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

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

Perhaps the lightning from the storm had supercharged the air, for Helena’s entire body seemed to spark under Damien’s touch. Over and over, he teased, kissed, and sucked on her breast. Each brush of his tongue, his beard, or his fingers sent a cascade of pleasure through her entire body.

An ache grew between her legs, her breath coming in hard pants, and some part of her marveled that she’d become this creature. That she had this fire and passion inside her and that Damien had so easily coaxed it free. Or so it seemed.

When he switched breasts, a cry echoed around them, and Helena realized it was her. She was making sounds she’d never heard herself make before, and she groaned when Damien paused.

“Yer glasses, sweet.”

She gazed at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, and he took her glasses off, leaning over to tuck them into his sporran.

“Now, then,” Damien said and returned to worshipping her breasts with his fingers and his mouth.

She shivered and shuddered, holding on to him, even as she knew that she was losing control.

And she wanted to.

“Damien, I need?—”

The hand on her breast paused, and then her skirts rustled as Damien lifted them to her waist and exposed her chemise. His knuckles dragged over her underclothes, and she arched her back, crying out.

“Ye need this,” he said. “I ken.”

“I—oh.”

She called out his name as he tore at her underclothes, his blunt fingers stroking her. At the same time, he nipped her breast, and she shook all over, begging for more.

“Please, please, yes.”

She was almost sobbing, writhing as Damien stroked and petted her, his thumb rubbing wicked circles around her nub of pleasure. He kissed her neck, then pulled back. When Helena felt his eye on her, watching her, drinking in her pleasure, and demanding more than she was capable of giving, she shattered.

He held her as she shook and trembled, nearly boneless in his arms.

“Aye,” Damien murmured, trying to sound light-hearted, but his voice was rough. “That was a fair distraction.”

Sometime later, after Helena let Damien clean her, put her dress back on, and drank some water, she realized that the storm had passed.

Her body felt odd, relaxed and sensitive at the same time, as though Damien’s touch lingered on her skin. In the minutes after, she’d flushed every time he’d looked at her, and when his lips had quirked up, she’d remembered the brush of his beard against her sensitive breast.

As you are doing now?

Fixing her dress had been difficult, so they’d tied the pieces back together as best as they could, and then Damien pulled her cloak around her.

He’d been attending to the horses, leading them outside and ensuring that it was safe. Now, he returned, and Helena’s breathing quickened, her entire body heating up.

He looked her over and smiled. “Ye are alright?” he asked, and she nodded. “We need to head back. Another storm is comin’.”

“Of course,” Helena said.

She tried not to glance around, tried not to tell herself that she didn’t want to leave this cave.

“Ye have yer glasses and yer books?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Nodding, he led her outside, his touch gentle, and his gaze even more so. It made her heart flutter in her throat as she mounted Gorgon. She did not regret what had happened—she was more surprised that he had stopped. He had not sought his pleasure, nor had he tried to take her.

“Hel.” The rumble in his voice had her looking down. His big hand squeezed her thigh. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Damien’s mouth curved up. “Dinnae tease me. I ken what ye were thinkin’.” His hand tightened around her thigh, and she sucked in a breath. “Yer thoughts are as clear as day on yer face.”

She flushed bright red as he laughed and walked toward his horse. Forcing herself to look away from his strong, sure stride and the muscles in his bare back, she scanned the area around the cave. The evening was rapidly approaching, casting everything in shadow and gloom. The wind caused those shadows to leap and dance, and she stiffened.

“Damien,” she called out softly. He paused before swinging up onto Fife. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Did you hear that?”

Damien’s blue eye darkened, and he cocked his head, listening. It sent a thrill through her, to see the warrior emerge—and to have such a warrior listen to her.

“I think someone is there,” she said. “I heard something?—”

He drew his sword as something darted out of the rocks in a fit of flopping golden fur. Helena gasped, then laughed as Jolly rolled over and over, before coming to a stop at Damien’s feet.

“What the hell is this?”

“Jolly,” she said, relief washing over her. “Will you give him to me?”

“What are ye doin’ out here, ye foolish pup?” Damien chided as he lifted the dog by the scruff and looked into his face.

Jolly licked the air and panted happily, then yipped.

With a sigh, Damien carried him to Helena, who secured him on her lap. “Ye think he followed us?”

“He must have,” Helena said. “And hunkered down for the storm.”

The dog’s fur was only slightly damp, and he did not seem upset, merely interested in snuggling into her lap and then drifting off to sleep.

“That must be what I heard.”

“Maybe.”

Damien frowned at the dog, then cast a look around them. She watched him, alert and still, listening, before he shook himself. “Let’s go.”

The cold, long ride back to Morighe felt endless, a plodding over sand and frozen earth, with the shadows growing long and longer. The ocean was lost in a bank of fog and darkness, lending an eerie, mournful echo to the landscape.

Helena fought the urge to fall asleep, focusing on keeping Jolly secure and her eyes on the barely discernable line of Damien’s back.

Finally, though, they were by the stables, and Damien’s hands were on her waist, pulling her down. Taking her bag, he led the way inside, and she kept Jolly cradled to her chest.

The hour was far more late than she had realized, with most of the castle residents in bed and dinner long over. Not that she was hungry—more in dire need of a bath.

Upstairs, in the hall that led to her chambers, his study, and his rooms, Damien stopped. He gripped the back of his neck and turned to her, a rueful smile on his face.

“I didnae listen to ye.”

Helena felt a spark of outrage, quickly snuffed out by amusement and exhaustion. Tilting her head to the side, she admitted to herself that she should have expected this.

“You moved my stuff into the Lady’s suite.”

“Aye.” Damien stepped closer. “It had to be done. And ye were too far.”

Helena heaved a sigh and shrugged. “You’re right, I was being stubborn.”

Damien’s lips parted in shock, and she grinned to herself. It was almost worth their fights about moving her belongings to the Lady’s suite.

“Go on then, let’s see it,” Helena said and waved at him. “And do you think I might be able to get a bath?”

Damien nodded, seemingly robbed of speech, and began to walk down the hall. He stopped in front of a door to the left of his, right where the hall curved, and then turned to another door.

Laying a hand on that door, Damien said in a low voice, “This is a way out of Morighe. If anything happens, it’s the fastest way to safety. But be careful—there are three doors, and they all lock on the inside. Ye cannae use it to get to yer rooms.”

“Clever,” Helena said.

“It’s also a well-kept secret,” Damien said. “Nay one kens but me maither, me auntie Finnula, Gwendolyn, and Orrick. Everyone else thinks that it’s an old storage closet.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “No one has tried to open it?”

Damien chuckled and tried the handle, even shouldered it. “How it opens is a secret.” At that moment, Helena let out a sneeze, and Jolly whined. “Ach, apologies to ye both. It can wait for the mornin’.”

“Are you dallying in the hall to put off showing me my new rooms?” Helena teased.

“That tongue of yers,” Damien muttered. “I should’ve put it to better use in the cave.”

Helena gasped and hugged Jolly tighter, but at the same time, it felt like she was feigning outrage rather poorly. Because, at the same time, her cheeks tingled, and a shiver ran up her spine—a heady curiosity that only Damien could satisfy.

“I warned ye about lookin’ at me like that,” Damien complained as he ushered her into her new rooms. “Wait here a moment while I stoke the fire and light more candles.”

Helena set down Jolly and pulled back the hood of her cloak, shaking out her damp hair. Then, her breath caught, and she looked around, warmth washing over her despite the chill from the long trek back to the castle. Lips parted, she gazed around, reminded of when she’d first stepped into Bluebell Corner.

But this…

Like the other room, it was covered in beautiful wood carvings. Only these were of the woods, the sea, and the mountains. There were windows on both sides of the room, and as she walked further in, Damien lighting more candles, her mouth dropped open.

“It’s a tower.”

The room rounded out, windows along the curve, and bookcases stood at the ready in between. Some had books, but others were waiting to be filled. A big desk was tucked between two windows. She stepped closer, and though it was dark, she knew that it looked out over the sea. Even better, a staircase curved up the wall behind her and led to a small loft filled with comfortable sofas.

“Now, if ye dinnae like it,” Damien said in a mock-serious voice, “we can return ye to the other room in the mornin’.”

Helena did not even have it in her to tease him back—she simply walked out of the tower and toward him, speechless. “It’s wonderful. Did you—was it like this before?”

“I mean, I added a bit here and there,” Damien said in a playful tone, tugging at his beard. “But I wanted ye to add what ye liked too.” He gestured beyond the fireplace. “Through there is a bathing chamber, then there’s the wardrobe, and this…” He walked over to an ornately carved door. “This leads to me bedchamber.” He winked. “In case ye ever need it.”

Helena walked over, her heart beating hard in her throat, and gazed into the shadowed room beyond, where embers glimmered in a fireplace. Heat pulsed between her legs as she imagined stepping inside and Damien’s soft laugh as he followed, closed the door, and brushed her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

“Let me warm ye, Sassenach.”

Helena pulled in a sharp breath and stepped back. “Thank you. I-I need to bathe.”

“Aye, well, good night, Lady Helena.” He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “It would be the best night if ye were to use this door, but I ken, I ken?—”

Helena glared at him and tried to yank her hand back, her heart beating harder in every part of her body. His touch and her heart were making it hard enough without his incessant flirtation.

“Next year.”

Immediately, Helena relaxed and nodded, even as a pang went through her. “Good night.”

“Hel.” He kissed her hand again and then dropped it. “Ye are worth the wait, ye ken?” He smiled as he clasped his hands behind his back and leaned in, and her heart surged in an absolute riot. “We shall have a good life together. I can feel it in me bones.”

Helena could feel her resolve faltering, a delicious weakness that made her want to throw herself at him, and she had to fist her hands in her skirts to stop herself.

Her nails dug into her palms, and she forced a nod and then said, “We just have to wait and see, I suppose.”

A curious smile played on Damien’s lips, and there was a hint of the warrior in his eyes. Too late, Helena realized that her words sounded like a challenge.

“That we shall, sweetheart.”

With that, he stepped into his rooms and shut the door.

Helena nearly sank to the ground, pressing her trembling hands against her stomach as heat and nerves swept over her in relentless waves. She felt almost as undone by that look and his words as his capable hands.

“A bath will help,” she told herself, ignoring how her voice quavered. “Or so I bloody hope.”