The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(5)

He looked at her strangely. “Strathnavar. My father will be angry at first, of course, but my mother will understand. He’ll come around eventually.”

Northern Scotland, not the continent. The MacKay lands were in Caithness, which bordered Sutherland. Arguments over land for the neighboring clans had started and fueled the feud for years.

“And where would we live?” she asked carefully.

“At Castle Varrich with my family. When I am chief, the castle will be yours.”

Of course. Silly lass, how could she have thought differently? His mother was the perfect lady of the castle. Naturally, he would expect as much from her. Her lungs squeezed, and her heart raced. “Why now? Why can’t we wait and see—”

“I’m tired of waiting. Nothing will change.” His jaw hardened, an unfamiliar glint of steel in his eye. He was growing impatient with her. For a moment she thought he might lose his temper. But Magnus never lost his temper. Sometimes she even wondered whether he had one. “I’m tired of sneaking around, not being able to speak or even look at you in public. You are eighteen now, Helen. How much longer before your father finds you a husband?”

She blanched, knowing he was right. She’d escaped a betrothal this long only because her father was ill and needed her.

Her heart stopped. Oh God, who would take care of her father? She looked at him helplessly, the enormity of the decision making her hesitate. She loved him, but she loved her family, too. How could she choose between them?

He must have read her indecision. “Don’t you see, this is the only way it can be. What we have …” His voice dropped off. “What we have is special. Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Of course, I do. But I need some time—”

“There isn’t time,” he said harshly. But he wasn’t looking at her. A moment later, she knew why.

“Get the hell away from her!”

Her heart dropped. Helen turned around to see her brother flying toward them.

Magnus saw the blood drain from Helen’s face and wished he could spare her from this moment. But it had been inevitable. They’d been fortunate to escape discovery for so long.

Although if they were going to be discovered by anyone in her family, he would rather it had been her eldest brother, William, the heir to the earldom. He at least wasn’t a complete arse. If there was anyone he disliked more than Donald Munro it was Kenneth Sutherland. He had all the arrogance and all the snide mockery of Munro, with a hot temper to boot.

Instinctively, Magnus moved around to block Helen. He knew she was close to her brother, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sutherland was unpredictable at best, rash at worst.

Magnus caught the other man’s fist before it could slam into his jaw and pushed him back. “This isn’t any of your business, Sutherland.”

Her brother would have come at him again, but Helen stepped between them. Next to her oaf of a brother she looked as diminutive as a child. Her head barely reached the middle of his chest. But she wasn’t a child. For two long years Magnus had been waiting for her to turn eighteen. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t breathe. This impish, fey creature, with her big blue eyes, freckled upturned nose, and wild mane of glorious deep red hair. Hers was not a conventional beauty, but to him, there was no one more breathtaking.

“Please, Kenneth, it’s not what you think.”

Sutherland’s eyes sparked with outrage. “It’s exactly what I think. I knew there was something wrong at the competition, but I didn’t want to believe it.” His gaze softened as he met his sister’s. “Good God, a MacKay, Helen? Our clan’s most reviled enemy? How could you be so disloyal?”

Helen flinched with guilt, and Magnus swore. “Leave her out of this. If you want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “With pleasure.” He reached for his sword. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“A bold claim for someone who has never bested me in anything.”

Sutherland snarled with fury. Helen cried out and launched herself at her brother. “No, please,” tears were sliding down her cheeks, “don’t do this, I-I love him.”

Magnus had been reaching for his own sword, but her words stopped him. His heart slammed in his chest. She loved him. She’d never said so before, and after their recent conversation he hadn’t been so sure. Warmth settled over him. He’d been right. They were meant to be together. She felt it, too.

With more gentleness than Magnus would have thought him capable, her arse of a brother said, “Ah, Helen.” He stroked her cheek fondly. “You’re too young, love. You don’t know what you are saying. Of course you think you’re in love with him. You’re eighteen. That’s what young girls do, they fall in love.”

She shook her head fervently. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that,” he said. Had Magnus not seen it himself, he would never have imagined Kenneth Sutherland could be so—God forbid!—tender. But maybe Helen had a way of bringing out the softer side in everyone. He just hadn’t realized Sutherland had a softer side. “You love to love,” Sutherland continued. “God chose the first of May for your saint’s day for a reason. Every day is like May Day to you. But how well can you know him?” Helen bit her lip, and Sutherland’s expression narrowed. “How long have you been meeting like this?”