The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(77)

Helen glanced down at the wooden implement in his hand. “Is that an arrow spoon?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Her eyes lit up, looking at it as if he held a jeweled scepter in his hand. “It’s for me?”

He chuckled and handed it to her. “Aye, you mentioned it once, and after one of Fraser’s men was nearly hit with an arrow hunting last week, I realized you might have need of it.”

Helen held it to the light, examining it from all sides. “It’s wonderful. I never realized how talented you were with your hands.” He felt another tug in his groin. This one more a heavy swell. His body didn’t care that her words were spoken innocently. “You are a man of surprising talents, Magnus MacKay. Gregor told me that you’ve also forged some interesting weapons.”

MacGregor should keep his bloody mouth shut, and why was she talking to MacGregor? He bit back the prickle of what he suspected was jealousy and shrugged. “It’s a hobby. I’m no armorer.” It was more that he liked to experiment and modify tools to better serve their purpose—even killing.

“I’ve a few things I was thinking about …”

For the next twenty minutes, Helen didn’t seem to take a breath as she spoke excitedly about ways to modify some of the tools he’d given her to improve their efficiency. He found himself caught up in her enthusiasm and didn’t realize how late it was until the shadows started to fall across her face, and he heard the thunder of hooves coming through the gates.

“I’ll see what I can do about your tools, but it won’t be until we reach Loch Broom.” Reluctantly, he stood and held out his hand to help her up. “The men are back.”

Helen wrinkled her nose. “I assume that means you have to go.”

“The king will want a report.”

She gave him a sly look. “My brother and Donald seem to be spending a lot of time scouting and hunting since we departed Dingwall.”

His jaw tightened. Though he welcomed the absence of the other men, it hadn’t been at his command. Sutherland seemed almost as eager as he was to keep Munro away from his sister. He could almost feel grateful to him. Almost. Had she reconsidered? “Is that a complaint?”

She looked at him as if he were addled—which was exactly how she made him feel. “Of course not. I’m able to breathe without their constant hovering. I just wonder the reason why.”

He pretended not to see the speculative gleam in her eye. “We’re heading into the mountains tomorrow—the most difficult part of our journey.”

“But also the most exciting!”

He hated to dampen her spirits, but he couldn’t help cautioning, “Don’t let the beauty fool you, these mountains can be treacherous—deadly, even. You need to be careful not to wander away from camp or veer too far off the road. It will be slow traveling with the carts and horses. The road is a rough one as it is, and there was a lot of snow last year and many of the burns flooded. Your brother volunteered to scout with MacGregor.”

She didn’t hide her disappointment. “So you didn’t send them?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Their eyes held.

“I won’t give up.” He could hear the gauntlet she’d thrown down ringing in his ears. Was it true, or would she falter again? He didn’t know which answer scared him more.

“Ah well,” she said, not letting the disappointment that he’d had nothing to do with removing her suitor get her down for too long. “Perhaps he’s reconsidered.”

But one look over her shoulder at the men who’d just come into view in the courtyard told him otherwise. Seeing Magnus and Helen together, Munro’s face grew as dark as a thundercloud.

Magnus looked back to Helen with a wry grin. “I wouldn’t count on it, m’aingeal.”

Helen couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy. She didn’t know whether it was her growing closeness to Magnus (he couldn’t seem to let her out of his sight!), the growing pride she felt in her healing skills (which were getting plenty of practice), or the majesty of their surroundings and the freedom she felt with each mile of their journey into the forests and hills of Wester Ross, but she wanted it to never end.

They’d left the Macraiths’ castle after prayers and breaking their fast, and traveled along the rocky banks of the Blackwater River into the forests and gently rolling hills of Strathgrave. With the horse, carts, and long procession of knights, men-at-arms, and attendants, the pace was every bit as slow as Magnus had predicted this morning.

“Four days, perhaps five,” he’d said, as he’d helped her on her small hobby. The sturdy, short-legged horses had originally come from Ireland and were well suited to the mountainous terrain of the Scottish Highlands.

“Is that all?” She was unable to hide her disappointment.

He and Gregor MacGregor, who’d been standing nearby, looked at her as if she were crazed.

“ ‘Is that all?’ It’s only forty miles, my lady,” Gregor said. “It should take no more than two.”

“I’ve run longer distances in a day,” Magnus added. “I could be there by nightfall.”

Helen laughed at the boast.

Gregor arched a brow. “Nightfall?”