The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(46)

Panic had started to set in. Time was running out, and Helen was nowhere nearer to convincing Magnus to give her another chance than she had been the day he arrived. Three days had passed since Muriel left, and between the meetings, hunting, falconing, and his duties attending the king, she’d barely had a chance to exchange a few words with him. Worse, it seemed that whenever a chance might occur, Donald appeared by her side.

It wasn’t by accident. She suspected a conspiracy by her brothers and Donald to keep her far away from Magnus. If only they would do so themselves. It seemed every time she turned around, the three of them and Magnus were arguing or exchanging not-so-subtle barbs.

The constant tension between her family and the man she loved was wearing on her. Naively, Helen had thought the end of the feud and the recent alliance with Bruce would make her brothers more amenable to Magnus. But every time she saw them together, her doubts of ever being able to reconcile these two important sides of her heart grew. It was clear the hatred and distrust between the men ran deep.

But she would not let that hatred stand in her way. She’d tried to do her duty to her family, allowing them to persuade her not to marry Magnus, but she would not do so again. If only the men in her life—all the men in her life—weren’t so pigheaded. An alliance between the two neighboring clans could be a benefit, but how could she convince them of that?

Of course, first she had to convince Magnus. She needed time alone with him. She saw her chance when her brothers and Donald left after breaking their fast to hunt with some of the king’s men. The king himself had begged off at the last minute, claiming he had to attend to some correspondence before resuming his progress the day after tomorrow.

At first she feared Magnus would be locked up in the room with him the entire time. But when he and MacGregor headed toward the practice yard, she knew this was it. She’d watched him enough to learn that when he finished practicing, he headed down to the beach to bathe in the icy waters of the North Sea. She pursed her mouth, knowing that it wasn’t just cleanliness driving him but soreness in his arm. Yet the proud warrior was too proud to admit it troubled him.

Rather than attempt to follow him—which he’d demonstrated a frustrating ability to detect—she decided to wait for him down by the beach. Perhaps she should hide to make sure he didn’t see her and turn right back around?

If she weren’t so desperate, she might have found it rather humiliating to be chasing after a man who so obviously wished to avoid her. But she was determined not to let him go this time without a fight.

The sun was still high in the sky as Helen crossed the barmkin, waved at the guards positioned at the gate, and followed the path that led from the castle to the beach. Dunrobin was strategically positioned to overlook the sea, with the curtain wall running along the edge of the cliff. The steep walls made it easy to defend but impractical to descend. Instead, access to the beach was by a path that wound around the forested cliffside.

She had just turned off the main road when she heard a startled voice say, “Lady Helen!”

Her heart dropped. She glanced up to see Donald approaching on foot along the very path down which she was headed. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was him.

Forcing a smile of greeting to her face, she said, “Donald. I thought you’d gone hunting with the others.”

He shook his head. “I changed my mind.”

More likely he and her brothers had decided not to leave her alone with Magnus. But why had he been at the beach? The jetty was at the other side of the castle. All that was on this side was a long stretch of sandy white beach and a few sea caves.

“Where are you coming from?” she asked. Rarely did the men venture down here.

He grinned. “If you hoped to catch me bathing, you are too late.”

Helen blushed, embarrassed by the very thought. “You shouldn’t say such things. It isn’t … right.”

He took a step closer, backing her up to a tree. The scent of the sea enveloped her. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, but she didn’t feel that overwhelming warmth come over her that she did when Magnus stood near her.

Actually, she felt a little wary. She’d felt comfortable around Donald her entire life, but for the first time she realized what an imposing man he was. Tall, thickly built, his rough-hewn features implacable and, she had to admit, attractive, with his dark blue eyes and thick auburn hair that fell in short waves around his bearded jaw. He was around Will’s age, she knew. Older than she by a decade but still in the prime of his manhood.

She frowned, noticing that his hair had dried rather quickly.

“Why not?” he said huskily. “Surely you can see where this is headed, Helen?”

Her eyes widened. He was staring at her so intently, his eyes heavy with something that set off whispers of alarm.

Desire, she realized. He wants me.

Her pulse spiked. She felt him leaning closer to her. Like a rabbit who sensed a trap, she looked around for an easy way to escape, but he put his hands on either side of her, bracing himself against the tree and blocking her in.

“Please, Donald, I don’t want—”

Her voice caught in a gasp. He leaned in so close she thought he was going to kiss her. His hand cupped her chin, and he tipped her face to his. “Perhaps not now, but you will.” His thumb traced the bottom of her lip. “I can wait. But don’t make me wait too long.”