The Viper Page 23

  And what had she accomplished? All she’d done was force herself to stand witness to her daughter’s very public repudiation of her.

  “Nothing that means anything anymore.” It seemed as if the words had been aimed right at her, every one an arrow to the heart.

  There had to be some explanation. She didn’t want to—couldn’t—accept that she’d lost her daughter. That one act in crowning Bruce had already cost her so much. It couldn’t cost her Joan.

  Bella had wanted to do something important. To take a stand for something she’d believed in. To do her duty for her clan and country. Was it so wrong? Had her lofty ideals not been tested enough? Must they cost her everything?

  Maybe Joan hadn’t meant it. Maybe it was all a show to prove her loyalty to her uncle, and the man Bella had learned was Sir Hugh Despenser, presumably her new guardian.

  But it hadn’t seemed like a show. It had seemed quite real.

  Not until she saw her daughter face-to-face would she know the truth. But how was she going to manage that?

  He gaze fell on Lachlan. Actually, as he was riding ahead of her, it fell on his back. He could help her. Not that she’d think of asking him. He was so angry he would barely even look at her. Each time she’d tried to speak to him, he’d given her a harsh monosyllabic response and coldly turned away. The closeness she’d felt when riding with him was long forgotten. She contemplated sliding off her horse so he would order her to ride with him again.

  Sir Alex wasn’t much better—especially after she’d witnessed the heated exchange between him and Lachlan on their first stop to water the horses. From the looks of it, Lachlan had given him a tongue lashing the young warrior would not soon forget. Sir Alex had stood there silently, face red with anger, taking every blow without one word of defense. Only Robbie Boyd spoke to her in full sentences, but even he seemed disappointed in her.

  It made for a long, uncomfortable, and lonely journey. They must have traveled twenty miles since leaving Roxburgh. The once promising day had turned to darkness a few hours ago.

  When Lachlan finally called for them to halt, Bella could barely sit upright in the saddle. The events of the morning, the hard riding, the lack of sleep, and hunger had caught up to her.

  They’d stopped in a grassy clearing at the base of a small brae. Though it was dark, she could make out a burn in the moonlight, running down the hill toward the River Tweed, which was just behind them. She was most surprised, however to smell the heavy scent of peat smoke in the soft breeze.

  When Lachlan helped her down from her horse, despite the harsh set of his mouth, she ventured another question. “Where are we?”

  “Peebles.”

  Her eyes widened. They had traveled some distance. Peebles was a royal burgh a little over twenty miles south of Edinburgh. They were nearly out of the Marches, but this part of Scotland was still under English control. Peebles Castle was sure to be garrisoned by King Edward’s soldiers. Until now, they’d carefully avoided towns and villages of all sizes.

  “Is it safe?” she asked hesitantly.

  His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of brilliant golden-green. God, how he could skewer with that gaze! “Far less dangerous than your trip to the market this morning.”

  Bella held her breath. She could feel the heat from the rage that he seemed a hair’s breadth from venting. She almost wished he would. Just so it could be over with. “I’m—”

  Sorry, she’d been about to say.

  But he cut her off. “We need to change the horses, and you need to rest.”

  Before she could argue, he walked away. For someone who refused to lead his own clan, the man was a natural leader. He’d certainly perfected the ability to speak in edicts and commands.

  While the men tended the horses, she sat down to eat. Even that took effort. The dried beef was hard and took a long time to chew. She did so carefully, having no desire to cause more trouble by choking.

  She was nibbling on an oatcake when she saw Lachlan and Boyd disappear into the darkness. A few minutes later, Sir Alex strode toward her, a skin in his hand.

  “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “It’s probably stronger than you are used to, but it will help you relax. It’s been a long day.”

  An understatement indeed. She took the skin and drew it to her mouth, wincing as the fiery amber liquid slid down her throat to sit and burn in her belly. But it left a pleasant warmth. After the first sip, the next couple went down considerably easier.

  “You’d better give me that back,” Sir Alex said, a hint of wryness in his voice. “I’ll be accused of getting you drunk.”

  Bella bit her lip, looking up at him from her perch on a rock. “I owe you an apology.” Heat rose in her cheeks. “I took advantage of your kindness, and I’m sorry for it.”

  He held her gaze steadily, then gave an indifferent shrug. “This war has separated too many mothers from their children. If my mother could see my brothers again, I know there is nothing that would stop her.” Sir Alex had lost not only the famous Sir Christopher but another brother as well to Edward’s barbarism. Both had been hanged, drawn, and quartered at Carlisle not long after Methven. He turned the subject back to her. “Seeing your daughter after so long must have been difficult.”

  “Aye,” she said hoarsely, recalling the crushed rose. “More difficult than I expected. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking straight.” She paused. “I’m sorry for any tension I might have caused.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “Hell, there’s always tension with MacRuairi. He and I have never been friends. Nor Boyd, for that matter,” he added as an afterthought.

  Bella frowned. “Yet you’ve fought together all these years, and work well together from what I can see.”

  It was true, she realized. There were subtle differences from two years ago when Sir Alex and Boyd had been with them on their journey to Kildrummy. If not exactly friendly, there wasn’t the animosity she used to sense between the men. The warriors seemed more relaxed and comfortable together than before. She hadn’t missed the looks, gestures, the silent forms of communication that they exchanged without thought, as if reading each other’s minds. They worked as a team.

  She suspected they liked each other more than they even realized.

  Sir Alex shrugged. “It was necessary, but it won’t be for much longer.”

  Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  He turned on her in surprise. “MacRuairi is leaving.”

  Her heart fell like a stone in her gut. “Leaving?” she echoed. But I thought …

  “I thought you knew. His agreed-upon service is almost over. Rescuing you is his last mission for the king.”

  She felt a sharp pang in her chest. “I see.”

  But she didn’t.

  Her chest burned. Leaving. He was leaving.

  God, why did it surprise her? He’d never pretended to be fighting for any other reason than money. But she’d hoped … she’d hoped time might have changed his mind.

  She’d hoped he’d changed.

  Why? He was wrong for her in every way, wasn’t he? They had nothing in common. They were from two different worlds. She believed it was worth fighting for things you believe in, and he didn’t think there was anything worth fighting for but himself. He’d told her so. She’d known it. But part of her had refused to believe it. Part of her had thought he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed—to the war or to her.

  Lachlan strode back into the clearing. He glanced in their direction, and even from a distance she could see his jaw clench. He walked toward them, and she felt the strong urge to run.

  “There’s a shieling on the other side of the hill. It isn’t much, but I can clear it of debris, and it should be comfortable enough for you to sleep in.”

  She blanched; the small amount of food she’d eaten suddenly seemed in danger of reappearing. A cold sweat beaded on her brow. The idea of sleeping in the small, dark stone shepherd’s hut …

  The bl
asted cage! God in heaven, would she ever be free of it?

  “No!” she blurted. Then, getting a grip on her panic, she added more calmly, “It’s a pleasant evening; I think I should prefer to sleep under the stars.”

  He held her gaze, his expression hard and impenetrable. But something made her think he’d sensed her reaction and knew exactly what she’d been feeling. And significantly, that he understood it.

  Her eyes filled with tears. The unexpected empathy caught her off guard. Anger she could fight against, but the glimpse of gentleness and sensitivity stripped her defenses, leaving her feeling vulnerable in a way she’d never felt before. In a way she feared she could not protect against.

  Thankfully, he did not press. “Very well. Get some sleep. We leave at dawn.”

  Lachlan wished he could follow his own advice. By necessity, warriors must be able to sleep anywhere for a short period of time, but his training wasn’t helping him tonight. He was too damned restless—and too damned angry. Not even a dunk in the river had helped.

  The immediate demands of getting them away from Roxburgh and through the borders safely had kept him focused, but once they’d stopped, it all came rushing back. He wouldn’t have stopped at all, but he knew Bella needed rest. Despite the danger, he didn’t want to push her. Only the fact that Bella was barely able to stand on her feet had kept him from telling her exactly what he thought of her morning foray into the streets of Roxburgh.

  He got angry just thinking about it. Anger didn’t bother him. That feeling was familiar. What he didn’t like was this other feeling. A feeling he was pretty damned sure was panic.

  If anything had happened to her …

  Shite, there it was again. That feeling. The instant rush of icy fear mixed with helplessness.

  Nothing was supposed to get to him. For years he’d made himself impenetrable. Invulnerable. Not caring about anything. But she was changing that, and he didn’t like it.

  Thank God this was almost over. Two more days—three at the most—and they would rejoin Bruce at Dunstaffnage. Then Bella MacDuff would be the king’s responsibility.

  But for some reason, that thought only made him angrier.

  He sensed a movement behind him and stilled. Instinctively, he reached for the hilt of the dirk at his thigh, ready to spin and throw at the next sound. But the loud crackle of leaves underfoot made him hesitate. Though light of step, the person was making no attempt to keep quiet.

  He stiffened again, this time with rage.

  Slowly, he turned around. His fists clenched as he watched her approach.

  By the time Bella stood before him, blood was pounding hot through his veins. He felt like a lion tethered to a tree, straining against his chains. One more foot and he’d be on her.

  “Go back to bed.” His voice came out like a low growl.

  She didn’t know how much danger she was in. Every pulse in his body throbbed, every muscle coiled, every nerve ending flared. He was riding the dangerous edge of control and didn’t trust himself right now. Not with her so close.

  God, he could smell her. The fresh scent of her soap mingled in the night breeze. Still garbed in the lad’s clothing, she’d wrapped two additional plaids around her for warmth. Unfortunately, the plaids did nothing to hide the shape of the very feminine curves underneath.

  She eyed him warily but did not heed his warning.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, looking up at him, her pale face bathed in the soft moonlight. “I wanted to apologize.”

  His jaw clenched. “For breaking your promise, disobeying my orders, or nearly getting us killed?”

  Even in the moonlight he could see her cheeks heat. “For all of it. I don’t know what came over me.” She was fidgeting with her hands, something he couldn’t recall ever seeing her do, and he realized how much distress this was causing her. It didn’t make him feel any better. “I was watching for you to enter the gate when I saw her. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was Joan. I had to see her up close. I thought you would miss her.”

  “I was about to pass her the note when I saw you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You were? I didn’t think …” She bit her lip. “When I heard about Mary, I thought you might have agreed to go to Roxburgh for other reasons.”

  She hadn’t trusted him. He’d given her no reason to, but still it stung. “I honor my promises, Bella. I might not make them very often, but when I do, I keep them.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe I could understand the desire to see her. But what in Hades could have possessed you to throw that flower?”

  She winced, biting her lip and pleading with him silently for understanding. “I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone else would see or understand. I didn’t realize the symbol was so well known. I couldn’t let her leave without doing something.”

  “You didn’t know the most widespread symbol of rebellion?”

  She shook her head. “How would I?” she challenged.

  Somehow his hands were on her shoulders, and he was shaking her, all of the fear and frustration pouring out in one blast of fiery anger. “Damn it, Bella, you could have been captured! Do you know how lucky you were that Comyn didn’t recognize you? For Christ’s sake, what were you thinking!”

  “I wasn’t.” She shifted out of his grasp. “You don’t have to bellow at me, I told you I was sorry. Why are you acting like you care, anyway?”

  He should be glad she was still fighting after what she’d been through. Really he should be. But right now he wasn’t in the mood for being challenged.

  She tilted her head back and gazed up at him with that proud-countess, defiant gleam in her eye. “Or was it just your own skin you were worried about when you are so close to getting what you wanted?”

  “What in Hades are you talking about?”

  “This is your last mission, isn’t it?”

  “Who—?” He stopped, knowing exactly who. “Seton.” He and that blasted knight were going to have another talk.

  “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “Nay.” He’d just hoped to wait until he’d gotten her back to Bruce to tell her.

  “So it’s true?”

  “Aye, it’s true.”

  She looked at him as if she expected him to try to explain. He didn’t have to explain anything; he didn’t owe her any explanations.

  “That’s it, then? You are just going to sail off and not look back?”

  That was exactly the plan, blast it. His teeth gritted together. “I agreed to three years, and three years is almost over.”

  She looked incredulous. “So you’re going to collect your money and go back to selling your sword to the highest bidder?”

  His face darkened, not liking the hint of scorn in her voice. “I have some debts.” He couldn’t bring the men who’d died for him back to life, but he sure as hell could provide for their families. The money from Bruce would be the last payment on a debt that could never be repaid. But what he intended to do with the coin wasn’t any of her damned business. “Once they are paid, I’m done—with all of it.”

  “You are returning to your clan?” He didn’t miss the note of hope in her voice.

  His teeth grated together. “Nay.”

  “I don’t understand you. I’ve watched you with these men. You are a good leader. Why are you shirking your duty to your clan?”

  Good leader? He knew forty-four men who would disagree with her. “Leave it, Bella.”

  This time something in his voice must have warned her, and she wisely chose not to press. “Then why not stay and fight with Robert?”

  It wasn’t his fight, damn it. He wasn’t supposed to care who won or lost.

  I don’t.

  But he knew that wasn’t quite true. He wasn’t nearly as ambivalent as he wanted to be. Somehow, without him realizing it, he’d been caught up in the fervor and excitement of Robert the Bruce’s impossible, historic, legendary rise from the ashes of defeat.
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  And though they might irritate him at times—some more than others—his Highland Guard brethren were the best warriors he’d ever fought alongside. Together they’d done things he’d never dreamed possible.

  But it didn’t change anything. “Bruce has his crown,” he answered.

  “But it isn’t over. You know that as well as I do. Half of Scotland’s castles—all the important ones in the south—are still controlled by English garrisons. Yes, Robert has his crown, but he rules over only half a country, and his reign is by no means secure. He has many enemies within who would be eager to see him fall. And Edward will not ignore Scotland forever. War with England is inevitable. There is still so much to be done.”

  The passion in her voice made him stare at her in disbelief. No. She couldn’t … “You can’t mean to get involved?”

  She thrust up that chin and glared at him. “I will do whatever the king needs of me, once my daughter is out of danger.”

  His eyes narrowed. Obviously the crushed rose hadn’t deterred her from trying to get her daughter back. The woman was as determined as she was stubborn. God’s blood, what if she did something risky again? His pulse leapt before he brought it back down.

  Not my problem, he reminded himself.

  “After everything you’ve been through you still want to fight? Are you so anxious to be imprisoned again?”

  She paled. “Of course not! You saw what it was like. It was horrible. The cold. The bars. The endless hours with nothing to do but try to prevent myself from going mad.” She gave him a scathing glance, obviously furious at him for dredging up the unpleasant memories. “I can barely look at a closed door without feeling a shudder of panic. You saw it for yourself earlier with the shieling.”

  “How did you do it?”

  Her eyes locked on his. “How did you?” she challenged softly. When he didn’t say anything, she turned away with a shrug. “I thought of my family—of my daughter. I knew I had to get through it for her.” She turned back to him, eyes flashing again. “Why are you asking me this? You know what it was like.”

  “Because that’s exactly what you are facing if you continue on this quest.” She needed to know the risks. “You’ve done enough, Bella. Take your freedom and don’t look back.”