The Saint: A Highland Guard Novel Read online

  “I’ve a few things I was thinking about …”

  For the next twenty minutes, Helen didn’t seem to take a breath as she spoke excitedly about ways to modify some of the tools he’d given her to improve their efficiency. He found himself caught up in her enthusiasm and didn’t realize how late it was until the shadows started to fall across her face, and he heard the thunder of hooves coming through the gates.

  “I’ll see what I can do about your tools, but it won’t be until we reach Loch Broom.” Reluctantly, he stood and held out his hand to help her up. “The men are back.”

  Helen wrinkled her nose. “I assume that means you have to go.”

  “The king will want a report.”

  She gave him a sly look. “My brother and Donald seem to be spending a lot of time scouting and hunting since we departed Dingwall.”

  His jaw tightened. Though he welcomed the absence of the other men, it hadn’t been at his command. Sutherland seemed almost as eager as he was to keep Munro away from his sister. He could almost feel grateful to him. Almost. Had she reconsidered? “Is that a complaint?”

  She looked at him as if he were addled—which was exactly how she made him feel. “Of course not. I’m able to breathe without their constant hovering. I just wonder the reason why.”

  He pretended not to see the speculative gleam in her eye. “We’re heading into the mountains tomorrow—the most difficult part of our journey.”

  “But also the most exciting!”

  He hated to dampen her spirits, but he couldn’t help cautioning, “Don’t let the beauty fool you, these mountains can be treacherous—deadly, even. You need to be careful not to wander away from camp or veer too far off the road. It will be slow traveling with the carts and horses. The road is a rough one as it is, and there was a lot of snow last year and many of the burns flooded. Your brother volunteered to scout with MacGregor.”

  She didn’t hide her disappointment. “So you didn’t send them?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Their eyes held.

  “I won’t give up.” He could hear the gauntlet she’d thrown down ringing in his ears. Was it true, or would she falter again? He didn’t know which answer scared him more.

  “Ah well,” she said, not letting the disappointment that he’d had nothing to do with removing her suitor get her down for too long. “Perhaps he’s reconsidered.”

  But one look over her shoulder at the men who’d just come into view in the courtyard told him otherwise. Seeing Magnus and Helen together, Munro’s face grew as dark as a thundercloud.

  Magnus looked back to Helen with a wry grin. “I wouldn’t count on it, m’aingeal.”

  Helen couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy. She didn’t know whether it was her growing closeness to Magnus (he couldn’t seem to let her out of his sight!), the growing pride she felt in her healing skills (which were getting plenty of practice), or the majesty of their surroundings and the freedom she felt with each mile of their journey into the forests and hills of Wester Ross, but she wanted it to never end.

  They’d left the Macraiths’ castle after prayers and breaking their fast, and traveled along the rocky banks of the Blackwater River into the forests and gently rolling hills of Strathgrave. With the horse, carts, and long procession of knights, men-at-arms, and attendants, the pace was every bit as slow as Magnus had predicted this morning.

  “Four days, perhaps five,” he’d said, as he’d helped her on her small hobby. The sturdy, short-legged horses had originally come from Ireland and were well suited to the mountainous terrain of the Scottish Highlands.

  “Is that all?” She was unable to hide her disappointment.

  He and Gregor MacGregor, who’d been standing nearby, looked at her as if she were crazed.

  “ ‘Is that all?’ It’s only forty miles, my lady,” Gregor said. “It should take no more than two.”

  “I’ve run longer distances in a day,” Magnus added. “I could be there by nightfall.”

  Helen laughed at the boast.

  Gregor arched a brow. “Nightfall?”

  Magnus shrugged. “It’s uphill.”

  Helen looked back and forth between them. They were joking, weren’t they?

  She didn’t know, but it was clear as the day drew on that as much as she was enjoying and savoring every minute of the beautiful scenery, Magnus was finding the pace agonizing. A pace made slower when they found the bridge at Garve unpassable, forcing them to cross the Blackwater farther upstream.

  By the time they camped for the night along the banks of the river, with the pine forest surrounding them, and the mountain of Ben Wyvis looming in the distance, Helen was content to laze near the river, eating her meal with the two attendants her brother had insisted she bring, and watch the magnificent sunset.

  She sighed contentedly and stood from the table that had been set up in their tent. Although by no means luxurious, the royal progress was not without basic comforts. Unlike Bruce’s journey across the Highlands three years ago, when he’d been fleeing with little more than the clothes on his back and the sword in his hand, the king’s carts were laden with household plate and furniture. Large canvas tents were fitted with finely woven floor coverings brought back from the crusades, along with tables, chairs, and pallets. They drank from silver goblets, ate from pewter trenchers, and lit the rooms with oil lamps and candles in fine candelabra.

  Her attendants rose after her, but she waved them back down. “Sit. I shall only be a moment.” She grabbed the ewer that had been set out on small table with a wide bowl. “I’m just going to fetch some water with which to clean.”

  Ellen, a woman who’d been attending her from birth, looked appalled—though really after two and twenty years she should know better.

  “Let me do that, my lady.”

  “Nonsense,” Helen said, sliding through the tied-back flap of the tent. “It will feel good to stretch my legs.”

  And if Magnus just happened to be nearby, it would be merely happenstance. She smiled, knowing it would be anything but. She’d grown quite accustomed to—maybe even dependent on—Magnus watching over her. Her heart raced a little in anticipation.

  But surprisingly, to her disappointment, he didn’t appear.

  She made her way over to the large granite slabs of rock that formed the bank of the river to the dark water that had given the river its name. After washing her hands and filling the ewer, she retreated a few feet to find a dry patch of rock to sit upon as she watched the sun slip behind the mountains and fade over the horizon. She inhaled deeply. Heavenly! How she loved the fresh scent of pine.

  Everything about this journey had been heavenly thus far. Magnus’s attentiveness had to mean something. M’aingeal. My angel. Did he realize he’d used the endearment he’d once called her? If he hadn’t forgiven her, she was confident he would soon. And although content with his friendship for now, she couldn’t erase from her mind what had happened between them. Every time she looked at his hands she remembered.

  She blushed, a warm glow coming over her. It was all going to turn out perfectly, she knew it.

  Suddenly aware of someone behind her, she turned excitedly. But it wasn’t Magnus—it was Donald.

  Her disappointment must have shown on her face. His eyes narrowed. “Were you expecting someone?”

  Helen shook her head and stood, reaching for the ewer. “I was just fetching some water.”

  He blocked her with his body. “I was hoping you might have a moment. I’ve been trying to speak with you alone for over a week. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

  She hoped the fading daylight hid her guilty flush. It wasn’t Donald she wished to avoid really, but the unpleasantness of the conversation that she feared was coming.

  “I really should go,” she said, unable to stop her gaze from scanning the camp behind him, hoping someone would come to her rescue. Nay, not someone: Magnus.

  “He’s not here. MacKay