followed the direction of her stare, seeing at once what had caught her attention. A
birlinn
had just made the elbow turn around
Rubha Garbh
, the rocky promontory of land upon which the castle was situated, traveling faster than any ship Helen had ever seen.
“Is it …?”
Ellie turned to her, eyes wide with fear. “Aye, it’s Erik’s ship. He’s going too fast and they’re back too soon.”
They raced down the hill, entering the main gate just as the men rushed into the courtyard from the sea-gate opposite them. A mixture of fear and panic clutched her chest when Helen saw a man being carried into the castle, an arrow protruding from his neck.
Not Magnus!
She sighed with relief.
Thank God
.
Ellie let out a cry that made Helen’s heart clench right before she leapt into her husband’s arms. “You’re all right?” she said, just loud enough for Helen to hear.
The big Norseman didn’t look all right. He looked as though he’d been through hell. All of them did.
Helen didn’t wait to hear his reply. She scanned the crowd of men, heart pounding in her throat. Finally she saw him. He was slowly making his way up the beach from the jetty.
Oh, no!
Her heart knifed. He was hurt.
She pushed through the crowd, reaching Magnus just outside the castle gate. She would have rushed into his arms just as Ellie had done to her husband, but his left arm was bound in a sling of linen at his side. He was covered in dirt, soot, and blood.
He stopped when he saw her, his eyes hard with something dark and forbidding that sent an icy chill through her veins.
“You’re hurt,” she said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Gently, she placed her hand on his arm. “Your arm—”
He jerked away from her, gritting his teeth against what must have been a blast of pain. “Leave it, Helen.”
Tears of concern filled her eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like this? “Is it broken?” She placed her hands on him again. “Let me see it.”
He flinched as if her touch scalded. “Damn it, Helen. Have you no care?”
Helen blinked up at him, taken aback by the fury in his voice. By the passion. Indeed, she’d never heard such passion from him. “Of course I care. I’ve been so worried. I was so scared when I saw you—”
“Me?” he boomed. “I don’t want or need your concern. But what of your husband, Lady Helen? What of the man you married not four days ago? Have you no care for him?”
Helen stepped back, the lash of vitriol so unexpected. “William?”
An icy drop of trepidation slid down her spine.
His soft golden-brown eyes turned as hard and black as onyx, pinning her to the snow-covered ground. “Aye, William. Remember him? Your husband. My friend. The man you took to your bed a few nights ago.”
“I didn’t—”
“He’s dead.”
She let out a gasp of horror, her eyes widening with the shock of his harsh pronouncement.
Dead?
She murmured a prayer for his soul.
The look he gave her was full of such hatred and pain it seemed to burn her insides. He turned away, but not before she saw the disgust. “He deserved more from you than prayers. But you’ve never been very devoted in your affections, have you?”
Helen felt a stab of guilt and despair that drained the blood from her body, leaving her as cold and empty on the inside as she was on the outside.
He was right.
For nearly eighteen hours—since he’d stumbled out of the collapsed tower from one hell into another—Magnus had existed in a state of barely repressed anger and torment.Seeing Helen had been the final blow. He’d snapped, giving way to all the emotions lashing inside him.
She’d married Gordon, damn it. It was he who deserved her compassion and concern.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t matter. Gordon’s death had finally succeeded in severing the connection between them. Magnus would never be able to see her without thinking of his friend. His dead friend. She belonged to Gordon.
birlinn
had just made the elbow turn around
Rubha Garbh
, the rocky promontory of land upon which the castle was situated, traveling faster than any ship Helen had ever seen.
“Is it …?”
Ellie turned to her, eyes wide with fear. “Aye, it’s Erik’s ship. He’s going too fast and they’re back too soon.”
They raced down the hill, entering the main gate just as the men rushed into the courtyard from the sea-gate opposite them. A mixture of fear and panic clutched her chest when Helen saw a man being carried into the castle, an arrow protruding from his neck.
Not Magnus!
She sighed with relief.
Thank God
.
Ellie let out a cry that made Helen’s heart clench right before she leapt into her husband’s arms. “You’re all right?” she said, just loud enough for Helen to hear.
The big Norseman didn’t look all right. He looked as though he’d been through hell. All of them did.
Helen didn’t wait to hear his reply. She scanned the crowd of men, heart pounding in her throat. Finally she saw him. He was slowly making his way up the beach from the jetty.
Oh, no!
Her heart knifed. He was hurt.
She pushed through the crowd, reaching Magnus just outside the castle gate. She would have rushed into his arms just as Ellie had done to her husband, but his left arm was bound in a sling of linen at his side. He was covered in dirt, soot, and blood.
He stopped when he saw her, his eyes hard with something dark and forbidding that sent an icy chill through her veins.
“You’re hurt,” she said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Gently, she placed her hand on his arm. “Your arm—”
He jerked away from her, gritting his teeth against what must have been a blast of pain. “Leave it, Helen.”
Tears of concern filled her eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like this? “Is it broken?” She placed her hands on him again. “Let me see it.”
He flinched as if her touch scalded. “Damn it, Helen. Have you no care?”
Helen blinked up at him, taken aback by the fury in his voice. By the passion. Indeed, she’d never heard such passion from him. “Of course I care. I’ve been so worried. I was so scared when I saw you—”
“Me?” he boomed. “I don’t want or need your concern. But what of your husband, Lady Helen? What of the man you married not four days ago? Have you no care for him?”
Helen stepped back, the lash of vitriol so unexpected. “William?”
An icy drop of trepidation slid down her spine.
His soft golden-brown eyes turned as hard and black as onyx, pinning her to the snow-covered ground. “Aye, William. Remember him? Your husband. My friend. The man you took to your bed a few nights ago.”
“I didn’t—”
“He’s dead.”
She let out a gasp of horror, her eyes widening with the shock of his harsh pronouncement.
Dead?
She murmured a prayer for his soul.
The look he gave her was full of such hatred and pain it seemed to burn her insides. He turned away, but not before she saw the disgust. “He deserved more from you than prayers. But you’ve never been very devoted in your affections, have you?”
Helen felt a stab of guilt and despair that drained the blood from her body, leaving her as cold and empty on the inside as she was on the outside.
He was right.
For nearly eighteen hours—since he’d stumbled out of the collapsed tower from one hell into another—Magnus had existed in a state of barely repressed anger and torment.Seeing Helen had been the final blow. He’d snapped, giving way to all the emotions lashing inside him.
She’d married Gordon, damn it. It was he who deserved her compassion and concern.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t matter. Gordon’s death had finally succeeded in severing the connection between them. Magnus would never be able to see her without thinking of his friend. His dead friend. She belonged to Gordon.
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