The Saint Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bruce’s queen and daughter to the English loyal Earl of Ulster), and most surprisingly, Lady Isabella MacDuff (soon to be MacRuairi), the famous patriot who was supposed to be imprisoned still in an English convent. The ladies had taken one look at the motherless, sisterless girl and had tucked her under their very large collective wing.
    Helen wasn’t used to female companionship. Except for Muriel, there were few women of her age at Dunrobin Castle. But even when the opportunity did arise—such as when visitors arrived or when they traveled for the Games—her interactions with other ladies were awkward and uncomfortable. She usually ended up saying or doing the wrong thing, and never seemed to share their interests. Her gaffes did not seem quite as bad with these women. And it was nice to not hear whispers every time she walked in the room.
    There was an unusually strong camaraderie among the women that she didn’t quite understand, but couldn’t help admiring—and perhaps envy a little. Usually, she didn’t mind their company, but today their pleasant laughter and conversation prevented her from doing what she needed to do.
    She had to see him. This was her chance to correct the biggest mistake she’d ever made in her life.
    Ironically, when she’d had the chance to seize the day she’d faltered. It was the one time in her life she’d tried to do what was right. Instead of following her heart, she’d let her brother persuade her to do her duty to her family and return with him. She knew Kenneth thought he was doing what was right, and perhaps given the circumstances it was. Rationally. But love wasn’t rational. Love had its own rules, and she’d been too weak to follow them. She’d been confused. Unsure of Magnus’s feelings for her and, truth be told, of hers for him. The enormity of the decision had overwhelmed her.
    Her family had been so convincing. A youthful folly, they’d told her. “You know how you are, Helen, you love to love.” It was the excitement. The illicit nature of their relationship. She would see. Give it time. She would forget about him.
    But it didn’t take her long to realize her feelings weren’t going away. That what she felt for Magnus was special. He saw her differently than anyone else and loved her for it. Her longing for passion had been misplaced. She’d taken for granted his calm solidity. The security in knowing that he was there for her.
    She’d begged and pleaded for her family to reconsider, but an alliance with the hated MacKays was unfathomable. And then it was too late. Magnus had disappeared and her father had betrothed her to William.
    She’d never thought it would be forever. She thought Magnus would come for her. But he hadn’t. War broke out, and nothing had ever been the same.
    But maybe it wasn’t too late after all. Maybe—
    “Is everything all right, Helen?” Helen turned to see Lady Isabella—or Bella, as she insisted on being called—watching her. She smiled. “Or is the comb not to your liking?”
    Helen looked down and blushed, realizing she’d been staring absently at the comb in her hand for some time. She shook her head and put it down. “I think perhaps I should not have broken my fast. My stomach is a bit unsettled.”
    “It’s your wedding day,” Bella said. “It’s normal to feel as if you have a few butterflies fluttering around in your belly. Perhaps you would feel better if you lay down for a while?”
    Helen shook her head, the means of escape suddenly coming to her. She stood up. “A spot of fresh air is all I need.”
    “I shall go with you,” Lady Anna volunteered, overhearing the last part of their conversation.
    “Nay, please,” Helen said quickly. “That isn’t necessary. I shall only be a short while.”
    Bella came to her rescue a second time this morning. “Anna, weren’t you going to fetch some earrings …?”
    The recently married young bride jumped to her feet, the soft roundness of her belly just