The Viper (31 page)

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.

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."

"Don't you see, it isn't about me. It never has been."

He didn't see it at all. He never would. That was part of the problem.
Things bigger than yourself
, she'd said once. "Was it worth it?"

She flinched as if he'd hit her. The stricken look on her face almost made him wish his question back. Her chin quivered. "It has to be."

The desperate plea in her voice did something to him. For one moment he almost thought he could be the man to help her make sure it was.

Apparently, she was under the same foolish impression, because she would not relent. "I thought you were a man who finished the job, not left it half done."

The words pricked. She knew him better than he wanted to admit.
Not my fight ...

"I've done what I set out to do. It's over for me."

But not for her. She was a fighter. She would go on fighting as long as there was a breath in her body. Even for lost causes like him.

"So none of it matters to you?" she taunted. "You don't care about anything? Not whether Robert succeeds in freeing Scotland from England? Not whether your friends die?"

He just wanted to shut her up. He stepped closer, looming over her threateningly, fists clenched at his side. "They're not my friends."

"They aren't?" she challenged. He knew what she was going to say.
Don't say it
. "And what about me, Lachlan. Don't you don't care about--?"

He grabbed her before she could say it, backing her against a tree. He didn't want to care about her, about any of it. But she just kept digging and digging until she drew blood.

He'd had enough. She'd pushed him too damned far.

He pressed his body into hers, crudely wedging his cock between her legs. "You want to know what I care about, Bella? This is what I care about. I want to fuck you so badly, I can't think straight. I want to bury my tongue between your legs and lick you until you come against my face."

She gasped.

He sneered. "So unless you're ready to get down on your knees and wrap that incredible mouth around my cock, leave me the hell alone."

She should have told him to go to hell. That's what he wanted her to do. But Bella never did what she was supposed to do. Instead she smiled knowingly--as if she understood him. Which was impossible, since he didn't even understand himself.

"Am I getting a little too close to the truth, Lachlan?" The subtle taunt infuriated him. "Be as mean and crude as you like--you won't frighten me away."

His eyes darkened. Maybe not. But this sure as hell would. His mouth fell on hers in a rush of savage ferocity.

He'd warned her.

Fifteen

Bella had pushed him too far. Perhaps it was what she'd intended all along. This heat, this passion, this
madness
simmering between them had gone on for too long. She was done fighting it.

There was nothing stopping her. Buchan was dead. Her duty to him--if she'd owed him one--was gone.

Her long imprisonment, not knowing when or if she would ever be free, had taught her to take what moments of joy and pleasure she could eke out of life when she could. There might not be another chance.

And somehow she knew this would give her pleasure unlike anything she'd ever known. She wanted to feel passion just once in her life. Even if that were all that could ever be between them. His offer was clear--as it had always been. He'd never claimed to want anything more from her than this.

She didn't want anything more from him ... did she?

On the surface nothing had changed. He was still a bastard. Still the man who was said to have betrayed his clan and murdered his wife. Still a ruthless mercenary who sold his sword to the highest bidder and claimed to care about nothing.