The Viper (26 page)

The sternness in his voice fell on deaf ears. She nodded exuberantly and then tossed her arms around his neck, hugging him with all her strength.

Gratitude was a new experience for him, and if the swell in his chest meant anything, he suspected he could get used to it if he wasn't careful.

The smart thing to do would have been to extricate himself, step away, and return to his duties. But he'd never been smart when it came to Bella MacDuff. So he let his arms circle around her and savored the strange peace that came over him just from holding her.

It would be over soon enough.

Twelve

With the long journey ahead of them, Lachlan ordered Bella to get some rest as they waited for night to fall. A wait that seemed interminable. But finally, as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, they were on their way.

As he'd promised, MacLean and Lamont had stayed behind in Berwick for another couple of days to watch the convent, leaving their party at four: him, Boyd, Seton, and Bella.

Traveling at night was fraught with risk and usually undertaken at a slow pace, but Boyd had been raised in the Marches and knew every inch of the terrain. With his skilled navigation, they kept a steady pace on the darkened road that ran along the banks of the River Tweed.

Every instinct urged him to push hard and get out of the area as quickly as possible, but Lachlan was conscious--too damned conscious for his peace of mind--of Bella. He knew he should be paying attention to the road, but more often than not, his eyes were on the slim back riding a few feet ahead of him, making sure she was all right.

Though her spirit seemed undiminished--he still couldn't believe she'd managed to get him to agree to this--her frailty worried him. The imprisonment would have taken a toll on her physical strength. When he'd been released from prison, he'd felt as weak as a kitten.

He frowned. Was it his imagination, or was she slumping more in the saddle with each passing mile?

Although it was a fairly warm autumn night, she had two plaids wrapped around her narrow shoulders. His mouth fell in a grim line, suspecting the cause. He'd been imprisoned before. He knew what it was like to be cold. The kind of cold where you never thought you'd be warm again. But his icy pit in the ground wasn't a cage high on a tower exposed to the elements. He couldn't imagine--

Damn it
. He couldn't think about it. He'd go half-crazed if he thought about it.

She might look soft and feminine on the outside, but that fragile exterior hid a will of steel. He'd always admired her strength but had never realized its magnitude.

"Here," he said, unfastening the plaid he wore around his shoulders and passing it to her as they rode. "It's getting cold."

A small furrow appeared between her brows. "But you only have a
cotun
."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Take it."

Her gaze met his in the moonlit darkness, but she didn't protest further, taking the plaid and wrapping it around her shoulders. He didn't miss the little sigh of contentment as she snuggled in its deep folds. She gave him a sidelong glance from under her lashes. "You gave this to me once before."

"Did I? I don't remember." One side of her mouth curved as if she knew he lied, and he decided to change the subject. "Are you holding up all right?"

"I'm fine," she said firmly, sitting up a little straighter in her saddle--trying to convince herself or him, he didn't know.

He held her gaze, wanting to say something more, but not wanting to upset her with bad memories. Finally, he nodded. "Let me know if you need to rest."

She started to protest--stubbornly--but he cut her off with a sharp glance. Though it was dark, he swore he could see the soft pink of a flush rise to stain her cheeks before she nodded. "As you wish."

Suspecting that was about as much compliance as he would ever get from her, he left it at that.

They rode through the long hours of the night. Although they would take care to avoid contact with anyone and veer well off the road whenever they drew near a village, danger lurked around every bend.

He'd feel a whole hell of a lot better when they were back in the Highlands. But at this pace that might take some time.

His gaze slid back to Bella just in time to see her head roll forward and her body start to fall to the side.

Damn it!
He yelled her name as he lurched his mount forward. She startled back awake with an upright jolt at the same time that his arm latched around her waist to catch her. Because it was easier--and his heart had taken enough of a strain tonight--he gave momentum a little help and pulled her right onto his lap.

She stiffened, cranking her ahead around to peer up at him in the darkness. "What are you doing?"

His mouth thinned. "What does it look like I'm doing? You're riding with me." He pulled her in tight against his chest. Only to make his point, of course--not because having her pressed against him was about the best damned feeling in the world.

Her eyes widened in the darkness. "That isn't necessary, I'm not a child--"

"Then don't act like one," he said bluntly. "You almost fell off your horse; you're so exhausted. Damn it, Bella, I told you to get some rest."

"I did," she protested. She slumped against him, defeated. "I tried. But I was too excited."

He wanted to stay angry--angry was safe--but he felt himself soften. "To see your daughter?"

She nodded, a radiant smile lighting her face. "It's been so long since I've seen her."

There wasn't anything accusing in her tone, but he felt a stab of guilt nonetheless. "I know."

As their eyes met in the darkness, a lifetime of memories passed between them. "I don't blame you," she said softly. "Not anymore. You were right. If I'd taken my daughter, she might have ..."

Her voice was too thick to continue. But he knew what she was thinking. Her daughter might have suffered the same fate as she did--as young Mary Bruce had as well.

"What's she like?" he said, trying to distract her.

It worked. The smile was back on her face. "Smart. Quiet. Not shy, but reserved. She has her father's coloring but my eyes." Her mouth quirked, and she gave him a sly glance. "But I don't need to tell you that, since you've met her for yourself."

He knew she was referring to the message he'd taken the girl not long after her mother's departure--a message he'd denied taking. Obviously she hadn't believed him.

He didn't bother denying it a second time, but her faith in him after all that had happened surprised him. It caught him off guard. "She's a lovely girl."

Just like her mother
.

Bella stared up at him as if she could read his mind. His chest tightened. Squeezed tight with an emotion that didn't belong to him. He'd forgotten this. Forgotten the intensity of the connection and how hard it was to resist her. He had to force his gaze from hers. "Get some rest, Bella," he said, as sternly as he could muster.

She seemed to want to say something more, but after a moment she nodded. It didn't take her long to fall asleep. A few minutes later, he felt her body slump into his and heard the soft, even sound of her breathing.

A wave of contentment came over him. He was glad to have her safe, that was all.

If he relished holding her just a little too much, he consoled himself that at least this way they could quicken the pace.

In fact, he might just have to ride with her the entire way back to the Highlands. For her safety as well as theirs, of course.

Bella sighed with contentment, burrowing deeper into the warm coverlet that smelled of leather and spice. She felt so safe and warm.

The eye that wasn't resting against the coverlet popped open. Her coverlet was of silk, not of leather, and it smelled of lavender, not spice. And she hadn't slept with a coverlet and been warm since ...

She startled, but his arms tightened immediately around her. Lachlan. Sensing her disorientation, he soothed, "It's all right, Bella, you're safe."

Safe. A wave of relief flooded her, followed immediately by one of gratitude. She was out of prison. It wasn't a dream.
He
wasn't a dream.

She leaned her head back to look up at him. "You came for me." She hadn't been awake long enough to form her defenses, and the wonder and emotion rang clearly in her voice. "Not just this time but before also. The rescue. That was you."

Her heart stabbed at the memory. She remembered looking down into the darkness at the two men racing out of the tower after the explosion had woken her. One of the men had looked up. For a moment she'd
known
, but then she'd told herself it couldn't be. He'd betrayed her.

But now she knew differently. He hadn't knowingly betrayed her. She believed him. Part of her had always known.

His jaw tightened. A strange emotion crossed his face. If she didn't know him so well, she would think it was pain. "I vowed the moment I saw you being loaded in that cart that I would get you out. I just wish it could have been sooner."

"What happened that day?" He'd given her a brief explanation, but she wanted to hear it all.

He stiffened. She could see from the hardness of his jaw that the subject was a distasteful one. He looked angry, but she knew it was at himself, not her. "I told you most of it. I was angry and not paying as close attention to my surroundings as I should have been. One of Ross's men saw me near the docks while I was trying to arrange a
birlinn
. While I drowned my sorrows in a flagon of the local ale, he had time to warn Ross. They followed me from the alehouse, and once they realized where I was going they surrounded me. I put up a fight, but there were too many of them and the drink dulled my reactions. They knocked me out and put me in manacles. I regained consciousness right before you and the rest of the women walked out of the chapel."

"Chains," she said. "That's what William was trying to tell me. He saw the chains."

Lachlan nodded. "I tried to go after you. Even managed to slip out of one of my manacles before someone noticed. But Ross was watching me too closely. He had reason not to trust me. We'd had dealings before."

"You were imprisoned?"

"For a few months."

"But you managed to escape?"

He nodded. "But by that time you were already imprisoned, and I'd learned Bruce was on his way back to Scotland."

She frowned. "How did you learn that?"

"Bruce had a spy in the English camp. A man I knew. I also learned that Gordon and MacKay were being held at Urquhart. I went south to get some help, caught up with Bruce and the rest of the Guard--"

He stopped. "The army," he corrected. His jaw clenched even tighter. "It took nearly a year longer for the king to solidify his position enough to risk a rescue. And then when we finally got there, we failed," he said bitterly, shaking his head. "God, we were so close. I was halfway up the tower with Seton, but a soldier had been using the garderobe and heard us go by. He raised the alarm. Gordon was forced to set off his explosion early. Seton and I barely made it out in time."

Part of her was glad she hadn't known how close they'd come. It would have made the disappointment all the more difficult to bear.

"I saw you." There was a strange hollowness in his voice that she didn't recognize.

The realization that he'd seen her at such a moment made her feel oddly vulnerable. "I thought I saw you, too."

Clearly, she'd shocked him. "You did?"

"When you exited the tower and looked up. Another man was pulling you."

He held her gaze. "Seton," he said flatly. "I didn't want to leave."

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for coming for me twice."

His mouth fell in a hard line. "I would have come for you a thousand times." He looked away, as if he'd said too much.

"Why, Lachlan? Why was it so important to you?" She held her breath. It felt as though they were on some kind of precipice.

But he didn't leap. "I always finish the mission. No matter what it takes."

The mission. Finishing the job. Of course that was why he'd come. Not for her. He would have done so for anyone. If her heart squeezed with disappointment, Bella quickly smothered it.

They rode in silence for a while. She was content to lean against him and let his warmth encompass her. The thought of being cold ...

Some memories would be harder to forget than others.

The closer they drew to Roxburgh, the more her excitement grew, and the more she started to wonder whether she could rely on Lachlan to keep his word. She knew he wasn't happy about their detour to Roxburgh--that he regretted giving in to her--and she couldn't help but wonder whether he'd done so merely to appease her.

Could she trust him? Would he really attempt to take a message to her daughter, or was he only trying to placate her?

Clearly, he couldn't wait to get out of the Marches. Not that she blamed him. The borders were still under firm English control and were a dangerous place for Bruce's supporters. But she wondered whether something more was at work. She'd never seen him look so wary, even when they'd been hunted across Scotland after Methven and Dal Righ.