The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(80)

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. But as I recall, you were always fairly good at eluding them.”

Her mouth twitched mischievously. “I think I feel the beginnings of a horrible headache.”

Fortunately, the headache wasn’t necessary. Sutherland and Munro volunteered for scouting duties, and after attending his duties and leaving MacGregor to watch the king, Magnus found Helen with her tiring women by the loch. She muttered a hasty excuse that the king must have need of her and raced away before the poor women could stop her.

“I feel a bit sorry for them with you for a charge.”

She grinned unrepentantly. “Don’t worry, they’re used to it. You did notice all the gray hair beneath the veils?”

He shook his head. She’d given him one or two that he could remember as well. Some of the places she used to hide …

He shuddered, glad those days were past.

With the long days of summer, there was still an hour or two left of daylight as Magnus led her away from the camp into the forests along the lower slopes of Beinn Liath Mhor. They fell into a familiar banter of her talking and him listening. It was so reminiscent of the way things used to be, he had to force himself not to reach for her hand, reminding himself that it wasn’t the same—and never would be again.

But if his hand lingered on hers as he helped her over boggy patches and uneven ground, he told himself he had a duty to ensure she didn’t stumble.

They had to walk about a mile before a telltale patch of orange appeared low on a hillside ahead of them.

Her cry of delight went right to his chest. His heart tugged so hard, he had a hard time reining it in. He was in trouble and knew it. He’d let his guard down. The forced proximity had drawn him in. But like Icarus from the sun, he could not pull himself back.

After they gorged themselves silly, and she filled her veil (as a makeshift basket) with dozens of the plump and juicy berries, he reluctantly told her it was time to go back. It would be dark soon; already the forest was filled with shadows.

“Do we have to?”

“If you’d rather, we can wait here for your brother to come looking for you.”

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, a hint of a challenge in the tilt of her chin. “I don’t mind.”

“Aye, well, as much as I’m tempted to put another crook in your brother’s nose, I’d prefer to end the day on a pleasant note.”

She bit her lip, eyes twinkling. “It has been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Aye.” The temptation was getting harder to resist. The hopefulness in her gaze …

Forcibly, he tore his eyes away and started back through the forest.

Not yours …

But she had been, damn it. The past few days—weeks—had brought it all back to him. She could be again.

His mouth tightened. That was, if her family disappeared and he could forget …

Not bloody likely.

“Does this remind you of anything?” she asked from behind him. The path had narrowed and he had taken the lead.

There was an amused edge to her voice that should have alerted him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’d say it looks like most forests around here.”

She knew he was being purposefully obtuse. She was remembering all those times before, just as he was—how easily they slipped back into their old camaraderie. If he turned back around, he wouldn’t be surprised to see her lips slam shut, hiding the tongue that he suspected was aimed at his back.

But it wasn’t just camaraderie, it had always been more than that. And stirring up memories best forgotten was dangerous. He’d touched her, damn it. In a way he’d never forget. He’d die with the memory of that silky, wet flesh, the tightness, how her hips had moved against him, and hearing the little breathing sounds she’d made as he stroked her.

Christ, he got hard just thinking about it.

“It reminds me of when I used to sneak away to meet you,” she said, refusing to be put off.

This time he didn’t turn around. He feared if he saw that look of expectation and hope in her eyes again, he’d do something foolish. Like pull her into his arms and kiss her in a way he’d never dared to do all those years ago.

After a few moments of silence, he knew something was wrong. She was too quiet.

He turned his head and stopped dead in his tracks. His heart thudded to a skittering halt, his pulse leaping right out of his chest.

His eyes scanned the area behind him, but he already knew: Helen was gone.

Eighteen

Helen didn’t want the day to end. Her long siege was toppling the wall Magnus had erected between them, and he was close to surrender.

The memories were drawing them back together. So when they passed the stack of boulders, and she saw the small opening, she entered it. Her hiding and him finding her was a game they used to play. It had started after she’d boasted that she’d always been able to hide from her brother, and Magnus told her she would never be able to hide from him. She’d set out to prove him wrong, only he’d proved to have an uncanny ability to ferret her out—the blighter!

To her surprise, the boulders she’d noticed were actually the entrance to a small cave. The darkness and dank smell gave her second thoughts, but she sniffed and, not detecting any musky scents that might harken a beast who wouldn’t like being disturbed, cautiously stepped inside. Magnus’s shout a few moments later propelled her forward another few steps.