Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
To no one’s surprise, Lord Lovell refused to simply agree to let Sophia move to the north. Instead, he demanded reassurances and recompense, as well as putting a plan in place for Sophia’s education and when she would wed.
Helena had heard of the negotiations early that morning from Emma and Agnes, who’d woken her up, and then the three of them had sat in her bedchamber, talking for a long while. Leo and Grant had agreed to be neutral parties and witnesses to any agreements.
It should not have surprised Helena that her father would be willing to hand over Sophia, not for her sister’s sake, but for what he could get in return. Helena also did not want to know what Damien had offered her father in return, not yet.
Not when she’d spent the previous evening wandering around the frozen castle gardens, filled with misgivings.
Damien’s offer to take in Sophia, the cèilidh , the tartan… it was all becoming real. Worse, she had not had a moment to work on her translation. While she knew, on a logical level at least, that a lady was expected to be busy before her wedding, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this could continue. That Iphigenia would never get translated, doomed to rot in her rooms, rather than her mother’s hidden library. That she herself could not escape, even with a husband like Damien.
I thought he would call it off.
Deep down, that was what Helena had been waiting for, and this realization hit her square in the face. Once again, she was in the frozen gardens, the stars twinkling overhead, her heart attempting to twist out of her chest.
In five days, they would be wed. Forever.
And what terrified Helena was that she wanted it, even as she wondered if Damien would keep his word for a year. If she could trust him to let her be the dragonness, the Lady Scholar—free.
Shoving her hands into her hair, she wished that she could free herself of these thoughts. What had happened? He’d been so kind and lovely at the waterfalls and in the cave, and after he offered to take Sophia in, Helena should’ve been at ease.
This is why you wrote the letter, hissed a voice in her head. You meant to undo this. You will never be at ease. You will never trust him—you are Lady Highbrow, and you are not meant to be a Highlander’s wife.
A sob hitched in her throat, and she turned at random, going down an avenue of trees until she reached a narrow opening in the wall, with a lookout ledge going straight down to rocks and sea. Dark water heaved below, and the strong scent of brine filled her nostrils.
She’d never felt more foolish, so small and so alone.
Worse, filling her from head to toe was the instinct to run, to flee, to get as far away from Morighe and Damien as possible. That instinct churned in her veins and tensed her muscles, and she could almost feel the welcome relief of miles fading away as she stepped through the gates, out into the night, and crossed the borders of Galeclere.
I have learned my lesson—I cannot hope to escape this fate.
Had she?
Now she heard Damien’s answer, as clear as when he’d said it to her. I mean to hold ye to that. Nay runnin’ off again. Though I confess, it might be good fun to chase ye down.
Would Damien chase her down again?
Helena’s heart felt as though it had been pierced by a blade. She did not think so.
A soft warmth wrapped around her, and she raised her gaze to see Damien wrapping a blanket around her.
How did he move so quietly? Her face burned. How long had he known she was out here?
“Two nights, now.” He used the blanket to turn her to face him, trapping her inside of it. Though his face was shrouded in shadow, the lines were stern enough to see, and her stomach fluttered. “At least ye didnae run, even though ye wanted to.”
“I did not,” Helena blurted out, even as her face burned hotter.
“Ye did,” Damien said in a grim tone and let her go, folding his arms. “But ye wouldnae have gotten far, Hel.”
“This is as far as I’ve gone, Damien,” Helena bit back, and her fingers clutched at the blanket. God, but it felt so lovely in the freezing air. “The Morighe Gardens. Truly, how hard was it to find me?”
“Nae hard at all, since I ken where ye are at all times, lass,” Damien rumbled.
Her stomach tightened with anticipation. He stepped forward, and the moon slipped out from behind the clouds, as though eager to drench the Laird in light. His face was a study of fury, heat, and tenderness, the blue of his eye glinting in a way that made her knees go weak.
“I warned ye. And I will warn ye again—dinnae think of runnin’.”
“I… You offered to house Sophia. How could I?”
“Aye, I think that made ye realize that I never had any intention of lettin’ ye go.” He seemed to be restraining himself from reaching for her. “I didnae realize what a poor job I’d done of makin’ meself clear— ye are mine. ” He stepped closer. “Forever. I will never let ye go.”
“But—but why?” Helena said. “I… I—you’re right. I am so confused. You’ve offered to house Sophia, but it…”
It does not benefit you.
Helena looked away.
Wait. Have I been comparing you to the poor example my father set? I know better than that—I know you better than that.
Her lips parted.
Oh. I’ve been the foolish one.
“Did ye figure it out?” Damien asked in a low voice that sent heat up her spine.
She swallowed and shook her head, her voice shaking as she asked, “What will our life be like?”
He let out a surprised laugh that stirred her hair, and she looked up. He gave her a strange look, as though he had not expected her to ask that question.
“I cannae say for certain, lass. We shall have to find out together.”
Helena drew back. “You must have expectations. You are a laird, after all.”
“I expect I will never tire of convincin’ ye that we are a good match, Hel,” he said. “But beyond that, nay. It’s whatever we want.”
Her chest rose and fell.
“Both of us,” Damien continued and gestured between them. “Nae me or ye alone. But ye do have the advantage, me dragonness. I am verra dedicated to yer smiles.” A rough sigh escaped him. “And I am well aware that I’ll be in trouble once ye figure that out.”
Helena frowned and shook her head. “You jest.”
“Nay.” Damien heaved a sigh. “I wanted this to be a weddin’ present, but ye are bein’ stubborn.”
“I’m being stubborn?” Helena scoffed. “Y-You… What are you doing?”
“Sometimes, Hel, ye are too clever for yer own good, and I swear that’s why Providence chose to bring us together.” He grinned down at her in a way that revealed the warrior. “Ye always feared a husband who would bank yer fire, who would drown ye. But ye never thought of what ye might need. Or what might happen if ye met a man who wants to stoke yer fire, who might warm ye with his own.”
Those words pierced straight through Helena, but in a way that felt so good that it almost hurt. Her eyes nearly closed as she held onto them, memorized them, and failed a moment too late to realize what Damien was up to until he pounced.
One moment she was standing there, feeling the wind sneak through the blanket and hearing the sea crash in the distance. The next she was thrown over Damien’s shoulder.
“What are—what are you doing?” she nearly shrieked as he carried her through the gardens, not pausing once, not answering till they got to the castle. “Damien!”
“What ye need, Hel,” he replied in a maddening tone that made her truly consider biting him again.
He was weaving through the castle at a near run. The few folks out and about gaped at them. Damien had the audacity to merely nod at them.
“And forgive me, I thought ye might run.”
“Liar,” Helena shot back as she tried to wriggle free, but his arm clamped tighter around her.
“Nae on the goddamn stairs,” Damien said as he took them two at a time.
“You knew that those words meant a lot, that I was nearly dazed, that I?—”
“Ye need reassurances, more of a plan for our marriage. So, we shall discuss.”
“But here ?” she hissed.
For Damien had just walked into a room she had not been in. He set her down and shut the double doors, blocking them as she tried to dart toward them. He took her by the shoulders and spun her.
“I ken why ye havenae come in here yet, sweetheart,” Damien whispered in her ear. “Ye wanted me to take ye, sure, but ye also couldnae believe that this was all true. That this is yours.”
Helena’s chest rose and fell, and she couldn’t help it—she fell against Damien as she took in the massive library. It was not just one room, but several, and it seemed to sprawl around her in welcome.
“I…” She shook her head. “I’ve had no time to translate. And what if Sophia isn’t happy here? I have not been a good sister to her. And…”
Damien brushed her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck. Helena gasped and pulled away, dropping the blanket. He stooped to pick it up and then tossed it on a chair.
“We are in the middle of a huge celebration, with too many guests to count, Hel,” Damien said in a low voice. “Of course, it’s busy. But in a week and a half, this will all be over. Things will return to the way they were—perhaps with more duties here and there.” He gave her a soft smile. “Ye will have time, I promise. And also, ye are allowed to enjoy this.”
Helena shook her head, not even glancing around at this beautiful place. It was even better than she could have dreamed.
“Hel, ye are scared. It’s nay wonder, with the way yer family behaves. Sophia told me about yer maither’s gowns, about how yer bastard of a stepbraither stole yer books or denied ye them.” He moved closer. “How yer faither blames and belittles ye.”
Her eyes closed, but the stupid tears slipped under her lashes.
“Emma said the same. But I could see it, the way ye hold yerself like a warrior always waitin’ for a fight.” Rough hands cradled her face and wiped away her tears. “Ye can put down yer sword, Helena.”
A sob hitched in her throat, and more tears spilled over.
“Or ye can run me through.” He paused as a strangled laugh escaped her lips. “Ye ask what our life is goin’ to be like. All I want is ye, here.”
Helena’s eyes opened, and Damien gave her a soft look.
“This is what I meant. Sometimes ye are so clever as to be foolish.”
“Never,” Helena whispered, even as she gave him a tremulous smile. “I…”
I think I’m falling in love with you.
The thought dizzied her, and before she could get her bearings, even fully grasp them, Damien had pulled away.
“Here. Little did ye ken who ye were dealin’ with when ye decided to marry me, Sassenach .” He walked toward a table piled with books, with crates below, and Helena wiped her face as she slowly followed. “I dinnae play fair.”
Helena gasped and surged forward, snatching a book. “This is…” She picked up another, then another, and her hands began to shake. Her eyes darted around, and she shook her head. “No… how?”
She set them down and flipped the first one open, not believing it until she saw the name on the flyleaf. The precise scrawl of her mother’s name, followed by her own hand.
“I sent me most trusted men to get yer books, of course,” Damien said. “Weeks ago.”
“But…”
“Cannae leave me now, Hel,” Damien drawled. “I’ve got all yer books.”
“And Sophia,” Helena said, whirling to him. He dipped his head in a nod. “Why?”
“Sophia misses ye,” he said with a shrug. “Also, I think Gwennie would have me head. I told her it was a good idea, though.” He grinned. “Aye, I had Gwennie charmin’ yer sister, but of course, Lovell women are too easy to love.” He scowled. “Even if they’re bloody difficult women, too. Yer sister is a right terror.”
Helena sagged against the table. “This—you…”
Damien smirked and shrugged his big shoulders. “Ye are more than welcome to try and set up defenses against me, sweetheart, but it’s a bit too late.” He straightened and stepped forward, looking into her face. “Ye were so convinced that I wouldnae follow through, hm? Like I give a damn about that Lady Highbrow nonsense. Or that I what?” he snorted. “Lied about adorin’ yer fierceness? Yer fire?” His gaze dipped and roamed over her. “Ye?”
“I…”
Helena backed up, remembering her impression of the waterfalls and the cave. This is a rout, she’d said to herself. But now, this was…
“Oh.”
Helena turned and looked at the books, then around at the library. She thought of her chambers upstairs, the desk under the window, the fresh sheets of paper, the ink, and the chair. Or her gowns, of her sister, of Jolly.
Lady Merie, Gwen, Orrick, and the rest of their family.
“This is our life,” she said.
“Aye.”
Damien suddenly pulled her against him, his hand pressing below her breasts, and the other sliding up her neck to tilt her face up, her head cradled against his shoulder.
“Now ye ken.” He kissed her, a hard and bracing kiss. “It is also this. And if I have to wait for a year, then I mean to find every other goddamn way to pleasure ye, Hel.”
His teeth caught her ear, and she almost cried out.
“And I think ye might find a way to thank me for me restraint, love.”