The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(101)

The sentiment he’d always denied, that he’d belittled others for succumbing to, crystallized in sharp awareness from the mass of confusing emotions that had been tormenting him from the first.

This hunger. This craving. This fierce intensity of emotion. This need to protect her. This overwhelming desire to make her happy.

This misery.

It wasn’t just lust; it never had been. He loved her and had been fighting it from the start because it scared him to hell that she would never be able to love him back.

Now, he’d guaranteed it.

He looked down into her eyes, seeing the horror that mirrored his own. And worse, he saw the stark hurt and hollow disappointment.

He held her gaze, his heart burning a hole in his chest. He’d never hated anything as much as he did himself at that moment, seeing what he’d done to her. “I’ll do it,” he said stonily.

Even knowing it would cost him everything, he could not refuse her. He owed her that much.

My God, what had she done? Shame flooded Bella’s cheeks.

She’d known that she was losing him. That he wouldn’t change his mind. So panicked and desperate, she’d resorted to the one weapon she’d vowed never to use. She’d used her body, the skills forged at the hand of her husband’s cruelty, to bend him to her will. She’d taken something that could have been beautiful and turned it into something shameful. She’d used his desire for her to get what she wanted.

She’d acted the whore.

Worse, he hadn’t stopped her. How could he have let her do that? She’d thought …

She’d thought what they had was special. But it wasn’t different at all. He was just like every other man. Lust was all he wanted from her. All she’d done was prove it.

He wouldn’t even look at her. She didn’t blame him. His agreement was cold comfort. She’d done what she needed to do for her daughter, but had sullied what was between them in the process.

The stoniness of his expression matched his tone. “Gather your things and meet me here in an hour.”

“But—” Her hands twisted in knots. She should say something. But what? There was nothing she could say that would take away what had just happened.

He stood there stiffly, either not sensing or ignoring her distress. “You’ll have to hurry if we are to leave before the gate is closed for the night. Find an excuse for your absence if you can. Anything to delay them.” He looked at the ships crowding the room, seeming to speak his thoughts aloud. “We’ll have to ride. Alone, I won’t be able to sail fast enough to outrun my cousin.”

Her eyes shot to his. “You think the king will send someone after us?”

He shrugged. “He might. He will guess where we are headed and won’t be happy with either of us for disobeying him.”

She bit her lip. Not for the first time, her conscience warred with her motherly instincts. She had to ensure her daughter was safe, but she knew what this was costing him. “Lachlan, I’m sorry. I wish there was another way—”

“Go,” he cut her off; the time for apologies had passed. She’d forced him into this rogue mission and would have to bear the consequences. “There isn’t much time.”

She’d hated having to lie to Lady Anna, Sir Arthur’s sweet-tempered young bride who’d been nothing but a friend to her, but her claim that she was ill and would prefer not to be disturbed except by her mother bought them some time. Her mother had reluctantly gone along with her plan, recognizing the danger Joan was in.

They rode for nearly two days straight, stopping only to change horses where they could and tend to their most basic needs. With each mile, the pain and emptiness in her chest seemed to grow, as did the distance between them. She wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. He seemed so remote. So aloof. His expression painfully blank when he looked at her.

She’d never seen him like this. Part of her wished he would lash out at her again in anger. At least that she understood—that she could defend against. But this stony silence was so unlike him, she didn’t know how to react. It threw her off balance and gave proof to her fear that whatever had been between them had been irretrievably broken.

If the silence hurt, the strained attempts at conversation were even worse. It seemed the only thing he could think to do to break the silence was to point out every route marker on the road and make her repeat over and over the directions to a safe house in Berwick in case anything happened to him.

It was almost as if he were preparing her for something.

Though they were alone, they’d never felt more apart. It was clear that he would rather be anyplace but here with her. He took every opportunity to hunt, bringing her back more grouse, pheasant, and partridge than they could possibly ever eat. Was he avoiding her, or was there another purpose?

Finally, the strained awkwardness became so unbearable Bella couldn’t take it anymore. When Lachlan ordered her to stop on the third night, telling her that they had to sleep if only for a few hours, she knew she had to try to break through this oppressive silence. She had to tell him that she hated what had happened just as much as he did. That she was wrong to have done what she did. That even after what had happened, she didn’t want him to go. That she cared for him.

He might not return her feelings, but she had to at least tell him what they were.

She thought she had time. When she’d left to go wash by the icy river, he’d been collecting armfuls of heather—for what purpose she didn’t know. But when she returned from tending her needs and washing as best she could, the heather had been dumped in a pile and he was gone.