Chapter Four #2
Cuthbert stood with a nod in their direction. Only then was Lachlan given the opportunity to fully appraise Cuthbert’s attire, from his meticulously fashioned queue tied with a black silk ribbon, to his leather buckled footwear.
Without a doubt he looked the dashing gentleman, wearing a three-piece suit of coat, waistcoat, and breeches.
The pale-blue pastel suit, with embroidered gold and silver thread, marked him a man of elegant status.
The expensive addition of lace jabot, decorative cuffs, and silk stockings made him look like a contemporary of King Louis XIV in the Palace of Versailles.
For Cuthbert to flaunt his class distinction and fashion to excess, here in Drumocher, was not without purpose. The moment he turned his gaze towards the open doorway with an air of anticipation, that purpose became apparent to Lachlan.
Helene!
A smug, predatory smile lit Cuthbert’s face. He gave Lachlan a sidelong glance and whispered, ‘Don’t get your hackles up. There’s really no harm in pursuing one kiss.’
Had Lachlan not clenched his fists, his hands would have tightened like a noose around Cuthbert’s neck.
The sudden urge to wilfully harm his cousin was both alarming and wrong on so many levels.
He found it hard to stand by and watch Cuthbert greet Helene, bowing low over her hand in his, and to hear flowery salutations in praise of her appearance.
She presented as a picture of elegant beauty, with hair piled and pinned up to accentuate the column of her slender neck.
Her modest attire surprised Lachlan. He’d expected her to have dressed in a manner typical of London’s expensive fashion.
Instead, she’d chosen to wear something of simple design and comfort.
Understated though it might be, the low-cut bodice drew his gaze. There, her skin, white as winter’s first snow, rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of her every breath.
Lachlan’s body reacted to the memory of those breasts pressed against his chest. Curse the involuntary stirring in his groin!
He would have looked away if not for Helene catching his eye.
She fleetingly acknowledged him with a subtle nod and a polite smile before refocusing on Cuthbert and his idle conversation.
He had watched Cuthbert woo countless women over the years. All for the sake of a flippant wager. What then was so different about this moment that it should cause Lachlan this stab of envy?
He resented Cuthbert for not ceasing his petty game, for defying instructions to leave this lass well enough alone. She was not some trophy to be pursued like hounds excited by the scent of a fox.
If Cuthbert refused to desist, then why not bring an end to the chase and be the first to kiss Helene and claim victory?
Be done with it. The idea held appeal. Following through would come at a cost, though.
Lachlan would be damned if he’d compromise his honour for the sake of a mere kiss.
He’d uphold his promise to Helene’s father to protect and keep her out of harm’s way.
Right now, harm’s way took the form of an overdressed, fair-haired rake.
Before Lachlan could intervene, his sister and Agnes swept into the room, joining Cuthbert and Helene in lively conversation. Grizel ran her hand along Cuthbert’s sleeve in an enthusiastic exploration of the rococo-inspired cloth.
Lachlan turned away from their frivolous, fashion-inspired conversation, preferring instead to send his gaze to the cloud-covered mountains beyond the window.
There, in the fading light, he looked for signs of the weather improving tomorrow.
He breathed in and detected a distinct fragrance in the air. Violets.
‘Lachlan?’
The soft voice had him immediately turn his head, there to see those emerald-green jewels Cuthbert had so aptly described.
‘Is it all right that I call you Lachlan? Or would you prefer—?’
‘Aye,’ he replied, if not a little too quickly. ‘’Tis all right, lass.’
‘Then you may call me Helene.’
Lachlan raised a brow. ‘Might I now?’
She hesitated. ‘Only if it pleases you.’
‘It pleases me.’
Damn but her smile and colour-flushed cheeks pleased Lachlan too. Why then did something about those emerald eyes unnerve him? Perhaps because they had the power to hold him captive.
‘Have ye settled in?’ he asked by way of polite conversation.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘And yer bedchamber is comfortable and to yer liking?’
‘Indeed. The window affords a magnificent view of the loch, and the steep-sided mountains and wooded slopes make it quite picturesque.’
‘Even more so with favourable weather.’ Lachlan had not anticipated her prompt approval of his beloved Highlands.
‘I’m sure it is. Cuthbert speaks fondly of the loch and its surrounding beauty. Weather permitting, he’s keen to show me the quiet glens and hidden caves concealed behind waterfalls. I should very much like to see it all.’
So that was his plan? Coax her into the woods and take advantage of her beneath a canopy of leaves. Damn him! Already Cuthbert schemed to expedite wooing and winning Helene.
Lachlan’s fingers clenched into a fist again when he glanced briefly at his cousin. ‘Aye. The Highlands are all that and more, but be warned. The woods and the animals within can be as dangerous as they are bewitching.’
She tipped her head slightly to one side. ‘Do you mean to frighten me?’
‘I wish only to caution ye. We’ll speak more of it during the evening meal.’
Lachlan rallied and readied his family to move towards the great hall. He offered Helene the crook of his arm, lest Cuthbert beat him to it.
*
Helene conceded how well Cuthbert knew his cousin, right down to the subtle nuances of body language and facial expressions. Lachlan had reacted to her presence just as Cuthbert had predicted: Standoffish, yet watchful. Confident, albeit with an air of rigid tension.
She’d caught the slight shake of his head as if in censure of Cuthbert’s flirtatious approach when first she’d entered the room. The grudging admiration in the laird’s narrowed eyes for the ease with which Cuthbert engaged her had turned to disapproval when she’d responded to Cuthbert’s attentions.
In her peripheral vision, she’d caught the laird appraise her from head to toe. She’d whispered her observation to Cuthbert, whose opinion it was the laird found her pleasing to the eye.
Encouraged by this, and in the count of a heartbeat, she’d locked eyes with her host and had done her best to convey a coquettish smile.
Alas, her luring attempt and subtle nod failed to entice his participation in her conversation with Cuthbert.
A snub, no less. Any gentleman with a modicum of good manners would indulge her. Arrogant man!
Wounded pride would not deliver what Helene had come for, and she most certainly would not stand by and be ignored.
The arrival of Agnes and Grizel had given her the opportunity to approach the laird.
Dropping formality and speaking only his first name, without first being invited to do so, proved to be a bold move.
Nonetheless, it had garnered his attention, his approval, and his acceptance to address her as Helene.
Using one’s given name betokens familiarity, and it set Helene one step closer to achieving her goal. Only then could she return home with Cuthbert’s promissory note and set her sister free.
When she’d mentioned Cuthbert’s offer to walk her through the woods, Lachlan had furrowed his brow, hands clenched at his sides, and delivered a terse cautionary warning about hidden dangers.
Now, Helene smiled and graciously accepted and settled her hand in the crook of his arm. Muscles hardened beneath the jacket sleeve. Remarkably, he looked at Helene with no expression of having tensed at her touch.
Odd. She hadn’t sensed the same kind of tension in him when she’d fallen from the carriage into his solid strength, and yet, just now, she saw a glimmer of awkward vulnerability in his eyes.
She’d misread his reactions once before and might well have done so again.
Time would tell, but one thing was for sure, she had influence over him, be it for better or for worse.
He led her and the family along a corridor and down several stone steps to a large wooden door.
Lachlan unlatched the handle with his free hand.
It opened inward to reveal a wide, spacious hall humming with conversation.
People seated at rows of banquet tables immediately stood and quietened at the sight of their laird and his family.
It dawned on Helene that not once had she accepted the arm of any man other than her father or her brother. Had she done so in London, it would suggest something of an intimate nature, the forming of a couple, an alliance, as it were.
It followed, then, that entering the great hall on the arm of Drumocher’s laird must surely send a powerful message to all who witnessed it.
Not only was it a display of his acceptance of her in his stronghold, but it would be easy for anyone to perceive something more than friendship existed between the laird and herself.
Of course, there was not a skerrick of truth to the latter. They were no more than half-day-old acquaintances. She, a guest of Drumocher, and he, the obliging host.
Helene ruminated over him genuinely believing Cuthbert’s intention to steal from her a kiss. It explained why the laird placed himself in her path: to protect her from and stave off the improper attentions of his cousin.
Another redeeming quality she begrudgingly admired about her host. If being a capable protector was his strength, then she’d seek to make it his undoing.