The Saint: A Highland Guard Novel

by Monica McCarty

  She ventured a glance up at him from under her lashes and bit her lip. Not good. Not good at all.

  “Excuse me,” she said chirpily, trying to hide her nervousness. “The king is waiting for me.”

  He wasn’t fooled. He leaned closer, trying to intimidate her with his size. It was appallingly effective. He towered over her, and outweighed her at least two times over. It was clear she wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted her to.

  “Aye, but we haven’t finished talking about your wee excursion today.”

  The late return. At least she knew which of her many transgressions had angered him this time.

  She lifted her chin, refusing to be bullied by yet another overprotective male. “I apologize if I caused you any trouble, but I assure you there was nothing to worry about. Besides, I hardly see what concern it could be of yours.”

  His mouth thinned. “Don’t press me, Helen. I’m not in the mood for games. You will not go anywhere from now on without a proper escort. Do you understand? I’ll not have you in danger.”

  She definitely didn’t like his tone. “Danger? Don’t you think you are overreacting just a bit? And you are not my brother or my husband; you have no right to order me about.”

  She would have flounced past him, but he caught her arm. She could feel the warm imprint of his fingers seeping through her gown.

  He acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ll have your promise, Helen. You will not go anywhere alone.”

  One look at his face and she knew he would not be denied. She gazed into the impenetrable mask, wondering what this was truly about. Had she worried him that much? “This is that important to you?”

  “It is.”

  The fight seeped out of her. She might not like the way he’d gone about issuing his edicts, but she warmed to the sentiment behind it. “Very well. I promise.”

  He nodded and let her go, standing back so she could go inside. He waited for her to pass by him before he whispered, “And Helen, there is still the matter of a certain rash to discuss.”

  Her step faltered. She winced, a guilty flush staining her cheeks. He’d found out about that, had he? She was not deceived by his light tone. She knew there would be the devil to pay for that later.

  The talking stopped when she entered the room, but she could see from the men’s expressions that she’d entered in the midst of a heated discussion.

  Will, in particular, looked furious, though he was doing his best not to show it.

  “Ah, Lady Helen.” The king rose to greet her, ever the knight. “I heard you had a bit of a mishap—I hope you are all right?”

  Magnus closed the door behind her and moved around to take his position beside the king.

  “Perfectly fine, Sire. I would not be much of a healer if I could not tend to a few scrapes and a twisted ankle.”

  She’d given him the opening, hoping he’d take it, and he did so with a broad smile. “It is your healing skills that we were just discussing. I’ve expressed to your brother my desire to have you join our progress across the Highlands. I fear I’ve come to depend on you quite shamefully.”

  “I’m honored, Your Grace.” Helen beamed. It had worked! Her plan had worked!

  She chanced a glance at Magnus, but his stony countenance gave no hint of his thoughts on the subject. Yet she couldn’t believe he’d gone along with this willingly. He’d made no secret of his eagerness to be rid of her.

  Will’s thoughts as he addressed her, however, were far more obvious. “We are indeed honored, but as your brother and laird, I am of course concerned about your safety.” He turned to the king. “Helen is not a healer; she is a gently reared lady who has been gracious enough to help our clan until another healer can be found.”

  The king smiled. “Your sister’s position is not in doubt. She will be my guest, not my servant. I understand your concern, but I assure you she will be well looked after and protected as if she were my own sister, which I hope she will be soon enough.”

  Will’s gaze slid to Magnus and his mouth tightened, as if he suspected exactly who would be protecting her.

  “Of course,” the king conceded, “I can understand if you would like to send some of your men along as guardsmen. Perhaps your brother would care to join our party as well?”

  Helen’s gaze flew to Magnus, but his lack of reaction told her he probably knew of the king’s suggestion to include Kenneth ahead of time. She scrunched her nose, not pleased by the new wrinkle in her plan. Having Kenneth along was certainly less than ideal, but she supposed the fact that she was going at all was what mattered. Besides, she couldn’t help but feel proud for her brother, who was obviously pleased to have caught the king’s attention.

  But Will was being backed into a corner and didn’t like it. It was clear he didn’t want her to go, but also didn’t want to outright refuse the king to whom he’d just pledged his loyalty. He had to tread very carefully. “Additional men would relieve some of my concern.”

  “I would be honored to protect Lady Helen,” Donald volunteered.

  This time Magnus couldn’t completely hide his reaction. His jaw clenched as if he were grinding his teeth hard—very hard. Helen felt much the same. Kenneth and Donald, saints preserve her!

  Will shook his head. Helen knew that look. She could see her chance slipping away. Her stubborn brother was going to ruin everything and jeopardize his standing with the king. “I’m afraid I can’t—”

  “Perhaps I might speak to my brother, Sire?” Helen said, cutting him off before he could finish.

  “Of course,” the king said, standing from his chair. “It’s getting late. I believe I shall retire for the evening and hear your answer in the morning,” he added to Will. “But I would consider it a personal favor, Sir William, were you to agree to my request.”

  With that less-than-subtle admonition, the king left the solar, his men following behind him. Helen held her breath as Magnus walked by and caught her eye. A nervous flush rose to her cheeks. From the look on his face, she knew there was still a reckoning to come.

  Kenneth hadn’t missed the exchange. He turned to Will. “You have to find an excuse. You can’t let her go. Not with him—”

  Helen interrupted. “I have every intention of going with him, Kenneth. Your concern about Magnus is misplaced. He wants nothing to do with me.”

  “And I intend to see it stays that way,” he said.

  “If you could look beyond the feud for one blessed moment, you would see that you have nothing to worry about.” She turned to Will. “I hope I shall have your blessing, Will.”

  “But you will go without it?”

  She didn’t want to challenge his authority if she didn’t have to. She had no power. They both knew that. Just as they also both knew that if he reminded her of that, it would never be the same between them. “You cannot refuse the king, Will. Surely you can see that?”

  “The lass is right,” Donald said. “Bruce has left you little choice in the matter. If you refuse, he will consider it a personal slight. It is in the best interest of the clan to let her go. You can use it as an opportunity to improve the clan’s standing in his new government.”

  Helen was surprised—and grateful—to have Donald come to her defense.

  Will had the belligerent look in his eye of a man who knew he’d been beaten but didn’t want to admit it. “If you go, you will leave us without a healer.”

  “You have a healer if you want one, Will. Muriel will come back if you ask her.”

  A strange look crossed his face. Longing? Regret? Anger? Helen didn’t know, but she was certain she’d guessed correctly: there was something between Will and Muriel.

  Or, at least, there had been.

  His mouth thinned. “She puts too high a price on her return.”

  Helen smiled sadly. She suspected the source of conflict for her brother, and perhaps more than anyone, understood his struggle. Love and duty rarely twined together. “Then I suppose you must decide how badly you
need her.”

  Fifteen

  Muriel pulled the cloak over her head and hurried across the narrow streets and wynds of Inverness. As the sun fell over the horizon, a damp mist had descended over the royal burgh, blanketing the hills and rooftops in a murky haze.

  Normally the short walk from the guild to the small room the Earl of Ross had rented for her above the cobbler’s shop was a pleasant way to stretch her legs after a long day’s work. But on a ghostly night like tonight, she wished she’d accepted Lord Henry’s offer to escort her.

  Lord Henry was a new master physician, and she was grateful for his friendship, of which she’d had precious little since arriving in Inverness. To say that the physicians of the guild did not welcome her was an understatement.

  But friendship was not all Lord Henry wanted, and she knew it would be wrong to encourage him. Right now her focus was on knocking down whatever obstacles the venerable physicians put in her path, and not making any mistakes while she completed her apprenticeship. She couldn’t give them any excuse to get rid of her. And so far, to her surprise as much as she suspected to theirs, she was doing just that—and perhaps even winning a few supporters along the way.

  But focus on her work was not the only reason she did not wish to encourage Lord Henry. Her chest pinched. Someday she would put the Earl of Sutherland behind her. But that day had not yet come. It would, though. By all that was holy, it would.

  When she’d first realized Will was looking for her, she’d foolishly thought he’d wanted her back. Not trusting herself to be strong enough to refuse, she’d avoided his messengers. It wasn’t until Donald cornered her as she left the guild that she’d learned the truth: Will hadn’t wanted her back at all. It was the king who’d needed her.

  Stung, she’d sent her reply, knowing well that in issuing the petty challenge she was ensuring he would never come for her. William Sutherland of Moray, the proud Earl of Sutherland, would not lower himself to chase after anyone. Even the woman he professed to love. Not when she’d spurned that love—or rather, his “offer.”

  As she turned the corner onto the high street, her step slowed. The street was well lit, a hubbub of activity, filled with merchants, alehouses, and even an inn. The noise was oddly reassuring.

  Her room was just up the road ahead. She could make out the torch that the cobbler had left for her as she walked past the alehouse. The sounds of shouts and breaking glass weren’t all that unusual. But a moment later, a man stumbled out—or more accurately, was shoved out—right into her path. Unable to avoid a collision, she bumped into him and barely caught herself from falling.

  “Pardon,” she murmured, instinctively trying to move away. But he caught her around the waist and spun her back to him.

  “What do we have here?” he slurred, the stench of ale heavy on his breath. He was a big man, heavy and blunt-featured. A soldier. Ice ran down her spine. His arm tightened around her waist and he drew his heavily bearded face closer. “Ye’re a pretty littl’ piece, aren’t ye?”

  Helen recoiled from the look in his eyes. Panic rose to wrap around her throat. No, no, no! Not again! She couldn’t go through it again.

  “Let go of me!” she choked, trying to pull away.

  He laughed. “What’s the hurry, pretty? We’re just getting to know one other.”

  He wiggled her against his body. The feel of his hardened member sent a fresh burst of panic surging through her. She went half-crazed, hitting him, pushing against him with everything she had, knowing she had to get away.

  “What the—?” His voice was cut off.

  A black shadow crossed in front of her, and suddenly she was free. She heard the crush of bone as a fist slammed into the jaw of the brute who’d accosted her. He flew backward, landing on the stone ground in front of her. She could see the flash of steel in the torchlight from the blade at his throat.

  “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you,” her rescuer said.

  Muriel gasped. “Will!”

  The dark, shadowy figure turned toward her. Their eyes caught, and she staggered.

  He swore, lurching forward to catch her before she fell. He tucked her to his chest with one arm, the other still holding the sword, and she collapsed against him. “It’s all right,” he said softly, holding her up. “You’re safe.”

  Will. He was really here! The soothing sound of his voice was like a dream come true.

  The man on the ground took the opportunity to escape. Will started after him, but Muriel clung to him like a lifeline. “Just let him go,” she sobbed, the fear that had gripped her releasing in a flood of tears. “Don’t leave me.”

  He held her close as he led her down the street to her room at the cobbler’s. He must have been waiting for her when he’d seen the man accost her.

  He’d been waiting for her. Could it mean …?

  Treacherous hope kindled in her chest.

  He opened the door and led her into the shop. After lighting a candle, he sat her in a chair, while he went to the back of the shop and rummaged around for something. A moment later, he was back at her side, holding out a cup. “Here, it’s all I could find.”

  Her nose wrinkled at the smell, but she drank the foul-tasting, fiery brew without protest. The whisky burned a path down her throat, warming the chill from her blood.

  When some of the shock had worn off, she stared at him in disbelief. “You came.”

  His handsome face hardened. “It’s a good thing I did. Damn it, Muriel, what were you thinking? You should know better than to walk alone at night. Don’t you know—”

  He stopped, a look of shame washing over him.

  She flinched. “Aye, I know what could have happened.”

  “I didn’t mean …”

  She laughed at his discomfort. “To remind me? God, Will, do you think I could ever forget? Do you think I didn’t see the men who raped me in his eyes? Do you think I wasn’t remembering every moment of that day in my head?” He reached for her, but she turned away. Pity wasn’t what she wanted from him. “Do you think I could forget what those men cost me?”

  She’d been fourteen. The war had reached Berwick-upon-Tweed, and King Edward’s men had flooded the city. Her father had been at the hospital caring for the wounded when the soldiers came. Eight of them. Each one taking a turn raping her before they tossed her in the street like garbage. One of her neighbors had found her battered and bleeding to death in the street. Someone had sent for her father. He’d managed to save her life, but not all of her could be healed.

  Because of what those men did to her, she would never be able to give Will a son and heir. Nothing she could do would change that.

  They never should have fallen in love, the earl’s heir and the physician’s daughter. The first couple of years after she arrived at Dunrobin he’d barely seemed to acknowledge her. But perhaps she’d just been too wrapped up in her own pain to notice. Their friendship started out slowly at first, she’d thought, by accident. He’d be walking along the beach at the same time she was, or she’d run into him on the way back from tending one of the clansmen.

  She’d been nervous around him at first—scared, really—the handsome young heir to the earldom. But after a while the wariness lessened. She began to trust him. She began to like him. He was kinder than she’d realized. Funnier, too. Single-handedly, he’d wooed her back into the realm of the living.

  She’d begun to dream.

  And miraculously, it seemed her dreams were answered. When she finally shared the truth of her past with him, he’d held her in his arms and comforted her. And then he’d kissed her—so tenderly—and told her that he loved her. She’d never forget the hope of that moment. It was beyond her wildest dreams. She thought it surprised even him. They reveled in their newfound feelings—in her slowly awakening passion—for months.

  Until he asked her to marry him. He would have ignored his duty to marry for the benefit of the clan and taken a woman with only a few pounds to her name as his wife. But then
she told him she would never be able to give him a son. That was the one duty he could not ignore.

  They’d existed in a state of perdition for nearly two years, the hopelessness of the situation making them both miserable. But it wasn’t until he’d made his “offer” that she’d broken it off. He’d refused to accept it, in anger reverting to the cold, imperious earl he appeared to everyone else.

  But now he was here. Thank God, he’d come just in time. She cleared the emotion from her throat with a hard swallow and lifted her gaze back to his. “I let my guard down. It’s a short walk from the guild, and I’ve grown accustomed to walking by myself. I shall take precaution next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  The imperialistic tone in his voice should have alerted her, but she couldn’t tamp the pang of hope. Had he reconsidered? Had he decided to put aside his duty to marry her?

  She didn’t believe it. Not really. But the ache of hope in her chest proclaimed her a liar.

  “Why are you here, Will?” she asked quietly.

  He bristled. “I’ve come to fetch you back myself as you commanded.”

  “But why?” She held his gaze, but he turned away.

  “You are needed.” Not “I need you.” Not “I can’t live without you.” Not “I love you.” “Helen decided to accompany the king on his progress.”

  How was it possible that she still could feel disappointment? She took a deep breath. “So you came to bring me back as your healer?”

  He flinched at the hollowness in her voice. Had she pricked his elusive conscience? “Aye.”

  I’m a fool. Nothing had changed. She couldn’t blame him for not marrying her. She understood his duty. But she did blame him for not letting her go.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave right now. I’m in the middle of—”

  “I shall speak to them. You will be allowed to return when you wish.”

  His disregard for her work, as well as his certainty that the men would bow to the great Earl of Sutherland, infuriated her. “No, Will. I said no!”