Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“What do you want?” Helena asked hoarsely.
If this man was sent by her uncle, she was done for.
It wasn’t as if she could scream; she was not meant to be here in the first place. Even if she did scream, nobody would come to her aid. Not in this place.
The stranger put his hands up placatingly. “You have no need to be afraid of me, my lady. I won’t harm you.”
He moved into the light, and Helena found that he did not look so much like a looming shadow of threat.
Seeing him standing there, so tall and broad, had been a shock. She could not remember the last time she had seen a man such as him: broad shoulders squared, muscled torso straight, the very picture of command.
She envied his confidence, and could not help admiring him. A man like him did not need to decide to harm anyone; he could do it with a flick of his wrist or a mere nod.
He radiated power.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, marveling that her voice was so steady.
He inclined his head to the side. “May I know your name?”
She folded her arms. “May I know yours?”
The corner of his lip twitched, as though he’d smile. “My name is Silas.”
“Silas?” She looked him up and down. “From your dress and your speech, I can tell that you are a noble man. Yet you introduce yourself with your Christian name, not your title. What am I to deduce from this?”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Well, I have deduced that you are very observant. And perceptive. Two traits uncommon in a lady of the ton.”
Helena tensed slightly. He knew she was a lady. How?
“It seems we are at an impasse. Would you care to break it?” She was very shocked at her cheekiness; she could not recall ever having spoken to a gentleman in such a manner.
“If you tell me your name first,” he crossed his arms over his chest, bringing her attention to the fabric of his coat which clung tightly around his thick biceps.
He was a strong man, that was for certain. If he was sent by her uncle, he would know what she looked like.
Perhaps he just wants to confirm it is you before he kills you.
Then she remembered the quite expensive-looking phaeton he had been driving. She had seen the groom bring it to the stables and untether the horse—the very one she was trying to bribe with apples so she could ride him out of the abbey.
“First, tell me what you want with me,” she lifted her chin.
“I am in need of some information. I believe a certain young lady in this institution possesses what I need. If you are not that lady, I would appreciate it if you guided me to her direction, so that I could be on my way,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet.
“How would I know I am that lady? You haven’t given me the name of who you’re searching for.” She was stalling him, and they both knew it.
“Neither have you,” he tilted his head to the side.
Helena huffed, rolling her eyes. “For such a handsome man, you are quite annoying,” she blurted.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You find me handsome?”
Helena blushed. She hadn’t meant to say that… out loud. “Well, I’m sure you own a looking glass, so I do not have to tell you.”
The corner of his lip twitched again. “Even so, compliments are always welcome.”
Helena snorted, surprised to find that she was finding amusement in this situation. “Humility must not be one of your virtues.”
“And I see that a gentle tongue is not one of yours.”
Helena gave him a look. “Surely you’re not offended by my forthrightness?”
“Offended? No. I do find myself quite amused, though. I assume it is the same for you. I must be the first man you’ve seen in some weeks, apart from the gatekeeper, no?” He leaned in ever so slightly. “Which is why you can’t peel your eyes away, right?”
She stared at him, stymied. She had no idea how they had wandered into this conversation.
She recoiled, her cheeks flaming, suddenly self-conscious. “I…” she began to say shyly.
“No, no.” he shook his head at her, “It is too late to play the blushing ingénue now. You have already shown your hand.”
She blinked at him, nonplussed. Then she flicked a glance at the doorway, realizing that he was blocking her escape.
“I need to go. The sisters will miss me if I am not present at breakfast.”
“Is that so? You didn’t seem worried about that when you were stealing my horse.”
Her face heated, and she fluttered her eyelashes trying to think of a suitable lie. She could feel her heartbeat accelerate as she was suffused with panic.
“I—I—I—” she began to say, not knowing where she was going with that sentence.
He took a step forward. “Tell me your name.”
“I…”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Tell. Me. Your. Name.”
“H-Helena. Helena Porter,” she said shakily. “Are you here to kill me?”
He frowned. “What? No, Lady Helena. I’m not here to cause you any harm.”
Sweat trickled down her back. “You could be lying. To ascertain you had the right victim.”
His brow furrowed, his blue-gray eyes intensifying. “Is your life in danger, Lady Helena?”
She gulped. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
His mouth twisted. “It is in your best interest to be direct with me, my lady. In any case, I have to ask you to come with me. I have some questions for you.”
Helena’s heart leapt. “Come with you? Where?”
“To my home. As I said, I have some questions.”
“About?”
“Your father,” Silas said.
Helena gasped.
Acting on instinct, she tried to rush past him in order to escape. His arm went around her waist, like a band of iron, holding her back.
She took a moment to marvel at his strength even as she tried to fight.
He pulled her towards him so that her shoulder was flush against his hard chest.
“Lady Helena,” he said firmly in her ear, “I am not here to harm you.”
She inhaled his scent, a mix of sandalwood and citrus, and found herself breathing him in deeply. Every part of her body ached to melt into him, but she fought against it with everything she had.
If she had learned one thing in this forsaken convent, it was that she could trust no one. It wasn’t that nobody could help her; it was that nobody was willing to.
She had lost hope of a savior a long time ago.
“Stop fighting,” he continued sternly, “If you truly think your life is in danger, I am your best bet towards survival.”
“How do I know you are not my assassin?” she hissed as she tried wiggling out of his grasp.
“I am trying to solve your father’s murder,” he whispered, his tone carrying a growl.
Helena’s eyes widened.
“Aha, so it is indeed a murder,” he told her. “And the people who wish to kill you are his murderers, then?”
Helena gulped. Who was this man, and why did he know so much?
Her shoulders slumped as she gave up the fight. “How do you know all this?”
“This is not the place to chitchat, my lady. We must leave now, otherwise your jailers will locate us,” he snapped, his voice tinged with urgency.
Helena exhaled, “All right.”
“Good.” He loosened his grip on her, “I have a blanket in my phaeton that you can hide under. Should the gate guard notice you, I will deal with him. Now, let us go before the sisters come looking.”
Helena nodded in agreement. She did not know this man, or what his motives were. She could well be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, but her instincts were telling her that he would keep her safe. That he meant her no harm.
It was not as if she had much choice, so she followed him to his phaeton, hunching down in the footwell as he covered her with a blanket.
Soon they set off, Helena’s heart beating triple time. She was so tense waiting for them to be stopped, for someone to pull her from under the blanket and throw her to the ground.
Yet none of that came.
Instead, she was buffeted about as the carriage rode down the rough road. When it came to a stop, she felt her heart stop as well. She hadn’t heard Brian, the gate guard, hail them, and she was quite sure they had ridden long enough to have left the abbey far behind.
Why had they stopped, then?
Suddenly the blanket was pulled from her head.
Please God, please don’t let him be my killer, she thought with a sinking heart.
He bent low to look her in the eye. “You can come up to the seat now. We’ve made it past.”
She looked up cautiously at him, not knowing if she could believe his words. But he simply sat patiently waiting and so she stood up slowly, keeping an eye on him, and sat down on the bench next to him.
“Is it far, where we’re going?” she asked.
“Far enough,” he said before spurring the horse again.
They set off at a fast trot.
Within moments, exhaustion weighed heavy on Helena, dragging her senses into surrender. Despite the wariness curling in her chest at the man beside her, her body slumped further into the seat.
St. Margaret’s receded into the distance with each rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves, shrinking smaller and smaller until it vanished from the horizon.
And without realizing it, Helena finally succumbed to sleep.