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

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

Damien stood covered in blood, with dead and dying pirates lying around him, and the bastard had the audacity to smile.

Lachlan smiled as though they were strangers about to sup together at a tavern, not fight for the fate of Morighe, for the people of Galeclere. As though he wasn’t holding a blade to the throat of the woman Damien loved more than air or water or anything on heaven and earth.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled and pressed the blade flat against Helena’s throat, forcing her to lift her head to avoid being cut. “Look who decided to join us. Did ye hear me bride? She’s got quite a sense of humor. If I didnae want to make ye hear her scream, I’d have cut out her wicked tongue. Such a snake of a woman.”

Damien snarled his rage, even as terror for Helena ripped through his veins. He’d make Lachlan pay ten times over for this.

“Of course, ye couldnae appreciate a perfect woman,” he spat at his feckless cousin. “Or her brilliant tongue.”

Helena’s eyes went soft with gratitude and affection, and Damien almost smiled, for he’d long suspected. But now he knew beyond a doubt.

Aye. Ye love me, too.

“Me men didnae believe that the one-eyed brute, the mad dog of Morighe, could care for such a highbrow woman,” Lachlan said in a soft voice. Helena flinched at that word, causing Damien to again snarl at his cousin. “But here ye are, at last.”

Lachlan’s eyes gleamed with a manic triumph, and Helena tried to arch away, prompting Damien to suck in a breath and make a minute movement, telling her to hold still. A chuckle escaped his cousin, and he slid the flat of the blade down Helena’s throat, causing Damien to grip his blades even tighter.

Drawing the blade down to her heaving breasts, Lachlan angled the blade toward her heart, and a pained sound escaped Damien.

“Stop,” Damien bit out. “Yer fight is with me .”

“Mhm, I ken,” Lachlan said. “But I wonder, would ye give me Morighe for her, Cousin?”

Thunder boomed overhead, and Damien couldn’t help it—he flinched. Lachlan let out a soft, wicked laugh and lifted the blade to Helena’s chin.

Everything inside Damien was reeling because he knew, deep down, that the answer was not one a laird should give.

“ No .”

The furious word was hurled at Lachlan with such force that his blade drooped and he half-stepped away from the seething, fearless woman. She did not even seem to care that a blade was at her throat, only that Lachlan had offered such an insult.

“Our people—our home is not up to be bartered. Especially not with a chicken-hearted fool who thinks himself clever, when he is merely a selfish, empty vessel for a dead man’s ambitions.” Helena jerked against her bonds. “This is why you will never be its Laird. Give me a blade, and I will cut out your heart myself for threatening Morighe.”

Damien smiled then, for he saw the dragonness in her eyes. At that moment, he believed that Helena could have killed Lachlan.

However, he took advantage of his cousin’s distraction to leap toward him, both blades coming down. But the bastard managed to spin away, narrowly avoiding death.

Lachlan hissed in pain, his arm bearing twin gashes.

“I will kill ye for lookin’ at her, and I will relish yer death for touchin’ her,” Damien snarled, pivoting forward as fast as he could.

But the cold and the swim made him slower than usual. And Lachlan, damn him, was a decent fighter, meeting his twin blades with two of his own. Metal sparked in the rain as they began to fight in earnest.

“Nay, Cousin. I will be the one to marry her, to take Morighe—me faither’s inheritance…”

Swords and words clashed as the cousins battled across the deck.

“Yer faither was never meant to be Laird,” Damien growled and drove Lachlan back, pressing his advantage. “He was the youngest son, a fool, and a madman. He was so feckless that he did not know he sired his son, and only when ye proved useful did he try and manipulate ye to attain his goals.”

Lachlan’s face twisted, and he lashed out with a wild swing that nearly cut open Damien’s belly. “ Lies .”

Damien felt his body growing warmer, and despite the aches from the swim and the cold in his fingers, he began to fight faster and nimbler. He was winning, and he could not stop himself from telling his cousin everything.

“Yer faither could have had a comfortable life—perhaps been a man-at-arms or held another title. He could’ve held court with kings and scholars, could have traveled and seen the world as nay laird could. Me faither indulged his every wish, and yer faither spat on all of that. He went mad, thinkin’ he could have power by takin’ it.”

“D’ye really think that’s nae the way of the world, Damien?” Lachlan sneered. “Ye pampered, foolish Laird’s son? Did ye learn nothin’ after all those sweet, sweet hours on the Viper ?”

Damien nearly faltered, but he merely answered in a grim tone, “I ken power in a way ye never will—nor yer faither. Real power.” He briefly glanced at Helena. “It isnae the storm, but the sea.”

Bewilderment crossed Lachlan’s face, and Damien nearly laughed, but then Lachlan turned, twisting to throw a blade at Helena. Damien lunged, and it sliced across his shoulder, before falling to the deck.

Wincing at the sting, he circled Lachlan, who shot him a cold grin.

“I told them how to torture ye,” Lachlan said in a soft voice. “I only wish I’d heard yer screams and pleas. Thinkin’ yer faither would come to save ye.”

Mouth dry, Damien darted forward and knocked him back, their blades clashing. But Lachlan was laughing.

“Even the damn skies wanted ye to suffer—the storm cuttin’ ye open, stealin’ yer sight.”

“I see enough,” Damien gritted out, but he faltered.

“The storm saved him,” rang out Helena’s clear voice. “Most would have died. Instead, he became a more powerful warrior. The only man worthy of Morighe.”

“And her ,” Damien added with a soft, affectionate laugh.

Lachlan’s face contorted with rage, and he tried to shove past Damien, shouting, “I will kill ye. Enough of this. I will…”

He tottered to the side of the ship, dropping his blades, and staring at the two swords skewering his chest. He gurgled and tried to pull them out, shaking his head.

“I told ye that ye’d suffer for hurtin’ me Hel,” Damien said.

“Nay,” Lachlan whined, and blood trickled from his mouth. “I am the Laird. I am?—”

Damien had heard enough. One moment Lachlan was dying and sinking to his knees, and the next he was tumbling off the deck, into a dark and heaving sea.

His cousin was gone.

Relief swept over Damien, and he spun, running to Helena, yanking out a dirk to cut her free. Not giving a damn that he was bloody and soaked, he pulled her against him, his lips at her temple.

“There are easier ways to get me attention, lass,” he murmured.

Helena let out a choked sob and held on to him tighter. “I knew you would come, but I didn’t know how…” She pulled back. “And where are your boots? Are you trying to catch your death?”

A laugh escaped him, and he caught her face. “I love ye.”

Helena sucked in a breath, but before she could say a word, he scooped her up in his arms and turned to face the rest of the pirates. More seemed to creep out of the shadows or the hold, thin and weary.

For a moment, Damien and Lachlan’s men stared at each other, and Damien—despite his blades sinking in the sea with Lachlan—felt that he could kill every one of them with his bare hands.

Then, Helena blurted out, “You all have not been eating properly.”

A rough chuckle rippled through the pirates, and the tension eased.

“Aye, we could use a few good meals,” a pirate admitted and stepped forward. He was tan and rangy, with a keen gaze, yet he seemed too young for this life.

“I ask that ye leave these shores to find ‘em,” Damien said in a dangerous tone. Even Helena seemed to shrink, and his grip tightened. “If ye want to try and avenge yer leader, ye’re more than welcome to join him in the sea.”

More than one man paled, and one even crossed himself.

“Nay,” said another, grizzled and wearing an eyepatch. “Our late captain thought to throw in with him, for gold and adventure, but he was badly led astray.” His expression became wry. “We warned him.”

“This isnae our fight,” said the first pirate. “We’ll sail far away, back to the seas we ken.”

“Safe voyage,” Helena said, while Damien rolled his eyes.

“Get me a goddamn boat,” he said.

The storm had rolled off, but the rain continued, strangely warm and scented with summer. Damien’s horse was still sheltering in the woods, still dry. Damien helped Helena up, then swung up behind her. She immediately leaned against him, and a long sigh escaped her.

“Could we… go somewhere and be together? Just the two of us?” she whispered.

Damien stilled. He was soaking wet from dipping into the ocean to wash off the blood, but he was still filthy. They needed to get somewhere where they could rinse off this foul night. He’d thought to go back to Morighe, but he also understood that Helena anticipated that his attention would be diverted, and they’d both be swarmed.

At least they had a bit of luck when they ran into a young lad and instructed him to run back to the castle and let everyone know that all was well, but…

“The waterfalls?”

“Too far, me love, and far too cold,” Damien murmured. “We are to the north, but…” An idea came to his mind, and he turned his horse around. “Ye might enjoy this.”

“As long as I’m with you,” Helena said.

Spurred by that, Damien urged his horse to ride fast, not wanting Helena to be out in this cold and damp any longer than she had to be. They rode through the woods, weaving through trees, and then the rain began to lighten. As they approached their destination, the moon broke through the clouds and illuminated the clearing ahead.

A sharp hill rose, filled with dense pine trees, and then split in the middle by a burst of stone, over which water fell into a deep river. The river sparkled in the moonlight as it wove through the trees. And tucked just beyond, at the base of the cliff, between the water and the woods, was a hunting lodge.

Helena stirred but did not speak until Damien brought the horse to a halt and swung down, then grasped her waist to lift her and embrace her for a moment. As he set her on her feet, she caught his forearms.

“Is this your father’s hunting lodge?” she asked in a soft voice.

Damien’s throat tightened, but the ache had a strange, pleasant echo to it, as though his grief had changed, allowing him to sip pleasure from his memories of his father again.

“Maither told ye about it, did she nae?” Helena nodded. “Aye, this is it. I havenae been here since he passed, though I’m sure me maither told ye that she keeps it clean and furnished—tryin’ to get me to come here.”

Helena nodded and bit her lip. “We had ideas to trick you into bringing me here in summer.”

Damien chuckled and reached for the horse. “Of course, ye did.”

He brought the horse to the river, let it drink, and then secured it in the small stable, with an overflowing amount of hay. He shook his head, knowing that his mother ensured that someone made use of the lodge.

Yet, as though he’d planned it, no one was currently there.

Helena waited at the door, and Damien glanced at her, then shook his head. She gave him a puzzled look but obediently followed him around the lodge, through a thicket, and down to a pool of water tucked in a circle of pines. It had the air of a secret place, one that someone could only find by stumbling upon it.

It also seemed to be a part of the river, until one got closer and noticed the wisps of steam rising from it.

“A hot spring?” Helena asked. “How?”

“Aye. ‘Tis a strange thing that we found one on the way here. I kenned of nay others but this one. I dinnae think it’s quite as warm as the one ye found—I’ve never seen flowers in winter. But it’s a lovely place to swim in on a cold winter night.”

He held out a hand, and Helena took it, then moved closer, biting her lip. Pressing a kiss to her hand, he murmured, “Would ye join me?”