Magnus laughed, though it was the last thing he felt like doing. “Do you believe in ghosts and goblins, too? If these phantoms did half the feats attributed to them, I’d be skeptical. But believe what you want; it doesn’t change the truth. Did your reports also tell you Forfar Castle fell at the same time?”
“Aye, but the attack to free the king’s brother involved something unusual—an explosion.” Magnus felt the other man’s scrutiny and knew he wasn’t going to like what he said next. “Is it a coincidence that Gordon used to tinker with black powder when we were lads?”
The danger posed by those carelessly uttered words caused him to snap. Before Sutherland could react, Magnus had his hand wrapped around his throat and his back against the wall.
But rather than show fear, Sutherland smiled as if this was what he’d wanted.
“Believe in peasants’ tales if you want—I don’t give a shite,” Magnus seethed. “But your wild speculations are putting your sister in danger.” The other man’s smile fell. “Aye, did you ever think what would happen to her if someone were to actually listen to your ravings? Keep your bloody fantasies to yourself or Helen will pay.”
“Let me worry about my sister. You stay away from her. I know what you are thinking, even if she does not. You’re sick—depraved—God damn it, she was your friend’s wife! I would think even a MacKay would have some honor—”
Magnus squeezed his hand around his throat, wanting to shut him up. But his enemy’s words were merely echoes of his own thoughts.
He might have kept squeezing had the door not opened. Magnus released him as MacGregor and a few of the other men strode inside.
Sutherland looked surprisingly pleased, despite the fact that Magnus had been seconds away from squeezing the life from him. “You’re hiding something,” he murmured, as he passed by. “And I intend to find out what it is.”
Magnus let him go, but the threat lingered in his wake. He jammed the last weapon on the shelf and turned to leave.
“Have care, Saint, before you do something you’ll regret.”
Magnus scanned the area, realizing he and MacGregor were alone. He supposed it wasn’t surprising, given his mood of late, that the other men had been avoiding him.
When Magnus didn’t respond, MacGregor added, “You’re letting him get to you. He’s waiting for you to make a slip. And if what I just saw is any indication, you are close to doing so. He’s been asking a lot of questions about you.”
Ah hell. Apparently, Sutherland had broadened his scope. He was too close to the damned truth as it was. “What kind of questions?”
“He’s interested in your movements the past few years, especially in recent months.”
“Let him ask all he wants—only a handful of people know the answer to that question and none of them will answer it.”
“Aye, but that isn’t all. I heard him mention to one of Fraser’s men that he was surprised Bruce had so many Highlanders in his personal guard, including so many past champions from the Highland Games.”
Bruce’s phantom warriors’ reputation as the best of the best had led to much speculation, but no one had made the connection to the Games until now. MacLeod, MacGregor, and Boyd were most at risk—their reputation as champions well known—but Magnus would not be immune from scrutiny as well.
Magnus’s mouth fell in a grim line. “Sutherland is a pain in the arse.”
“Adangerouspain in the arse. And a perceptive one. You have to admire him.” Magnus shot him a traitorous look. It was bad enough that the king had taken notice of Sutherland; now MacGregor, too? “Both he and Munro are watching you closely—you need to get them off the scent.” The famed archer gave him a hard look. “I’d tell you to lose, if I thought you would do it.”
His jaw locked. He’d rather have a bounty on his head, as was sure to happen were his identity discovered.
“Well, you’d better do something,” MacGregor said. “You’ve been pulled as tight as one of my bowstrings—by all the Sutherlands,” he added.
Magnus knew that MacGregor suspected the truth: he lusted after their dead friend’s widow. The fact that he’d loved her first didn’t stop his shame.
“Did he know?” MacGregor asked.
Magnus stilled, knowing who MacGregor meant. Eventually, he shook his head. “Not until after the wedding.”
Unlike MacRuairi, MacGregor didn’t voice his disapproval, but Magnus could see it on his face.
He should have told Gordon sooner. But he was too damned stubborn. Too damned sure he could control his feelings. And now it was too late. Damn, he missed him. They all did. Gordon’s death had left a hole in the Guard that would never be filled.
MacGregor gave him a long look. Though Magnus had never told any of the Highland Guard what happened the day Gordon died, he wondered whether some suspected the truth.
The famed archer didn’t waste time with questions; he cut right to the quick. “Either find yourself a woman or stop punishing yourself and take the one you want—I don’t give a shite which, but dosomething.”
Punishing himself with Helen? Perhaps he was. But some guilts were impossible to absolve.
