The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(124)

“But not for the reasons I thought. Helen told me—well, actually she told Will, as she’s not talking to me—what happened. I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you’re listening. You did what no one hopes they are ever called upon to do, but something that could happen to any one of us. It’s part of war—an ugly part, but a part nonetheless. I would have done the same thing in your place, as would Gordon.”

Magnus didn’t say anything. The burning in his chest had crawled up his throat.

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to carry this burden. Nor would he have demanded a lifetime of penance.”

Magnus sat there not knowing what do say. Sutherland was the last person he would have expected to say this to him.

“She’s better off without me,” he finally said. “Have you forgotten the risk she could be in?”

“The way I see it, she’s at risk already with Gordon’s name circulating. You can keep her safe.” He gave a decidedly evil laugh. “You can look after her for a while.”

But Magnus had known Sutherland too long. “Why are you really doing this? I can’t believe it’s just to see your sister happy.”

Sutherland’s mouth tightened. “You’re a suspicious bastard. Whatever else you might think of me, I do care about my sister. But all right. There is something. The way I see it, I’m standing in the way of something you want, and you’re standing in the way of something I want. I suggest we both swallow our pride and step aside.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed, suspecting the answer to the question he was about to ask. “And what do you want?”

Sutherland gave him a hard look. “To be part of the secret army.”

It was proof of his prodigious control that Magnus didn’t explode in anger the way he wanted to. “Over my dead body.”

“Aye, well I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I intend to make my case whether you agree to step aside or not. Though I admit it will be easier if you do.”

“You’ll have to defeat me on the battlefield first. You’re supposed to be the best at something—and being the best at losing your temper doesn’t count.”

“Aye, well, I’m working on that, too. I could have killed her.”

Magnus’s fingers bit into the metal engravings on the flagon, remembering how close the blade had come to Helen. “Have you talked to the king about this?”

Sutherland shrugged. Perhaps sensing that he’d pushed Magnus as far as he could this night, he stood to leave. “Just think about what I’ve said. But you might not want to take too long.”

“Why’s that?”

“Helen’s packing. She’s leaving with Will and Muriel in the morning.”

Magnus went cold. Leaving? Stunned, he barely even noticed when Sutherland walked away.

How could she leave him like this? It was just like last time, when he’d watched her ride out the next morning with her family. Pride had prevented him from going after her then.

Sutherland’s words came back to him. But damn it, he was nothing like Munro …

Too stubborn. Too proud. Blind to what was in front of him.

Munro’s stubborn refusal to accept Bruce as king had cost him everything. And Magnus’s stubborn refusal to forgive himself was about to cost him the same.

Ah hell.

Thirty

Helen had just slid the chemise over her damp head when the door opened. The blast of cool air sent the warm, sultry air from her bath right out the door.

Her heart startled in panic, before coming to a jerking stop upon seeing Magnus standing in the doorway. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes moved to the tub of steamy water, and then to her damp hair and barely covered body. He lifted his brow. “Looks like I’m a few minutes too late.”

Her cheeks warmed from the suggestiveness of his tone, but she refused to let her desire for him weaken her resolve. “What are you doing here, Magnus?”

His gaze flickered to the small pile of belongings she’d stacked on the bed to place in Muriel’s trunk in the morning. Most of the items were hers, anyway.

“I heard you were leaving me again, but I didn’t want to believe you would give up so easily.”

“Easily?” she sputtered. How dare he! She’d been fighting for months to change his stubborn mind.

“You aren’t taking much,” he pointed out, ignoring her outraged glare.

“My trunks were in the other tower. The one that burned,” she reminded him. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling?”

“I was just thinking what a misfortune it was to lose all those fashionable new gowns of yours.”

The wretch! Helen crossed her arms. “I’ll just have to order some more.”

He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave her was a definite “We’ll see about that.”

Why was he acting like he had some kind of hold on her? As if he had a say over anything she did. Had he not heard her refusal?

Apparently not.

Helen’s eyes widened in shock when he started to remove his cotun. He tossed it on the chair and then lifted off the linen shirt underneath. The next minute she was staring at his naked chest. Her mouth started to water and her legs started to quiver. Tanned, broad, chiseled with layers of well-defined muscle gleaming in the candlelight, it really was magnificent.