemed to realize the gravity of her actions. “You have every right to be angry, but I thought you were in danger. I could never have guessed what Brother John intended. I took every precaution—”

“Which obviously weren’t enough.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She leaned into him, but he held himself perfectly erect. He had to force himself not to move. Not to give in to the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and shake her—or to kiss her until the ache in his chest went away. He wasn’t like other people, damnation; he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Wasn’t that what he’d prided himself on? Wasn’t that what made him a great leader and warrior? But her tears ate at his steely resolve like acid.

“I swear it will never happen again,” she whispered.

He needed to make it clear exactly how it was going to be between them. His gaze held hers, hard and unrelenting. “Damned right it will never happen again because I will never tell you another bloody thing.”

She shrank back from him as if he’d yelled, though his voice was deadly calm. “You’re angry,” she whispered. “You don’t mean that.” It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

The look he gave her would have frozen lava in hell. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.” He’d made a mistake, but it wasn’t one he ever intended to repeat. This was his fault as much as it was hers. He’d allowed himself to become part of her little fantasy. But that was over. “I told you exactly what I want from you: Oversee the castle, bear my children, and leave the rest to me. Don’t expect anything more.”

Christina flinched, utterly stricken. Who was this harsh, unforgiving man? He’d never looked at her like this—even the first time she’d seen him he hadn’t looked so cold and remote. So unfeeling.

He doesn’t mean it, she told herself. He’s angry. But a whisper of doubt stole into her heart.

She forced her gaze to his, refusing to be cowed. He shouldn’t talk to her like this. She’d made a mistake, but not without cause, and her intentions had been pure. “I deserve your anger, but not your scorn. I did not act precipitously, nor did I mean for this to happen. I was tricked. You have to know I would never do anything to hurt you.” She paused, then said softly, “I love you.”

She waited for some reaction to her heartfelt declaration, but he stood in stony silence—aloof, distant, imperious as a king. The only evidence that he’d heard her was the slight whitening around his mouth.

She hadn’t expected him to return her sentiment … had she?

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Her throat was so tight it was hard to talk. Why was he acting like this? This was the way he acted with everyone else, not with her. Where was the man she’d read stories to in bed? “Don’t do this to me. Don’t pull away. I don’t deserve being treated as if I mean nothing to you.” She tried to swallow, but it hurt. “This isn’t you.”

His gaze shifted to hers, silently challenging her words. If there had been anger in his eyes she would have held out hope, but the cool, steady gaze that met hers was ice-blue, without a flicker of emotion. She stepped back, as if seeing him for the first time.

“This is me. I’m not your damned Lancelot. This isn’t some romantic fantasy, and nothing you do—or no matter how helpful you try to be—is going to change that.”

She gasped, feeling as if he’d just plunged a dirk into her heart. The blood leached from her face. He’d just shined a light on her deepest, darkest dreams only to stomp on them. Was she so transparent? Had he seen her attempts to please him as some pathetic attempt to gain his heart? She cringed, wondering if he was right. Pride made her say, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Please don’t let that be pity in his gaze.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me? What you want from me? But I can’t give you what you want. You are young and full of dreams of knights and romance. I’m a battle-hard Highland chief whose sole devotion is to his clan.”

“And there is no place for me?”