The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(13)

What she was doing was right.

“Do you?” He gave her a long look. “We’ll see.”

He turned at the sound of an approaching rider. It was MacKay, and from the frown on his face, she could tell something was wrong.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said.

Though not as menacing-looking as Lachlan, the gruff warrior was equally imposing. But he wasn’t threatening—not in the way MacRuairi was. And he was one of the rare men who looked at her without the taint of lust in his eyes.

Lachlan swore. “Buchan?”

The big man nodded grimly. “Aye.”

“On our tail?” Gordon asked, coming up and leading the horses.

“Aye, and ahead of us. He has the road blocked about a half-mile from here.”

Bella tried to calm the sudden burst of panic fluttering in her chest. “But how did he find us?”

She’d directed her question to MacKay, but it was Lachlan who answered. “He knew the road we’d take to Scone. Our path wouldn’t have been too hard to follow. I hoped the rain would help.” He looked back to the other two men. “He must have discovered her missing right away.”

A trickle of ice shivered down her spine. “So he knows where we are?”

“He’s guessing we’re in the area,” MacKay said.

“Then we will stay off the road and go in a different direction?”

Neither of the men said anything, and her heart took another jolt of fear. “What’s the problem?”

The brigand spoke first. “It isn’t that easy. There’s a river to the south and bogland to the north. With all the rain, it’s too dangerous to try to get the horses through.”

“So you chose to rest in a place where we have no escape?”

She’d directed her question to Lachlan, who, from what she could tell, was in charge. His expression didn’t change, but she knew her criticism had angered him. His golden-green eyes glowed even hotter.

“I stopped because the horses needed to rest and you were about ready to fall off your horse. This cave is hidden and is the only place I knew we’d be safe in the area. It’s also dry, which I assumed you’d appreciate.”

Her cheeks fired, knowing he was right. “So we’re trapped?”

“For now.”

How could he sound so calm, when she could feel hysteria beckoning? “That’s it? Don’t you have a plan?”

He smiled, actually smiled! If she weren’t so angry, she might have noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. “Aye, to stay put.”

“For how long?” The coronation was only two days away.

“Until he gives up, or—” He stopped.

“Or what?” she demanded, not sure she wanted to know.

“Or gets too close.”

Three

It was dusk as Lachlan approached the cave. After a long day of scouting, following Buchan’s men to make sure they left, he knew he should be exhausted, but his body teemed with restlessness.

Though it would have been foolish to attempt to outrun Buchan’s men with the countess in tow and without extra horses, after nearly two days of waiting, he felt like one of King Edward’s menagerie lions in a very small cage. Not for the first time, he wished that he’d been the one to ride ahead to warn Bruce of the delay, rather than Gordon.

There’d been no question of sending MacKay. They needed a skilled rider to sneak past Buchan’s defenses. Lachlan qualified, but Bruce had put him in charge.

This was his mission, curse it.

Or what was left of it, anyway. The coronation was set for tomorrow, and they were still nearly a two-days’ ride away.

He’d underestimated Buchan’s resources and his determination. He must have half his men scouring the countryside for his wife. The hunt had gotten perilously close for a while, but Lachlan had chosen their hiding place well, and it appeared that the last of Buchan’s men had finally moved off.

They’d wait a few hours before leaving, just to make sure.

It was almost over—thank God! He couldn’t wait to have this job behind him.

The past two days had been hell, and Bella MacDuff was his own personal demon. He wished he could say it was because she was a pain in the arse: making unrealistic demands, criticizing, or otherwise complaining about their situation.

But he couldn’t.

Actually, he was forced to admit that she’d adapted quite well to their less-than-luxurious accommodations. Most noblewomen he knew would have sat on a rock and expected to be waited on when not bemoaning their wretched fate. But the proud little countess had taken it upon herself to sweep out the cave, dust off the spiderwebs, and wash their meager eating supplies, offering to help—MacKay, that is, not him—whenever she could.

She might look soft and vulnerable on the outside, but she had spirit. Bold, strong, and proud, he suspected there was very little that would defeat Bella MacDuff. Hell, with what she was about to do, she was going to need that strength.

It wasn’t a shrewish or demanding personality that set him on edge. What set him on edge was his own damned reaction to her. One glimpse of those substantial curves, one word from that sensual mouth, or one sniff of that sweet feminine scent and he was hit with a bolt of lust that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The cave was too bloody small. He’d made the mistake of bumping into her once and nearly jumped out of his damned skin.