The Viper (23 page)

Her heart thumped wildly. Even if someone eventually discovered the truth, it would give her time to reach her daughter and get her to safety.

Joan was so close ...

She tamped down the rising excitement and turned to Margaret to ask her again.

But Lachlan beat her to it. "Are you sure, lass? Are you certain you want to do this?"

A soft smile curved her cousin's mouth. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life." Margaret clasped Bella's hands in hers. "Taking the veil is my calling, dear cousin, now you can find yours."

Bella didn't miss the surreptitious glance her cousin stole toward Lachlan. But she was mistaken if she thought Bella harbored any thoughts in that direction.

She would put her fate in the brigand's hands one more time to be free, but she would never risk her heart. She'd had enough disappointments for a lifetime.

Sensing the battle had been won, Lachlan did not give her the chance to argue further. Tossing the hood back over his head, he went to the door and gave it a sound thump.

"Be ready," he said.

The door opened, and a moment later he was gone.

She stood by the window, her heart thumping erratically for what seemed forever. Finally, she saw the cloaked figure emerge from the tower and cross the courtyard to the gate. Only when he'd safely passed through did she exhale.

It was the chance to escape that made her worry, not fear for him. Lachlan MacRuairi always managed to land on his feet. Even if those around him did not.

Ten

This wasn't going to work. How were they going to distract the guards long enough to make the switch?

Bella sat on a bench in the carriage that was transporting her from Berwick Castle to the convent, fighting to keep her seat as the rickety contraption--which had definitely seen better days--bumped along the progressively rougher and more uneven roads.

A simple construction of a wooden base and arched roof covered with leather, the carriage was open at both ends, providing Bella a view in front of her and behind but not to the side.

She'd been spared the humiliation of manacles, despite the fact that there was no door to lock. If the threats against her daughter weren't enough to deter thoughts of escape, the twenty or so armed soldiers accompanying her should suffice.

As the royal burgh of Berwick-upon-Tweed gave way to countryside, Bella's tunneled glances outside grew more frequent and the beat of her heart more frantic.

It was nearly dawn now. The convent couldn't be much farther. Had something gone wrong? Perhaps they weren't expecting her to be moved so early? It was still dark when she'd left the castle. Or perhaps her cousin had changed her mind?

The pit in her stomach grew to despair. She'd been resigned to her fate. Accepted it. Allowing herself to hope--nay, to believe--she would have freedom, only to have it taken away again, was too much to be borne. She should never have listened to him, never should have agreed. But Lachlan had seemed so sure, so certain that this would work. Desperately she'd clung to any thread of hope, no matter how thin.

Had she learned nothing from their disastrous journey north two years ago? How could she have allowed herself to believe him even for a moment--

The carriage came to a sudden, jerking halt. Her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench was the only thing that kept her from pitching off her seat.

Voices rang out. Her heart hammered, knowing this must be it.

She waited a few moments before scooting to the back opening of the cart. She spoke to the closest man. "Is something wrong? Why did we stop?" She was grateful for the dark veil that hid her face, fearing that he would see her excitement.

He must have mistaken the breathlessness in her voice for fear. "Overturned cart up ahead," he replied. "Nothing for you to worry about. We should be on our way in a few minutes." He gestured with a nod of his steel-helmed head. "Some of the men have gone to help."

Bella nodded and tried to act calm. She wished she knew Lachlan's plan, and whether there was anything she could do to help. From what she could tell, there were at least six of the castle guardsmen still surrounding her carriage.

Five more minutes passed, though it seemed to her interminably longer as she waited on the edge of her seat for what might happen next.

She turned at the sound of a voice. From his heavily Scots-accented English, she knew he wasn't one of the soldiers.

"You aren't safe here," the newcomer said to the soldiers. "Those ropes won't hold much longer. If those logs break free before we can get the cart upright, they're liable to roll into your horses and your carriage."

Bella stuck her head out the opening. "What seems to be the problem?"

The man, who from his rough clothing and large, muscular frame appeared to be a laborer, acted surprised to see a woman. He bowed deferentially, his manner instantly more anxious. "I'm sorry to disturb you, m'lady. There's been an accident. The cart carrying our load of logs overturned on the hill above. You should get out of the carriage while your men move it out of the path of the logs."

"The lady is fine where she is," one of Sir John's soldiers said. "Turn the carriage around," he shouted to the driver.

The carriage moved forward a few feet, rocking slightly as the driver attempted to turn the horses. Then it came to another sudden stop. "Not enough room," the driver said. "The road is too narrow right here. If one of the wheels gets stuck in the muddy ditch to either side there will be no moving her. I need to back up--"

A loud shout of warning came from the road ahead of them.

"Watch out!" the newcomer shouted to the frozen soldiers, meeting her gaze with a knowing look. "Out of the way. The ropes have snapped."

Bella didn't wait to see whether one of the soldiers came for her. She jumped out the back opening of the carriage and ran toward the stranger, who she knew must be one of Lachlan's men.

She heard a cacophony of sound. The crash of wood and rock as the logs barreled toward them. The terrified neighs and whinnies of the horses. The shouts of soldiers.

In the chaos, Lachlan's man pulled her to safety behind a tree. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she was spun around and handed to another man.

This one she recognized. She didn't need to look at his face. It horrified her to realize that she knew him by touch alone. By the way the air shifted, her stomach fluttered, and every nerve ending stood on end.

God help her for a fool.

Suddenly, her cousin appeared next to her, slipping into the place Bella had just vacated by the tree. Their eyes met from behind the mirroring black veils.

"Take care, cousin," Margaret said softly.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you," Bella whispered, but Lachlan was already dragging her away.

They traveled a few dozen feet before he pulled her into a dense patch of shrubbery.

He held her pinned to his side, tucked under the protective shield of his chest and arms. She couldn't help herself from leaning into him, savoring--absorbing--his warmth and strength. It had been so long since she'd felt safe. And tucked up against him, his big arm wrapped tightly around her, it was so easy to allow herself a moment of weakness, so easy to forget all that had happened, so easy to believe that she could rely on him. She felt safe and protected for the first time since--

Since the last time he'd held her.

She'd forgotten how strong he was. Forgotten how it felt to have layer upon layer of steel-hard muscle pressed against her. Her heart did a funny little stutter as feminine awareness, long dormant, flared to life. It poured through her veins in a hot molten rush that no force of will could deny. Her breath fell in uneven gasps that she hoped he mistook for exertion.

Her body's betrayal bothered her. With all that had passed between them, she shouldn't be feeling like this. She didn't want to feel anything for him. The death of her husband hadn't changed anything. Lachlan MacRuairi was as wrong for her today as he had been two years ago.

But she couldn't force herself to pull away.

"Let's see if it worked," he said softly in her ear.

Bella ignored the shiver that ran down her spine and tried to focus on what was happening ahead of them.

The soldiers had recovered quickly. They surrounded Lachlan's man and immediately relieved him of Margaret. There seemed to be a tense moment of discussion before Margaret said something to one of the soldiers. A moment later, the big man walked away.

Freed of its heavy load, the overturned cart was righted. The logs that had crashed down the hill on a perilous collision course with their party were cleared from the road. Margaret was loaded back into the carriage, which fortunately along with the horses had escaped the onslaught of logs, and not twenty minutes later the party was once again on its way to the convent.

Bella waited for them to pass out of sight before she spoke. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

Lachlan pulled her to her feet, and then turned her to face him. "I think she'll be more than all right, I think she'll be happy. It was your cousin's wish to do this, Bella. You've nothing to feel guilty about." She didn't like how easily he'd read her thoughts. He didn't know her. The connection between them--had it ever existed--had been severed long ago. "You can't be completely surprised by her decision?"

Bella held his gaze, the striking green eyes that seemed even sharper and more intense than she remembered. Everything about him was more striking than she remembered. His darkly handsome face, his height, his broad, heavily muscled chest and arms.

God, why did it have to be him? Couldn't Robert have sent someone else for her?

Two years of imprisonment had taken more from her than she wanted to admit, and Lachlan made her feel weak even when she was strong.

She forced herself to consider his question--not the hard, stubbled lines of his jaw or the sensual curve of his sinful mouth. He was right; she wasn't surprised. If anyone was destined for a convent, it was Margaret. "I can't stop thinking that someone will find out."

"Two of my men will stay behind to watch the convent for a few days to make sure nothing happens." His grip tightened around her upper arms, forcing her to heed his words. "You're free, Bella. You aren't going back there."

The fierceness in his voice touched something inside her. She blinked up at him. It took a moment for his words to penetrate.
Free
. Dear God, she was free! For so long she'd dreamed of this moment; now that it was actually here it didn't seem real. Or maybe she wouldn't let it seem real. Maybe she was scared that something might happen to force her back. Lachlan's words had been aimed right at that fear. How was it that he seemed to understand her feelings before she did?

Because he's been there
. The jolt of realization reverberated through her. He'd been imprisoned, too. Their eyes held in shared understanding. She wanted to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. "Thank you," she said softly.

It seemed ironic to be thanking him for rescuing her when she'd blamed him for putting her there for so long. Bella was not yet ready to absolve him of guilt in that regard, but he'd saved her from a lifetime of imprisonment, and for that alone, he deserved her thanks.

He gave her a terse nod, his uncomfortable expression making her think he saw the irony as well. "Come," he said, leading her deeper into the forest. "The others are waiting for us."

By "others" Bella assumed at least a dozen men, perhaps a score. She should have known better. They reached a small clearing in the trees beside a burn, where his men waited for them with horses. Her rescue party consisted of only five warriors, although admittedly they were an imposing-looking lot. Lachlan, the man who'd posed as a laborer, another man she didn't recognize, and two she did.

A broad smile spread across her face and she felt the first prickle of tears. The last time she'd seen them was at Kildrummy Castle. She'd assumed they'd suffered the same fate as Nigel Bruce. Being forced to watch Nigel's vicious execution was one of the lowest points of her captivity. The murder of that golden knight would haunt her forever.

She rushed forward, grasping their hands in hers. "Robbie! Sir Alex! It is so good to see you."

Robbie Boyd and Sir Alex Seton returned her smiles and greeting. Sir Alex spoke first. "It is good to see you as well, my lady."

Two years had wrought changes in the young knight. The fresh-faced handsome and gallant youth had been hardened by war and tragedy. Their fears about his brother Christopher's fate two years ago had been realized. Alex's famous brother--one of Bruce's closest companions--had been executed by the first King Edward not long after the battle of Methven. Christina Bruce, still imprisoned in a convent in England, had lost yet another husband.

Robbie Boyd looked the same. He was still the strongest-looking man she'd ever seen. Big as a mountain, every inch stacked with heavy muscle, the dark-haired warrior looked as if he could take on the entire English army and win.