Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
As Helena walked through the quiet castle, the only sound coming from the busy kitchens, she found herself thinking back to arriving at Banrose Castle for Emma and Grant’s wedding. Maybe it was the feeling of the strap of her bag over her shoulder or the soft light of a winter morning or the sense of change.
Going to Banrose Castle had been a risk, one she’d been more than willing to take for her best friend. Yet, deep down, she wondered if she’d been hoping, somehow, to see Damien again. One last time.
And now she was here, in his castle, on the cusp of wedding him. Her old plans to escape to France or Italy were hazy, receding whispers. They held no sway, no promise for her.
Instead, she found herself eagerly moving forward, with the sense of chasing something bright and just out of reach. Even though she had plenty of time to meet Damien, her steps quickened, and her anticipation grew.
What if I said I missed ye?
Her teeth sank into her lip. She’d been so certain that he was jesting, but now… this offer of courtship. She’d told herself sternly before bed that Damien was up to something, that he must be teasing her, that she should not take him seriously. No one wanted to court Lady Highbrow.
But Damien had always been ruthlessly honest with her.
And while she scoffed at such a foolhardy notion as courtship, she could not lie to herself. She was brimming with curiosity to see what Damien had in mind.
So much so that she was breathless by the time she reached the front doors and stepped outside, the chill of the morning snatching her breath. But from the brightness of the sun cutting through the clouds and the drip of water from the melting snow, she knew they were in for a warmer day than the ones they had so far.
She’d thought Damien would be waiting on the steps, but he was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, her heart sank, and she shrank back, her heart plummeting.
Had it all been some poor jest? Had he never intended to come? No, he wouldn’t. But perhaps he’d forgotten or been called away…
“There ye are.”
Helena’s breath caught, and she turned toward that voice, unable to stop from smiling when she saw Damien standing to the far left with two large gray horses. He grinned back and gestured with his head. Helena hurried over, her boots clicking on the stone, and ran her eyes over the beasts.
They were so much bigger than any horse she’d ever seen before. Questions rose to her lips, but then Damien caught her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I bid ye good morning, Lady Helena. I am glad to see ye.”
Helena’s stomach fluttered at the husky, warm timbre of his voice, which reminded her of the scent of whisky. She almost wanted to laugh, but her voice seemed to fail her.
He bowed and then gestured to the horse. “Let me give ye a hand up.”
“Where are we going?”
“Why, Milady, ye cannae ask me that,” Damien said, and his big hands spanned her waist as he lifted her onto the horse. “Ye will ruin yer surprise.”
Now Helena did laugh, and Damien gazed up at her, the blue of his eye softer than she’d ever seen it. Even softer, somehow, was his smile, which caused her laughter to falter. She wanted to tear her gloves off and hold his dear face, lean down and?—
“Aye, I think I owe Orrick more than I realize,” Damien said out of nowhere, and Helena’s thoughts stuttered in confusion. Mischief flashed in Damien’s good eye, and he stepped back, grinning to himself. “Should’ve done this much, much sooner.”
“I do not follow, My Laird,” Helena said as he swung himself up onto his horse.
“Truly?” he asked and turned his horse around. “I think it is obvious. Now, let’s go.” He nodded. “Gorgon is a gentle, wise creature for her size. But if ye feel nervous, fight the urge to yank on her reins and give her head. She kens what to do.”
“Gorgon?” Helena asked, delighted.
“Aye, she’s me mightiest and wisest horse. She was a terror when she was younger and earned that name.”
“Turned many a rider into stone, didn’t she?” Helena asked.
“Och aye, and because it took us years to realize that she always kens best.” He reached over and pressed a hand to the horse’s neck. “I trust her to keep ye safe.”
With that, Damien winked, then took off at a steady trot.
Helena lightly squeezed Gorgon’s flanks, and she took off—a smooth and powerful ride. A thrill went through Helena even as nervous hilarity rolled over her.
Still, because Gorgon was so sure and strong, Helena found herself relaxing, able to gaze at the nature around them as they rode out of the gates. They took the hardpacked road that curved down to town, and then another, narrower road off it, more choked with snow, until they came to the foot of a hill. The castle rose over them. To the right, the gray sea stretched, catching stray sunlight as the sun rose higher.
This road took them down to another bridge, smaller and lower, over a far gentler and wider river than the one under Morighe’s moat. Here, the snow lessened. They were riding over hardpacked, frozen ground next to the beach. The scent of salt and pine filled Helena’s nostrils. She breathed in deeply, her heart soaring even more, and grinned as their horses began to canter, then gallop.
Gorgon drew even with Damien’s horse, and Helena whooped, unable to stop herself. Then, biting her lip, she glanced over and met Damien’s gaze. Such frank admiration there, his eye raking over her, as though memorizing this moment. There was no concern, no reproach. Instead, Damien whooped as well and urged his horse to go faster.
They flew down the sand, and Helena thought that she and Gorgon might both grow wings.
This is freedom.
The thought shook her even as her entire world seemed to open up. She’d never realized how constricted, how tightly she’d held herself—how carefully she moved through the world—despite feeling defiant and independent. But that had been a dance where she had to watch her every step to protect what freedom she could claw for herself.
Here, she did not have to do that.
And so it was no wonder that she threw her head back and screamed out in pure, triumphant joy.
Damien roared out a laugh and then let out a howl that Helena was sure he usually saved for the battlefield.
The two of them raced down the beach until they rounded a corner, and Helena’s breath caught. The land next to them had been steadily rising, hills growing and growing, but now the land reared up. Cliffs of dark stone, with bright green peeking from the snow, stretched down the coast.
Now, they slowed, as though Damien sensed that she wanted to take it all in.
Staring up at the sharp cliffs, the way shafts of sunlight cut through the morning, and unfamiliar, distant birdcalls… it all felt dreamlike. As though she’d stumbled into one of the paintings she used to stare at, wondering at the painter’s fancy, for surely places so beautiful, so austere, so wild could not exist.
If only the ton could see Lady Highbrow now.
For Helena had never felt so far away from her old life, from that old nickname, and so greedy for the next moment. She could not stop looking, and she thrilled as they came to a narrow corner of the shore, for it gave the sense of sneaking into a place that mortals should not go to.
As they came around, Helena gaped at the formations of rock rising out of the ocean, like strange pillars or old monuments, only no human could create such shapes.
Then, she could hardly breathe as she turned to see the coast sprawl out in front of them, a wide half-moon of rocky shore, melting snow, and dozens of little rivers. They poured into the ocean, causing the mist to rise and catch the sunlight in small rainbows.
All of that was lovely, and Helena stared at it until Damien called to her. She glanced at him, then rode to join him, and felt her lips part.
She’d wondered at the sound of rushing water, thinking it was echoing off the cliffs, but now she realized that she’d been mistaken. Ahead of them, the rocky shore joined a green, snowy field, where the rivers cascaded, and it stretched back until the earth abruptly rose again. Only, here, it had formed into a wide, curved shelf over dozens and dozens of waterfalls. Mist rose, catching the light in ways that made it look like there were mischievous Fae dancing through it.
No wonder why Scotland has so many myths and faerie tales.
Helena was very glad for Gorgon then, as she did not think herself capable of doing anything but looking around. Her horse followed Damien into a soft curve of stone, just beyond the sand, where the air felt a bit warmer and fresh earth was underfoot. Here, he helped her down and set about securing the horses.
All the while, Helena tried not to wander too far, but it was impossible. She stepped through the grass until she came upon a babbling river. She saw the reflection of her glasses, her wavering face, and then saw a large shadow as Damien stepped up next to her.
Helena turned to him, smiling, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He dipped his head in a solemn nod, but his smile was bright, and his eye danced.
Catching her hand, he said nothing, and instead pulled her along with him. Helena followed him, her heart hammering, and they climbed a small rise. Here, she could see the large body of water into which the waterfalls poured, the start of the rivers, and the other walls of rock curving back out to the beach.
Damien nudged her and gestured to the other side, closer to them, and said, “Just there, there is a cave hollowed out by the constant crashing of the great waves.”
She saw it then, a large opening in the cliff, receding into darkness, and alluring in its sharp, inky shadows. A cave.
A cave by the sea, exactly like the ones that the characters in her translated book attempted to hide in. But wait, did that mean?—?
As though hearing her question, Damien spoke, “Not exactly the land of Tauris on the Coast of the Black Sea, but I thought it might inspire ye all the same.”
“Inspire?” Helena echoed softly, gazing at him.
He was facing away from her, looking at the cave and the cliffs, and the wind tugged at his dark hair. Her breath caught at his rugged beauty, at how he seemed a part of the landscape. Of course he’d been born to be Laird, here.
“Aye, Hel. Ye were right, I wasnae thinkin’ of ye and yer dreams as I should’ve been. Nae as ye asked me to, I mean.” A rueful smile tugged up his cheek. “So, I brought ye here to make amends, to try and give ye a piece of our home that might verra well be the coast where the old gods hid.”
“ Look there, ” Helena quoted softly. “See those two sitting over there? They are gods!’ ”
He turned and nodded, his smile brighter than the sun breaking through the clouds, and her entire body throbbed in response. She wondered if Damien knew what he was doing to her heart.
This seems a far cry from proper courtship—more like a rout.
Especially when Damien said things like, “I wanted to bring ye here to help ye bring yer Iphigenia to life.”