The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(56)

The king saw her expression and laughed, giving her hand a fond pat. “That’s all right. I take no offense. Your loyalty to your brother does you proud. I remember that battle well, though I did not realize it was your brother in command. If all of Buchan’s men had used such tactics we would not have fared as well that day.”

Helen’s shoulders sagged with relief.

“He fostered with Ross?” the king asked.

She wondered at the king’s sudden interest in her brother. “Aye, both my brothers did, as is the tradition in our clan.”

“And that’s how you came to know William Gordon?”

She stilled, glancing anxiously at Magnus. But he gave no sign that the question affected him. “Aye. Kenneth and William were foster brothers. I never knew him—only of him. Kenneth would come with tales to tell of their mischief.” She smiled unwittingly at the memories. “Although I’m sure I heard only a small portion of it. They were like brothers from the start. Our grandfathers had fought in the last crusade together, and the bond carried on through the following generations. Though I don’t think that connection was always appreciated. The Earl of Ross was furious when they started a fire in his stable after concocting some recipe from one of my grandfather’s journals—he considered himself something of an alchemist.”

Both men stilled as if she’d said something important. “Recipe?” the king asked carefully.

She shrugged. “The Saracen’s powder, but nothing ever came of it. The journal was lost in the fire and Ross made them promise never to tinker with ‘sorcery’ again.” She winked. “But I don’t think they listened.”

The king exchanged a glance with Magnus, and Helen realized the time was getting late. The midday meal had already started, and she still needed to change her dress. Will was going to be angry with her again, this time with cause.

She stood. “I should be going.”

The king stopped her. “What about tomorrow?”

Her mouth twitched.

“You didn’t think I’d forget.”

“Hardly,” she said dryly. He’d been asking her every day for nearly a week. “Tomorrow you may take a turn outside. For an hour—no longer.”

Bruce laughed. “I think I should prefer to have that old priest back. He was much less of a tyrant.”

Helen smiled sweetly. “He’s eager to bleed you again, if you’d like me to—”

“Nay! An hour, no more, I promise. Your enforcer will see to it.” He shot Magnus a glare. “Although I seem to remember you giving your oath to me.”

Magnus didn’t blink. “Seeing that Lady Helen’s instructions are followed ensures I have an oath to keep.”

The king shook his head. “You are quite a pair.” Her chest twisted. They were. Why wouldn’t he see it? “I know when I’m outnumbered.” The king gave her a look. “But I won’t give up. I feel better than I have in years and intend to be rid of this bed by the end of the week. We’ve delayed our journey and intruded on your hospitality long enough.”

The stab in her chest intensified. They couldn’t leave. Not until she’d convinced Magnus to give her another chance.

But maybe he would never be convinced. Maybe she’d been deluding herself. Maybe the passion she sensed behind the impassive facade was only wishful thinking. Maybe she’d been right all those years ago. Maybe he didn’t feel that way about her at all.

Her chest squeezed. Was that it? Did he not care for her anymore?

Nay. Magnus was the most steadfast man she knew—as well as the most stubborn. It was her family and her marriage to William that were holding him back. How could she show him that loving her was not a betrayal of the man she’d barely known?

Discouraged nonetheless, Helen murmured her farewells and left the room. She’d closed the door behind her and taken a few steps down the stairs when she heard it open again. “Helen, wait.”

Her heart stopped just hearing his voice.

She turned. Magnus’s big form loomed on the stair above her, blocking the light, the air suddenly heavy and warm. He seemed to take up the entire stairwell. She was deeply conscious of the tight space. If she leaned forward a few inches her br**sts would graze his …

She blushed.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he took a step back and pulled her back into the small corridor. “Thank you,” he said. “For all you’ve done for the king. The medicines, the meals, the ale,” he said, lifting a goblet that she hadn’t noticed.

Her senses had been otherwise occupied. Her nose with the warm masculine spice. Her eyes with the rough stubble along his jaw and the broad, muscular wall of chest that faced her. Her taste with the memory of his kiss. And her ears with the sharpness of her breath.

“You’ve nothing to thank me for,” she said unevenly. “The king is under our roof; it is my duty to care for him.”

“We both know you’ve gone well beyond your duty. I’ve noticed how you’ve personally seen to his meals. You didn’t need to do that.”

He trusted her. Helen felt a pang of conscience that she told herself was unwarranted. The change in diet was helping. There was no reason to suspect anything else.

“Bruce looks healthier than he has in years,” he added.