The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(74)

“Is it safe?” she asked hesitantly.

His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of brilliant golden-green. God, how he could skewer with that gaze! “Far less dangerous than your trip to the market this morning.”

Bella held her breath. She could feel the heat from the rage that he seemed a hair’s breadth from venting. She almost wished he would. Just so it could be over with. “I’m—”

Sorry, she’d been about to say.

But he cut her off. “We need to change the horses, and you need to rest.”

Before she could argue, he walked away. For someone who refused to lead his own clan, the man was a natural leader. He’d certainly perfected the ability to speak in edicts and commands.

While the men tended the horses, she sat down to eat. Even that took effort. The dried beef was hard and took a long time to chew. She did so carefully, having no desire to cause more trouble by choking.

She was nibbling on an oatcake when she saw Lachlan and Boyd disappear into the darkness. A few minutes later, Sir Alex strode toward her, a skin in his hand.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “It’s probably stronger than you are used to, but it will help you relax. It’s been a long day.”

An understatement indeed. She took the skin and drew it to her mouth, wincing as the fiery amber liquid slid down her throat to sit and burn in her belly. But it left a pleasant warmth. After the first sip, the next couple went down considerably easier.

“You’d better give me that back,” Sir Alex said, a hint of wryness in his voice. “I’ll be accused of getting you drunk.”

Bella bit her lip, looking up at him from her perch on a rock. “I owe you an apology.” Heat rose in her cheeks. “I took advantage of your kindness, and I’m sorry for it.”

He held her gaze steadily, then gave an indifferent shrug. “This war has separated too many mothers from their children. If my mother could see my brothers again, I know there is nothing that would stop her.” Sir Alex had lost not only the famous Sir Christopher but another brother as well to Edward’s barbarism. Both had been hanged, drawn, and quartered at Carlisle not long after Methven. He turned the subject back to her. “Seeing your daughter after so long must have been difficult.”

“Aye,” she said hoarsely, recalling the crushed rose. “More difficult than I expected. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking straight.” She paused. “I’m sorry for any tension I might have caused.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Hell, there’s always tension with MacRuairi. He and I have never been friends. Nor Boyd, for that matter,” he added as an afterthought.

Bella frowned. “Yet you’ve fought together all these years, and work well together from what I can see.”

It was true, she realized. There were subtle differences from two years ago when Sir Alex and Boyd had been with them on their journey to Kildrummy. If not exactly friendly, there wasn’t the animosity she used to sense between the men. The warriors seemed more relaxed and comfortable together than before. She hadn’t missed the looks, gestures, the silent forms of communication that they exchanged without thought, as if reading each other’s minds. They worked as a team.

She suspected they liked each other more than they even realized.

Sir Alex shrugged. “It was necessary, but it won’t be for much longer.”

Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

He turned on her in surprise. “MacRuairi is leaving.”

Her heart fell like a stone in her gut. “Leaving?” she echoed. But I thought …

“I thought you knew. His agreed-upon service is almost over. Rescuing you is his last mission for the king.”

She felt a sharp pang in her chest. “I see.”

But she didn’t.

Her chest burned. Leaving. He was leaving.

God, why did it surprise her? He’d never pretended to be fighting for any other reason than money. But she’d hoped … she’d hoped time might have changed his mind.

She’d hoped he’d changed.

Why? He was wrong for her in every way, wasn’t he? They had nothing in common. They were from two different worlds. She believed it was worth fighting for things you believe in, and he didn’t think there was anything worth fighting for but himself. He’d told her so. She’d known it. But part of her had refused to believe it. Part of her had thought he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed—to the war or to her.

Lachlan strode back into the clearing. He glanced in their direction, and even from a distance she could see his jaw clench. He walked toward them, and she felt the strong urge to run.

“There’s a shieling on the other side of the hill. It isn’t much, but I can clear it of debris, and it should be comfortable enough for you to sleep in.”

She blanched; the small amount of food she’d eaten suddenly seemed in danger of reappearing. A cold sweat beaded on her brow. The idea of sleeping in the small, dark stone shepherd’s hut …

The blasted cage! God in heaven, would she ever be free of it?

“No!” she blurted. Then, getting a grip on her panic, she added more calmly, “It’s a pleasant evening; I think I should prefer to sleep under the stars.”

He held her gaze, his expression hard and impenetrable. But something made her think he’d sensed her reaction and knew exactly what she’d been feeling. And significantly, that he understood it.