The Saint (46 page)

“Lust is not what I want from you—well, not all I want. If I ever made it seem like that, I’m sorry. I love you. I want you by my side, not just in the bedchamber but in my life. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you anyway.”
He drew a deep breath. “Please forgive me and do me the great honor of becoming my wife.”

Muriel had been fighting fierce waves of emotion for the duration of his impassioned speech. He’d said no more than a few tender words to her for as long as she’d known him; to have so many at once was rather overwhelming. As much as she wanted to latch on to his words, the pain he’d caused her the past months had made her cautious. “What of the king? I thought you were to marry his sister.”

“I never formally agreed to the alliance.”

“Does the king know that?”

He winced. “I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter. I will do whatever I must to make it right with the king—except marry his sister. Perhaps my brother can be persuaded to stand in my stead.”

Muriel gave him a look that told him she believed that just as little as he did. If there was anyone who was less in want of a wife than Kenneth Sutherland, she couldn’t imagine him.

“What of my work?” she said softly. “I won’t give it up.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He swallowed hard, and she knew whatever what he was about to say was difficult for him. “If you wish to stay here and finish your apprenticeship, I will wait for you. I will come visit you as often as I can. And after.” He paused. “We will cross that road when we come to it.”

She stared at him in wonder. He meant it. My God, he actually meant it! That he would do that for her told her more than anything else how much he loved her.

“I never wanted this, Will. I only came here because I couldn’t stay at Dunrobin and watch …” Her voice strangled. “I couldn’t watch you marry someone else.” The tears she’d been holding back blurred her vision. “I’m good at what I do; I don’t need a guild to tell me that. I was leaving at the end of the week anyway.”

He made a sharp sound of surprise. “Leaving?”

She nodded. “For France.”

He stared at her in growing horror. “God, Muriel, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough.”

His expression hardened. “You are more than strong enough. You were strong enough for both of us. I don’t know why it took me so long to see the truth.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with the soft sweep of his thumb. The tender touch made her heart squeeze. “You haven’t given me your answer.”

She nodded. “Yes, Will. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He stood, pulling her along with him, and took her in his arms. “Thank God. Thank God.”

The emotion in his voice matched her own. For a moment they just stood there together, both knowing how close they’d come to losing one another forever.

But then the closeness of their bodies started to elicit other reactions. She could feel him harden against her. Feel the spike of his heartbeat against hers. Feel the heat building between them.

He kissed her. Tenderly at first. A soft brush of his lips over hers. She could taste the faint salt of her tears when he kissed her again. This time with a groan, his mouth covering hers in a hard claim of possession.

She opened against him, letting him in. Letting his tongue slide against hers. Letting him sate his hunger, quench his thirst, with her complete surrender.

Deeper. Wetter. Faster. His mouth moved over hers in tender plunder.

She grasped his shoulders, steadying herself, pulling herself closer, needing to be as close to him as she could be. Every inch of his hard, muscular body was melded to hers. She could feel him leaning into her deeper, fitting the curve of her hips to his, her breasts to his chest.

She wanted him. She showed him just how much by rubbing
against him, moaning as their tongues waged a desperate battle.

“No!” He tore his mouth away and set her determinedly away from him. “Not until after we are married. I’ve waited this long.”

Still breathing hard, Muriel lifted a brow. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “What if I don’t want to wait?”

Memories of what had happened to her would always be there, but with Will she would make a new start. He would never hurt her.

He gave her a look that suggested he wasn’t very pleased with her comment. “You aren’t making this any easier, looking at me like that. But you won’t change my mind.”

She lifted her brow again, challenging that statement. She’d see about that. But right now, she was content to let him think what he would. The poor man’s pride could take only so many blows in one day. Poor man. She smiled. The Earl of Sutherland. Who would ever have thought?

His eyes narrowed. “What are you smiling about?”

Her mouth twitched. Not wanting to tell him the truth, she improvised. “I should like to see your brother’s face when you tell him the news.”

He smiled. God, he was handsome when he smiled. “Perhaps you shall.”

She looked at him in question.

“I came by ship. I would like to tell the king of the, uh … change of plans as soon as possible.” His expression darkened. “And I’ve heard some rumors recently about my sister’s husband that Kenneth will want to hear.”

“I’m surprised that you allowed Helen to go with …”

His eyes hardened. “MacKay? Aye, well, I didn’t have much choice. The king insisted. At least Munro is going along. Hopefully, he’ll have been able to persuade her to marry him.”

She frowned before she could stop herself.

“What’s wrong?”

Muriel knew how irrational he was—all the Sutherlands were—about MacKay, but she didn’t like Donald Munro. “Are you sure Munro is the best man for your sister?”

He watched her carefully. “Kenneth expressed something similar before he left. You don’t like him?”

She shrugged. “He’s a hard man.” Too proud, but that wouldn’t impress William. “If it were up to him, you’d be in Ireland with his friend John MacDougall.”

Will nodded. “He was against submitting to Bruce. But that’s not reason alone not to like him.”

“Helen doesn’t love him.”

They both knew whom she loved. Will’s eyes met hers. Would he deny his sister what they had found? After a moment, he sighed. “I’ve never understood my sister. She never could do what was expected of her.” He shook his head. “We never could figure out where that red hair came from.”

“I have no idea.” Muriel hid her smile, as the candlelight caught the occasional burnished auburn strands of his dark brown hair. Not do what was expected? Brother and sister were more alike than he wanted to acknowledge.

Magnus had put this off for long enough. He would have done it sooner, but in the three days since MacGregor and the others had descended on Dun Lagaidh he’d been tending his duties or locked away in private meetings with the king and MacGregor, trying to uncover the source of their betrayal. It had to be a betrayal. The attackers couldn’t have been that lucky.

But the king refused to act without proof. Magnus was convinced the treachery had sprung from the Sutherland camp. The attackers’ knowledge of the terrain had to come from someone with a connection to the area. But whether it was from Sutherland himself, Munro, or one of their men, he didn’t know. They were all being watched.

MacGregor had hunted down the remaining attackers, accounting for all ten men Fraser had initially counted. Magnus had taken a party of scouts to replace the rocks he’d moved and to scour the mountainous countryside. But the mysterious third warrior had disappeared. The similarities between the band of warriors who’d attacked them and the Highland Guard could not be ignored. It seemed they had imitators.

The king bore an ugly scar but had otherwise almost fully recovered from his ordeal. Indeed, he’d just taken his
first meal in the Great Hall and had granted a private audience with the Earl of Sutherland, who’d unexpectedly arrived at the castle a short while before, accompanied by Lady Muriel.

Leaving Fraser and MacGregor to guard the king, Magnus took the opportunity to do what he should have done days before. He’d taken Helen’s innocence; honor demanded he marry her.

What the hell was he saying? Putting it that way might ease his guilt, but the truth was it was just a damned excuse. He
wanted
to marry her. Demons or nay.

He might not deserve happiness, but he would take it.

He left the hall and went to search for her. She’d left after the meal so quickly he hadn’t had a chance to pull her aside.

He frowned. He knew he’d been unfair the other night. He’d overreacted and felt bad for the way he’d behaved. If the look on her face the few times their paths had crossed was any indication, he’d hurt her.

He felt a pang of conscience. He’d make it up to her. He smiled. He’d have a lifetime to make it up to her.

Now that he’d made his decision, not once did it cross his mind that she would refuse.

Helen sat by the water’s edge, her bare feet tucked underneath her skirts. Squeezing the rocky sand between her toes, she tossed stones into the water.

“You never did know how to make them skip.”

The voice of the very man she’d been thinking about startled her.

She turned to see Magnus standing behind her. He gave her a wry smile and sat down beside her, effortlessly tossing a rock across the water. It skipped one, two, three, four times before finally sinking beneath the gently lapping waves.

She made no comment. No jest about how she’d always
hated that he could do that. No mention of the countless times he’d tried to teach her how to do it. For once, memories weren’t enough. She didn’t want to live in the past any longer.

She was confused and more than anything, hurt. She didn’t understand why he’d acted the way he did the other night, and then avoided her for the better part of three days. Thank God she had her work to keep her mind if not off what had happened, at least occupied. Word had spread quickly of her healing skills, and when she wasn’t attending the king, Helen had found herself in high demand.

She didn’t understand his reaction—or rather his overreaction—to the discovery of her virginity. It didn’t make any sense. If anything, she thought it would make it easier for him to move past thinking of her as another man’s wife.

But it had become more and more clear that something beyond her family and her marriage to William was preventing him from committing to her.

There was something tormenting him that she didn’t understand but sensed lurking just under the surface. A dark, simmering anger that at times seemed directed toward her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My actions the other night were unforgivable, but I hope you will be able to do so.”

“Which actions, Magnus? Making love to me, or lashing out at me for ‘deceiving’ you about my innocence and then spending three days acting as if I didn’t exist?” She laughed sharply. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to be angry to find I’m
not
a virgin?”

The tightening of his mouth was the only sign that he didn’t find her sarcasm amusing. He turned his gaze to hers. “I’m not sorry for making love to you.”

Their eyes held, the memories flush between them. But she wouldn’t let her desire for him intrude—not this time. “Are you sure about that? It certainly felt like you regretted it the other night.”

“I acted like an arse the other night, Helen. I’m trying to apologize, if you’ll let me.”

“It’s not an apology I want but an explanation. Why did it matter to you so much, Magnus? And why did it upset you to learn that I intended to dissolve my marriage?”

A steel curtain fell down behind his gaze. He turned away harshly. His jaw locked. “I do not wish to discuss this, Helen. I
never
want to discuss this again. If we are going to have any chance—”

“But don’t you see? If we are ever going to have a chance we
have
to discuss this. Unless you tell me what it is that haunts you, it will always be between us—
he
will always be between us.”

For one moment the curtain lifted, and she could see the depth of the anguish churning inside him. But then he shook his head. “I can’t.”

Helen stood up, dusting the sand off her skirts, trying to smother the wave of hurt and disappointment knotting her throat. For three days she’d fought off tears, but they threatened to storm at any moment.

“Wait,” he said, reaching out to catch her hand. “Where are you going? I haven’t finished.”

Helen looked at him, blinking back tears. How could he be so obtuse? Did he not realize how much his refusal hurt her? “What is there left to say?”

He stood up to face her. “Plenty. I’m trying to make this right, Helen. I took your innocence.” He drew a deep breath. “I want to marry you, Helen. I want you to be my wife.”

Her heart stilled. Part of her wanted to cry with joy to finally hear the words she’d so longed for. The other part of her, however, wanted to weep, knowing what had driven them. She knew him too well. “Of course, it’s the only honorable thing to do in the circumstances.”

He frowned, looking at her uncertainly—as if this were
some kind of trick question. Perhaps it was. After all these years she finally had what she wanted, but it wasn’t enough.