Chapter Six
Lachlan sheathed his broadsword.
He slipped one arm around Helene’s waist and hurried her directly into the adjoining lord’s hall.
The lass was shaking beneath his touch. He gently eased her down into a chair, reached for a crystal decanter on the sideboard, and poured a glass of red wine.
Dropping to his knees in front of her, he tipped the glass to her pale lips. ‘Drink.’
She took only a sip and rocked back and forth, eyes downcast while nursing her right hand in her left. ‘Should have taken it off,’ she mumbled. ‘My fault. Should have taken it.’
‘Nae, lass. ’Twas not yer fault. ’Twas Donnie who—’
‘My fault. I pushed . . . I pushed . . .’
‘Aye! Ye pushed me all right, but I—’
Lachlan cut short his words. Helene seemed not to hear him. Her left hand viciously tugged the fingers on her right hand in much the same way one might remove a glove. This was not the outcome he’d predicted.
He cupped her face with his hands to gently tilt her head up. ‘Lass, look at me.’
Emerald eyes glistened with tears. Even though she looked at him, he knew she did not see him.
Regret sat heavy on his shoulders. He’d mismanaged her dogged interference.
He’d expected her to back down and retreat from the threat of stepping in for Donnie.
She owed Lachlan and his clan nothing. They were strangers and shared no blood or family ties.
It made no sense for her to get involved.
‘Lass,’ he soothed, ‘I shouldnae have pushed ye the way I did. I meant only to put ye in yer place. To remind ye ’tis not for ye to challenge my authority or clan law.’
Lachlan returned the glass to her lips. Another sip and he patiently waited, watching until her breathing slowed and the shakes subsided. To his surprise, she took the glass in hand and gulped the remaining wine. She shuddered with a reaction more telling than having whiffed potent smelling salts.
He set the glass aside, and this time when he looked into her eyes, he was struck by the full force of her loathing for him.
He stood and took a step back. ‘Nae. Ye’ve nae right to be angry with me, lass.’
She gathered herself and dashed away tears on her cheeks. ‘No right? How could you think to be so horrendously cruel to a child?’
It was an unfounded recrimination.
In the next instant, she was out of the chair and on her feet. ‘He is just a boy!’
‘A boy who needed to be taught a lesson.’
‘By cutting off his hand?’
‘’Twas not for ye to interfere.’
She inched closer. ‘If not me, then who? Not one of your people—’
‘My people?’
‘—stepped forward to take his place. Not even his father or his mother!’
Lachlan harnessed his anger. ‘Ye’ve nae understanding of our ways and—’
‘It was a chicken. A chicken!’
‘Aye. And if the deed of theft went unpunished, then what else might he steal?’
She came face-to-face with Lachlan. ‘You heard him. His father has no money to replace their egg-laying hen. The boy looks half-starved. Have you no compassion?’
Her accusations cut him to the quick. ‘So ye’re happy for him to steal a chicken, and with nae repercussions?’
‘A stern talking to would suffice. Besides, if you don’t have a care or show compassion for the people who work your land, then it’s no surprise the boy turned to theft.’
Another verbal blow. Enough with her insults. Lachlan took rough hold of her shoulders and raised his voice.
‘What then if he graduates to stealing cattle, sheep, a horse, or a weapon? What if he’s caught by redcoats who show him nae mercy?
Or if he finds himself being judged by an unfair and corrupt jury, or no jury at all?
Will ye shadow him for the rest of his life and be there always to defend him?
Will it be ye who consoles his ma and da when they hear his neck snap and see him swinging from a gibbet? ’
Lachlan’s tirade drew a gasp from Helene. Her face turned white.
‘Aye! Ye didnae think about that before ye thought yersel’ so high and mighty to interfere and challenge my authority. Do ye think me such a monster that I’d actually take off his hand? Or yers, for that matter?’
Helene broke free of his hold and shrank back from him. Mute, she stared wide-eyed at Lachlan.
‘Christ, lass! There’s more to me and my clan than ye ken. Why do ye think nae one volunteered to take Donnie’s place?’
She shook her head, seemingly mystified.
‘Did ye not try to understand my objective?’
She swallowed, again mute.
‘Donnie had to be taught a lesson, and everyone in that hall kens it. That’s why nae one of them stepped forward to offer for wee Donnie. They trust my judgement, and they ken as well as I ’tis not enough to tell him what he did was wrong.
‘For a boy of his age, words go in one ear and out the other. He had to experience the full ramifications of his crime. To stand accountable to me, his laird, and his clan and the man from whom he stole. To see the blade and have him suffer in fear at the thought of being crippled for life, marking him forever a thief!’
Helene’s gaze dropped to her clasped hands, and she whispered something unintelligible beneath her breath. In that moment, she looked small, beaten, and fragile. Lachlan’s fired-up heart skipped a beat. All anger fell away, as did the fight in his voice.
‘’Tis my hope the lad will think twice before stealing anything again.
Sometimes words hold nae weight. Actions do.
Best ye remember that. Far better for Donnie to feel the sting of shame and regret now, within the safety of Drumocher and among those who care about him, than to face unfair judgement and far crueller consequences, if not death, in the future. ’
Helene turned her back on Lachlan and walked stiffly towards a window to stare beyond the castle walls. Was she already pining for her homeland?
Silence filled the space between them.
Lachlan was mindful of his long list of pressing clan matters to settle. ‘I’ll go now to deliver the lad his reprieve. ’Tis not fair to keep him waiting.’
Without a doubt, he saw Helene’s shoulders sag in relief.
Before leaving her in solitude, he offered her a word of advice.
‘If ye think ye’ll find our way of life offensive, then perhaps ye’d be better off returning to yer people across the border.
’Tis simple and quick to arrange. I’ve nae wish to be undermined a third time by a Sassenach lass who doesnae ken or respect me and the laws on my clan lands. I’ll expect yer answer by tonight.’
Lachlan exited the lord’s hall, surprised to find Caitrin MacLanoch standing in the small passage leading to the great hall. ‘Mother?’
‘The lass. Is she all right?’
‘Aye.’
Caitrin raised her brows. ‘Spoken with a heavy sigh, my son.’
Lachlan kept their conversation to a whisper. ‘She’s been here a short time and has already twice crossed me.’
His mother settled both hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side. ‘God forbid a woman to possess the courage and tenacity to challenge ye.’
Lachlan raised a brow. ‘Ye jest about something so serious?’
‘I dinnae jest, and aye, she doesnae ken our ways, but ’twas refreshing to watch a woman, a Sassenach nae less, show some backbone and stand up to ye. A lass of her mettle and means is worthy of standing by yer side.’
Lachlan huffed out a sigh and ignored his mother’s matchmaking assumptions. ‘She’s a guest here. ’Tis not her place to challenge me. Especially not in front of the clan.’
‘Aye, but dinnae ye agree that she be a strong woman to display such courage and who kens it her moral duty to speak her mind on behalf of another, whether she kens that person or not?’
Lachlan acquiesced with a reluctant nod.
Caitrin leaned in closer to Lachlan. ‘I cannae understand why Donnie’s situation would compel her to take his place or sabotage her future prospects. What man in her social circles would marry a woman with one hand?’
‘A dowry, Mother. A man in need of status and money will overlook far worse an anomaly in a wife.’
Caitrin looked grave and shook her head. ‘Some dark place in the lass’s heart triggered her compulsion to protect Donnie. I find that as disturbing as she was distressed by the proceedings.’
‘Ye’re overthinking this. She’s a lass who doesnae ken how to mind her own business.
I’ll not stand for her meddlesome nature, and I’ve told her as much.
’ He read the question in his mother’s enquiring eyes.
‘If she cannae trust me, or abide by our ways and customs without interference, then I’ve told her she best return to England. I expect her answer by tonight.’
‘You’ll have my answer now, if you please.’
The soft voice had Lachlan and his mother turn to see Helene standing in the light of the half-opened doorway. When Caitrin made a move to leave, the lass stepped into the passageway.
‘Don’t go,’ said Helene. ‘I wish to apologise.’ Her guilt-ridden eyes took in Lachlan and his mother.
‘To you both.’ She moved closer, wringing her hands.
‘I had no right interfering in something that was none of my concern, and I sincerely apologise for any upset or embarrassment I might have caused you and those of your clan. I assure you it will not happen again.’
A satisfactory apology, and it seemed genuine enough.
‘But . . .’ she said.
That one word, spoken with the sudden upward tilt of her chin, set Lachlan on edge. It conjured dual emotions: surprise at feeling disappointment at the thought she might yet announce her departure, and bracing himself in anticipation of her laying a challenge at his feet.
Her stretched-out pause compelled him to ask, ‘But?’
Her arms fell by her sides. ‘I make no apology for wanting to rescue a child from harm, regardless of whether I’m privy to that child’s circumstances or not. I can’t promise it won’t happen again. If you can live with that, then I’d like to see out my stay here at Drumocher.’