The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(119)

Magnus swore. “Get the horses. I don’t care how much of a head start he has, we’re going after him.”

MacGregor didn’t argue. Magnus went to inform the king, who for once was in agreement about Sutherland. The use of the black powder all but pointed to him.

Magnus closed the door to the king’s room behind him and nearly ran into Helen in the corridor. Though he was glad to see her—she’d gone off with MacAulay’s wife to help calm the fears of the clansmen who thought the explosion had been a sign of God’s wrath—he wished it wasn’t at this moment.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You’re wrong. My brother had nothing to do with this.”

Damn. “Listening at doors, Helen?”

“I was about to knock when I heard you. You weren’t exactly whispering.”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” He started to walk down the stairs, not surprised to hear footsteps behind him.

He walked faster, but she had no intention of letting him go.

“Wait!” She caught up with him, grabbing his arm as he stepped into the courtyard.

He could see MacGregor waiting for him with the horses near the gate. He turned impatiently. “We’ll speak when I return.”

“Kenneth didn’t do what you are thinking.”

He fought to control his temper, but he was damned tired of her family coming between them. “Then who did? You said it yourself: your brother had knowledge of black powder just like Gordon. It isn’t exactly common knowledge.”

Denial reverberated from every inch of her. “But why? Why would he do such a thing?”

“He wasn’t exactly eager to submit to the king.”

She pursed her mouth and shook her head adamantly. “Perhaps not initially, but my brothers have come to believe in the king as much as you do. Kenneth wouldn’t do something like this. He wouldn’t be so rash.”

“Hell, everything your brother does is rash. You saw how angry he was earlier.”

Her cheeks heated. “At you, not the king.”

“Are you sure about that? Perhaps this was his intent all along.”

“You’re not suggesting he had anything to do with the men in the forest or—”

Suddenly she stopped.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

But he’d caught something in her eyes: the flash of guilt. He took her arm and forced her to look at him. “Tell me.”

She bit her lip nervously, but he wasn’t going to let it distract him.

“If you know something …”

“I wasn’t sure. I’m still not sure. But I thought—I thought there was a possibility that the king’s illness might not have been the sailor’s malady.”

He dropped her arm, stepping back as if scalded. “Poison? My God, you thought the king had been poisoned, and you said nothing to me?”

She bristled at the accusation in his voice. “Because I know you would react exactly the way you are now. I knew you would blame my family.”

He made a harsh scoffing sound. “Why the hell would I do that? Maybe because they were guilty?”

He couldn’t believe he’d trusted her. He hadn’t questioned her conclusion about the king’s illness at all, but had accepted what she’d said without thought. If he’d known, he would have been on his guard. What had happened in the mountains could have been avoided.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have said something, but—”

“But you didn’t trust me.”

“You aren’t exactly rational when it comes to my brothers. And I wasn’t the only one who was keeping secrets.”

He ignored the quip about the Highland Guard—warranted or not. “By God, you are still defending them?”

Their eyes met. He stood there, blood pounding through his veins, trying to keep a rein on his temper and not saying something he would regret.

But it wasn’t necessary. She could see it.

He saw her sharp intake of breath. “You still haven’t forgiven me. Not for any of it. For choosing them over you. For marrying William. For doing what you had to do to protect me.”

“Not now, Helen.” He seethed between clenched teeth. He was trying, damn it. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“That’s the problem. You never want to talk about this. And never will.”

His eyes narrowed at the finality in her voice. “What do you mean? We have plenty of time to talk. For God’s sake, I asked you to marry me, what more do you want?”

She held his gaze for one moment before looking away.

Oh God. His chest squeezed with disbelief—with memory. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He knew what she was going to say before she spoke. “I love you, Magnus, but I won’t marry you. Not like this.”

He couldn’t help himself. He was so angry, he grabbed her. How could she do this? How could she refuse him again, after all that they’d been through? His heart hammered. “What do you mean, ‘not like this’?”

“I won’t spend the rest of my life putting myself between you and my brothers.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “Nor will I spend it with a ghost.”