The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(6)

She flushed, looking down at her feet. Magnus felt his anger rise, seeing her guilt.

“We met at the Games at Dunottar,” Magnus interjected. “By accident.”

Kenneth spun on her. “Four years ago?”

He swore when Helen nodded.

“By God, if he’s disgraced you, I’ll string him up by his bollocks and see him gelded—”

“He’s done nothing,” Helen interrupted, putting her hand on her brother to hold him back. Remarkably, it seemed to work. “He’s treated me with perfect courtesy.”

Magnus frowned, hearing something odd in her voice. It almost sounded like disappointment. “Have care what you say, Sutherland. You have a right to your anger, but I will not allow you to impugn your sister’s honor or mine.”

It might have taken every last shred of his control, but Magnus hadn’t done more than kiss Helen. He wouldn’t dishonor her like that. He’d wait until they were married, and then he’d dishonor her plenty. The sweet taste of her lips on his still haunted him. But it had been as much care for her innocence as lack of confidence in his own control that had caused him to pull away.

Sutherland’s face darkened, as if he knew exactly what Magnus was thinking. “It’ll be a cold day in Hades before you get the chance.” He shot Magnus a look that promised retribution and folded his sister under his arm as if to protect her from something repugnant. “Come, Helen, we’re leaving.”

Helen shook her head and tried to pull away. “No, I—”

She looked to Magnus helplessly. His mouth tightened. She had only to say the word, and he’d claim her right now. He’d defeated the Sutherland champion—her brother would not stand in his way.

Sutherland put his cheek on her head, talking to her as if she were a child. “What were you thinking, lass? Your eyes are so filled with sunshine, you think it shines as brightly for everyone else. But you aren’t going to be able to make this have a happy ending. Not this time. Surely you didn’t think anything could come of this?”

Magnus had had enough. “I asked her to be my wife.”

Sutherland’s face turned so red, he appeared to choke. “God’s blood, you must be mad! I’d sooner see her married to old longshanks himself than a MacKay.”

Magnus’s hand closed around the hilt of his sword. Feud or no feud, nothing would stand in their way. “It’s not you I’ve asked.”

Both men’s eyes fell on Helen, whose pale face was ravaged by tears that looked so out of place. Helen never cried; that she was doing so told of her deep distress. She looked back and forth between them. Magnus knew she loved her brother, but she loved him, too. She’d just said so.

Magnus clenched his jaw, knowing how hard this was on her. He knew what he was asking of her. But she had to decide. It was always going to come down to this.

Sutherland did not show such restraint. “If you marry him it will renew the war between our clans.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Magnus said. He didn’t like Sutherland any better than Sutherland did him, but he’d do his best to put the feud behind him for Helen’s sake. But his father … he couldn’t be so sure.

Sutherland acted as if he hadn’t spoken. “You would turn your back on your family? On Father? He needs you.”

His voice sounded so certain. So bloody reasonable.

Her tear-filled eyes grew enormous in her pale face. She looked at Magnus pleadingly and he knew. His chest started to burn.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t …”

Their eyes met. He didn’t want to believe it. But the truth was there in stark, vivid blue.

Jesus. His gut twisted. He couldn’t believe … He’d thought …

He stiffened and turned brusquely away, holding himself perfectly still so he wouldn’t do something to shame himself like beg. The worst part was how badly he wanted to. But he had his pride, damn it. It was bad enough that Sutherland was here to witness his rejection.

Sutherland folded Helen into his arms and petted her hair. “Of course you can’t, sweetheart. MacKay couldn’t have expected you to agree to this. Only a romantic fool would have thought you’d agree to run away with him.”

Magnus could hear Sutherland laughing at him. He clenched his fists, wanting to smash the taunting grin off the bastard’s face.

Had he really expected her to run away with him?

Aye, fool that he was, he had. Helen was different. Helen wasn’t bound by convention. If she’d loved him enough, nothing would have stopped her. Knowing that was the worst part.

He would have given up everything for her, if she’d only asked.

But she never did. The next morning he watched the Sutherland tents coming down. They were leaving. Her brothers weren’t going to give her any chance to change her mind.

Robert Bruce, the Earl of Carrick, approached him with Neil Campbell just as Helen exited the castle. Her face was hidden in the hood of her dark cloak, but he would know her anywhere.

Magnus barely listened to their proposition. Barely heard the details of a secret band of elite warriors being formed by Bruce to help defeat the English. He was too caught up in Helen. Too busy watching her leave him.

Turn back. But she never did. She rode out of the gate, disappearing into the morning mist, and never once looked back. He watched until the last Sutherland banner had disappeared from view.