He was forced to look at her. Their eyes met. He knew exactly what she was thinking about. The same thing he was thinking about. What had happened the last time he’d competed. How he’d foolishly thought she’d wanted the same thing he did. How he’d handed her his heart, and she’d thrown it back in his face.
“I’m sorry.” He heard her words again. “I can’t …”
His mouth tightened, and he shook his head. “Nay, my duties will not permit it this year.”
None of the Highland Guard would be competing. Bruce and MacLeod thought it would invite too many comparisons and questions.
“Oh,” Helen said softly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Munro’s gaze bit into him like acid. He put his hand over Helen’s. The fact that she didn’t look very happy about the possessive gesture didn’t do anything to calm the blood surging to Magnus’s temples.
“Perhaps MacKay is not so anxious to lose his crown?” Munro said. “If he quits now, he will never be forced to give it up.”
The slur demanded retribution. Magnus knew it as well as Munro did. He wanted Magnus to challenge him. And Magnus would have liked nothing better than to give him his wish. But Bruce prevented him. “I believe your henchman is still sensitive about his last loss, Sir William,” the king said with a laugh. “As I recall, MacKay beat you rather handily, didn’t he?”
Munro’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red. Before he could respond, Helen stood. “Come, the music is starting.”
Helen barely managed to avert disaster by leading Donald in the first reel. For a moment, she thought he might challenge the king himself. Will had been so relieved, he’d actually shot her a look of gratitude.
But no sooner had the dance ended than she threaded her way back through the crowd of celebrating clansmen to find Magnus.
One week! How was she supposed to win him back in one week?
It seemed impossible, especially with the way he’d been looking at her during the meal. It was as if she’d done something wrong. Made yet another mistake. She’d wanted to impress him in her temporary role as lady, and instead she felt as if she’d done something to anger him. She’d thought everything had gone so well. Donald had been a bit of a bother, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.
She returned to the dais, finding the table empty. Taking advantage of the raised platform, she looked around the room. Her brothers were standing with the king and a few of his knights near the enormous fireplace watching the dancers while the servants kept their goblets full. The rogue MacGregor had convinced Muriel to join him on the dance floor, but Magnus was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the room again.
Her heart dropped when she finally found him. He was near the entry to the Hall with his back toward her, looking as if he’d been about to leave. But his path had been blocked. By Donald. She didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that it wasn’t good. Every muscle in Magnus’s body was coiled and ready to strike.
She muttered Kenneth’s favorite oath under her breath. Good lord, she’d barely left them alone for a few minutes, and they were going at each other’s throats again!
Keeping the peace between her family and Magnus was going to take all of her effort. How was she going to find time to convince Magnus to give her another chance? To prove to him that she’d changed?
By the time she made it across the Hall, the men had disappeared. Seeing Donald’s dark auburn head winding through the crowd toward the fireplace, she dashed out of the Hall into the corridor that had been built to connect the Hall to the donjon, catching sight of Magnus just as he entered the stairwell.
“Magnus!”
Her heart squeezed when he stiffened at the sound of her voice. Very slowly, like a man preparing for battle, he turned around.
She hurried toward him, trying to think of what she was going to say. Especially when he looked so …
She bit her lip. Forbidding.
Her pulse spiked and a shiver spread over her skin. The big, fearsome warrior wasn’t the strapping youth of her memories. The contrast was unsettling, and she had to remind herself this was the same young warrior she’d given her heart to—just with a lot more muscle and a few more scars.
She came to a sudden stop before him, winded from racing to catch up with him. Flustered, she fumbled with her skirts. “Is everything all right … um, with the king’s rooms?”
“Everything is fine,” he said brusquely. “Return to your guests, Helen.”
She stared up at him, not knowing what to do—how to reach him. How to penetrate this icy wall he’d built between them. “But don’t you want to dance?”
She’d always dreamed of dancing with him, but the feud had always prevented it.
A strange look crossed his face. “Nay, but I’m sure you won’t have difficulty in finding someone who does.”
She frowned, puzzled by his tone.
She placed her hand on his arm, feeling a pinch in her chest when he flinched. “Don’t you remember? You said one day you’d be proud to lead me out in a reel, and no one would be able to stop you.”
“I was a boy,” he said, shrugging her off. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.” He gave her a pointed look. “We both did.”
“Why are you acting like this? Why are you acting as if there was never anything between us?”
“Why are you acting as if there still is?”
She sucked in her breath, feeling as if he’d hit her square in the chest.
Something in her stricken expression must have moved him. The tension seemed to ease out of his rigid muscles. He raked his fingers through his hair the way he’d used to do when he was frustrated. “I don’t want to hurt you, Helen.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Then why are you?”
“Because what you want … the way you are looking at me … it’s not possible.”
“Why—?”
“Helen!”
She cursed under her breath, hearing her brother Will’s voice behind her.
But she didn’t turn; she kept her gaze on Magnus, watching as his mouth fell in a hard line. “Do you need to ask?”
Her family? Was that what he meant?
“Helen!”
Hearing the sharpness in his voice, she whirled around in frustration, seeing Will’s furious face glaring at her. “Where is she? Did you see her?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“Never mind,” he said, stomping off in the direction of the courtyard.
Whoever she was, Helen felt sorry for her. Her imposing brother looked ready to kill someone.
For once it wasn’t Magnus. But when she looked back around, she realized why. Magnus was no longer standing there.
Seven
Muriel raced out of the Hall the moment the dance was over.
Oh God, oh God, oh God! The desperate plea echoed through her head.
Married.
Her step faltered as a wave of hurt heaved inside her, filling her chest and pressing against the back of her eyes before she could push it back again.
No! She would not cry for him. He did not deserve her tears.
But married?
A dry, burning sob shuddered through her. Why did it have to hurt so much? How could she have let this happen? She knew better. She was no wide-eyed innocent that believed in happy endings and faerie tales. Her eyes had been opened to the cruelty and unfairness of the world a long time ago. She’d never wanted to lose her heart to a man. She hadn’t thought it possible.
She’d chosen a different path.
It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
“Muriel!”
God, no! She ran faster. Out of the gate. Beyond the realm of his power.
But he’d never been one to show restraint. “Damn it, Muriel.” He grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop. “By God, you will listen to me.”
She bristled, pain turning to anger. She hated when he talked to her like that. The cool, imperious Earl
of Sutherland to her insignificant minion.
How could this stern, harsh man have won her heart?
Because he wasn’t always like this. In those rare, unguarded moments, he could be funny and tender and passionate and—
“I love you, Muriel.” But not enough. She caught her heart and forced it back into position. In her chest, not in the clouds.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “Do not touch me.”
Never again would she give him the right to touch her.
If only the memories were so easy to push away.
He dropped her arm, something in her tone penetrating his icy fury. He was the one person left in this world to know exactly why a man’s forceful touch was so repugnant to her.
Trying to maintain as much of her dignity as she could, she resisted the urge to walk away and faced him. “Was there something you wanted?”
His eyes narrowed at her cool, indifferent tone. “I did not object when my sister seated you at the dais.” She tried not to flinch, but the cruel reminder of their different stations stung. His face darkened, oblivious or uncaring of the pain he caused her. “But I will not have my Hall turned into a bordello.”
She was so shocked, she didn’t know what to say. She could only stare at the handsome face of the man who now seemed a distorted stranger to her. What he insinuated wasn’t possible—not for the man she’d known.
How had it come to this? How had something so wonderful become so twisted?
Because she hadn’t given him what he wanted?
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said stiffly, trying to hold on to the shreds of her flagging dignity. “I do not understand to what you refer!”
He leaned closer, his dark-blue eyes flashing with a dangerous emotion she didn’t recognize. “I refer to the way you conducted yourself with a guest in my house.”
It took her a moment. “Do you mean Gregor MacGregor?” she burst out in astonishment.
His mouth tightened.
A gurgle of laughter rose inside her. The idea was so ridiculous. MacGregor was a handsome rogue, and she’d been flattered by his attentions, but it had never crossed her mind—
She gasped, understanding striking like lightning. He’s jealous. This man who’d shredded her heart to pieces was jealous. That was why he was acting like this.
He was a fool. An arse and a fool.
She drew up all the hurt he’d caused her into a ball of disdain. He didn’t deserve another moment of her time. He’d made his choice, and she’d made hers. “Next time I shall be more circumspect.”
She turned, dismissing him, and started to walk away.
But he stopped her, latching her arm again. “You aren’t going to deny it?”
If she weren’t so angry, she would have laughed at his boyishly incredulous tone. Her heart pounded, but she refused to look down at the hand wrapped around her arm. Refused to let him know how much it affected her. How she could feel the imprint of his fingers burning into her skin. How the hairs on her arms stood on end. How with every fiber of her being she wanted to curl against his powerful chest and let those arms wrap around her one more time. How her lips burned with the memory of his kiss.
“I love you, Muriel.” She heard the voice in her head again, but shut it down.
“I do not believe I have to explain myself to you. You are not my chief, my father, or …” My husband. Her chest squeezed. She drew a deep, ragged breath. “I do not answer to you.”
She should have known better than to challenge the power of a powerful man. Sir William, Earl of Sutherland, didn’t like being denied. His eyes flared dangerously, not unlike his hot-tempered brother’s. “While you reside on my land, you will answer to me.” His voice was as unyielding as steel, with no room for disagreement.
“Is that what you are going to do, bend me to your will? Would it make you feel better to have me under your thumb where you can control me? I would not give you what you want, so now you will bully me and order me about?”
“Jesus.” He dropped her arm as if she’d scalded him. “Of course not.”
For a moment she saw a glimpse of self-loathing before the cold, imperious mask dropped back into place.
They stared at one another in the fading daylight. The powerful man who wasn’t used to being denied and the insignificant woman who’d dared to deny him.
“I do not want you spending so much time with my sister,” he said after a moment. “It is …” He stopped. “It might give her the wrong ideas.”
How easy it was for him to hurt her. He didn’t even have to try. A few carelessly uttered words and she was skewered. How could he claim to love her, if he didn’t respect her?
The strength left her. She sagged, the fight gone out of her. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Just because you think I’m a whore doesn’t make it true.”
He swore, his icy facade cracking like the surface of a pond in the spring. “God’s blood, Muriel, I don’t think you are a whore.”
“No, you just wanted me to be your leman. A home, jewels, a lifetime of security, isn’t that how you put it? Everything I could wish for.” Except for the one thing that mattered. She looked up at him, this time unable to blink back the tears that slid down her cheeks. “You know the irony, Will? You didn’t need to make me your whore, I would have given you everything you wanted for free.”
She’d loved him so much. He’d learned the worst, and miraculously, had returned that love. She’d never thought it was possible. She would have given him anything. But then he’d ruined it.
He stiffened. “I wouldn’t dishonor you—”
She laughed then. The reasoning of men was such an anathema to her. Taking what she offered of her own free will was dishonorable, but setting her up in the position of his leman was not? Could he not see how badly his offer had hurt her? He’d put a name on what they had together and made it ugly.
“Damn it, Muriel. I’m an earl. I have a duty.” A tortured look crossed his face, a glimpse of the emotion that he kept so well hidden. So much so that she almost forgot it was there. “What else could I do?”
I can’t marry you. I need a son.
The unspoken words passed between them. It was wrong of her to want something that was impossible. She knew it. But she couldn’t stop the longing.
“Nothing,” she said. “As you said, you are an earl and I’m …” Her voice dropped off. I’m flawed. Damaged.
She couldn’t look at him again. The reality of what could never be hurt too much.
This time when she turned to leave, he did not stop her.
I can’t do this, she thought. I can’t stay here and watch him marry someone else. It will kill me.
Muriel returned to the cottage that had become her home. The home that had been a place of refuge from the depths of hell. The place where she’d healed.
But this healing place was a refuge no longer. She had to leave before it became a prison.
Eight
Helen couldn’t have heard her right. She stared at Muriel in stunned disbelief. “You are leaving? But why?”
Muriel stopped placing her belongings in the wooden trunk long enough to look up at her, a wry smile on her mouth. “I thought you of all people would understand. Haven’t you been urging me to accept the Earl of Ross’s offer of patronage for the past year?”
Muriel was right. Every since she’d mentioned Ross’s offer to help her enter the Physicians Guild in Inverness, made after he’d seen her skill following the Battle of Barra, Helen had been encouraging her to try—despite the certain resistance because of her being a woman. “Aye, but you said you didn’t need the approval of a group of old men to make you a better healer. What changed your mind?”
“My mind was never made up.” Muriel sat on a bench near the largest window in the cottage and drew Helen down beside her. Sun streamed through the open shutter, catching her blond hair in a bright halo of light. “When we were talking the other day, I realized I was allowing my
fear of what might happen prevent me from taking a chance. But I shall never know whether they will accept me until I try.”
Helen bit her lip, seeing the determination on her friend’s face and imagining some of the difficulties she would face. “They would be fools not to welcome you with open arms.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’ve admired you for years, Muriel, but never more so than right now.”
With a tremulous smile and misty eyes, Muriel took her hand. “You have been a good friend to me, Helen. I—I shall miss you.” She stood, brushing aside the wave of emotion with an overly bright smile. “But if I do not finish my packing, I shall miss my cart.”
Helen glanced at the two leather bags on the bare mattress and the large wooden trunk packed almost to the rim with the rest of Muriel’s household belongings. “Must you leave so soon?”
“Aye, if I don’t want to carry all this myself. It was my good fortune that old Tom could squeeze me in amongst the woolen cloth that he is taking to market.”
“I’m sure Will could find some guardsmen to accompany you at a later—”
“Nay!” Muriel cried. Realizing she’d overreacted, she said, “I am eager to begin. Besides, long farewells have never been one of my fortes. It will be better this way, trust me.”
Helen frowned, seeing how upset her friend looked. There was something wrong. Something going on beyond Muriel’s desire to attempt to enter a guild. She was eager to leave, Helen realized, but why?
Helen watched Muriel finish her packing, still stunned by the sudden turn of events. She was torn: proud of her friend but selfishly not wanting her to go. “What will we do without you?”
Muriel shook her head, her smile no longer strained. “You don’t need me anymore, Helen. You haven’t for a long time. You are more than capable of taking care of your clansmen on your own.”
A wave of trepidation rolled over her. “Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
Despite her friend’s confidence, Helen wasn’t so sure. The role and responsibility seemed daunting. But it was also, she had to admit, exciting. Something about it felt right. Almost. “Will won’t be happy. He thought I was spending too much time tending to the clansmen as it was. What did he say when you told him?”
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