The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(43)

“Damn it, Muriel. I’m an earl. I have a duty.” A tortured look crossed his face, a glimpse of the emotion that he kept so well hidden. So much so that she almost forgot it was there. “What else could I do?”

I can’t marry you. I need a son.

The unspoken words passed between them. It was wrong of her to want something that was impossible. She knew it. But she couldn’t stop the longing.

“Nothing,” she said. “As you said, you are an earl and I’m …” Her voice dropped off. I’m flawed. Damaged.

She couldn’t look at him again. The reality of what could never be hurt too much.

This time when she turned to leave, he did not stop her.

I can’t do this, she thought. I can’t stay here and watch him marry someone else. It will kill me.

Muriel returned to the cottage that had become her home. The home that had been a place of refuge from the depths of hell. The place where she’d healed.

But this healing place was a refuge no longer. She had to leave before it became a prison.

Eight

Helen couldn’t have heard her right. She stared at Muriel in stunned disbelief. “You are leaving? But why?”

Muriel stopped placing her belongings in the wooden trunk long enough to look up at her, a wry smile on her mouth. “I thought you of all people would understand. Haven’t you been urging me to accept the Earl of Ross’s offer of patronage for the past year?”

Muriel was right. Every since she’d mentioned Ross’s offer to help her enter the Physicians Guild in Inverness, made after he’d seen her skill following the Battle of Barra, Helen had been encouraging her to try—despite the certain resistance because of her being a woman. “Aye, but you said you didn’t need the approval of a group of old men to make you a better healer. What changed your mind?”

“My mind was never made up.” Muriel sat on a bench near the largest window in the cottage and drew Helen down beside her. Sun streamed through the open shutter, catching her blond hair in a bright halo of light. “When we were talking the other day, I realized I was allowing my fear of what might happen prevent me from taking a chance. But I shall never know whether they will accept me until I try.”

Helen bit her lip, seeing the determination on her friend’s face and imagining some of the difficulties she would face. “They would be fools not to welcome you with open arms.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’ve admired you for years, Muriel, but never more so than right now.”

With a tremulous smile and misty eyes, Muriel took her hand. “You have been a good friend to me, Helen. I—I shall miss you.” She stood, brushing aside the wave of emotion with an overly bright smile. “But if I do not finish my packing, I shall miss my cart.”

Helen glanced at the two leather bags on the bare mattress and the large wooden trunk packed almost to the rim with the rest of Muriel’s household belongings. “Must you leave so soon?”

“Aye, if I don’t want to carry all this myself. It was my good fortune that old Tom could squeeze me in amongst the woolen cloth that he is taking to market.”

“I’m sure Will could find some guardsmen to accompany you at a later—”

“Nay!” Muriel cried. Realizing she’d overreacted, she said, “I am eager to begin. Besides, long farewells have never been one of my fortes. It will be better this way, trust me.”

Helen frowned, seeing how upset her friend looked. There was something wrong. Something going on beyond Muriel’s desire to attempt to enter a guild. She was eager to leave, Helen realized, but why?

Helen watched Muriel finish her packing, still stunned by the sudden turn of events. She was torn: proud of her friend but selfishly not wanting her to go. “What will we do without you?”

Muriel shook her head, her smile no longer strained. “You don’t need me anymore, Helen. You haven’t for a long time. You are more than capable of taking care of your clansmen on your own.”

A wave of trepidation rolled over her. “Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

Despite her friend’s confidence, Helen wasn’t so sure. The role and responsibility seemed daunting. But it was also, she had to admit, exciting. Something about it felt right. Almost. “Will won’t be happy. He thought I was spending too much time tending to the clansmen as it was. What did he say when you told him?”

Muriel had her back to her. When she spoke, her voice had an odd tightness to it. “I … I haven’t told him. The earl has been busy with the king, and I did not wish to interfere. I hoped that you might tell him for me?”

Helen couldn’t blame her. There’d been something bothering Will for the past few days—since she’d seen him in the corridor during the feast. Had she not been seeking any opportunity to see Magnus, Helen would have been attempting to avoid her irritable brother as well. Not that she’d had much luck in that regard. It seemed that except for meals—where Magnus took care to avoid her—the men had been locked in her brother’s solar for the past two days. Focused on Magnus, and her quickly disappearing time, she hadn’t given much thought to her brother’s poor humor. But she suspected it was a result of their discussions.

“Will has been distracted with all the talk of his marriage,” Helen said.