The Saint: A Highland Guard Novel Read online

  Thanks to Magnus.

  She wanted to thank him but lost him in the mob of people who flooded the yard and hall on their arrival. Alerted of what had transpired by a rider from the royal party, the castle was in an uproar. The rest of the royal party had yet to arrive, but should be there soon. Helen was relieved to hear that her brother was the man who’d ridden ahead with the news. Magnus didn’t look as pleased as she was to hear that Kenneth was safe.

  Helen, Magnus, and the king were immediately given bedchambers (the king in the laird’s room, Magnus in a small guardroom, and Helen in what she suspected was the laird’s children’s room), food, and plenty of hot water. After she’d bathed, Helen went in search of the king. Happy to find him resting peacefully, she left instructions for a tonic to be prepared by MacAulay’s lady, then collapsed on her own bed, falling into a deep sleep.

  When she woke it was dark and quiet. She tiptoed past the serving girl who must have been sent to look after her but had fallen asleep in the chair by the brazier while she waited, out of her chamber and up the stairs to the king’s chamber.

  The guard standing outside his door quickly stepped aside, allowing her to enter. Helen was surprised to see the lady herself sitting beside the king’s bed. In hushed whispers, she assured Helen that the king had woken for long enough to eat a large meal—without vegetables—and drink the “vile brew” Helen had ordered prepared for him. Promising her that she would send for Helen if he needed her, the formidable chief’s wife shooed her out of the room like a child underfoot and told her to get some rest.

  Helen intended to do just that. After she saw Magnus.

  Though she’d been relieved to reach safety, from the moment of their arrival they’d been treated like heroes risen from the dead and torn in different directions. She needed to see him. To assure herself that what had happened on the road wasn’t her imagination. She sensed he was waging some kind of war with himself and didn’t want to give him time to change his mind.

  Suddenly, she had an idea.

  Perhaps it was time to take her brother’s advice.

  Coming to a stop before his door, she looked around to make sure no one was about and slipped quietly inside the darkened chamber. Gently closing the door behind her, she stilled, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and listening to the even sounds of his breathing.

  Slowly, she began to undress, letting her night robe and chemise fall to a pile at her feet. Slipping off her shoes, she padded barefoot and naked over the cool wooden planks. When she reached the edge of the bed, she drew a deep breath. Before she could reconsider, she lifted the bedsheet and slipped into bed beside him.

  Twenty-five

  Magnus was dreaming. Something soft and warm was pressed against his backside—

  He stopped, coming awake with a hard start.

  It was dark, his sight robbed but his senses infused with the scent of soap, flowers, and warm, pliant female.

  He was aware of two things at once. It was Helen, and she was naked. Completely naked. Every inch of her silky, soft skin was plastered against his. One tiny hand was slipped around his waist to hold her firmly to him, her groin was cupping his arse, and two hard, little points were poking into this back.

  Her nipples.

  His body reacted instantaneously, flushing with heat and hardening with arousal. Nay, not arousal. Hunger. Need. The primal desire of a man who wants to claim his mate.

  Lust surged through him in a fiery blast nearly impossible to contain. He couldn’t breathe. All he could do was want—nay, crave—with every fiber of his being.

  Absently, her feathery-soft fingers slid over the bands of muscle across his stomach.

  He clenched, his body rigid. Blood pounded in his ears. The urge to turn over, flip her on her back, and plunge deep inside her took hold. He wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and sink into her so deep and hard they could never be torn apart. He wanted to hear her gasp as he slammed into her over and over. Hear the hitch of her breath quicken into cries as he pleasured her. He wanted to hear her cry out his name as she came all around him. And then he wanted to come. Deep and hot and hard. To feel the satisfaction that had always eluded him.

  “Magnus.” She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Are you awake?”

  What the hell did she think? Every muscle in his body was awake. His cock was straining to his ribs. And her fingers …

  God, her fingers were dancing achingly close to the throbbing tip of him. Touch me. Taste me. Take me in your mouth and suck me. She brought out every base thought in his mind.

  He struggled to find his voice. “Aye,” he said in a harsh whisper. “What are you doing here, Helen?”

  She laughed with the knowledge of a siren. “I should think that was fairly obvious. I’m seducing you.”

  Her hand dipped, and—oh Jesus!—circled him. He couldn’t fight the urge to thrust in her hand. It felt too good. Those small, velvety fingers wrapped around him, pressing, squeezing, stroking.

  It set off a cacophony of sensation that fired inside him like thousands of successive explosions. He closed his eyes, groaning. The innocent touch was killing him.

  “Why?” he managed hoarsely.

  She stilled. Her hand released him. “I thought …” The siren’s assurance was gone. “I thought you might want to finish what we started in the forest. I thought you wanted me.”

  The uncertainty in her voice broke him. He did want her. For longer than it was probably proper he’d wanted her. And damn it, he was going to have her.

  Mine. The knowledge rose inside him with a certainty that could not be denied. He was done resisting. She’d always belonged to him, as he’d always belonged to her.

  How could this be wrong?

  He turned and rolled on top of her.

  She gasped at the contact. He could just make out the shadow of her face below his in the darkness. Her lips were parted in invitation too sweet to resist. He covered them with his, sliding his tongue deep in her mouth with a hard, carnal kiss of possession. It was a soul-searing, ravishing kiss that left no doubt of his intentions.

  When he finally released her, they were both hot and breathing hard. “Does that answer your question? Aye, I want you. I’ve wanted you every minute, every day, since—” He stopped, smiling. “Since you were sixteen years old and too damned young to do anything about it.”

  She smiled, and her hand reached up to cup his face. Tears of happiness glistening in the darkness. “Oh, Magnus. That’s sweet.”

  “Sweet?” Bloody hell! He lowered his hips, letting her feel him, fitting himself against her. His erection was wedged intimately against her. One swift move and he’d be sheathed inside her. Sweat beaded on his forehead with restraint. “I’m not sweet, and I assure you nothing I’m thinking about doing to you right now is either.”

  He could hear her sharp intake of breath and swear he saw her eyes sparkle with anticipation. “Like what?”

  He laughed and kissed her again. “I could tell you, but I think it will be much more fun if I show you.”

  Or maybe he’d do both.

  He rolled off her and slid off the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  She sounded so disappointed he chuckled. “I’ve waited too long for this not to see it.” He reached for the candle by the bed, took it over to the brazier, and lit it from the embers.

  Returning to the bed, he stopped mid-step and almost stumbled. Actually, his heart did. She was sitting up in the bed with the bedsheets tucked around her chest, and she looked so damned beautiful it nearly brought him to his knees. Her glorious hair tumbled around her shoulders in wild disarray, her lips were red and bruised from his kiss, and her eyes were wide with … maidenly modesty.

  He grinned. “You can’t be shy. You just climbed into my bed naked.”

  She scowled. “And why can’t I? What if you don’t …” She bit her lip. “What if you don’t like what you see?”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help