The Viper (39 page)

"It's only until we find a replacement for you. I was thinking perhaps my nephew--"

"Randolph?" Lachlan was incredulous. Sir Thomas Randolph, one of the most elite warriors in Scotland? "You can't be serious! He knows nothing about subterfuge. Half the time he has that sword stuck so firmly up his backside--"

He stopped himself.
Damn it
. His jaw clenched, knowing exactly what Bruce was trying to do. But Lachlan wouldn't bite. It wasn't his problem, and he wasn't going to get dragged into it. He had everything he wanted right at his fingertips.

"But I'm sure he'll figure it out," he added calmly.

Bruce lifted a corner of his mouth, but he didn't press. "I'd have thought you'd look more rested."

Lachlan quirked a brow.

Bruce tapped his fingers together. "After your time in the Isles attending to those personal matters you spoke of. Although I must say I'm surprised to see you. I wasn't expecting you for another week."

Lachlan's expression betrayed nothing, but he knew the king had guessed what had brought him back. "My plans changed."

Bruce wasn't fooled. "You look like hell. You might want to shave and clean up before you see Lady Isabella."

Lachlan stiffened at the mention of her name. "Why would I do that?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "I assumed it was for her that you went to Berwick." He slammed his goblet down and leaned across the table, all pretense of equanimity gone. "Damn it, Viper, I'd have thought you would have learned your lesson. I told you to lie low and stay clear of danger for a while, which doesn't include going on some rogue mission of vengeance, no matter how well warranted. To bloody England again?"

Lachlan's mouth curved into a sly smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I don't think it's any coincidence that a half-dozen men were killed in a strange attack at Berwick Castle a few weeks ago, including Bella's former jailor, who was found naked and hanging from the cage where she was kept."

He shrugged unrepentantly. "Sounds like divine justice to me."

"Don't you mean Highland justice?" Bruce scowled. "But how the hell did you get him to walk up there--" He stopped himself. "Never mind, I don't think I want to know." Bruce took another swig from his goblet. "You are lucky I still intend to uphold my side of our deal."

This time it was Lachlan who leaned over the table. "What are you talking about? I've kept my side of the bargain."

"Have you?" Bruce quirked a brow in challenge. "You agreed to be my man for three years, which means following orders. Something you seem to have a problem doing."

"I don't recall any orders."

Bruce's mouth thinned into a tight line. "You are trying my patience, Viper. Let me be perfectly clear: I don't want you anywhere near England or the Marches for a long time. I won't have the identities of my men jeopardized for any reason. Even a good one. Do you understand?"

"My service is finished," Lachlan pointed out. He didn't have to follow anyone's orders.

"Almost finished," Bruce corrected. "The council meeting isn't for another week."

Lachlan's jaw clenched.

"And I am still your king." Bruce sank back in his chair, with the generous smile of a man who'd won his point. "Don't worry, you will have your money and your island soon enough. Though what you're going to do with it all alone in the middle of nowhere, I don't know."

"Nothing," Lachlan said. That was the point, wasn't it? Peace. Solitude. No one to answer to. No one to be responsible for. A place to call his own. It sounded like heaven.

Didn't it?

His chest burned tighter.

She would expect him to stay. To fight. To bind himself to her and the cause. But he didn't believe in anything, damn it. She expected too damned much. She didn't even know what she wanted from him. Maybe nothing.

Damn it, why the hell was he thinking about this?

"Will you stay for Templar's wedding?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"He'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Surprisingly, Lachlan wanted to, but in some ways he suspected it would be easier if he didn't. A clean break was what he needed.

Wasn't it?

"And what of Lady Isabella?"

Lachlan tensed almost imperceptibly. Almost, but he suspected the king had seen it. Still, he couldn't prevent the anxious spike of his heartbeat. "She's well?"

"Well enough." A wry smile turned the king's mouth. "Better than you, from the looks of it."

"I'm glad to hear it." At least he should be. But part of him had hoped ... what, that she'd been suffering the way he had?

"She's concerned for her daughter, of course," Bruce added.

Not my problem
. But he found himself asking anyway, "Do you plan to send the team after her?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nay, the girl is safe enough where she is--"

They heard voices outside right before the door burst open. Lachlan's heart stopped when he recognized one of them.

"Damn," Bruce cursed under his breath, echoing Lachlan's thoughts.

Lachlan's reluctance to see her was understandable, but the king's was not. He frowned, wondering if something had happened between them.

"Robert, I--" She startled like a deer in the hunter's sights when she saw Lachlan.

He steeled himself, but it wasn't enough to prepare him for the gash of pain that dug across his chest when their eyes met.

A month hadn't been nearly long enough to clear his head. He realized a lifetime wouldn't be long enough.

Bella's heart lurched. Her blood, her thoughts, her voice, everything drained from her body. Except for her heart. That throbbed painfully.

After a month it shouldn't hurt so much. But seeing him again brought all those wounded emotions rushing back in full force.

"You're back," she said dumbly.

He stood up. "For the council meeting."

Of course. She hadn't expected anything different, had she? Her chest pinched. Only a fool would think he would have changed his mind and that she hadn't been the only one suffering these past weeks. She'd missed him so much.

Though he did look more disheveled and exhausted than she'd ever seen him. His hair was longer and one long, wavy lock slumped forward across his forehead. The hard, lean angles of his handsome face seemed sharper and even more predatory. A couple of weeks' dark stubble lined his jaw. Most surprising, however, was the layer of dust and grime that coated the leather of his
cotun
. She'd never seen him so unkempt. He looked as though he'd just dragged himself back from the battlefield. He was back to his ruffian ways, no doubt.

It infuriated her that it only seemed to make him more attractive. Weren't women supposed to be attracted to shining armor? How did he make rough, rugged, and gritty so appealing?

It didn't matter. She was done being a fool. He'd made his feelings--or lack thereof--painfully clear.

He'd left her. He didn't care enough.

"I wasn't expecting him for another week," Robert added.

She might not have attached any significance to the information had she not caught the sharp look Lachlan threw the king. Her heart leapt. Did it mean something? Had he come back for her?

God, she was doing it again. Looking for hidden meanings when the truth was plain to see. Would she ever learn?

She forced her thoughts back to the letter in her hand. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I can wait outside if you aren't finished."

"Is there a problem, Bella?" the king asked.

Bella nodded, tears filling her eyes, despite Lachlan's presence. "Aye, it's my daughter."

Lachlan took a step toward her. "What's--"

"That will be all, MacRuairi," Robert stopped him. "I will send for you if I need you."

It was almost as if Robert didn't want him to hear what she had to say. For a moment, it looked as if Lachlan might argue. But after a long pause, he nodded.

"Don't forget what I said," Robert added as he turned to leave.

Lachlan's mouth tightened, and he gave the king a curt nod before bestowing an equally curt bow on her. "My lady. I--" He hesitated. "We can speak later."

The words had an ominous lilt, but she knew it meant nothing. She stiffened, forcing a coolness to her voice. "That won't be necessary. I don't believe we have anything left to say."

She didn't want to talk to him. It hurt too much to even look at him. She might do something foolish, such as beg.

He gave her a long look, the muscle pulsing in his jaw. Then without another word he was gone, a whiplash of hurt and longing trailing in his wake.

Bella stared at the door for a moment, trying to fight the conflagration of emotions that had been unleashed inside her at the sight of him. The hurt was just as strong as it had been the night he walked away from her. She needed to put him behind her. That part of her life was over. Joan was all that mattered. Why was he doing this to her?

"Bella?" Robert prodded gently.

She startled, shaking off the smothering grip of melancholy. Her daughter needed her, and she wasn't going to let Robert put her off any longer.

For weeks, he'd avoided her questions about when she would be reunited with her daughter. The only time he'd discussed the subject was to bring her a letter passed on from Margaret, purporting to be from Joan. Her chest squeezed. The handwriting had looked like her daughter's, but in her heart she knew the words could not have been hers.
No further communication ... Don't try to contact me again ... Stay where you are
.

The last seemed like a warning.

She drew up her shoulders and looked the king square in the eye. "I need to go back to Berwick."

A frown gathered across his heavy brow. To his credit, he did not immediately refuse. "Why?"

She held out the latest missive from Margaret. This one had been brought directly by her mother, who'd arrived just a few days ago after being made aware of Bella's secret return. As happy as she was to see her mother, the news she'd brought had thrown her into a state of panic.

"It's from Margaret," she explained. "Joan, her cousin, and her uncle, William Comyn, are traveling to Berwick to see 'me'--Margaret--at the convent. They've been staying with Lady Isabel de Beaumont at Bamburgh Castle, and will travel to Berwick before returning south. You'll see from the date that they are expected by the end of the week."

There wasn't much time.

Robert's frown deepened. "That doesn't make any sense," he said, almost as if to himself.

"Not if you believe the first missive." Which Bella never had. "Something's wrong." She didn't know how to explain it; she just felt it deep in her bones. Her daughter was in danger.

Robert took the letter and scanned its contents. When he'd finished, he looked more perplexed than troubled. He dropped the letter on the table and gazed back up at her. "I know what you are thinking, but it's impossible. You can't risk going back to the convent."

"I have to," she insisted. "If Joan arrives with her uncle, everyone will learn that I've escaped. William Comyn knows what I look like. Margaret won't be able to fool him, and Joan's life will be in danger."

Robert shook his head. "It's too dangerous. Your daughter will not be harmed."

"You can't be certain of that."

He paused, debating something, seeming to choose his words with care. "Joan is being watched."

Bella's eyes widened. "By whom? Why have you not told me?"

"I can't say. You need to trust me. But I can assure you at the first sign of danger, I will know."

"But what if there is not time? What if they discover I am gone and decide to hurt Joan or throw her in prison immediately? I can't let that happen." She bent down, taking his hand to kneel beside him. "Please, Robert, if you will not help me get into that convent, then at least send some men to rescue her before the truth is discovered."

The king gave her a pained look. "I'm sorry, Bella, I wish I could help you, but it isn't possible. Not right now at least. We are too close to winning Mary's release; I can't risk doing anything to upset it. Not without more information. But I swear to you, at the first hint of a problem, I will do everything I can to get your daughter back to you safely. Until then, you will have to be patient."

Stung, Bella stared at him, tears burning her eyes and throat. She did not doubt the sincerity in his voice, but his refusal, even if well motivated, felt like a betrayal. She didn't want to listen to rational explanations. She just wanted her daughter back.

"I've been patient for three years," she said softly. It was a reminder--the only one she'd ever given him--of what she'd done for him.

Sad eyes met hers. "I know better than anyone what you have sacrificed, Bella--and how hard it is to wait. There is not a day that goes by that I do not long for my wife, daughter, and sisters." He squeezed her hand. "Just a little longer. This war can't go on forever."

It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

Bella nodded, but she knew she had to do something. Robert had a crown and country to think about, but she had only her daughter. If he wouldn't help her, she would find someone who would. Someone who could get her in and out of that convent without being seen.

Her stomach turned, knowing exactly who had the skills to do so. Lachlan. No doubt his ability to get in and out of places was what had made him so appealing to Bruce that he would be willing to pay him to fight in his elite group of warriors.

The idea of lowering herself to ask him for anything after what had transpired between them went against every bone in her body. But she'd grit her teeth, swallow the bitter taste in her mouth, and do it. For her daughter she would set aside her pride. For her daughter she would sell her soul to the devil himself if need be.

She only hoped it didn't come to that.

Lachlan MacRuairi was a mean drunk. As most of the time he figured he was mean enough already, he didn't usually drown himself in a big jug of whisky.

Tonight, however, he made an exception. Seeing Bella had unleashed all sorts of unwanted emotions, damn it, and he needed to get good and drunk not to think about it. She didn't want to see him. Didn't want to talk to him. Of course she didn't. Her cold reaction was understandable. It was what he'd expected, wasn't it? And it was sure as hell no less than he deserved.