Chapter Six #2
The lass stood firm in the courage of her convictions. Damn but he admired her for that, and she’d cleverly turned the tables on him, forcing him to decide whether she was to stay or go.
‘We both can live with that,’ said Caitrin in an accommodating and sympathetic voice. ‘Apology accepted.’
Lachlan narrowed his eyes on his mother.
In turn, her expression dared him to overturn her decision.
His gaze settled on Helene’s face, and there he detected no hint of gloating triumph in the serious set of her full-lipped mouth.
His mother might have voiced acceptance of Helene’s apology and ultimatum on his behalf, but he saw the question clearly repeated in the lass’s eyes.
At least she showed him the respect of wanting his decision.
He gave it in the form of a curt nod, bowed by way of excusing himself, and turned to make his exit.
‘Lachlan.’
He stopped without turning, wishing the effect of Helene having spoken his name did not feel like an intimate caress on his neck.
‘I should like to witness the remainder of the hall’s proceedings,’ she said.
At this, Lachlan swivelled on the spot and stared her down. The question of trust hung unspoken in the air between them. Still, he relented, gesturing for his mother and Helene to precede him into the hall.
When the lass passed him by in the narrow passageway, her hand chanced to brush against his. Their eyes met in mutual awareness, fraying Lachlan’s senses as if he were a skittish young colt.
All manner of Gaelic curses crossed his mind in an attempt to gather his wits.
When re-entering the great hall, inquisitive eyes flitted between himself and the Sassenach.
He resisted a glance in her direction, safe in the knowledge his mother would have taken Helene under her wing, seating the lass next to herself in the gallery.
The proceedings resumed when Lachlan seated himself in his chair. He summoned Donnie forth. The poor lad looked fit to faint.
‘’Tis yer lucky day,’ said Lachlan with a stamp of authority. ‘Ye’ll be spared the loss of yer hand, but thieve again and ye’ll know what punishment awaits ye. Ye ken?’
Donnie threw himself at Lachlan’s feet. ‘Thank ye, my laird. I won’t ever steal again. I swear it.’
‘Dinnae be thanking me, lad.’ Lachlan hauled the lad upright. ‘’Tis the Sassenach to whom ye owe homage. If it weren’t for her, ye’d be nursing a bloodied wrist by now.’
Lachlan watched as all eyes, including Donnie’s, swung towards the upper gallery to look at Helene. Relief and the indebted smile on the lad’s face told Lachlan the boy had learned his lesson. He need not know the truth behind the set-up of his trial’s proceedings, leastwise until he was grown.
In the silence of the hall, Lachlan looked up at Helene. The sight of Cuthbert seated next to her set Lachlan’s teeth on edge. His gut tightened, causing him to shift fractionally forward in his chair.
‘Donnie,’ he snapped.
The lad stood to attention. ‘Aye, my laird?’
‘Go now with Father Crawford to the chapel. Make yer apologies to him and repent yer sins to God.’
‘Aye, my laird.’
Lachlan nodded to Donnie’s mother and father, their expressions grateful. They exited the great hall with their son and the visiting priest.
Lachlan turned his attention to settling all manner of matters, ranging from couples with irreconcilable marital problems to freeing the necessitous from their arrears of rent.
All the while, the one person present whose watchful eyes and whose opinion of him mattered was Helene. Curse him for a fool.
In the grip of a moment’s maddening weakness, he risked another glance up to the gallery to see Cuthbert lean in close to Helene. What did his cousin whisper in the lass’s ear to make her stand with him and exit the hall?
Lachlan’s hands slid along the length of the chair’s ornately carved arms. Had he gripped it any tighter, the wood might have splintered.
*
Helene, at Cuthbert’s insistence, left Drumocher’s sanctuary to accompany him on a walk alongside the loch.
Nature had indeed waved her lavish hand over widespread terrain, creating a fairyland rich in breathtaking beauty. Fresh air and revitalising sunshine provided a cleansing tonic after the draining intensity of what had happened in the great hall.
Even now she shuddered with visions of what might have been, from the bloody act of losing her hand and the aftermath, to how she’d have struggled to adapt and cope in saving and looking after poor Prudence.
In hindsight, she might not have reacted in any other way, unless, of course, she’d been privy to clan ways and Lachlan’s approach in teaching Donnie a lesson.
Her focus had been on protecting the boy, acting on instinct.
But the penalty for her rash behaviour now put her on the back foot with Lachlan.
It was the second time she’d underestimated the MacLanoch laird.
Her downfall, and definitely not conducive to seducing him.
Not once had it occurred to her during their confrontation in the hall that he wouldn’t go through with his threat of taking Donnie’s hand or hers. She should have done as he’d asked and stepped aside, allowing him to preside over his clan, knowing what was best for his subjects, especially Donnie.
She’d let personal prejudice impede her ability to trust Lachlan.
A mistake she must rectify if she were to work her way into his embrace.
With that thought came the memory of the moment he’d berated her for interfering in Donnie’s trial.
His anger she could understand. The heat of that anger was one thing, but the heat of his touch on her person was another.
It robbed her of breath, as did the shocking truth of what might become of Donnie if he were to steal again.
Lachlan had acted with purpose. She had reacted in outrage.
‘He will follow us.’
Cuthbert’s voice startled Helene out of her reverie. ‘Did you say something?’
‘I said he, Lachlan, will follow us. Mark my words.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘I have my cousin convinced I’ll ruin you with a kiss, if not ravish you beyond repair.’ Cuthbert donned a wily smile. ‘Lachlan MacLanoch, the great protector, will come to your rescue the moment Grizel informs him of our whereabouts.’
‘But surely Grizel will not interrupt the hall’s proceedings on my account?’
‘Of course not. I’ve asked her to inform her brother when the proceedings conclude. I want him to fret over how long you and I have been out here alone. He saw us leave the hall together. That would have put him on high alert.’
Men and their mind games. It made no sense to Helene.
Her gaze sought and marvelled at ancient oaks, ash, and beech trees to the left of the trail.
She then glimpsed the vibrant blue-purple flowers beyond the trees.
Bluebells. She felt suddenly homesick. The cry of two birds overhead turned her attention skyward.
She stopped to admire their majestic wingspan and watch them circle high above.
Cuthbert paused in his stride to look up. ‘Two golden eagles. Did you know they pair for life?’
Helene studied the man at her side. Handsome and fair-haired, he looked every bit the polished rake, with jacket and breeches cut from the finest cloth. ‘You sound envious.’
‘I am.’
A frank and astonishing admission and said without hesitation. ‘Then why waste time on your philandering ways instead of seeking your one true love?’
Cuthbert gave a derisive laugh and continued along the path. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘And why,’ Helene called after him, ‘is the laird of Drumocher yet to secure a match?’ No sooner had she posed the question than she regretted asking it. It made her sound . . . interested.
Cuthbert stopped mid-stride. After a few moments he turned, and that wily smile reignited. ‘Because, Lady Helene Beckett, he had yet to meet you!’
Helene stiffened. ‘Me?’
‘Yes.’ He pointed skyward. ‘Like those golden eagles, I sincerely believe you and my cousin are well matched. You could live out your days in wedded bliss.’
Helene’s bark of unladylike laughter sent a pheasant fluttering from the woodland’s leafy underbrush. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she sputtered. ‘I’m the last person on earth to attract his attentions. Besides, your brief is for me to seduce him, not marry him. I’m in no position to—’
‘Exactly what position are you in, Lady Helene?’ Cuthbert stood with folded arms across his chest, pinning Helene on the spot with his quizzical stare.
His sobering confrontation had her raise her chin and eye him with silent regard.
‘Still tight-lipped, I see?’
‘We agreed never to ask each other or to explain personal reasons behind our mutual arrangement.’
‘There’s no harm done if I were to think through the matter out loud,’ he said, as if in the throes of playing a guessing game.
He relaxed his pose, tapped a finger to his forehead, and glanced up as one does when deep in thought.
‘A young lady of noble birth’—he pointed to Helene—‘would want for nothing. She’d bring to the marriage table a handsome dowry.
So, for what lucrative benefit would she secretly require additional funds?
’ His eyes narrowed beneath a wrinkled brow.
‘My, but if this intrigue isn’t besmirched with scandal. ’
‘Keep your voice down!’ Helene hissed.
He humoured her request. ‘My dear, unless the air whispers our conversation upon a sudden incoming breeze, there is no one within miles to hear us.’
‘You and I struck a bargain exclusive of candour.’
‘Indeed we did, and when you deliver your end of the bargain, according to my terms, then you shall have your just reward.’ He placed his right hand over his heart. ‘I shall, herewith, uphold our ruling. No more questions.’
Cuthbert made a grand gesture with the sweep of his hand. ‘Shall we proceed along this path of peace and tranquillity?’