The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(66)

Her heart didn’t stop beating at a frantic pace, however, until the first glimpse of the castle gates came into view. She frowned, noticing the unusual number of torches, and, from the number of voices coming from within, an unusual amount of activity.

It wasn’t until the cry went out when she came into view, however, that she felt the first prickle of trepidation. A prickle that turned to a full-fledged stab when a handful of men came rushing out of the gate.

She wasn’t surprised to see her brothers; she was, however, surprised to see Magnus in the lead. For once the lifelong enemies appeared to be presenting a unified front. If she weren’t the cause of that unity, she might have savored the moment she’d despaired of ever seeing.

She bit her lip, catching a glimpse of Magnus’s expression in the flickering torchlight. She suspected it was only the presence of her brothers that prevented him from grabbing her by the shoulders and …

She couldn’t tell. He looked angry enough to shake her and worried enough to haul her into his arms.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

The fact that none of her brothers objected to the blasphemy wasn’t a good sign. Indeed, Will appeared to take no issue with it at all. “Damn it, Helen, we were just about to send a search party out for you.”

“A search party? Surely that’s rather extreme. This is not the first time I’ve been gone for hours tending to one of the clansmen.”

Will’s mouth thinned. “Aye, but you were always with Muriel.”

She gave him a look as if to say, and whose fault is it that I am not?

“MacKay insisted. He thought you might be in danger,” Kenneth added.

Helen glanced back at Magnus, perversely pleased to hear the overreaction had been his. Had he been worried about her? He must have guessed her thoughts, because his eyes narrowed dangerously. The smile playing about her lips fell.

“I was only at the fletcher’s. His son fell from a tree and broke his arm,” she explained, Magnus’s impatient glare—reminiscent of the “wayward lamb” look her brothers had perfected—making her feel more than a little defensive.

“The fletcher?” Donald interjected, aghast. “He lives at least five miles away!” He turned to Will. “I warned you this was not a good idea.”

Will’s gaze narrowed on his henchman. Donald had overstepped his bounds. An earl did not take criticism from one of his men. “Return to the castle, Munro. Inform the king that Lady Helen has been found. We will attend him in the Hall in a few moments.”

After his initial question, Magnus had remained suspiciously silent during the exchange with her brother. “The king wishes to see you. When you could not be found, we became concerned. The countryside is not a place for women alone. Did you tell no one where you were going?”

Helen thought back, ashamed to realize she hadn’t. She’d been in the garden when the fletcher arrived and had simply gone to her room to retrieve a few items before leaving. She hadn’t thought …

“I’m sorry. I was in a hurry. I didn’t think—”

“You’re hurt!” Magnus cut her off. “Damn it, what happened to your chin?” This time her brothers’ presence wasn’t enough to stop him from touching her. The back of his finger grazed her jaw, tilting her head back to the light.

“It’s nothing.” She shied from his scrutiny, embarrassed. “A little stumble, that’s all.”

She hoped it was the torchlight making his face look red, but his clenched jaw rather suggested he was angry again. Had she really wanted to see more emotion from him? She was beginning to miss the even-tempered Magnus.

She took care to hide her hands in her skirts, but his narrowed glance toward her fists told her he suspected there was more.

Anxious to escape his scrutiny, she turned to her brothers. “I shall need a moment to freshen up. Please tell the king I shall attend him in a few moments.”

She spun away before they could respond. But she’d forgotten about her ankle. The swift movement sent a knife of pain up her leg, making her cry out. She would have stumbled again had Magnus not caught her.

She gasped at the contact. Their eyes held. For a moment, the memories of the night before flooded her. A slight tightening of his hold told her he remembered, too.

“Damn it, Helen.”

It wasn’t the most romantic declaration she’d ever heard, but the look in his eyes and gruffness of his tone more than made up for it. He was concerned. He did care about her. It was another chink in the armor of his resistance. Emotion swelled in her chest.

She was prevented from savoring the moment, however, by her brother. Kenneth nearly twisted her other ankle in his eagerness to tear her from Magnus’s gasp. “Get your hands off her!”

Apparently, the moment of unity was over.

Helen had had more than enough of her brothers’ constant interfering. She spun on Kenneth and snapped, “He was only helping me. I would have fallen had he not caught me. If it hasn’t escaped your notice, I seem to have twisted my ankle. Now, if you are done treating me like a bone to fight over, I’m going to my chamber.”

If she weren’t so angry, the men’s unanimous look of shock might have made her laugh.

Her ankle prevented her from stomping off, but it was definitely implied.