Chapter Two
Helene stared in awe through the carriage window as the brooding bulk of Drumocher Castle loomed large.
‘Do you see it, Helene?’ asked Agnes.
‘Yes. I do.’
A wide expanse of hewn stone rose from steeply sloping ground like a sheer cliff face. At either end of the wall stood a strong tower, one four storeys tall, the other five. A series of slits and four pointed windows pierced the tower walls.
Uncontained excitement had Agnes point and say, ‘See that glorious stretch of water nestling beneath the castle?’
‘Very impressive,’ marvelled Helene.
‘It’s a fine walk along the loch’s shore. Perhaps tomorrow we can take a stroll. You’ll never have taken air as clean and as fresh as you will here.’
Outside, the rain had stopped. As the carriage rolled closer, the bustling activity around the castle’s curtain wall came to a standstill. People turned towards a sight sure to raise the hackles on any Highlander.
Redcoats.
Helene’s nerves drew tight. ‘Lady Sutton. How might the laird’s clan receive me?’
Winged eyebrows shot up beneath a green silk bonnet. ‘Whatever do ye mean?’
‘Already I see the way they stare at the soldiers. Will they view me with the same contempt?’
‘Ye might be what we call a Sassenach, but ye’re a guest of mine and Agnes, and more importantly, a welcomed guest of the laird of Clan MacLanoch. Ye’ll be shown the respect ye deserve.’
‘Helene,’ said Agnes. ‘Have you forgotten that Cuthbert and I are half English?’
‘That’s different. You’re relatives. I’m a complete outsider.’
Her friend laughed. ‘As they say here in the Highlands, dinnae fash yersel’.’
The carriage had not quite reached the castle, and yet it slowed to a halt. There came the sound of galloping hooves. A conversation took place beyond the women’s sight. To Helene, the indistinct exchange between a redcoat and a Scotsman at least sounded civil.
Through the window on her side, she observed the redcoats on horseback assemble in a group.
Two coachmen, both soldiers, walked past the window towards the back of the conveyance where riderless horses, some carrying military supplies, had been tied for the journey.
Within minutes, all the redcoats, with the remaining two packhorses in tow, turned their horses’ heads away from the castle.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Helene. ‘Why have we stopped short of the castle’s entrance, and why are the soldiers leaving?’
Lady Sutton peered through the window. ‘I’ve nae idea. A handover, perhaps?’
Never one to await her fate, Helene decided it best to act and investigate.
In the same moment that she half stood, leaned in, and turned the carriage door latch, it swung open, pulling her with it.
She stumbled forward and out of the carriage, colliding with the solid strength of a man.
The momentum forced the Scotsman back a step, with arms wrapped tight as a vice around Helene’s waist and back.
Winded, she made the most unladylike grunt against the curve of his neck. Embarrassment held her fast until she heard, ‘Are ye all right, lass?’
His breath brushed her ear as soft as a butterfly’s wings, the sensation not in the least unpleasant, but to find herself in a situation so intimately aligned with a man?
It was the stuff of scandal and ruined reputations.
Neither of which she cared about. As for the genuine concern in his deep-toned words?
Pah! Her acquaintance with men thus far proved they cared not for her well-being, but rather her sizeable dowry.
Who was to say this broad-chested Scottish brute was any different?
‘Lass?’
Agnes’s tittering in the carriage restored Helene’s wits. That, and the realisation she held the stranger in a tight embrace.
‘No. I’m not all right,’ she hurried to say. ‘Something hard causes me discomfort.’
He set her feet on solid ground and let go. Helene made to draw back as fast as she’d fallen, unsuccessful in her attempt. His hands shot to her upper arms to steady her once again.
‘Nephew!’ said the viscountess from inside the carriage. ‘’Tis a blessing to see ye once again, but what on earth is going on?’
So, this was the laird of Clan MacLanoch? He stood taller than Helene and spoke over her head.
‘Yer escorts are eager to reach their barracks before nightfall and have therefore refused our hospitality. I cannae say I’m disappointed. ’Tis not a good marriage between redcoats and Highlanders, and while I’m grateful to them for yer safe passage here, ’tis best for all they dinnae linger.’
‘Aye. Well then, unhand the lass. ’Tis not the way of a proper introduction.’
‘Cousin,’ teased Agnes with a giggle. ‘We’ve yet to set foot inside Drumocher, and already your hands seek to seduce my friend.’
‘Agnes!’ her mother fired back. ‘Where are yer manners?’
Their conversation at her back caused the burn of a blush to creep up Helene’s neck and cheeks. To the Highlander, she said, ‘We seem to be stuck.’
‘Aye, lass. Like bairns fused at birth.’
She braved a tilt of her head, their faces inches apart, and looked for the first time into a gaze filled with flecks of gold and brown.
In one transitory moment, his eyes dilated and darkened. His grip tightened on her arms, gaze dipping to her mouth.
Helene’s pulse jumped, emboldened by an element of triumph.
Were these signs to suggest she’d already sparked Lachlan MacLanoch’s interest in her?
Dare she believe she’d witnessed an inkling of potential, or perhaps a kernel of what might develop between them in the coming days, if only feigned on her behalf?
She whispered a polite command, their lips a breath apart. ‘Pray, unhitch me, Laird MacLanoch.’
He seemed not to hear her. Then, ‘Aye.’
His gaze fell to whatever the cause of their physical connection, giving Helene the briefest moment to study a handsome face fraught with a furrowed brow.
‘My baldric,’ he said by way of explanation.
He wore a leather cross-piece over his right shoulder, which reached down to the opposite hip holding his sword. The buckle on the baldric had caught on the weave of her woollen cloak.
‘I’m trying to be careful, lass. Dinnae want to ruin yer fine clothes, mind.’
She said nothing, instead watching his large hand with long nimble fingers work to unhook the pin of the buckle from the cloak.
Once freed, he said, ‘There now. A few pulled threads, ’tis all. I’ll have the housekeeper mend it.’
He made no attempt to set distance between them. Another positive sign that, despite Helene’s flirtatious inexperience, she used to her advantage by slowly meeting and holding his gaze. ‘Thank you, laird.’
‘Lachlan.’ He took two steps back, held his right hand over his heart, and bowed. ‘Lachlan MacLanoch. At your service.’ He righted himself and gestured to the stone fortress. ‘Welcome to Drumocher Castle.’
Helene dipped at the knee and inclined her head. ‘Lady Helene Beckett.’
A quick glance at her surrounds and she saw a clansman seated aloft on the box seat, reins of the horse-drawn carriage in hand. Two other mounted clansmen waited at the ready, their eyes darting between Helene and their laird.
Lachlan MacLanoch approached the carriage, reached in, and kissed the back of Lady Sutton’s gloved hand.
‘Welcome, Auntie. ’Tis indeed a pleasure to have ye return to Drumocher.
Mother eagerly awaits yer arrival.’ He set her hand free and shifted his gaze to Agnes.
‘Despite yer mischievous tongue, ye’ve grown more beautiful since last I saw ye. ’
Agnes responded with a cheeky grin.
‘Hurry along now, nephew,’ said Lady Sutton. ‘With no stepping block in sight, you’ll have to assist Lady Helene back into the carriage. And do be quick about it. I grow more anxious by the minute to see my sister.’
The laird extended a hand in invitation towards Helene. She went to him like an obedient wife, all too aware of the heat of his touch through her kid gloves. It caused her a sudden lapse in concentration so that when he said something, she grasped not one word. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘When I lift ye into the carriage, mind yer head and be careful not to trip on yer skirts. Aye?’
She dipped her head in understanding.
He moved behind her, hands spanning her waist. In the next instant, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all and held her steady while her leather soles found purchase on the carriage floor. Agnes caught her hands, guiding her inside to sit on the velvet cushioned seat.
The laird nodded when Helene thanked him, but something shifted in his expression.
‘’Twas a rash move to alight the carriage before ye entered the gates of Drumocher. What were ye thinking, Lady Helene?’
The question took her by surprise. ‘Curiosity got the better of me. Like your auntie, I had concerns over why the carriage had stopped.’
‘Concerns?’ His eyes darkened and his tone took a slight turn. ‘Ye doubt my ability as laird to protect my kin? And ye?’
‘No. I . . . I was concerned for our safety,’ she countered. ‘Our escort looked to be abandoning us, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.’
‘And yet ye weren’t abandoned. Nor will ye be whilst under my protection. ’Tis a promise I made to yer father and a promise I make to ye. Ye ken?’
Helene sat as still as a chastised child. ‘I meant not to offend you, laird.’
‘Nae offense taken. ’Tis turbulent times here in the Highlands, and curiosity, without regard to caution, can be a dangerous thing. Ye must be ever mindful of that.’
Helene squared her shoulders. ‘I shall. Thank you.’
He gave a curt nod and closed the carriage door.
Agnes huffed. ‘Well! I know my cousin to be a proud man, but I did not expect that performance from him.’
‘Aye,’ agreed her mother, dismayed. ‘’Twas most peculiar. I dinnae wish to make excuses for my nephew, but—’