The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(15)

He gave her a hard, steady look. “Maybe you should be thanking me for not forcing you to have to make that decision.”

She gasped, her eyes widening a little as his words struck with pointed precision. She’d been so angry at him for lying that she hadn’t thought about what would have happened had he told her the truth: She would have been forced to choose between her daughter and keeping her promise to Bruce. All those lofty ideals of hers would have been held to the test of a mother’s love.

The stricken look on her face told him that she’d reached the same conclusion.

“Try to get some sleep,” he said gruffly, looking away. “The last of your husband’s men left this afternoon. We’ll leave in a few hours and ride straight through. I’m not sure how long Bruce will wait.”

She seemed relieved by the change of subject. “You’re sure William made it to Scone?”

“Aye, but I didn’t think Buchan would delay us for so long. Bruce may decide waiting to become king is too risky.”

She nodded, then excused herself for a few moments of privacy. He tried not to watch her as she left.

MacKay stood up from his seat and started to gather his things. He’d take the watch while Lachlan slept—or tried to sleep with her so close.

Lachlan could feel his eyes on him. Finally, the other man spoke. “Leave her alone, MacRuairi. The lass has been through enough. Buchan has made her life hell.”

Lachlan stepped forward, seeing a blast of red. “What do you mean? Does he beat her?”

MacKay gave him a long look, appraising the vehemence of his reaction. “I don’t know. But the lass was tormented. He kept her under guard at all times.”

He supposed that explained the guard at her door and the two at the foot of the stairs. “Why?”

“Because he’s a controlling bastard who wanted to keep a tight rein on his wife.”

Lachlan frowned. He better than anyone knew the destructive force of jealousy. Whether warranted or not. He wondered whether it was.

He eyed MacKay suspiciously. “Why did she tell you all this?”

“She didn’t. I pieced it together from some things she’s said. As for why, I don’t look at her like you do.” He paused, the look intensifying. “Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t.” But it put a new slant on why she would betray her husband.

Clearly, MacKay didn’t believe him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. She’s a nice lady—a nice married lady—who will be in enough trouble with what she’s about to do without you panting after her.”

Lachlan didn’t need a lecture from MacKay—or anyone else for that matter. Sure, he lusted after her. A man would have to be a eunuch not to. But Lachlan had already lost his head for one woman he’d lusted after. Once was enough.

And from what he could tell, MacKay should worry about himself. “If I wanted her, what makes you think a marriage contract would stand in my way?”

MacKay shot him a look of disgust as he was about to walk out of the cave. “MacLeod is right. You have the morals of a snake.”

A viper, MacLeod had called him. Hell, maybe the leader of the Highland Guard was right. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? Get the job done, no questions asked.

Lachlan smiled, unable to resist. “Maybe, but at least I’m not lusting after my best friend’s betrothed.”

He knew his arrow had struck when MacKay flinched. Lachlan watched for any sign of movement, not taking his eyes from MacKay’s hands. The second he reached for a weapon, Lachlan would be ready.

Though he could sense the dark rage that had come over the other man, MacKay was too good a warrior to let Lachlan’s goading get to him. “Stay out of my way, MacRuairi. Spread your damned venom someplace else.”

He left the cave without another word.

* * *

Bella loved to ride. It was the one freedom her husband allowed her—albeit under the careful watch of a dozen guardsmen whose presence was not to protect her but to prevent her from sneaking off to some illicit liaison with a bevy of waiting lovers.

But after forty hours straight in the saddle—half of that in rain—she didn’t think she’d ever want to see a horse again.

She’d thought she was a good rider. But forced off the roads into difficult and uneven terrain, and pushed at an unrelenting pace, she’d reconsidered. Compared to the two warriors who accompanied her, she felt like a bairn on lead-strings.

Their occasional stops, she knew, were for her benefit as much as that of the horses. MacKay had begun to show signs of weariness, but MacRuairi looked as though he could ride another forty hours.

How did a pirate learn to ride so well? The Gall-Gaedhil descendants of Somerled were expert seafarers, practically born in their galleys.

She glanced to the side, where MacRuairi rode slightly behind her, and instantly regretted it. Though he’d averted his gaze the moment she turned, it wasn’t before she’d caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes. It was hot, intense, and fierce. Lust in its most raw and primitive form.

It startled her, and she had to smother the sharp gasp that rose in her chest. Though she pretended not to notice, her insides felt singed by the blast of heat, her stomach fluttered nervously, and she felt a tickle of heated awareness in a place that she shouldn’t.