The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(102)

It was nearly dark by the time Lachlan approached the small clearing by the river where they would camp for the night. They’d been fortunate not to have rain or snow the first two nights, but he could feel the dampness in the air and knew that a storm was on the way. A cold storm.

A miserable journey was about to get more miserable.

Though Bella hadn’t raised a word of complaint, he wasn’t going to put her through a night of riding in sleet and snow. They would have to stop to rest sometime, and tonight was as good as any. He hoped the storm would also slow down any pursuers. But if his fellow guardsmen—Bruce wouldn’t send anyone else—had gone by ship, he knew they might well be ahead of them.

At least he and Bella had made it through the hills before the weather changed. Though the most difficult terrain of their journey was now behind them, leaving the highlands meant they were entering the most dangerous. English garrisons held all the major castles from here to Berwick. To have a chance at reaching the convent in time, they had to take the main road, increasing the danger.

Not wanting to test their luck by risking a night at an inn, Lachlan had decided to stop at the site of an ancient fortification known as Doune, just north of Stirling. The fort was in ruins, but there were walls enough to provide shelter for the night. Situated on a small rise, it would give him a good view of anyone who tried to approach.

He quickly scanned the area around the ruined stone-and-timber fort. It was bleak. Desolate. The russet heather-covered hillside was fronted by the dark, brownish-gray waters of the river. The landscape was as cold, dank, and forbidding as the skies. But it would serve their purpose, and he hoped be unlikely to attract unwanted company.

He’d been hunting longer than he intended. The animals sensed the storm as well, but he’d managed to trap a small hare. Maybe she’d like that better than the birds? He’d also collected enough wood to cook it and keep them warm for the night.

Bella had been washing when he left, and he’d taken care not to disturb her. Hell, he could still barely look at her without feeling the knife of shame twist through his gut. He had to at least try to apologize, even if he knew she’d never be able to forgive him. The tension between them had become unbearable.

He didn’t know how to talk to her. All it seemed he could do was blather on about the roads. His attempts to show her how sorry he was had fared no better. She’d looked at him as if he was half-mad when he’d handed her the string of birds that he’d hunted for her. Then the heather he’d collected earlier to give her something soft to sleep on—women liked that, didn’t they?—had been crawling with beetles.

He whistled the signal to let her know he approached, stilling when instead of a reply, he heard a soft sob.

His pulse spiked, senses flaring with alarm. Bella!

Heart in his throat, the hare and wood fell to the ground as he raced the last few feet up the hill into the small stone enclosure.

The cold, damp air hit him the moment he ducked his head under the low doorway. It was so dark that at first he didn’t see her. He followed the sound to the back corner of the small room, loose pieces of stone crunching under his footsteps. She was curled up in a ball against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs and her face buried in her knees.

He rushed forward and knelt beside her. “Jesus, Bella, what happened?”

She lifted her head, blinking up at him as if she’d just realized he was there.

His eyes raked her face. Thank God, she appeared unharmed.

“Came … b-back … you … g-gone,” she managed in between big, gulping sobs.

Lachlan felt some of the pressure in his chest begin to release. He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face to his. “Foolish lass, you couldn’t have thought I would leave you?”

She looked so miserable his chest squeezed. He ached to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t want to make it worse.

“Yes. No.” She blinked up at him, the glare of accusation in her eye. “You did.”

She wasn’t referring to today, but to a month ago. I tried. “It mattered to you?”

A fresh flood of tears poured down her cheeks, but she glared at him with a mixture of exasperation and outrage. “Of course it mattered to me,” she choked, before adding something that sounded like “you mutton-headed arse” under her breath.

He smiled. Even collapsed in a ball of tears, she still had spirit. To hell with it. He was done trying to fight this. If there was a chance in hell that something could be between them, he was going to take it. For the first time in days, he could see things clearly.

He took her gently into his arms, more than half-expecting her to push him away. When she didn’t, a spark of hope fired inside him. “I won’t leave you again. Ever.”

He stroked her head as she sobbed against his chest. Then, seeming to realize what he’d said, she looked up. “Y-you won’t?”

She looked so stunned he couldn’t stop a smile from curving his mouth. He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.” He cradled her against him, trying to find the words to convince her. He’d spend a lifetime making it up to her, if she’d let him. “I know I’m an arse. I know I’ve hurt you. I know I don’t deserve you, but for what it’s worth, I …”

Ah hell. He’d never said these words to anyone in his life, and they didn’t come easily. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to continue. There was no going back now. She could laugh in his face and grind his heart under her tiny heel if she wanted to—which was no more than he deserved—but at least he would have told her how he felt. He took a deep breath and spit it out. “I love you.”