She forced a deep breath through her lungs, exhaling slowly to calm the emotions fluttering too close to the surface. For a moment she’d actually thought he meant to kiss her. But she’d never been much good at reading him, and after two years’ separation he was a virtual stranger to her.
Except he wasn’t.
The guard stood behind Margaret as her cousin entered the room. “Are you finished?”
Lachlan answered before she could. “Almost. Just a few more minutes.”
Bella felt the ridiculous urge to laugh at his affected tone. Was that supposed to be priestly? He didn’t have a pious bone in his body. Even with the hood thrown back over his head, and his attempt to slouch and appear unthreatening, Lachlan MacRuairi looked every inch the battle-hard brute. A man of undeniable and daunting physicality. Perversely, it was one of the things that had attracted her.
Margaret stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to interrupt. I can wait—”
“Nay!” Bella said, not giving Lachlan the opportunity to agree. She didn’t want to be alone with him. “As the good father said, we are almost done.”
Margaret looked back and forth between her and the “priest,” a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow. “All right.”
Bella feared the guard had noticed her jumpiness. He gave her a hard look. She forced a serene expression and met his gaze unflinchingly until he closed the door.
Lachlan tossed his hood back angrily. “What the hell do you think—”
Margaret’s gasp stopped him.
He cursed under his breath, shooting Bella a glare as if it were somehow her fault he’d forgotten, and then turned to her cousin. “Lady Margaret,” he whispered with a short nod. “I’m sorry to startle you. I’ve come to get your cousin out of here, only it seems she’s refusing to go.”
Margaret turned her surprise to Bella. “What’s this, Bella? Of course you must go. If there is a chance to be free—”
Bella shook her head. “I can’t.”
Margaret looked to Lachlan as if she hadn’t spoken. Bella owed her cousin so much. For two years she’d stood by her side, braving the horrible castle every day to attend her, keep her company, and bring her what news she could of the outside world. But Margaret’s ready alliance with Lachlan—in the face of everything he’d done to them, or they thought he’d done to them—felt like a betrayal. “What is your plan?” Margaret asked him. “How can you sneak her out of the tower?”
“Not the tower,” he said. “Tomorrow, on the road. You will be traveling with the countess?”
Margaret nodded, and Bella didn’t bother to correct him about her title.
“Good,” he said. “My men and I will attack your carriage, in the forest on the outskirts of town. I need you to be ready. Do not come out until it is over. I don’t want either of you to be harmed.”
Bella told herself not to listen. It would only make it harder. But her heartbeat quickened.
“What if something goes wrong?” Margaret said. “The constable will have us well guarded.”
“You’ve nothing to fear, my lady. My men will take care of the soldiers. An entire army would not stand in our way.”
Maybe not, but she would. “I’m not going,” Bella said resolutely.
“But why not?” Margaret said, confused. “Do you wish to take the veil?”
“The veil?” Lachlan asked.
Margaret nodded. “They are forcing her to take the veil.”
He swore.
Bella shook her head, scared that if she tried to speak, the tears closing her throat would break free.
“Then why not?” Margaret asked.
Lachlan’s mouth thinned. “Your cousin doesn’t trust me.” He pulled Robert’s ring out of the leather bag around his waist. “I brought proof that the king sent me, but it will not persuade her.”
That wasn’t the reason. But he was right: she didn’t trust him.
