The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(68)

He frowned, realizing that it had been some time since he’d done so. And hell, as much as he hated to admit it, he’d gotten kind of used to working with the other members of the Highland Guard, either in small groups, as in the current mission, or all together, as in the recent battle against John MacDougall, Lord of Lorn, at the Pass of Brander. Defeating Lorn, his former brother-in-law and the man who’d had him tortured for months in his pit prison hell—no matter that Juliana had lied to him, too—had been damned rewarding.

Seeing Lorn dead would have been even more rewarding, but Lachlan had agreed to Ranger’s demand to let him live. Lachlan hadn’t liked it but had gone along with it nonetheless. Something he’d found himself doing more than once with the other members of the Highland Guard.

He hadn’t expected it, but over the past few years, his fellow guardsmen had earned his grudging respect. If it weren’t for taking orders from MacLeod, he might almost be sorry to leave. But his agreed-upon service was complete. This was his last mission. As soon as he could collect his reward, he’d be gone.

There was no reason for him to stick around. He wasn’t being paid to see this war to the end. Bruce had his crown for now—north of the Tay, at least. The inevitable battle with the English would come, but it wasn’t his fight. He stayed out of politics.

But Bruce had made it interesting. He’d staged a comeback against nearly impossible odds. He still had a long way to go to victory, but he had a chance.

With Despenser’s party stalled in the village, Lachlan was about to turn his attention back to the castle when a breeze caught the veil of one of the ladies, blowing it back in the wind like a streaming banner of crimson.

A chill ran down his back.

There was something about her profile, the assessing tilt of her head as she listened to the salesman who was holding a fistful of satin ribbons up to her hair, that was familiar to him. It reminded him of …

His stomach sank.

Bloody hell, it was Joan. He’d seen the girl only once—over two years ago. She’d been a child then. Now, she looked so much older than her fourteen years that he hadn’t recognized her.

He’d almost missed her.

He didn’t stop to question why she was leaving with Despenser; all that mattered was that she was leaving. He closed the distance between them as fast as he could without making it obvious. If he wanted to try to pass her Bella’s note, his best chance was while the girl was talking to the merchant.

He looked around. If he could create a diversion …

His gaze fixed on the next stall, where a pig was tied to a farmer’s cart. Perfect. He’d untie the pig and pretend to give chase, steering it toward Joan.

He looked up. Damn, he’d better hurry. Despenser had apparently grown tired of waiting. He’d turned his horse around and come back to hurry the ladies.

Trying to determine his best course, Lachlan scanned the crowd around Joan just as he was about to untie the pig, when he noticed two people moving quickly through the crowd.

His blood froze in his veins. He swore, not wanting to believe it. But there was no mistake.

His fists clenched at his side. God’s blood, he would kill them both.

Forgetting all about the pig, he darted through the crowd, trying to cut them off before disaster struck.

He didn’t make it.

Thirteen

Bella couldn’t keep still. Anxiousness was eating away at her. Was Joan still in the castle? Was she all right? Would Lachlan be able to find her? What if he were caught?

As if the castle could answer her questions, she kept vigilant watch over the mighty stronghold after Lachlan left. If only they were a little closer. From her place on the hill, she could make out forms but not faces.

The side of the hill blocked the view to the village, so she had to wait for Lachlan to approach the gate. Even in the sea of leather war coats and brown wool cloaks, she was sure she would recognize him.

After over an hour passed and he still hadn’t appeared, however, she began to wonder whether she’d missed him.

Or maybe …

No, he wouldn’t lie to her again. Not about this. He would at least try.

Wouldn’t he? But what if he’d agreed to come not to help her, but to help Mary?

Seeing all those guards at the gate reminded her of the danger. She shouldn’t have asked him to take such a risk. But how could she not, when he was the only way to reach her daughter?

Good God, she was so anxious, she couldn’t think straight.

Her gaze darted frantically to the courtyard, where the large traveling party appeared to have reached its final preparations.

Where was he? What if Joan was among the party?

She was being ridiculous. Lachlan was right. She could be anywhere. Besides, Bella hadn’t seen anyone in the traveling party who looked familiar. Nor did she recognize the arms of the knights.

Her gaze swept over the crowd coming to a sudden halt. A group of finely gowned women appeared in the courtyard.

She stilled, feeling a strange tingle of awareness buzz down her spine. One of the ladies wore a dress of deep scarlet with a matching veil.

Bella gasped, her heart coming to a stunned stop. Her insides drained in a pool at her feet. She staggered, reaching for a nearby tree to steady her. Her legs had turned to jelly.

Red was Joan’s favorite color. It had been since her father remarked how well it looked on her as a young girl. With her dark hair, fair skin, and crimson lips, the bold color emphasized her daughter’s dramatic coloring.