The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(104)

His knowledge of the hills was their greatest asset and he intended to take advantage of it. If they were attacked, it would be on his choice of terrain.

But first he had to get them there.

Over the next few hours, Magnus navigated them through some of the most treacherous terrain in the Highlands. The king grew weaker with every passing minute. By the time they reached the summit, he collapsed. Magnus was surprised he’d made it this far.

He maneuvered the king across his shoulders, which enabled him to distribute his weight more evenly.

Helen came up beside him and realized what he intended. “You can’t mean to carry him like that?”

“It’s downhill from here,” he said lightly. For a while.

“But—”

“He can’t go on, and we can’t stop.”

She bit her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes as she scanned his face. He would love nothing more than to ease that worry, but it would have to wait. “What about your shoulder?”

It was going to hurt like the devil when this was all over. “My shoulder will be fine.” He grinned and teased, “Perhaps I’ll let you rub some ointment on it?”

He knew his attempt to distract her had worked when she blushed. But then it was he who felt the heat when she replied huskily, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The promise in her eyes was difficult to turn away from, even with a good two hundred pounds laden across his shoulders.

The path down wasn’t as physically strenuous, but it was even more treacherous. The rocks made for difficult footing, and by time they reached the bottom his knees were on fire. But he pushed through the pain, crossing the gorge and finding the path that led up to the next peak.

Every so often he glanced behind him, not only to check on Helen but also to make sure no one was following them.

He gave her an encouraging smile, though the entire time she hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. Every day was May Day. Even under these hideous circumstances she made the best of them. “Not much farther now.”

Her cheeks were flushed from the wind as well as exertion. “I think you’ve said that before,” she said with a wry lift of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Helen. I know you’re tired.”

She shook him off with a determined clench of her jaw. “If you can do it with the king across your shoulders, I can do it without.”

He smiled. “That’s my lass.”

Their eyes met. “I’ll hold you to that, too.”

“Helen …”

What could he tell her? That it was true? That she would always be his? That he would try?

But why did part of him want to warn her?

Perhaps she sensed his struggle. “Are you going to dally all day? I thought we had a hill to climb.”

He smiled, grateful for the reprieve, and gave a playful groan. “Remind me to introduce you to MacLeod. You have a lot in common.”

“Is he your leader?”

He’d forgotten how much she knew. He started up the path, not answering her right away. “The less you know, the better.”

He thought she’d dropped the subject, but a few moments later she said, “Well, it isn’t hard to guess why the king wanted you for his secret army.”

He glanced over to her in between grunts of exertion and lifted a brow.

“You maneuver over this terrain better than anyone.”

His mouth quirked. “Is that the only reason you can think of?”

She took a deep breath and wiped a long strand of silky red hair out of her face. “You’re far too stubborn to lose.” He let out a bark of laughter, but she wasn’t finished. “And you fight well.”

His gaze narrowed. Definitely like MacLeod. They both conceded compliments with the same ease.

“Just well?” He could count on one hand the men who could defeat him on the battlefield. He was probably the best overall warrior in the Highland Guard across all disciplines of warfare, from the sword to the hammer, axe, pike, and hand-to-hand combat. “You’re a hard woman to impress.”

Despite her weariness, an impish glint appeared in her eyes. “If I’d known you were trying to impress me, I would have paid more attention. Now Gregor MacGregor, he’s an excellent—”

“Helen …” His eyes darkened forbiddingly. He knew she was teasing him, but damn it, he didn’t want to hear her praising MacGregor.

She laughed, and the sound was so sweet it was almost worth the irritation.

She shook her head. “For someone so tough, you sure are sensitive.”

“Sensitive!” He straightened so quickly he almost dropped the king. “I’m not bloody sensitive!”

When she burst into laughter, he knew she’d done it again.

“Did I mention proud?” she said with a broad smile.

His mouth twitched. “I don’t think you did.”

Their eyes held, and something impossibly sweet passed between them.

“And I forgot the most important thing.”

He almost hesitated to ask. “What’s that?”

All the teasing was gone from her voice. “You don’t give up,” she said softly.

Her words stunned him. She had no idea what she said. Bàs roimh Gèill. Death before surrender. It was the creed of the Highland Guard. The one thing that bound them together.