The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(25)

The women had been trying to hide it from her, but Helen could sense their worry. She felt it, too. For Magnus—and for William, of course. It was the curse of women, being forced to stay behind to wait and worry as the men went off into battle. The reality of her fate unsettled her.

“Why don’t you give him to me for a while,” Christina offered, holding out her hands for the baby. “The snow seems to have stopped for a—”

Bella jumping to her feet and racing out of the room, her face a sickly gray, interrupted her.

Helen stood. “Perhaps I should see if she needs anything. That’s the second time this week she’s not felt well after breaking her fast.”

Christina, Ellie, and Anna exchanged smiles. “She’s fine,” Christina said. “I suspect she’ll be feeling much better in a few months.”

“A few months?” Helen asked.

Ellie shook her head, gazing lovingly at her son, who’d miraculously fallen asleep in Christina’s arms. “I felt ill the entire time. Perhaps I should have guessed he’d be trouble. But he’s a cute little devil. You are fortunate, Anna, that you have escaped the malady.”

Anna unconsciously rubbed her stomach. “On the contrary, all I seem to want to do is eat. I dream about my next meals.”

Finally, Helen understood. “She’s expecting a child?”

Christina nodded.

Helen flushed, realizing Bella must have anticipated her impending marriage to Lachlan MacRuairi by at least a few weeks.

“Go,” Christina said to Ellie. “Get a bit of fresh air. I’ll watch him for a while.”

Ellie bit her lip uncertainly. Helen’s heart went out to her. Christina was right. They all needed to get out of this castle. Helen, too. All the talk of marriage and babies made her feel anxious. The walls seemed to be moving closer. But with all the snow …

Suddenly, a broad smile spread over Helen’s face. She had the perfect way to take advantage of the wintry weather and put a smile back on Ellie’s face.

“I have a better idea,” she said. “But you’re going to need to bundle up.”

Ellie had looked skeptical at first, and Helen had the feeling that she’d suggested something silly again.

“Ride down the hill on what?” Ellie had said. But an hour later she was sliding down the small hill behind the castle, screeching with laughter.

The daughter of the most powerful earl in Ireland and sister to Scotland’s imprisoned queen came to a magnificent stop, flying off the targe and landing in a deep puff of powdery white. When she finally managed to extricate herself from the bank of snow they’d built to cushion their landings, she was covered in white. She dusted the snow from her gown, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and shook the rest from her hair.

“Did you see that?” she asked excitedly. “I was going so fast I felt like I was flying. You were right—rubbing the wax on the leather was a great idea.” Her eyes twinkled. “Although I doubt Arthur will be happy when he sees what we have done to the targes hanging in the Great Hall.”

Helen bit her lip. Oh no, she’d done it again. “I didn’t think—”

Ellie laughed. “I was teasing. He won’t mind. And if he does, it was worth it.” She pulled the shield out of the snow. “Ready to go again? The only bad part is climbing back up the hill in all this snow. These boots are slippery.”

Helen laughed. “Aye. But I think we’re going to have a little company.”

She pointed to the castle gate, where a small crowd had gathered. It wasn’t just young children, she noticed, but a number of squires as well. Soon it seemed they had half the castle out with them, sliding down the hill in targes.

Helen was standing beside Ellie atop the hill, laughing as two of the children tried to slide down on one targe, when Ellie suddenly stopped. Her laughter turned into a gasp, and her cheeks, red from the cold, paled.

“What is it?” Helen asked.

Ellie shook her head, her gaze locked on the horizon. “Something’s wrong.”

Helen followed the direction of her stare, seeing at once what had caught her attention. A birlinn had just made the elbow turn around Rubha Garbh, the rocky promontory of land upon which the castle was situated, traveling faster than any ship Helen had ever seen.

“Is it …?”

Ellie turned to her, eyes wide with fear. “Aye, it’s Erik’s ship. He’s going too fast and they’re back too soon.”

They raced down the hill, entering the main gate just as the men rushed into the courtyard from the sea-gate opposite them. A mixture of fear and panic clutched her chest when Helen saw a man being carried into the castle, an arrow protruding from his neck.

Not Magnus! She sighed with relief. Thank God.

Ellie let out a cry that made Helen’s heart clench right before she leapt into her husband’s arms. “You’re all right?” she said, just loud enough for Helen to hear.

The big Norseman didn’t look all right. He looked as though he’d been through hell. All of them did.

Helen didn’t wait to hear his reply. She scanned the crowd of men, heart pounding in her throat. Finally she saw him. He was slowly making his way up the beach from the jetty.

Oh, no! Her heart knifed. He was hurt.

She pushed through the crowd, reaching Magnus just outside the castle gate. She would have rushed into his arms just as Ellie had done to her husband, but his left arm was bound in a sling of linen at his side. He was covered in dirt, soot, and blood.