The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(93)

And the look in his eyes when her brother’s sword had nearly cut her in two …

He cared for her. She was sure of it. But something was preventing him from acting on it. Whether it was due to his involvement with Bruce’s phantom army (she still couldn’t believe the lad who’d once chased her through the forest was one of the most feared warriors in Christendom), her family and the feud, her marriage to William and his feelings of loyalty to his friend, or a combination of them all, she didn’t know. But she intended to find out.

Nothing was insurmountable. Not if they truly loved one another. She just needed the stubborn ox to realize it.

Which was easier said than done. He wasn’t exactly avoiding her, but as the day progressed it was clear that something beyond the torturously slow place was bothering him. There was an intensity—a watchfulness—to him that she’d never seen before. For the first time, she was seeing him in full warrior mode: fierce, hard, emotionless, and utterly focused on his duties. It was strange to see a side of him of which she’d never been a part.

It was late in the afternoon when he and Gregor MacGregor came racing to the place where the royal party had stopped for a short break along Loch Glascarnoch. Right away she knew something was wrong. The two men immediately pulled the king and some of the higher-ranking members of his retinue, including her brother and Donald, aside for what appeared to be an intense conversation.

She could tell by the way the king’s face darkened that whatever news they brought, it wasn’t good. And when her brother’s gaze flicked over to her where she sat on the banks of the loch eating a small piece of bread and cheese, she feared it had to do with her.

She wished she could hear what was being said. It was clear there was some kind of disagreement, not surprisingly with Donald and her brother on one side and Magnus on the other.

Waiting patiently wasn’t one of her virtues. She was just about to start ever-so-subtly creeping toward the men when the group disbanded, and Magnus came striding toward her.

Their eyes met, and though she knew he was trying to hide it, she could see that he was worried.

Her heart tugged. Whatever the hurt of last night—no matter how much she wanted to talk about what had happened—it was clear that it would have to wait.

She came forward to meet him, putting her hand on his arm as if she could somehow ease his burden. Touching him, seeking that instinctive connection, seemed the most natural thing in the world. It always had.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We’re being followed.”

She stilled. “By whom?”

He shook his head, his expression grim. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

She feared she wasn’t going to like the answer to the question, but she asked it anyway. “What are you going to do?”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “Wait for them.”

“What do you mean, wait for them? And why do you look like you are looking forward to it?”

His expression turned as hard as stone. “I am looking forward to it. I don’t like when people threaten someone I—” He stopped himself, and then added, “Someone I’m responsible for.”

She swallowed. Had he been about to say “love”? “Is it me they are after, then?”

“I don’t know. It could just be a war band of malcontents, but I’m not taking any chances with you or anyone else. We’re going to set a trap for them tonight. There’s a perfect place at the far end of the loch. A natural gully where the path narrows, with the mountains and forest on one side and the loch on the other. As soon as they enter it, we’ll have them surrounded.”

It sounded dangerous, no matter how easy he was trying to make it seem. “But how many of them are there? How many men will you have? What if something goes wrong?”

“You don’t need to worry about it. You and the king will be perfectly safe—”

“Me? I’m not worried about me, it’s you I’m worried about.”

He shook his head, clearly amused. “I know what I’m doing, Helen. I’ve done this many times before.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to go for help?”

“Take a look around—there isn’t help for miles.” His face hardened again. “I’ll say this for them. Whoever it is, they’ve chosen their place well. We are still too far from Loch Broom to go for help, and too far from Dunraith to try to return. Either they have some knowledge of these mountains or they’re damned lucky.”

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

“Aye, which is why I’m being cautious.”

“Setting a trap where you intend to spring a surprise attack on an unknown number of warriors is being cautious?”

He grinned. “Normally, I’d take a handful of men and go after them right now, which is what your brother and Munro were advocating, so aye, I am being cautious.”

Helen blanched. “Perhaps it’s better if I don’t know what ‘normal’ is.”

His expression changed. “Maybe it was a bad idea to bring you along. If I’d known …” His voice dropped off. “I thought you’d be safer with me then you would be at Dunrobin.”

“I am,” she said unequivocally. “If it is me they are after, I’d rather be here with you than at home. My brother couldn’t have kept me locked up forever.”