The Saint Read Free Page B

her brother, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sutherland was unpredictable at best, rash at worst.
    Magnus caught the other man’s fist before it could slam into his jaw and pushed him back. “This isn’t any of your business, Sutherland.”
    Her brother would have come at him again, but Helen stepped between them. Next to her oaf of a brother she looked as diminutive as a child. Her head barely reached the middle of his chest. But she wasn’t a child. For two long years Magnus had been waiting for her to turn eighteen. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t breathe. This impish, fey creature, with her big blue eyes, freckled upturned nose, and wild mane of glorious deep red hair. Herswas not a conventional beauty, but to him, there was no one more breathtaking.
    “Please, Kenneth, it’s not what you think.”
    Sutherland’s eyes sparked with outrage. “It’s exactly what I think. I knew there was something wrong at the competition, but I didn’t want to believe it.” His gaze softened as he met his sister’s. “Good God, a MacKay, Helen? Our clan’s most reviled enemy? How could you be so disloyal?”
    Helen flinched with guilt, and Magnus swore. “Leave her out of this. If you want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me.”
    The other man’s eyes narrowed. “With pleasure.” He reached for his sword. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
    “A bold claim for someone who has never bested me in anything.”
    Sutherland snarled with fury. Helen cried out and launched herself at her brother. “No, please,” tears were sliding down her cheeks, “don’t do this, I-I love him.”
    Magnus had been reaching for his own sword, but her words stopped him. His heart slammed in his chest. She loved him. She’d never said so before, and after their recent conversation he hadn’t been so sure. Warmth settled over him. He’d been right. They were meant to be together. She felt it, too.
    With more gentleness than Magnus would have thought him capable, her arse of a brother said, “Ah, Helen.” He stroked her cheek fondly. “You’re too young, love. You don’t know what you are saying. Of course you think you’re in love with him. You’re eighteen. That’s what young girls do, they fall in love.”
    She shook her head fervently. “It’s not like that.”
    “It’s exactly like that,” he said. Had Magnus not seen it himself, he would never have imagined Kenneth Sutherland could be so—God forbid!—
tender
. But maybe Helen had a way of bringing out the softer side in everyone. Hejust hadn’t realized Sutherland
had
a softer side. “You love to love,” Sutherland continued. “God chose the first of May for your saint’s day for a reason. Every day is like May Day to you. But how well can you know him?” Helen bit her lip, and Sutherland’s expression narrowed. “How long have you been meeting like this?”
    She flushed, looking down at her feet. Magnus felt his anger rise, seeing her guilt.
    “We met at the Games at Dunottar,” Magnus interjected. “By accident.”
    Kenneth spun on her. “Four years ago?”
    He swore when Helen nodded.
    “By God, if he’s disgraced you, I’ll string him up by his bollocks and see him gelded—”
    “He’s done nothing,” Helen interrupted, putting her hand on her brother to hold him back. Remarkably, it seemed to work. “He’s treated me with perfect courtesy.”
    Magnus frowned, hearing something odd in her voice. It almost sounded like disappointment. “Have care what you say, Sutherland. You have a right to your anger, but I will not allow you to impugn your sister’s honor or mine.”
    It might have taken every last shred of his control, but Magnus hadn’t done more than kiss Helen. He wouldn’t dishonor her like that. He’d wait until they were married, and then he’d dishonor her plenty. The sweet taste of her lips on his still haunted him. But it had been as much care for her innocence as lack of confidence in his own