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.
When the drink didn’t work, he turned to brawling. Drinking and fighting tended to go together.
It was Gordon who finally dragged him away from the table before he could inflict too much damage. “Damn it, Viper, what the hell are you trying to do? Do you want all three of them to kill you? You even managed to rile Hawk’s temper.”
“Must have lost his sense of humor along with his bollocks when he took a wife,” Lachlan mumbled. “All of ’em did.”
Gordon pushed him outside into the cold night air. Winter was in full force, and the icy mist hit him with a sobering slap. Or maybe he just wasn’t as drunk as he wanted to be. He didn’t stumble, lurch, or weave as Gordon led him across the darkened barmkin toward the barracks. And damn it, his head was much too clear.
He could see her in his mind, seated at the dais, not once glancing in his direction during the evening meal. Over. Done. The finality hit him in the gut, churning unmercifully. It was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Mistake.
“Hell, if you talked about my wife like that, I don’t think I’d show nearly that much restraint.”
Lachlan lifted a lazy brow in Gordon’s direction. “Haven’t reconsidered yet? Not much time left to escape the noose.”
An odd look crossed the other man’s face before he shook it off with a smile. “Since my bride will be arriving any day, it’s a little too late for that.”
Lachlan thought about saying something, but showing unusual restraint, he bit his tongue. If there was something between MacKay and Gordon’s intended, it wasn’t his problem. If MacKay was too stubborn to say something it was his own damn fault. He would have to live with the consequences.
Just as Lachlan would. His teeth gritted together. He’d done the right thing, damn it—the only thing. But it didn’t feel right.
“Are you all right?” Gordon asked. “You don’t look too well.”
Lachlan shook off the hand he’d held out to steady him. “A headache.”
Gordon laughed. “I’m not surprised, with the amount of whisky you drank tonight.” He sobered. “Did it help?”
Had anyone else asked, he would have feigned ignorance and told him to bugger off. But despite Lachlan’s efforts to the contrary, William Gordon was a hard man not to like. “Nay.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Lachlan shook his head. Things had gotten so twisted between Bella and him, there was no way to untangle the mess—even if he wanted to. She’d made it perfectly clear that there was no future between them.
The only thing that was going to help was for him to get out of here as soon as possible. Before he could inflict more damage on either of them. “Nothing that a dip in the loch won’t cure,” he replied.
Gordon shook his head. “That Viking blood must run hot in Islanders. Either that or you’re all half-mad. I don’t know why anyone would choose to swim in weather like this. Haven’t you ever heard of a nice warm tub before a fire?”
“Tubs are for women,” Lachlan replied. As he walked away to gather his things, he was surprised to realize that he was smiling.
His good humor didn’t last long. Seated atop an overturned skiff that had obviously outlived its uses, he’d just finished pulling on his boots and fastening a plaid around his shoulders when he heard someone approaching behind him.
He stiffened, sensing her even before he turned to see her standing amidst the shadows of the moonlight. She didn’t belong here. This place stirred too many bad memories. The last time he’d been alone with a woman on this beach, she’d ended up dead. Strange that he could think of it now with so little emotion.
Bella looked good, he realized. The weeks at Dunstaffnage had erased all traces of her captivity. A healthy bloom in her cheeks and a slight fullness in her face had replaced the gaunt pallor.
“William told me where I could find you.”
Bloody helpful of him.
“I need to speak with you.”
She shivered in the misty darkness, tightening the heavy fur-lined cloak she wore around her. He missed the breeches. In the lad’s clothing, he’d almost convinced himself the distance between them was not so great. Seeing her in her finery only served to widen the divide. The pirate and the princess. The brigand and the heroine.
“Not now, Bella.” Not here. Not in this place where he’d lost his soul.
“Please,” she insisted. “It’s important and cannot wait.”
He should have just gotten up and walked away. But as he’d proved more than once, he was a fool when it came to Bella MacDuff.
She shivered again, and he clenched his fists to keep himself from dragging her into his arms. She was cold, damn it. He couldn’t stand to see her cold, knowing that it reminded her of the hell she’d been through.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “But we’ll talk in there.” He pointed to the wooden building that had stored the MacDougalls’ most prized birlinns, but which now housed the king’s.
Getting up from the skiff, he grabbed the torch he’d brought with him and stormed up the sand to the storage building. It was pitch black, cool, and damp inside, but at least it was out of the wind and bone-chilling mist. Securing the torch to the iron bracket, he crossed his arms to keep them in place and turned to face her. “Well?”
She bit her lip, and he cursed the light. Not that darkness would help. He would still have his other senses with which to contend. Her intoxicating scent surrounded him. The soft hitch of her breath pounded in his ears. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of his body was attuned to her.
“I need your help.”
He was so shocked to hear those words that it took him a minute to process all that she was saying as she explained. But by the time she was done, any pride or happiness he might have felt in thinking that she’d turned to him because she believed in him, trusted him, cared for him, had died.
A hired sword. A man with no loyalties. That’s why she’d come to him. That’s how she saw him.
That was what he’d become. That was all he was to her.
And he hated it.
“So you’ve come to me because the king has refused your request, and you think I will go against his command?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bella. I know you are scared for your daughter, but the king is right. It’s too dangerous.”
He could see the rise of emotion in her face—her fear and desperation—though she fought to keep it at bay. It was clear she was doing her best not to argue with him but was finding it difficult. “I came to you because you are the only man who can help me. Because you have the skill to get me in and out of the convent without being seen. I came to you because you know how important this is to me.” She looked into his eyes. “I came to you because you owe me this. You owe me my daughter.”
The dart of her arrow hit him square in the chest, stealing his breath. It was his decision that had separated her from her daughter, and she’d never forgotten it. Neither had he. Deserved or not, guilt pricked his conscience.
He forced a mocking smile to his face. “You’ve changed, Bella. You’ve learned how to fight dirty.”
She took a deep breath, as if the act pained her, and then thrust up her chin. “I learned from the best.”
Aye, she had.
“I paid my debt by getting you out of that prison.” He took a step toward her, fighting the heated emotions surging through his veins. “I was nearly imprisoned for you. Was that not enough? Do you want to see me chained to a rack?”
Bruce was right: He played a dangerous game of chance every time he stepped out of the Highlands.
The mask of control on her face crumpled and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please, Lachlan, I know what I ask of you, but if I don’t do something, they will find out I have escaped and take it out on Joan.” He thought he was immune to desperate pleas. He was wrong. With her he’d never be immune. “I can’t just leave her there, to the mercy of men who have none. I swear you won’t hear a word of argument from me about anything—I will do everything you say. Please, Lachlan, I’m begging you. I need you.”
I need you. The words bit into him. Digging. Penetrating. Threatening to break his resolve. He’d never wanted to give something so badly as he did at that moment. He would have sold his soul to help her.
But his soul had been sold a long time ago.
If he did as she asked and accepted this rogue mission, the king would be furious. The money and the land he was due would be in jeopardy. Everything he’d fought for, everything he wanted, would be at risk.
But it wasn’t everything he wanted. That was the problem. He wanted her, and it seemed impossible to believe that she could ever want him.
He stared down into her upturned face, into the eyes looking at him with such trust and longing, and felt something inside him crack. His will breaking. “Bella, I …”
He stopped. No. He couldn’t let his desire for a woman control his decisions. “I can’t,” he finished.
Her lush, sensual mouth twisted in anger. “You mean you won’t!”
He grabbed her arm, preventing her from spinning away from him. “Nay, I mean I can’t. Not until Bruce holds his first council.”
“But that is too late.” Her voice bubbled with hysteria. “We need to leave tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. Even riding day and night we might not make it. Why—”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and saw her eyes widen on his face as the harsh understanding dawned. “Of course. The meeting is when Robert intends to bestow your reward.” The scorn—the disgust—on her face ate like acid on his resolve. “Money. That’s all this has ever been about to you.”
He had to explain. He had to tell her
why this was so important to him. Why he couldn’t risk it. He wanted to help her, damn it, but he couldn’t. Not if he was going to salvage what was left of his honor. People were counting on him. “Damn it, Bella, that’s not all it’s about. You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly. How much will it take, Lachlan? I’ll give you everything I have, although I’m sure it won’t match the king’s reward. With most of my husband’s lands distributed amongst Robert’s men, and my own unable to be claimed while I am in hiding, I’m afraid I’ve been forced to rely on the king’s good grace. But when my lands are restored—”
He jerked her hard against him, fury racing through his veins. “I don’t want your damned lands or your money.”
Her blue eyes met his, flashing with angry challenge.
“Then what is it you do want?”
He pulled her tighter against him, his body hardening at the contact. The battle raged inside him. What he thought he wanted. What he wanted. What he could have. All coiled together in a conflagration of pounding emotions he could no longer contain.
You. I want you. But he didn’t know how to say it. How to give words to what he was feeling. How to make everything right.
And then everything went wrong.
Nineteen
“I know what you want.” She moved her hips crudely against his hardness. “It’s all you’ve ever wanted from me, isn’t it? God, you are all the same!” She put her hand on him, molding it around his bulging cock. “If you don’t want my money, then how about my body?”
A blast of heat surged through his loins. In her reckless rage she was the most seductive, irresistible creature Lachlan had ever seen.
“Stop it, Bella.” He tried to unlatch her, but her hand held him firm. “That isn’t what I want.”
She laughed scornfully, the proof to the contrary hard in her hand. She stroked him, running her hand up and down his long length. She leaned closer to him, sliding her tongue over her bottom lip like a hungry cat. “Then what of my mouth, Lachlan? Will that convince you?”