The Viper Read online

  She sighed with pleasure at the first contact, at the sensation of his soft lips pressing against hers. Warmth and the faint tinge of spice infused her, flooding her senses with the heady taste of him.

  He kissed her tenderly, dragging his lips over hers in a gentle caress. She sank into him, unconsciously seeking more.

  Show me how much you care for me. She wanted throes of passion. She wanted heartfelt declarations of love. She wanted it all.

  He made a pained sound, and for a moment she wondered if she’d hurt his ribs. But then his arms tightened around her. His mouth hardened, pressing against her more fully. The taste of spice grew deeper, more arousing. She could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the power surging through him, and her body melted in anticipation, when suddenly he stiffened and pulled away with a harsh curse.

  He released her so suddenly, she had to catch herself from stumbling. Her legs seemed to be missing the bones.

  Her eyes widened, shocked and not a little disappointed. Had she done something wrong?

  He dragged his fingers through silky-straight, sandy-brown hair. “Marry me.”

  She gaped at him in astonishment. “W-what?”

  His gaze locked on hers. “I want you to be my wife.”

  The spontaneity of the proposal was so unlike him, at first she thought he must be jesting. But one look at his face told her differently. “You’re serious?”

  “Aye.”

  “But why?”

  He frowned. It was obviously not the response he’d hoped for. “I would think that would be obvious. I care for you.”

  Not “I love you.” Not “I can’t live without you.” Not “I want to ravish you senseless.”

  There was a tiny pinch in the vicinity of her heart. Helen told herself she was being ridiculous. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He’d told her how he felt—even if it wasn’t exactly with the flourish she’d hoped for.

  He was so confoundingly controlled. Not cold and unfeeling, but calm and even-tempered. Steady. A rock not a volcano. But sometimes she’d wish he’d explode.

  When she didn’t respond right away, he added, “Surely this can’t come as a surprise to you?”

  Actually it did. She bit her lip. “We never talked about the future.” Perhaps because they’d both been trying to ignore the realities.

  Marriage. It was the only option for a woman in her position. Then why did the very idea strike fear in her heart?

  But this was Magnus. He understood her. She loved him. Of course she wanted to marry him.

  But what he was asking was impossible. “Our families will never allow it.”

  He didn’t bother arguing with her. “I’m not asking our families. Run away with me.”

  She sucked in her breath. A clandestine marriage? The notion was shocking. But also, she admitted, oddly appealing—and undeniably romantic. Where would they go? Perhaps the continent? How exciting it would be to travel across the countryside with only each other to please. “Where would we go?”

  He looked at her strangely. “Strathnavar. My father will be angry at first, of course, but my mother will understand. He’ll come around eventually.”

  Northern Scotland, not the continent. The MacKay lands were in Caithness, which bordered Sutherland.

  “And where would we live?” she asked carefully.

  “At Castle Varrich with my family. When I am chief, the castle will be yours.”

  Of course. Silly lass. How could she have thought differently? His mother was the perfect lady of the castle. Naturally, he would expect as much from her. Her breath squeezed.

  “Why now? Why can’t we wait and see—”

  “I’m tired of waiting. Nothing will change.” His jaw hardened, an unfamiliar glint of steel in his eye. He was growing impatient with her. For a moment she thought he might lose his temper. But Magnus never lost his temper. Sometimes she even wondered whether he had one. “I’m tired of sneaking around, not being able to speak or even look at you in public. You are eighteen now, Helen. How much longer before your father finds you a husband?”

  She blanched, knowing he was right. She’d escaped a betrothal this long only because her father was ill and needed her.

  Her heart stopped. Oh God, who would take care of her father? She looked at him helplessly, the enormity of the decision making her hesitate. She loved him, but she loved her family, too. How could she choose between them?

  He must have read her indecision. “Don’t you see, this is the only way it can be. What we have …” His voice dropped off. “What we have is special. Don’t you want to be with me?”

  “Of course, I do. But I need some time—”

  “There isn’t time,” he said harshly. But he wasn’t looking at her. A moment later, she knew why.

  “Get the hell away from her!”

  Her heart dropped. Helen turned around to see her brother flying toward them.

  Magnus saw the blood drain from Helen’s face and wished he could spare her from this moment. But it had been inevitable. They’d been fortunate to escape discovery for so long.

  Although, if they were going to be discovered by anyone in her family, he would rather it be her eldest brother William, the heir to the earldom. He at least wasn’t a complete arse. If there was anyone he disliked more than Donald Munro, it was Kenneth Sutherland. He had all the arrogance and all the snide mockery of Munro, with a hot temper to boot.

  Instinctively, Magnus moved around to block Helen. He knew she was close to her brother, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sutherland was unpredictable at best, rash at worst.

  Magnus caught the other man’s fist before it could slam into his jaw and pushed him back. “This isn’t any of your business, Sutherland.”

  Her brother would have come at him again, but Helen stepped between them. Next to her oaf of a brother she looked as diminutive as a child. Her auburn head barely reached the middle of his chest. But she wasn’t a child. For two long years Magnus had been waiting for her to turn eighteen. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t breathe. This impish, fey creature, with her big blue eyes, freckled nose, and wild mane of glorious deep red hair. Hers was not a conventional beauty, but to him, there was no one more breathtaking.

  “Please, Kenneth, it’s not what you think.”

  Sutherland’s eyes sparked with anger. “It’s exactly what I think. I knew there was something wrong at the competition, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think you could be so disloyal.”

  Helen flinched, and Magnus swore. “Damn it, leave her the hell out of this. If you want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me.”

  The other man’s eyes narrowed. “With pleasure.” He reached for his sword. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  “A bold claim for someone who has never bested me in anything.”

  Sutherland snarled with fury.

  Helen cried out and launched herself at him. “No, please,” tears were sliding down her cheeks, “don’t do this, I l-love him.”

  Magnus had been reaching for his own sword, but her words stopped him. His heart slammed in his chest. She loved him. She’d never said so before, and after their recent conversation he hadn’t been so sure. Warmth settled over him. He’d been right. They were meant to be together. She felt it, too.

  With more gentleness than Magnus would have thought him capable of, her arse of a brother said, “Ah, Helen.” He stroked her cheek fondly. “You don’t know what you are saying. Of course, you think you’re in love with him. You’re eighteen. That’s what young girls do, they fall in love.”

  She shook her head fervently. “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that,” he said. “You love to love. Every day is like May Day to you. But how well can you know him?” Suddenly, his expression narrowed. “How long have you been meeting like this?”

  She flushed, looking down at her feet. Magnus felt his anger rise, seeing her guilt.

  “We met at th