Free The Saint by Monica Mccarty Page A

brothers had a solar in the main donjon, away from the boathouse and the barracks.
    Seeing the frown on her face, he explained. “I thought I saw something on my way back from the garderobe—I assume it was he and the other men leaving.”
    “Perhaps you should ask the king,” she suggested.
    “That I will, sister,” Will said. “Although I’m not sure the Bruce is ready to take us in his confidence.”
    He was right. The king might be eager to welcome the earls and powerful magnates, such as Sutherland and Ross,back into the fold in the interest of a united realm, but that did not mean he trusted them. The Sutherlands were in a precarious position, and Helen hoped her decision to dissolve her marriage didn’t make it worse.
    Will and Donald joined the rest of her brother’s large retinue at the trestle table. Helen would have returned to her room, but Kenneth held her back. Blue eyes, so like her own, bored into her. Though Kenneth shared her father and Will’s penchant for treating her with a mixture of fond befuddlement and exasperation, he had always had a knack for sensing when she wasn’t telling the truth. And though he rarely lost his temper with her, Kenneth didn’t show the same exaggerated patience, as if he were a shepherd tasked with minding a constantly straying lamb, that her father and Will did. “Are you sure you are telling us everything, Helen?”
    “I’m telling you all I know.”
    He stared at her until she felt like shifting her feet. When their father died, it was Kenneth who’d stepped into the role of shepherd to her straying lamb. But he wasn’t her father—although he certainly sounded like it.
    “I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with why I saw your husband in the boathouse looking for MacKay last night not an hour after he left the Hall to be with you.”
    He’d surprised her, and her expression showed it.
    He dropped her arm and swore. “What did you do, Helen?”
    She hated to see the disappointment on his face, but the worst part was that it was only going to get worse. “I didn’t do anything.”
    His temper flashed. “Don’t be a fool, sister. Gordon is a good man. He will make you a good husband. MacKay has known about this betrothal for years. If he’d wanted you, he would have told him. But he didn’t.”
    She knew he was right. But no matter what Magnus had said—or whatever his feelings—she’d been wrong to marryWilliam when she loved another man. She would always love Magnus. Whether he wanted her or not.
    William deserved a wife who would love him. A woman who would come to his bed without thinking of another. She would never be able to give him that.
    She just hoped that some day her family would be able to forgive her.
    Galloway Forest, Two Nights Later
    “Any questions?” Tor MacLeod scanned the blackened faces of the men circled around him in the darkness. The ash—like the dark nasal helms and armor—helped them blend into the night. “I don’t need to tell you how important this is. If you don’t know exactly what you are supposed to do, now is the time to speak up. There isn’t any room for mistakes.”
    “Hell, if there was room for mistakes, I’d think I was in the wrong place,” Erik MacSorley quipped. The brash seafarer could always be counted on to lighten the mood. The more danger, the more jokes. He’d been making jests all night.
    The Highland Guard had been formed for the most dangerous, seemingly impossible missions. The rescue of the king’s brother was going to test those limits. Fifteen hundred English soldiers stood between them and Edward Bruce. With the addition of James Douglas’s men, their forces would number about fifty. Daunting odds for even Scotland’s most elite team of warriors. But they were at their best when the odds were against them. They never considered failure. The belief that they would be victorious under any situation is what made them succeed.
    MacLeod, the leader of the Highland Guard,