“Death,” the same man said. “What else?”
The king was weakening. Both men knew it, as did Helen. She knew she couldn’t wait much longer. But with the mail, there were few places her small knife could penetrate.
Finally, the man who remained silent gave her his back. She didn’t hesitate. Rushing forward with one target in mind, she plunged her blade deep into the leather of his chausses.
He yelped in surprised pain as the blade cut through the back of his thigh. The king took advantage of his surprise and plunged the heavy blade of his sword right through his belly.
The other man roared in fury. He came at the king with a vengeance, making Helen realize that the two men had been toying with them, dragging out the battle. No longer. This man intended to kill.
The attacker forced Bruce back to the river. Helen shouted a warning, but it was too late. The king stumbled on a rock and fell backward. Helen lurched forward with a cry as he landed with a thud. He wasn’t moving.
The warrior lifted his sword with both hands high above his head.
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t!”
She raced forward, barreling into him with all her strength. But it wasn’t enough. It was as if she’d run headlong into a stone wall; he barely moved.
He turned his head in her direction. “You’ll get your turn—”
He stopped, his attention caught by something behind her.
She turned instinctively, recognizing him even before the sound of his battle cry roared in her ears.“Airson an Leòmhann!”For the lion.
Magnus! She nearly wept with relief. And she might have, if the king weren’t in need of her.
She scrambled to his side, trying to revive him while keeping one eye on the battle taking place not a few feet away.
If it weren’t Magnus fighting, and if her heart weren’t lodged in her throat, she might be impressed. As skilled and invincible as the attackers had seemed to her, it was clear Magnus was even more so. But she was too worried about him to notice how fast he moved. How powerfully his sword crashed into the other. How his broad chest and powerful arms seemed built to wield the steel.
She would admire him later. Right now she just wanted it to end.
He granted her wish. One powerful blow brought the man to his knees. She turned her head, not needing to see the one that would bring his death.
She closed her eyes, fighting the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. But when she opened them again, Magnus was standing before her.
Their eyes met.
Her heart lurched.
There was no holding back this emotion.
When he opened his arms, she ran into them.
Magnus held her as if he would never let her go. When he thought of what he’d seen, how close he’d come to losing her again, he doubted he’d be able to ever again.
He cupped her chin, turned her face to his, and with one long look that spoke of the truth in his heart, he kissed her. The soft sweetness of her mouth made his heart clench. God, he loved her. He could no longer fight it.
He swept his tongue against hers, crushing her against him, and for one blistering moment gave in to the fierce emotion ripping through him and tearing him to shreds.
She kissed him back, every bit as passionately. Every bit as desperately.
But a moan brought him back to reality. A moan not from Helen, but from the king.
Reluctantly, he released her. Their eyes held for one long heartbeat. In that one look, they said everything that mattered. Tears of happiness welled in her eyes. And God, no matter how wrong, he felt it, too.
Another moan, however, dropped her to her knees at the king’s side. “Careful,” she said softly as Bruce started to rise. “You hit your head when you fell.”
The king groaned. “Again? What happened …?”
