The Highlander’s Accidental Wife (Queen’s Edict #3)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Damien’s grip on her wrists tightened, and he saw the flare of triumph in her eyes. Then, she seemed to realize that he had her pinned, and it faded. His smile, however, did not waver as he looked her over.

“Wh-What are you waiting for?” she demanded in a breathless voice. “Or have you come to your senses, Sir?” A futile wriggle that had him laughing inwardly. “Will you let me go!”

“Nae yet,” he murmured. He took a step back, then another, and tugged her along with him. “Nae when ye are makin’ it too easy.”

As expected, Helena’s eyes flared, and she tried to break free, twisting and almost growling.

Damien pounced the moment she was unsteady on her feet and twisted her around without letting go of her wrists. Her back was to his front, a mere handbreadth of space between them, and she stilled in apparent shock.

“Wh-What are you doing?”

“What ye asked,” he said, and let his body brush against hers.

A pleasurable shudder ran up his spine, and it nearly distracted him. He’d never been with a woman this tall, and more’s the pity, though he found himself glad it was finally with Helena. She buoyed him, he realized. Then, he mentally tossed that aside, focusing on her lovely profile as she tried to turn and look at him.

He drew her closer, and she tried to lunge away but was pinned by his hands, their arms crisscrossed around her. With a low laugh, Damien leaned in and let his teeth graze the shell of her ear.

Helena let out a sweet, little gasp that made his blood run hot and his manhood start to thicken. Christ, but he wanted to hear it again. And again.

“I think ye would enjoy bein’ seduced, slow or quick, would ye nae, my wife-to-be?” Damien murmured in her ear, catching the lobe in his teeth and biting down softly.

Again, she gasped, this time sharper and sweeter, and pressed back against him.

He swallowed a groan as his lips moved lower, now finding the line of her jaw. He feathered kisses there, loving the way her breathing changed, the sounds that escaped her, and then he went for the kill—a soft, lingering kiss on the side of her neck.

Helena went pliant against him, and his heart roared with triumph. He lingered there, her soft skin cool and delicious yet warming with his touch. It took everything in him not to grind his throbbing hardness against her round arse or press her tighter to him.

Instead, he let out a slow breath and let go of her wrists.

Helena’s hands dropped, and Damien wanted to smirk when she turned to him—as he knew she would. Only, his throat ached with a sudden, sharp sense that turned his features stern—an attempt to hide the roiling desire burning beneath.

It just has been too long, he told himself.

Yet, why did that feel like an untruth?

For his hands found her waist as she gazed at him, her eyes soft with anticipation, her chest rising and falling fast. He leaned in, some part of him hating what he was doing, but he was a right bastard, after all. And Helena’s eyelids fluttered shut, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Helena, look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her, then asked in a low voice, “So, are ye askin’ me to, love?”

Helena gave a slow shake of her head. “Asking—what?”

“I am a man of me word,” he murmured, leaning in, smirking now. “Or have ye already forgotten what ye asked of me? A year, was it?”

Helena jerked back, her cheeks turning crimson, and she stumbled backward. Swallowing hard, she seemed about to say something, then turned and gazed around. “Yes—all that. Oh, look, it’s stopped raining. We need to go. We should go. No reason to delay our journey any longer.”

And with that, she all but ran away from the springs, back to the horses.

Damien, however, lingered for a moment, gazing at the lilies, memorizing this place. He was glad to have them as witnesses, glad that instead of forgetting, he would remember this moment and what his adorable wife-to-be had asked of him.

Smiling to himself, remembering the softness of her skin, the sweet sound she’d made, and the look in her eyes, Damien found himself looking forward to Helena’s year.

It seemed that it would not be so terrible to seduce his wife, after all.

As though to make up for that first storm, the rest of their travel north to Galeclere went smoothly. The weather proved fine, if a bit colder than this time of year warranted, and Helena found herself glad for Damien’s cloak.

More than once, she’d taken it off and tried to offer it back. Every time, he would huff a breath, gaze up at the sky for a moment, and then take it—only to wrap it around her more firmly. The last time, he’d all but pinned her inside his cloak as he mock-glared at her.

How long do we have to stand like this till ye ken that what is mine is also yers, Lady Helena?

Helena, at first, had been tempted to see how long they might battle out their wills. Only, she did not want to linger outside for more than was necessary. So, she’d relented—and stopped offering it back.

Damien had said that the ride from Banrose typically took him a week, but he did not expect her to keep up with his pace. Yet, it seemed they would reach his lands in that time. They stayed in quaint, humble inns along the way, always in separate rooms, although he’d teased her a few times, offering to book only one if she wanted.

She’d calmly refused him, even if her heart had beat wildly under her breastbone and she would recall the way he’d pinned her against his front, his hard body bracketing hers, then his soft lips teasing up her neck?—

“We’ve passed the border of Galeclere,” Damien said, and she jerked back to reality.

They were riding up a road trodden down with hoofprints, sleigh runners, and wagon wheels, with the snow rising to almost a foot on either side. The sun was falling in a pink and gold tumble to the horizon, and Helena wondered if they would make it before they lost the light.

“Moonrise,” Damien said, and she glanced at him. He winked at her. “I can see you holdin’ back all yer questions, Socrates. But go on—out with them. Ye should ken yer land, yer people, and all that.”

Helena admitted that she was interested, and Damien explained that they were on the main road that led up to Morighe—the name of his castle—and how the farms and towns sprawled northward, hugging the curve of the sea.

“We’re on the sea?” Helena blurted out and inhaled.

She’d thought she’d caught tantalizing whiffs of it but told herself she was imagining it.

“Aye, the sea is all around us, lass. The Firth of Lorn is what it’s called, and we hearken to its moods, its seasons, and its bounty.” He sighed. “And sometimes its peril. Can be a stormy, unpredictable place, so I shall have to teach ye a few things about readin’ the sky and water, but I imagine ye shall take to it quickly.” He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s nae an expression I’ve seen on yer face before.”

Helena bit her lip, yet she was unable to school her features. She supposed she must look rather… well, overwhelmed . So grateful that she might swoon. Indeed, her hands were trembling, and her heart seemed to be, too.

Damien clucked and slowed his horse, now gazing at her with concern. “Are ye all right?”

“I always wanted to live by the sea,” she whispered. “Dreamed of it. But I never thought it could happen. And now you say that it’s at our doorstep? I…” She looked down and felt heat rise in her face as her horse’s glossy mane became blurry.

What on earth was wrong with her?

A white cloth appeared in her vision, and she snatched it with a watery laugh, dabbing at her eyes.

“You must think me rather foolish,” she murmured.

“Nae at all,” Damien said in that low and warm voice that made her stomach flutter. “I’m glad to see ye so moved—and wishin’ we were arrivin’ in the daylight so ye could see it proper.”

Helena gave him a quick smile and handed back the handkerchief, watching as he absently tucked it into his sleeve. A small thrill ran through her, and she shook it off, instead asking about the trades and interests of his people, who had both land and sea.

He grinned at that, and their conversation proved so enrapturing that Helena barely noticed when they lost the light and found herself watching him. His strong legs squeezing his horse, His light grip on the reins, the way his blue eye darted around them to check for danger, and the way his smile seemed to pull his left cheek before his right one.

“As I said,” he rumbled, glancing at her with a smile. “Moonrise and Morighe.”

Helena’s breath caught. The stout, strong castle was a shadow pinpricked with lighted windows against a dark, heaving sea. It seemed wide, rather than tall, and something about it made her think of an ancient stone creature lost in deep, deep contemplation.

This also gave it a rather brooding, austere air, and it was not as grand or lovely as other castles or homes she’d visited. But she loved it, with a quick, fierce gladness that surprised her.

Something warmed in her belly as she gazed and gazed, and realized she would not have to stop gazing.

Something in her soul, too, was glad of Morighe. Something that she had not even realized was so knotted up and frantic and restless eased. Again, she felt those absurd tears welling up in her eyes.

“I ken that it’s nae an English manor?—”

“Thank goodness for that,” Helena interjected. “Oh, it’s so much better. It’s—it’s wonderful. How do you ever leave?”

A chuckle slipped out of him, and she sensed his gaze on her. “Look at ye smile. I may have to stop callin’ ye a Sassenach and jibin’ with ye about English foolishness.”

“About time,” Helena retorted and barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Though I do not really mind being called a Sassenach . It has a nice ring to it.”

“Och, still. If ye are so taken with me castle, I fear we’ve already made ye into a Scot. ‘Tis nae a pretty pile, lass.” He nodded toward it. “It’s meant for survival.”

“I see that, but it’s also more, no? It’s purposeful and formidable, yes, but I don’t know. Morighe calls to me.” Helena caught Damien’s gaze, and her heart gave a nervous thump as she said lightly, “Now, there’s a look I’ve never seen on your face before.”

Indeed, Damien’s face was a study, and then he let out a slow breath. “I see.”

“Oh? What do you see, Sir?”

“This is revenge for what happened in the clearing,” Damien drawled and her face warmed. “May I remind ye that ye asked me to try and seduce ye, Helena?”