The Viper Page 12

  He’d been careful to hide his desire after that night by the loch, but it was still there, simmering just under the surface. And he felt it now. Felt it rise up and grab him in its steely grip, trying to drag him under.

  His hand reached out. Slowly. Carefully. As if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain, his finger grazed the side of her cheek.

  His heart jammed in his chest. Jesus! He groaned. So damned soft. As smooth and velvety as a bairn. His big, battle-scarred hand looked ridiculous against something so fine.

  He tipped her chin, feeling himself falling, lured by the promise in her eyes. His mouth lowered …

  He caught himself at the last moment.

  He dropped his hand. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t like this feeling at all. It almost felt like—Jesus—tenderness. But only a fool would let himself believe there could ever be more between them. He was a bastard. A man stripped of his lands and reputation. A brigand. He wasn’t ashamed, but he was also a realist.

  She was curious, that was all. Intrigued by what she perceived as an inconsistency in his character. She thought she saw something in him worth saving. But it was all black.

  He didn’t want to confuse either of them.

  “Nay,” he lied smoothly. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  He saw a flicker of hurt in her gaze but forced himself to ignore it.

  Taking a step back, he gave her a curt nod. “Good night, my lady. Have more care as you are walking. You will need all your strength over the next few days.”

  He walked away, pretending not to notice that she watched him the entire time.

  He’s lying. Bella didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Lachlan had taken the message to her daughter.

  Why didn’t he want her to know? Was it the same reason he hadn’t kissed her? Was it the same reason he tried to scare her off by telling her he’d killed his wife? She knew there was more to the story than he’d let on.

  She would have pushed him away, of course. She was almost certain. Sanity would have prevailed before his mouth touched hers. She would have seen past the nearly overwhelming desire of how wrong it was to give in to the strange current drawing them together.

  Her husband had set her aside, but his accusations had been pounded into her for too many years to forget. Lachlan could never be her husband; all he could be was something illicit. Letting him touch her would make her exactly what Buchan had always accused her of being.

  She was glad he’d rejected her. Glad he’d realized the mistake before she had. Glad he’d cured her of any illusions.

  If she’d seen some glimmer of kindness inside him, she was mistaken.

  If her heart had gone out to him when he told her about his mother, he didn’t want or need her sympathy.

  He’d imparted the tale as if he’d been talking about someone else. Dry. Unemotional. Factual. It was as if he were giving a report to one of his commanders.

  The events of his childhood no longer mattered to him. Nothing mattered to him. It was best that she remembered it. Even if at times he made her want to forget.

  She inhaled deeply, forcing an uneven breath through her tight chest. The hurt would go away.

  But it didn’t. All through the painfully short night it burned, and then in the cruel, dark hours before dawn she was forced to confront him again. When his gaze slid over her in the small crowd of travelers that had gathered in the courtyard, she felt a fresh wave of it.

  His indifference stung like a slap, bringing her harshly back to reality. He was the man charged with leading them—all of them—to safety. That should be her first and only concern.

  Funny that she accepted his leadership so easily when not a week ago, she’d rebelled so strongly against it. But brigand or not, Robert had been right. If anyone could get them to safety, he could.

  She trusted him with her life, if she could trust him with nothing else.

  “Keep your hoods over your heads,” Lachlan said. “We want to blend into the night as much as we can.”

  The rough and scratchy, dark brown wool cloaks would be hard to see in the darkness. The group would be visible only for a moment as they left the postern gate before descending into the cistern chamber, but it was better not to take any chances.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his eyes scanning the women and children before him.

  After a moment of hesitation they nodded.

  The next sound she heard was of the gate being opened—slowly and as quietly as possible. Her heart fluttered wildly. She gazed at the pale, anxious faces around her and knew she was not the only one to feel fear.

  The group was much the same as the one that had arrived the night before: the queen, Robert’s daughter Marjory, Mary Bruce, Christina Bruce and her young son the earl, Margaret and the other lady attendants, Atholl, Magnus, William, two other men-at-arms she did not know, and, of course, Lachlan.

  Of their previous companions, Sir James Douglas had been dispatched earlier with a message for the king—if he could be found—and Robbie Boyd and Alex Seton had remained with Nigel to defend the castle.

  When the gate was open, Lachlan did a quick check outside and then began to usher them through. Magnus went first, leading the group outside in a long snake. The young earl started to talk, but his mother Christina quickly shushed him.

  “Your turn, Countess.”

  Bella looked around, realizing she was the last one. She nodded and treaded down the steps of the postern gate. She couldn’t hear Lachlan behind her—he walked as soundlessly as a ghost—but she knew he was there.

  To take advantage of its natural defenses, the curtain wall had been built to the edge of the steep, rocky riverbank that the locals called the back den. A steep sunken stairwell had been carved into the rock to connect the castle to the old cistern chamber and the well-house on the other side of the crevice. They had to walk only a few feet outside the castle before they came to the entrance, covered with a piece of now-rotting wood and obscured by years of disuse.

  Magnus had lifted the wood and cleared the growth enough to enable them to squeeze through the opening. William led them down the narrow stairwell built into the side of the cliff.

  It was a little bit like descending into a black hole. Thankfully, she could see the soft glow of the torches in the tunnel ahead.

  She took her first step inside, and the cool smell of musk and damp earth hit her. She hesitated and instinctively turned behind her.

  The last glint of moonlight caught Lachlan’s face in its ghostly glow.

  She’d expected a nod of encouragement, an impatient gesture, something. What she didn’t expect was to see his face tight with pain, his teeth clenched so hard his mouth had turned white, and his eyes flash with what she could only think was panic.

  But the look was gone in an instant, and then his face was shadowed in the darkness. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “Just go slow. I’ll light a torch in a minute.”

  But it was difficult to see, even with the torches, and it took them a long time to wind their way down before they entered the vaulted cistern chamber.

  William swore.

  “What is it?” Lachlan asked.

  “There’s a gate to the tunnel to the well-house. It’s locked.”

  “Let me see.” Lachlan crossed the room, removing something from his sporran. Bella drew closer, trying to see what it was. It looked like a nail. He seemed to slip it inside the opening and move it around, and a moment later he pulled the lock open.

  “I must not have pulled it hard enough,” William said dryly.

  “How’d he do that?” Mary whispered at her side.

  Bella frowned. “I don’t know.”

  Once opened, they passed through the gate into a tunnel. When they came to another staircase, they had to wait a few minutes while a few of the men climbed into the well-house to make sure no one was about.

  As soundlessly as seventeen people could manage, they emerged from the
darkness of a tunnel first into a wooden well-house thick with spiderwebs and debris, and then into the fresh cusp of dawn air.

  “I can’t find my horsey,” a small voice whinged softly. “I d-dropped it.” From the way the little earl’s voice wobbled, Bella knew that the lad was close to tears.

  Christina Bruce knelt beside her son, trying to calm and quiet him at the same time. “Did you leave it at the castle?” she asked.

  He shook his head, tears filling his little eyes. “I had it in my sporran.”

  “Did you take it out?”

  He nodded. “In the scary room.”

  Christina smoothed the tears that had started to stream down his cheek with her finger. “Then it’s probably lost, my love. We’ll get you a new one when we get to Norway.”

  The little boy shook his head, sobbing harder now. “Father made it for me.”

  Christina looked up at her and Bella felt her throat constrict with a hot ball of tears. The child had lost his father only a year ago. And the man who’d replaced him was missing. War had cost this little boy so much.

  “I’m sorry, love,” Christina said.

  Lachlan had come up beside them. He looked down at the boy. “What’s the matter?”

  Bella explained. William was standing near the door to the well-house and must have overheard. Before Lachlan could stop him, he said, “I’ll get it. I have to block the opening anyway. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

  Lachlan’s mouth fell in a flat line, but he didn’t argue.

  With Magnus and one of the other men-at-arms leading, they headed away from the well-house into the dense woodlands that surrounded it. A few minutes later she heard the dull sound of a boom.

  Her gaze shot to Lachlan’s “What was that?”

  “Nothing to worry about. Gordon is just making sure no one can use the tunnel to get close to the castle. It should have been destroyed years ago.”

  But no sooner had the words left his mouth than a loud crash came from behind them, followed by the unmistakable scent of smoke in the air.

  Lachlan swore.

  She turned around just in time to see the well-house explode in flames.

  Seven

  Bella’s heart lurched as she stared at the inferno. Dear God, William was trapped inside!

  She heard the cries of the others as they realized the same thing.

  Lachlan pulled one of his swords from his back and turned to MacKay. “Get the women and children back. Someone might have heard.”

  His voice was calm. Steady. Controlled.

  MacKay nodded soberly and started barking orders to the other men, trying to make order out of the chaos.

  All of a sudden Bella realized what Lachlan meant to do. Her eyes widened with horror. She grabbed his arm to stop him. “You can’t go in there. It’s too late. You’ll never be able to reach him.”

  The old wooden well-house was engulfed in flames, burning like tinder.

  Lachlan refused to see reason. His eyes blazed with a strange intensity. “I have to try, damn it. I’m not leaving him.”

  Before she could protest again, he broke away and raced toward the well-house. Wrapping his plaid around his face, he kicked down the burning door and raced into the flames, using his sword to defend against the falling timbers.

  “No!” Bella heard a bloodcurdling scream tear through the forest. The stab of pain was so overwhelming she didn’t realize right away that the scream was hers.

  She lunged forward, but someone grabbed her from behind. Magnus. “You can’t go in there. You’ll only get yourself killed. They need you, my lady.”

  Magnus’s plea broke through the haze of horror and shock. They needed her, and there was nothing she could do for Lachlan or William. Numbly, she nodded as tears gushed in hot waves from her stinging eyes and allowed Magnus to pull her back. Pull her away from the flames as her heart twisted with pain.

  Oh God, why had he done it? Going into that burning building was suicide. Lachlan was supposed to be selfish. A man who fought only for his purse. He didn’t care about anyone else. Why couldn’t he act true to character just this one time?

  They needed him. His duty was to stay and protect them, not be a hero.

  Losing one man was bad enough, but two …

  Losing him.

  A loud crash sounded behind her. Her gaze jerked around, and she blinked in disbelief. Lachlan burst through what remained of the well-house door, dragging another man behind him. It didn’t seem real. He didn’t seem real. How could he have survived that? He should be dead. They both should be dead.

  “Magnus?” she asked hesitantly, seeking confirmation.

  “He has him, my lady,” the big Highlander said with a grin. “He has him.”

  She closed her eyes, giving a silent prayer of thanks, as emotion strangled in her throat.

  She followed Magnus, who’d gone to Lachlan’s assistance, relieving him of William and helping to drag him away from the flames. Lachlan was bent over coughing, fighting to get air back into his lungs, but William wasn’t moving.

  She knelt beside the unconscious warrior. William’s hair was singed and his face was black with smoke and soot. She couldn’t tell whether he was breathing. “What can I do?”

  Lachlan’s gaze shot to hers. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to get back.”

  Her heart hitched. His voice was raspy from the smoke, his face was nearly as black as William’s, and his eyes burned into her with an intensity that she didn’t recognize. But none of that mattered. He was alive.

  “Are you all right?” Bella couldn’t hide the fear in her voice; it simmered too close to the surface.

  Some of his anger seemed to dissipate. Their eyes held and for a moment it felt as though the rest of the world had fallen away. She didn’t understand it, but the connection she felt to this man was at a primal level unlike any she’d ever experienced before. He cared for her. He had to.

  “Aye,” he said softly. “I’m fine.” Seeming to catch himself, he turned to Magnus, who was still examining the unconscious William. “How is he?”

  “His pulse is slow and his breathing is shallow. I don’t know—”

  Suddenly, William’s chest started to rumble. He wheezed in a staggered breath of air, and then exploded in a fit of coughing that racked his entire body. He rolled to the side, curling into a ball, and coughed until Bella thought his lungs would give out.

  She glanced up and caught Lachlan’s eye, beaming a relieved smile at him. She was surprised when his mouth curved in a wide smile in return.

  She sucked in her breath. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The transformation was stunning. Gone was the heartless, dangerous mercenary, replaced by an almost boyishly handsome man who could steal her heart if she let him. The realization jarred her.

  “How is he?”

  Bella turned to find Queen Elizabeth by her side. She’d been so caught up in the moment, she hadn’t noticed that the women had circled around them.

  “I don’t know,” Bella answered.

  William must have heard the queen’s question through his violent coughing spasms. “I’ll b-be fine.” His voice sounded worse than Lachlan’s.

  He tried to sit up, and Magnus helped him. “Take it easy. You took in a lot of smoke.”

  “I would have taken in a lot more.” William looked to Lachlan. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

  Lachlan shrugged off his gratitude. “How are your hands?”

  William held them up, examining the singed leather of his gauntlets. “Minor burns,” he said. “I’ve had worse.”

  “What the hell happened?” Lachlan asked.

  “I must have used too much powder. The entire building collapsed, and I was hit in the head with a beam.”

  Suddenly, William reached into his cotun and smiled. Pulling out a carved wooden horse, he handed it to the young earl. “I did manage to retrieve this, though.”

  The little boy beamed with pleasure. “You found it!”
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  “Aye,” William said. “I hope you will not lose it again.”

  Wide-eyed, the lad shook his head. “I won’t. Thank you, Sir William.” He turned to Lachlan. “And you, Sir Lachlan.”

  The lad looked so solemn, none of them had the heart to correct him. They weren’t knights.

  But they weren’t regular soldiers, either. Bella’s brows furrowed, looking back and forth between Lachlan, MacKay, and Gordon. None of them were. Which begged the question, just what were they?

  There was something between these three men. Some kind of bond strong enough to send Lachlan into a burning building after one of them.

  Magnus helped William to his feet, and Bella turned to find Lachlan extending his hand toward her. She slid her fingers into his, feeling the unmistakable rush of warmth at the contact. Her gaze found his.

  He must have felt it, too, because his mouth was set in a grim line as he helped her to her feet.

  “Ready the women,” he said, looking away. “We need to go quickly. If anyone is nearby they will come to investigate.”

  He turned to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. He stilled at her touch; she could feel the rigid muscles flexing under her fingertips.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you go after him? You could have died.”

  He looked down at her, and Bella felt her chest squeeze. A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “You won’t get rid of me so easily, Countess. I’m not so easy to kill.”

  She suspected he was very hard to kill, but he was evading her question. “Why are you really here? Why are you fighting for Bruce?”

  His gaze held hers, piercing. “I already told you why.”

  “Aye, money and land, but I think there is more to it. What is between you and William and Magnus? And Boyd and Seton, for that matter?” His expression didn’t flicker, but she sensed a steel curtain go down. “Who are those men to you?”

  His eyes were hard and his voice flat. “Warriors under my temporary command.” He pulled his arm away from her grip and started to move toward the other men. “Do not invent noble purposes for my actions, my lady. You will only be disappointed.”