The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(12)

Glancing around, she saw William Gordon huddled against the wall by the mouth of the cave. She followed the direction of his gaze and stiffened, seeing what had drawn his attention. Lachlan MacRuairi and Magnus MacKay were a short distance away, standing in a small clearing in the trees, and from the looks of it arguing. At least MacKay was arguing. MacRuairi wore a lazy smile on his face, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Her anger toward the brigand had not dulled any over the long, strenuous ride of the night before, and dawn brought no new light. God, she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. Not much longer. The men said it would take two days of hard riding to reach Scone, which would get them there the night before the coronation.

Bella stood up and walked over to Gordon. Taking a seat on a small stone opposite him, she said, “Your friend doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

The young warrior broke out into a friendly smile. He was boyishly handsome, with floppy, light-brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and straight white teeth. Under normal circumstances she would have thought him imposing, but compared to MacRuairi and MacKay he seemed far less physically intimidating.

Bella’s first impression had been of an affable, good-natured sort. The kind of man who liked everyone. An impression that was borne out by his next words.

“MacRuairi? Ah, he’s not as bad as he seems.”

Bella resisted the unladylike urge to snort, suspecting he was much worse.

“I’m afraid he didn’t get a chance to make a good first impression, but his hands were tied.”

Bella waved him off. “You don’t need to apologize for him. I just wonder that Robert would involve himself with a man of his ilk. Allying himself with a freebooting pirate and opportunist like Lachlan MacRuairi won’t endear him to any of the other nobles. I wonder how much it cost him to buy his loyalty—or rather, his temporary loyalty.”

All of a sudden, she stopped. Her skin flushed, tingling with heat, and her blood seemed to race a little faster through her veins.

Instinctively, she knew he was behind her.

“Not enough,” MacRuairi said flatly. He turned to Gordon. “Ready the horses. We’re leaving as soon as MacKay gets back.”

The young warrior bounded off to do his bidding.

She stood up, scanning his face and seeing nothing but sincerity. “So you don’t deny it?”

He met her gaze. He’d removed his helm, and in the cold light of dawn she had to admit he was an impressive sight—if your tastes ran to dark and dangerous brigands oozing virility, which, humiliatingly, hers appeared to. With his dark, wavy hair, striking green eyes, and chiseled, perfectly aligned features, he was sinfully handsome.

Even noticing it felt sinful. Because as much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, it wasn’t an abstract observation of the sort she’d made over the years when a handsome man had been allowed near her. The spike in her pulse, hitch in her breath, and prickle on her skin told her that.

Good God in heaven, what was wrong with her?

Perhaps her husband had been right. One night out of his prison, and her body was reacting like an awestruck young girl who’d seen her first handsome knight. Except Lachlan MacRuairi wasn’t a knight, and she was a grown woman who should know better.

It was disconcerting that she—or her body at least—could be so shallow. No matter how objectively pleasing to the eye, there was nothing remotely attractive about Lachlan MacRuairi.

“Why should I?” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Money is as good a reason to fight as any. Better than most, actually.”

The man had no shame. “Do you care nothing about what is going on around you?”

His mouth curved in a wry smirk. “Oh, I care about a lot of things.”

She nudged her chin up disdainfully. “Things that aren’t gold and silver?”

“I’m partial to land as well.” His smile infuriated her, although why, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t expect a man loyal only to his purse to understand.

“Is there nothing you would fight for? Sacrifice for? What about integrity and beliefs? What about duty and responsibility? What about the good of your clan and Scotland?”

He laughed in a way that made her feel as if she’d just walked out of a convent. “God, you’re priceless, Countess! Such passion and conviction. But let’s see how well those lofty ideals of yours hold up in a month or two.”

Bella fisted her hands at her side so she wouldn’t give in to the childish urge to slap that condescending smirk off his face. His cynical, self-serving attitude was everything that was wrong with Scotland. “Don’t you believe in Robert? Don’t you think he can win?”

He shrugged indifferently. “Bruce has a chance if everything goes right. But it’s a gamble against a very powerful enemy.” He gave her a hard look. “Edward won’t be so forgiving of those who defy him.” His eyes slid over her coldly, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on her as heat spread over her skin. “Even pretty countesses.”

She flushed. “I know what I risk.”

If she didn’t fight for what she believed in, how could she expect anyone else to? If everyone were like him, they would never have a chance to rid Scotland of Edward’s grasping iron fist. Sometimes there were things bigger than yourself. This was one of them. She believed in Robert Bruce. Believed that Scotland should be freed from English domination, and that he was the man to do it.