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

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

This time, Helena sensed the Laird behind the order, and for a moment, she almost obeyed. But some other instinct whispered to her and kept her in the room.

Distract him.

“How can I, with all this racket?” she inquired lightly.

Again, she wondered at him using her sister’s pet name for her, even as she also suspected that he wanted her to ask or tell him to stop.

“Do you want another drink?”

A flicker of amusement as he glanced at her, then brushed past her and poured it himself.

Damien went and sat in a huge armchair by the fire, sipping his drink and closing his eyes. Again, silence stretched, and Helena fidgeted. It did not seem like she should be here, and as more time passed, she felt exhaustion creeping in, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be here. Still, she could not very well leave Damien in this state.

Wandering over, Helena let her fingers drift over the spines of books on the wide shelves along the walls. She smiled as she spotted an old, familiar friend— The Acharnians , one of the first Greek comedies she’d read.

“Do you have a favorite comedic work by the Greeks? I’m fond of Lysistrata and The Knights. ”

Only the crackle of the fire answered her, and when she looked back, Damien still had his eyes closed but was resting his head on his hand. It sent a twist of nerves through her, and she wondered if she was pushing too hard, as her father often bitterly complained.

“Heaven knows you have taught me patience, Daughter, but even I am not inexhaustible.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Helena put the book back and moved on, then spotted a book of poems by Scottish bards.

“Oh, does this have the Seafarer in it? I’ve always wanted to read it. May I…?” she trailed off and cursed herself.

How quickly she was forgetting herself. Simply because Damien had been kind and generous in most matters did not mean that he wanted a bluestocking borrowing his books. Her stepbrother had been horrified at the mere idea of her looking at them.

She put an unsteady hand on her head. Goodness, what was wrong with her? Why did she feel so wrong-footed and uncertain? Was it because she was tired, or was it the intense silence Damien was keeping—the most silent he’d been in all the time they’d known each other?

I’ve never known him to ignore me, but perhaps it is because we’re in his home ? —

“Take whatever ye damn well please, Lena. They’re all yers as well now.”

Helena froze, her heartbeat loud in her ears, and then she turned to see Damien surveying her with an air of irony.

“What?”

“Truly?” she asked, hoping he did not see how she trembled.

Another strange thing—Lady Highbrow was never rattled.

He paused for a moment, and she knew he’d seen. Then, he said, “Truly. Now, lass, off with ye.”

“Is there a book you would recommend?” Helena asked before she could stop herself.

Damien closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair. Helena plucked the Scottish poetry book and then went to sit in the chair across from him, tucking it into the pocket of her dressing gown before leaning forward. “Or if you have a favorite, I should like to read that.”

Damien sighed and did not open his eyes, though she did not miss the way his knuckles turned white around his glass as thunder rumbled outside. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Helena murmured. “Strange how sometimes a stormy night makes it feel as though it will never end.”

Damien did not answer, and she pulled on one of her braids, thinking rapidly.

Drink did not seem to help him, but back in the clearing, she’d managed to distract him. She’d just prattled on about Homer, so perhaps that was what she needed to do now—distract him with the Greeks.

“Zeus is in a terrible mood, aye?” she asked and sat back, drumming her fingers on the book.

His eyes opened, and the blue one glinted at her. She had to fight back a smile as he said, “Not as terrible a mood as mine.”

“A strange mood, then,” Helena said. “More thunder snow—or a mix of rain and snow, it seems.”

“’Tis the ocean,” Damien said. “Stirs them up, gives them too much power.”

“Of course,” Helena murmured. “Do you like the ocean? Sailing? You mentioned Odysseus, who is the most famous of sailors.”

“Aye, I do, which I am glad of,” Damien said, his eyes half-lidded, his words a touch remote. As though he were speaking more to himself than her. “I think it’s because the ocean brought me home that I understand the waters and ken that despite the storms, the great waters are consistent in their rhythms. Or perhaps it is just boyhood love of swimmin’ and boats.”

Helena smiled as relief washed over her. “I look forward to learning about the waters around our home.”

“Hmph, aye. I shall have to teach ye, or risk ye becomin’ a selkie,” Damien murmured, and his eyes closed. Now Helena smiled wider, and he shook his head. “Damn it all, ye tricky creature.”

She gave him a puzzled look, for his eyes were still closed. “Pardon?”

“I can sense yer satisfaction from here,” Damien said and opened his eyes, sitting up. “Ye distracted me—successfully. Again.” He gave her a mock glare as she grinned impishly at him. “Aye, ye have a heavy hand, Helena, but damn it all if it works.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didnae thank ye,” Damien retorted, then he nodded toward the shelves. “But I shall. Tomorrow, I’ll find all me favorites. Might take a bit of time.”

“Favorites?” Helena echoed.

He gave her a small, rueful smile, but it was a smile, nonetheless. “When ye asked me that, I confess I was in a brown study, trying to pick just one. ‘Tis impossible. Although, I will ask ye to do the same.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You want to read my favorites?”

“Aye,” Damien said.

“I’m not sure you have them, but I’ll?—”

“We’ll get them, then,” Damien said.

Helena’s hands fisted into her dressing gown. “Do you mean it?” she asked, afraid that she’d misunderstood. He couldn’t mean?—

“Yer books, lass. We’ll get ‘em all. I’m sure ye have some at home that ye want, and then we can have a whole shipment as soon as the roads and the seas clear. A lot of merchants pass through here—never boring.”

Helena could not speak. She could only hold back tears, and herself. She wanted to throw herself into Damien’s arms, or at his feet, and weep with gratitude for his kind gestures that he did so easily and thoughtlessly.

Being thoughtful is simply second nature to him, I think.

“What? Ye are about to become nothin’ but eyes…” he trailed off as he stared at her. “Och, ye arenae wearin’ yer glasses. I hadnae noticed.” His gaze traveled over her. “Another facet.”

“Facet?” Helena touched her face. “I don’t take your meaning.”

“All the ways ye catch the light, Lena,” Damien said in a soft voice that made her toes curl in her boots and her cheeks flush.

She hated how deft he was with his compliments, how he undid her. And at the same time, she was growing to love the thrill that ran through her.

“I hadnae realized—before. But ye hold yerself so still and with so much hope when ye are grateful, when it is a small thing to get ye books.”

“It is not ,” Helena said. She couldn’t help it—she stood up and went to him, then crouched down by his chair. “Damien, I know that I should say that it’s too much, but it’s everything. You are so-so generous. With your every breath, it seems.” Her head dipped, and her hands clutched at the armrest. “I am overwhelmed by your selflessness.”

A low chuckle drifted to her ears, then a hand caught her chin and lifted her face. “Are ye so sure it’s selfless, lass?”