The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(10)

“The countess is right,” MacKay said, putting down the strange implement he’d been working on. He was always trying to come up with ways to make weapons more efficient—in other words, deadly. “We were supposed to bring her and the lass.”

“He explained what happened,” Gordon interjected before Lachlan could tell him to bugger off. “There wouldn’t have been time.”

William Gordon possessed a unique skill—and it wasn’t just that he was one of the few men who seemed to like Lachlan. He knew how to make thunder and flying fire with the secret recipe of black powder brought back from the holy lands by his grandfather.

“Maybe not,” the stubborn Highlander conceded. “But if he’d told us his plan, we might have been able to help.”

“How?” Lachlan challenged. “Nothing you could have done would have changed anything. My job was to sneak us in the castle and find the lass. You and Gordon provided the distraction. I don’t need you or anyone else looking over my shoulder.” They would have only gotten in the way. They knew that as well as he did. “I got her out, didn’t I?”

MacKay stared back at him. “Aye, you got her. But if I were you I’d watch my back for a while.”

On that, at least, they could agree.

Gordon had taken off the plaid that he wore around his shoulders to blend into the night and twisted it into a thick rope between his hands, squeezing the water from the rain onto the dirt floor at his feet. “You were right about something else,” he said to Lachlan in a low voice. “This is no place for a child.” He shivered. “Damn, I wish we could light a fire.”

They couldn’t risk it. Though Lachlan hoped they’d put distance between them and Buchan, they couldn’t be sure how long it would take for him to discover his wife had fled.

Realizing he no longer felt two holes burning in his back, Lachlan stole a glance toward the back of the cave and saw that the countess had taken his advice to rest while she could. They wouldn’t be staying for long.

Gordon followed his eyes. “She’s got a lot of courage,” he said with obvious admiration. “I wonder why she’s doing it?” Lachlan had wondered the same thing. “A remarkable woman.”

Lachlan scoffed sharply. “I think her husband might disagree with you.”

“Buchan’s a belligerent arse. Almost as much of a spiteful tyrant as Edward. He’s old enough to be her father, and she’s …” His voice drifted off and Lachlan felt an irrational twinge of annoyance, knowing exactly where Gordon’s mind was headed. The same place it did every time Lachlan looked at her: to his cock. Which was why he avoided looking at her. “There’s something about her that’s hard to put into words.”

Sensual. Seductive. Cock-hardening.

Gordon shrugged, giving up. “Seems a waste on an old man. Buchan doesn’t deserve such a boon.”

Lachlan quirked his brow. “So youth and beauty are an excuse for betrayal?” Time to test his theory. “I hope you are as forgiving of your wife.” Though he was speaking to Gordon, he was watching MacKay and saw the big Highlander still. “It’s not too late to reconsider those vows, you know. You won’t be married for …”

“No date has been set,” Gordon filled in. “We were betrothed just before I left for training on Skye.”

MacKay hadn’t moved. Usually when the subject of Gordon’s impending nuptials arose, he immediately got up and walked away.

Maybe Lachlan had guessed wrong.

“Then you have plenty of time to get out of it,” Lachlan said. “Take my word for it, marriage is a black plague on the soul; a wife will only make you miserable.”

Gordon was impossible to rile. He only smiled. “One bad grape doesn’t sour the whole barrel of wine. Not all women are like your wife.”

“Thank God,” Lachlan said with a shudder. Gordon was right. Bad shite happened to everyone. He didn’t dwell on Juliana’s betrayal, but it had cost too much for him to forget. And it sure as hell didn’t mean he ever wanted to jump back in the cesspit again.

Gordon smiled, shaking his head. “Besides, I couldn’t get out of it even if I wanted to. The betrothal contract is as binding as a marriage contract. I’m honor bound to go through with it.”

Lachlan made a harsh sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “Honor has nothing to do with marriage.” He fixed his gaze on MacKay again. “What’s she like, your betrothed? Ugly as a sow or fair like the little countess over there?”

Gordon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

That surprised him. “You’ve never met her?”

Gordon shook his head. “It was arranged by our fathers.” Both of whom, Lachlan knew, opposed Bruce. “I fostered with her brother,” he added by way of explanation.

Perhaps Lachlan hadn’t been wrong after all. MacKay started to get up. But Lachlan stopped him. “The Sutherlands are friends of yours, aren’t they, Saint?” he said sarcastically. Gordon’s betrothed was Helen of Moray, the daughter of the Earl of Sutherland, and there were few feuds longer or more intense than that between the MacKays and the Sutherlands. “Have you ever seen the bride?”

MacKay’s hand tightened around the hilt of the eating knife he still held in his hand. Interesting.