The Viper Read online

  But it wasn’t his job to ask questions.

  For three years he would do whatever task Bruce put before him—pleasant or unpleasant, it didn’t matter. Though he suspected it was the latter that had helped to earn him his place among the elite warriors of Bruce’s secret guard. There were other qualities—he was ruthless in battle, skilled with a blade, and unusually adept at getting in and out of places—but a man with few qualms was prized highly in war.

  He did whatever it took to get the job done.

  War was a cesspit. Everyone got dirty. Everyone. The only difference between him and other people was that he didn’t pretend otherwise or cloak his excuses in noble causes or patriotism.

  Lachlan didn’t give a damn about politics. Hired swords didn’t have room for convictions. It was easier that way.

  He’d agreed to fight for Bruce for one reason: he had debts to pay, both personal and financial. His agreement with Bruce would satisfy both.

  He was tired of doing other people’s dirty work. If all went well, he wouldn’t have to again. He’d collect his reward, pay back his debts, and have enough money left to go someplace and disappear. A remote isle in the west would do fine. He would answer to no one but himself.

  But for that to happen, Bruce had to be king. If Isabella MacDuff could help make that happen, Lachlan would damned well get her there. And her daughter.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  The countess bit her lip. An innocent gesture that with a mouth like hers became distinctly erotic. Christ. Not the time to think about that soft pink mouth wrapped tightly around …

  He felt a heavy swell in his loins and quickly shifted his gaze, annoyed by the rare lapse.

  “I left her in the Hall.” He could hear the anxiety rising in her voice as she sought to explain. “She was still finishing her meal. I didn’t know …” Her voice drifted off. “I thought we had until tomorrow.”

  She grabbed his arm. His body leapt to attention, every muscle jumping at the contact. It felt as if he’d been hit with a lightning bolt. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him, but he doubted she even realized what she was doing. Her fear for her daughter had taken over.

  “We can’t leave without her,” she pleaded, anticipating his argument. The appeal in her beautiful upturned face wasn’t without effect. Big blue eyes framed by dark winged brows and sooty long lashes, a straight nose, flawless, creamy skin, a sensually curved mouth a whore would envy … most men would be hard pressed to resist.

  But he wasn’t most men.

  Lachlan’s mouth tightened. He wasn’t one to mince words. He should tell her that the distraction that would enable their escape was between them and the Hall and was set to go at any minute. That there was one chance in twenty that they’d be able to reach the girl before all hell broke lose.

  But the desperation in her voice stopped him.

  Isabella MacDuff might be about to betray her husband to crown his rival, but she obviously loved her child. Since he was the last man in the world to be moved by sentiment or a pretty face and a fantastic pair of breasts, he knew there must be another reason he held his tongue: the mission. Instinctively, he realized that if he told her the truth she would put up a fight. And they couldn’t afford the delay. Any delay. They’d be riding out with a perilously small head start as it was.

  “One of my men will get her,” he said, remembering how anxious she’d been to find someone—anyone—else lurking in the shadows to escort her. He wondered what she’d say when she discovered there were only three of them.

  He even might have meant what he said … for a minute. But they’d barely made it outside before a blast of booming thunder shattered the evening air.

  Time had just run out.

  Bella cursed herself for leaving Joan behind in the Hall while she returned to their rooms to ready their belongings for the morrow. She couldn’t have known, she told herself. But it didn’t help ease the tide of anxiety and fear rising in her chest.

  She hadn’t wanted her too-curious daughter to start asking questions. It was safer for Joan—for them both—if her daughter didn’t know what she planned. A stray slip of the tongue could have been disastrous.

  But disaster had come anyway. How had her husband found out?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had. Buchan’s rage would know no bounds. After all those years of baseless accusation and suspicion that she’d betrayed him, she’d finally done something to warrant his anger.

  Shuddering from the sudden chill in her blood, she followed Robert’s hired sword of disrepute down the torchlit corridor, into the donjon stairwell, and out into the courtyard. She didn’t ask what he’d done to the guardsmen her husband left to watch her, not wanting to know, but was grateful when they made it out of the tower without incident.

  But she’d barely stepped onto the cobbled stone of the courtyard when a boom shattered her ears and shook the ground under her feet. A moment later a second boom followed and an inferno of flames lit the darkening sky.

  Pandemonium broke out. People flooded out of the buildings lining the castle walls into the courtyard. She could hear women’s screams. Men’s shouts. The thunder of …

  “Watch out!” MacRuairi yelled, pulling her to the side as a stampede of terrified horses tore by them.

  … hooves. Her heart thumped at the narrow miss.

  The stables, she realized. They’d set fire to the stables, and the wooden building stuffed with hay was going up like kindling.

  The fire seemed to consume the night. Smoke filled the air.

  Joan! Dear God, her daughter!

  She lurched toward the Hall, but Lachlan anticipated her movement and held her back.

  “The lass will be taken care of. We have to go. The guards won’t be distracted for long.”

  The cold grip of panic clenched her heart in its icy fist. She pulled against him, but his hand was clamped down on her so tightly she didn’t move. “I can’t leave without my daughter.”

  He jerked her around harshly, his mouth pulled in a thin white line. She sucked in her breath, for the first time realizing just how dangerous this man could be. He looked every bit as mean and menacing as his reputation warned.

  She should be terrified, but her skin prickled with a strange flush. In the midst of chaos, she felt the unwelcome shock of awareness. Her breath stilled. She could smell the leather of his cotun, the wind on his skin, and the warm spiciness of his breath. But most of all she was distinctly aware of the heat and rock-hard strength of the body against hers. A warrior’s body.

  Alarm flared through her like a bell. Her cheeks flushed with mortified heat. What was wrong with her? After years of feeling dead to sensation, her body decides to come alive now? To react to such a man was beyond shameful.

  The hard clip of his voice brought her harshly back to reality.

  “Look, Countess. If you want to get out of here before your husband arrives, we have to go now. Your daughter isn’t in any danger. The flames are nowhere near the Hall. I signaled to my men as we left the tower; they are fetching the gel now.”

  “But—”

  He cut off her protest. “Decide now. If you are getting out of here it’s right now. Are you going to do this or not?”

  Helplessly, she gazed back across the courtyard, wishing that her daughter would somehow materialize out of the smoke. Every instinct urged her to race into the chaos to find her. But now that the initial panic had passed, she could see that he was right. The fire was not as big as it had originally seemed and wasn’t near the Hall.

  She turned back to him. “You’re sure your men understood? Someone will get her? They won’t leave without her?”

  His face hardened, but he met her gaze unflinchingly. “Aye.”

  Bella held his gaze, knowing that she had no reason to trust him. Indeed from what she knew of him, she had every reason not to.

  But she didn’t have a choice. Her decision had been made when she’d