The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(36)

Marriage alliances were one of the ways in which the king was ensuring the support of his barons. He was fortunate to have many sisters.

They were close enough to the castle to hear the first shout go up from the guard along the wall.

“Riders approach! ’Tis the Lion Rampant!”

The king! Helen looked around to the south, seeing the dot of riders appear on the horizon. “Come,” she said, gripping her friend’s arm. “We must go inside to properly greet him.” She looked down at her plain woolen dress, wrinkled from being tied between her legs as they stomped through the marshy heather. Instinctively, her hands went to her hair. She’d tied it haphazardly in a knot at the top of her head, but most of it had come loose.

Not much of an impression for the lady of the keep. Her appearance today would certainly encourage Will to take a wife, if that was what the king intended.

Muriel tried to beg off. “I think I will just return—”

“Nonsense,” Helen said, taking her arm and pulling her alongside her. “Don’t you wish to see the king?”

She didn’t give her an opportunity to argue. They entered the barmkin just as her brothers and Donald were making their way down the stairs. Will had called Kenneth back from Skelbo, their stronghold at the mouth of Loch Fleet ten miles south, as soon as he’d received the king’s message.

She saw Will stiffen as soon as he saw them. She could see his disapproval as he took in her disheveled appearance, but she knew there was more to it than that. It was Muriel. The tension in the air seemed to go up a dozen notches whenever they were together. It hadn’t always been that way, she realized. But lately, Will became stiff and cold whenever she was around—even more so than usual. Saints, he could be austere and imposing!

Helen didn’t understand why he’d taken such an active dislike to their healer. They were lucky to have her, and if he kept acting like this they were going to lose her.

“Good God, Helen, what have you been doing?” He ignored Muriel completely.

Helen lifted her chin, refusing to be bullied by her stern older brother. “Tending to the ankle of one of your clansmen.”

He shot Muriel a glare as if this were her fault. “I’ll thank you to remember that my sister has her own duties to attend.” His gaze could have cut ice. “She will be lady of the keep.”

Muriel flinched as if he’d struck some kind of invisible blow. “I am well aware of that, my lord.”

Though there was nothing outwardly disrespectful in her tone, Helen heard it nonetheless. “This is part of my duty, as you well know, Will. Do not blame Muriel; it was I who insisted I stay when she urged me to return.”

“Leave her alone, brother. She doesn’t look too bad,” Kenneth said. Helen suspected there was supposed to be a compliment in there somewhere. “The flower is a nice touch.”

Helen felt her cheeks redden, conscious of Donald, who stood in his familiar position at Will’s right shoulder.

“Aye, it looks quite fetching,” Donald said with a laugh that was a little too intimate.

Helen bit her lip, realizing Muriel was right.

“They’re here,” Muriel whispered excitedly as the first of the mail-clad riders came streaming through the gate. It was an impressive sight: the gleaming mail and colorful tabards of the knights and men-at-arms on their enormous warhorses, carrying banners, pikes, and all manner of weapons, followed by the carts carrying the king’s household plate and personal attendants. Her brother was right to have anticipated so many: there must be over fifty men.

“Is that the Bruce?” Muriel whispered.

Even were it not for the gold crown forged into his helm or the red rampant lion on the colorful yellow tabard, Helen would have known the king by the regal aura that surrounded him. She nodded.

The men started to dismount and remove their helms. She was so focused on the king that it took her a moment to realize who stood beside him.

A gasp escaped from between her lips.

“What is it?” Muriel asked, noticing her reaction.

But Helen couldn’t speak. Her heart had leapt and was lodged in her throat.

Magnus! He was here. What did it mean? Was it possible …

Had her prayers been answered? Had he forgiven her?

Six

Helen was so happy to see him, she forgot everything and everyone else around her. For a moment it was one of those times years ago when she’d been hiding, and he’d caught her by surprise. Her heart jumped in an excited burst, and she almost yelped in girlish pleasure. Unconsciously, she took a step toward him. “You’re here!”

Magnus turned at the sound of her voice. Their eyes met, and all at once she realized her mistake. The smile fell from her face, her hopes crushed before they’d a chance to rise. Whatever reason Magnus was here, it wasn’t for her. He was looking at her aghast, as if he would rather be anywhere but here, as if she’d done something to …

Suddenly, she looked around, realizing the men had stopped talking and everyone was staring at her.

Heat crawled up her face as she realized the cause for that look. She’d embarrassed him. Again. Although this time, she was old enough to know better.

The king came to her rescue. Robert Bruce gave her a courtly bow, as if he were the one to whom she’d been speaking. “And it’s nice to be here after so long on the road. I thank you for your gracious welcome, Lady Helen. I hope we have not put you to too much trouble?”