He couldn’t go much farther. Helen caught Magnus’s gaze and saw that he realized it as well. “There’s a place a little higher up that should be safe to rest for a while.”
Up?Helen glanced up the steep slope of the mountain on her left and bit back a groan. He didn’t intend to…
Aye, he did.
When the king didn’t argue or object to Magnus’s support, she realized just how horrible he must be feeling.
Helen trudged up the scree-covered slope behind the two men. With every foot of elevation, the wind seemed to grow stronger. She had to clutch the edges of her plaid together to keep it from blowing off. Once or twice, a powerful gust nearly unbalanced her on the rocky ground.
Magnus was right. This was no place for the inexperienced. One wrong step and she could end up…
She felt her stomach sway and quickly turned her gaze back to the path.Don’t look down.
With the sun lost behind the clouds, it was hard to say what time it was. But she suspected it must be close to midday by the time they’d reached Magnus’s place a “little” higher up.
“You can rest here for a while,” he said, helping the king to sit on a natural shelf in the cliffside.
It was somewhat inset and, she suspected, hidden from sight in most directions.
Magnus handed her one of the skins and a few more small pieces of the oatcakes and beef. He also handed her a dirk.
She looked up at him in surprise.
“If you should need it. It will be more effective than your eating knife.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, and then drained when she realized what he meant. “Where are you going?”
“To make sure they aren’t following us.”
“But…” She didn’t want him to leave. Surely, he must be tired? He’d practically carried the king halfway up the mountain. “But don’t you need to rest first?”
He reached down and swept a piece of hair from her face with the back of his finger. “I’m fine, Helen. I’ll rest when we reach Loch Broom.”
She thought the king was too exhausted to speak, but he laughed. “MacKay has the endurance of an ox. MacLeod said he could run for miles in armor without getting winded.”
Helen didn’t doubt it. He was stubborn as an ox, too. But in this case, she didn’t mind it. That stubbornness and determination would see them through this. “MacLeod?” she asked. “The West Highland chief?”
Magnus shot the king a look, but Bruce already had his head turned back to the ground as if he was fighting nausea.
“It’s nothing,” Magnus said.
But she knew it must have something to do with the secret army.
“How long will you be gone?”
He dropped a kiss atop her head. The tenderness of the gesture sent a rush of warmth over her icy skin. “You won’t even have a chance to miss me.”
But he was wrong. She missed him the moment he left. The rocky perch on the mountainside suddenly felt much colder and windier, and the day a little darker.
Helen was glad when the king closed his eyes, wishing she could do the same. But she needed to stay alert—at least until Magnus returned.
She clutched the hilt of the dirk in her hand and kept watch over their bleak surroundings. The minutes stretched with increasing anxiousness. It seemed he’d been gone forever, but it was probably only three-quarters of an hour before a form appeared on the hillside above her.
She sighed with relief, recognizing Magnus right away. But one look at his face stopped her heart cold. Cool. Calm. Perfectly under control. She knew what that meant.
His words confirmed it. “We have to move. They’re right behind us.”
How the hell had they found them so quickly? Magnus knew these mountains better than just about anyone. But whoever was tracking them was keeping pace—hell, doing better than keeping pace.
