The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(41)

Keeping the peace between her family and Magnus was going to take all of her effort. How was she going to find time to convince Magnus to give her another chance? To prove to him that she’d changed?

By the time she made it across the Hall, the men had disappeared. Seeing Donald’s dark auburn head winding through the crowd toward the fireplace, she dashed out of the Hall into the corridor that had been built to connect the Hall to the donjon, catching sight of Magnus just as he entered the stairwell.

“Magnus!”

Her heart squeezed when he stiffened at the sound of her voice. Very slowly, like a man preparing for battle, he turned around.

She hurried toward him, trying to think of what she was going to say. Especially when he looked so …

She bit her lip. Forbidding.

Her pulse spiked and a shiver spread over her skin. The big, fearsome warrior wasn’t the strapping youth of her memories. The contrast was unsettling, and she had to remind herself this was the same young warrior she’d given her heart to—just with a lot more muscle and a few more scars.

She came to a sudden stop before him, winded from racing to catch up with him. Flustered, she fumbled with her skirts. “Is everything all right … um, with the king’s rooms?”

“Everything is fine,” he said brusquely. “Return to your guests, Helen.”

She stared up at him, not knowing what to do—how to reach him. How to penetrate this icy wall he’d built between them. “But don’t you want to dance?”

She’d always dreamed of dancing with him, but the feud had always prevented it.

A strange look crossed his face. “Nay, but I’m sure you won’t have difficulty in finding someone who does.”

She frowned, puzzled by his tone.

She placed her hand on his arm, feeling a pinch in her chest when he flinched. “Don’t you remember? You said one day you’d be proud to lead me out in a reel, and no one would be able to stop you.”

“I was a boy,” he said, shrugging her off. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.” He gave her a pointed look. “We both did.”

“Why are you acting like this? Why are you acting as if there was never anything between us?”

“Why are you acting as if there still is?”

She sucked in her breath, feeling as if he’d hit her square in the chest.

Something in her stricken expression must have moved him. The tension seemed to ease out of his rigid muscles. He raked his fingers through his hair the way he’d used to do when he was frustrated. “I don’t want to hurt you, Helen.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Then why are you?”

“Because what you want … the way you are looking at me … it’s not possible.”

“Why—?”

“Helen!”

She cursed under her breath, hearing her brother Will’s voice behind her.

But she didn’t turn; she kept her gaze on Magnus, watching as his mouth fell in a hard line. “Do you need to ask?”

Her family? Was that what he meant?

“Helen!”

Hearing the sharpness in his voice, she whirled around in frustration, seeing Will’s furious face glaring at her. “Where is she? Did you see her?”

She blinked. “Who?”

“Never mind,” he said, stomping off in the direction of the courtyard.

Whoever she was, Helen felt sorry for her. Her imposing brother looked ready to kill someone.

For once it wasn’t Magnus. But when she looked back around, she realized why. Magnus was no longer standing there.

Seven

Muriel raced out of the Hall the moment the dance was over.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! The desperate plea echoed through her head.

Married.

Her step faltered as a wave of hurt heaved inside her, filling her chest and pressing against the back of her eyes before she could push it back again.

No! She would not cry for him. He did not deserve her tears.

But married?

A dry, burning sob shuddered through her. Why did it have to hurt so much? How could she have let this happen? She knew better. She was no wide-eyed innocent that believed in happy endings and faerie tales. Her eyes had been opened to the cruelty and unfairness of the world a long time ago. She’d never wanted to lose her heart to a man. She hadn’t thought it possible.

She’d chosen a different path.

It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she suffered enough?

“Muriel!”

God, no! She ran faster. Out of the gate. Beyond the realm of his power.

But he’d never been one to show restraint. “Damn it, Muriel.” He grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop. “By God, you will listen to me.”

She bristled, pain turning to anger. She hated when he talked to her like that. The cool, imperious Earl of Sutherland to her insignificant minion.

How could this stern, harsh man have won her heart?

Because he wasn’t always like this. In those rare, unguarded moments, he could be funny and tender and passionate and—

“I love you, Muriel.” But not enough. She caught her heart and forced it back into position. In her chest, not in the clouds.

Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “Do not touch me.”

Never again would she give him the right to touch her.