The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(118)

But Magnus obviously had. His mouth tightened. “Black powder.” The boom had barely stopped when he started pulling her back through the kitchens outside, into the barmkin.

People were rushing all over the place in panic. An unfamiliar acrid smoke filled the air and, seconds later, her lungs. They looked up and saw the newer of the castle’s two donjons on fire.

Not just the donjon, she realized with growing horror.

“The king!” she exclaimed.

Twenty-eight

If it signaled anything but the king in danger, Magnus might have actually been grateful for the interruption. His proposal hadn’t gone as he’d planned, and now that she’d learned his secret …

Blast Sutherland and his damned interfering! He’d never wanted her to know. He’d never wanted to see that look of horror and disgust on her face as she realized what he’d done.

But she hadn’t looked at him like that at all. Hell, maybe compassion and understanding was worse.

He shook off the thought as he raced toward the burning tower. Sensing Helen behind him, he turned around and shouted for her to stay back.

A lot of good it did him.

She shook her head. “You may have need of me.”

His mouth hardened. Damn it, she was right. But he wasn’t happy about it. She should be running away from danger, not toward it. Their eyes held for a long pause. “You aren’t going in that tower, you will wait outside—where I tell you.”

Not giving her a chance to argue, he pulled her through the crowd across the courtyard toward the burning donjon.

As it always did in a time of crisis—except if that crisis had to do with a certain lass—an odd calmness descended over him. His mind cleared of all but the tasks before him, which came to him in a series of simple successive acts: find the king, control and assess the damage, decide how to rectify it. He wouldn’t fill his mind with worst-case scenarios and hypothetical disasters; he focused on what he needed to do. If the king was in that tower, he was going to find him and bring him out.

MacGregor had planned to return the king to his chamber after the audience with the Earl of Sutherland. As that had been some time ago, Magnus knew there was every reason to suspect they were in there.

Except they weren’t. He and Helen were almost at the tower when he caught sight of the king, MacGregor, and the cadre of knights Magnus had left to protect him standing near the postern gate. The Earl of Sutherland and MacAulay were rushing out of the Great Hall, which sat between the two donjons, and saw the king about the same time Magnus did. They all converged on the royal party at once.

But no one was getting near Bruce; MacGregor had ordered a protective circle around the king.

With the king safe, Magnus’s cold calm turned to fury. “What the hell happened?”

MacGregor met his angry gaze with one of his own. The members of the Highland Guard didn’t like surprises, and another attack on the king under their watch sure as hell qualified.

“We should have been in there, that’s what happened,” MacGregor said. “We were almost at the king’s solar when he insisted on going to the barracks to check on some of the men who’d been injured. We’d just come out of the stairwell on the first floor when the first blast sounded.”

The king pushed his way through the protective wall of men in front of him. “My ears are still ringing,” he said angrily. “By the rood, that was too bloody close!”

“Did you see anything?” Magnus asked.

MacGregor shook his head. “My only thought was to get the king somewhere safe. It was like an inferno. If anyone was in there, I doubt they could have survived that.”

Magnus thought so, too. Whoever had done this was either gone or dead. But he intended to make sure.

For the next few hours, he set about making order out of chaos. The king’s security was first. Another chamber was found for Bruce in the old tower. Magnus had the entire building searched and cleared before installing a guard of soldiers at the only entry to control access.

MacGregor took charge of organizing the attempt to put out the flames in the castle. But it was an exercise in futility. The wooden floors of the upper chambers and wooden roof had lit up like tinder. Only the smoking shell of the tower remained. Fortunately, as it was the middle of the day, the tower appeared to have been empty but for the king’s party, who’d barely escaped disaster.

The placement of the powder left no doubt as to the target. MacGregor was certain the sound had come from the chamber under the king’s.

Once Magnus had assured the king’s safety, his focus turned to one thing: who could have been responsible. It didn’t take him long to realize who was missing. A party of knights had ridden out right before the explosion; among them were Sutherland and Munro. But only one of them had familiarity with black powder.

He and MacGregor were standing in the courtyard, which—despite their efforts—was still mildly chaotic. In addition to the castle patrol, which had been increased, MacGregor had a team of men keeping watch on the tower shell to ensure the smoldering embers did not once again catch flame. Then, of course, there were the folks who couldn’t stay away.

“Where did they go?” Magnus asked about the scouting party.

“We had a report of brigands attacking a group of pilgrims making their way home from Iona just north of here. They went to investigate.” MacGregor’s mouth hardened. “Sutherland wasn’t supposed to go; he joined at the last minute.”