The Viper Read online

  Horror washed over her at the calm manner with which he spoke of the cruelties inflicted on him. It was almost as if he were talking about someone else. She knew she was getting the barest sketch of what had happened and that he was leaving out things she didn’t even want to imagine.

  It certainly explained his reaction in the tunnel and to going into the pit prison at Peebles. She, better than anyone, understood that particular source of fear.

  Their eyes met, and it was as if he knew what she was thinking. “Ah, yes, you discovered my little secret, didn’t you? I’ve no fondness for dark holes.”

  He said it as if it should lessen her impression of him. But how could she not but admire him after all he’d been through? He’d been betrayed by those closest to him, had been imprisoned, and withstood suffering she couldn’t imagine. He’d scraped and fought back after everything had been taken from him.

  He’d survived.

  Just as she had. “And I have no fondness for small rooms and bars.” Their eyes held for a moment in shared understanding. She glanced down at the lock by his foot and understood something else. “The manacles. The lock in the tunnel. Is that why you are so good at getting past them?”

  He lifted a brow in a mocking salute, obviously surprised that she’d made the connection. Reaching down behind his ankle, he slipped something from the leather sole of his boot and held it up for her inspection. It looked like a nail, but without the sharp tip. “I keep a spare in my boot, in case I am without my sporran. Unfortunately, working locks is a skill I learned only later. I escaped Dunstaffnage in a much less civilized way.”

  She tilted her head in question.

  “There were so many rats they’d made wide holes under the walls. I dug my way out by following their path.”

  She shivered. Rats. She abhorred the vile creatures. One was bad enough, but hundreds? Good God, what must that have been like?

  He stopped for a moment, but she knew he wasn’t done. When she put her hand on his arm again, this time he did not shake her off. “What happened to your wife?”

  “I should have just left, but I waited for her on a beach I knew she liked to walk on by the castle.” Bleakness had crept into his matter-of-fact tone. “I confronted her. God knows what I was expecting. An excuse? An explanation? A denial? I was so angry, I needed something. She was shocked to see me, of course. I suspect she thought her brother had already had me killed. She feigned ignorance of my accusations, and God help me, I wanted to believe her. But as soon as my back was turned, she came at me with a dirk.” Her gaze went to the jagged scar on his cheek. He smiled. “Aye, my reminder never to turn my back on a beautiful woman.”

  He said it in jest, but she suspected there was far more truth in it than he wanted to acknowledge. His wife’s betrayal had molded him as much as his mother’s rejection. Trust. Love. He knew neither. Anger and bitterness would have been easier to contend with. Cold acceptance was so much worse. How could he believe in something he didn’t know existed?

  “We struggled for the knife. I tripped and fell on her. When I stood up, the knife was lodged in her stomach. So you see, the rumors are true, at least in that respect.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault! Good God, Lachlan, she was trying to kill you.”

  “She was a woman,” he said tightly.

  Bella stared at him in disbelief. “And so there can be no excuse?” She shook her head. “You claim to have no rules, no code but your own, but you are more conventional than you want to admit, Lachlan.”

  He gave her a sharp look, clearly not liking her observation. “When I returned home to my family at Castle Tioram, it was to find that I had been found guilty of treason, and my holdings, with what wealth I did have, declared forfeit.”

  “But surely your family—”

  The muscle below his jaw jumped. “My family believed as everyone else.”

  “But didn’t you explain?”

  “Why? I realized my presence made it difficult for them, so I decided to go to Ireland and make what fortune I could as a gallowglass.”

  “So you expected blind loyalty from your family but won’t give it yourself?”

  White lines appeared around his mouth. “Leave it, Bella. Don’t think you understand me; you don’t.”

  But she couldn’t leave it. For the first time so many things were clear to her. Why his reaction to her bothered him so much, and why he’d resisted it so strongly. He thought his feelings for his wife were to blame for the death of his men. That his desire for her—his lust—had made him fail his duty to his men.

  It was clear he thought she posed the same threat. She understood why he didn’t trust her. He’d known only unkindness and betrayal from the women who should have loved him. But she wanted him to trust her. “I’m not your wife, Lachlan. I would never betray you.”

  He laughed, making her feel naive again. “Everyone is capable of betrayal, Bella, everyone. It’s only a matter of finding your weakness.”

  “So it’s better to live your life in fear? To cut yourself off from everyone so that no one can ever hurt you?”

  He gave her a hard look. “It’s not me I’m thinking about.”

  His men, she realized. He’s still punishing himself for the deaths of his men.

  Her eyes widened. A mad thought stole into her brain. No. It wasn’t possible. But the thought, once formed, could not be dislodged. It was something he’d said right before he’d shattered inside her. Something she’d barely noticed at the time but had recalled when he’d been talking about his wife.

  She took a step closer, forcing him to look up at her. “Lachlan, when you said ‘too long,’ what did you mean?”

  He turned away. His gaze fixed in the firelight. His voice was low and rough. “I haven’t been with a woman for a while.”

  Her heart picked up speed. “How long is a while?”

  He turned back to her, his handsome face painfully still. “Since my wife died.”

  “But that was …”

  “Ten years ago,” he finished flatly.

  Bella couldn’t believe it. How could a man who exuded virility have existed like a monk?

  She must have voiced her question aloud without realizing it. He laughed harshly, giving her a pointed look. “There are other ways to find release.” She blushed, realizing he was talking about pleasuring himself. “I was busy fighting most of the time. It wasn’t difficult until recently.” The heat in her cheeks intensified—he was talking about her. He shrugged. “It isn’t all that unusual. There are the Templars, for example. Many warriors believe it adds to their strength.”

  He tried to fob it off as nothing, but she knew it didn’t have anything to do with religion or his warrior’s strength. “How long are you going to keep punishing yourself, Lachlan?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m not punishing myself.” He gave her a suggestive look. “Or don’t you remember?”

  “I remember,” she said huskily. Only too well. Her body burned with the memory.

  He held her gaze in the firelight. Night had fallen as they spoke, and the old stone building had grown darker. More intimate. More dangerous.

  She was painfully aware of how close they stood, and how easy it would be to reach out and put her hands on his naked chest. A naked chest that had taken her breath away. She’d never seen anything so magnificent. Powerfully built from years of living by the sword, every inch of his lightly tanned flesh had been honed to perfection. Broad-shouldered, arms stacked with layers of bulging muscle, not an ounce of extra flesh marred the hard planes of his chest and tightly banded stomach. All she could think about was putting her hands on him and feeling all that strength under her touch.

  Realizing she was staring, she lifted her gaze back up to his. His eyes glowed dangerously. “It’s not a good idea, Bella.”

  The soft warning in his voice didn’t give her pause. She thought she’d be content with passion, but she was wrong. She wanted more. Much more. He cared for her, and she inte