Chapter Seven
With the women out of sight, Lachlan’s hand hovered over his dirk. He harboured nothing but contempt for his cousin. ‘Did ye touch her? Because if ye did . . .’
‘Yes, actually, I did.’
Lachlan moved with lightning speed, giving Cuthbert no time to retreat. One hand grabbed a fistful of jacket, the other pressed the sharp blade to his cousin’s throat.
Cuthbert raised his hands in calm surrender. ‘She tripped. I steadied her with my hand under her arm. Or would you have preferred I let her fall flat on her face?’
‘Dinnae play games with me. Or her!’
‘Games?’ said Cuthbert, unruffled. ‘I fail to see how taking a stroll beside the loch with Helene is akin to a game.’
The way he spoke her name was too intimate for Lachlan’s liking. ‘Ye lured the lass here to take advantage of her. Did ye not?’
‘Lured?’ Cuthbert grimaced when Lachlan applied more pressure to the blade beneath his chin.
‘Dinnae lie to me!’
‘I simply offered her a reprieve from the tedious events taking place in the hall. You should be thanking me. She deserved respite and fresh air after the trauma you put her through this morning.’
Damn, but he was right! If not for the long list of urgent matters to resolve, Lachlan would have brought Helene here to the loch. Still, it galled to have his cousin point it out. ‘Helene asked to remain in the hall.’
‘Then why did she choose to leave with me?’
‘Ye must have coerced her.’
‘She has a mind of her own, amply demonstrated in Donnie’s case.’ Cuthbert let out a loud, impatient breath. ‘Remove your dirk and stop behaving like a jilted lover!’
‘Gentlemen, will you be much longer before joining us?’
Lachlan’s gaze snapped towards the voice. Helene.
How much of the conversation had she overheard?
It was the second time in one day she’d seen him with a blade drawn.
Not quite the best of impressions, but then what did it matter?
In her eyes he was a notorious rake, and he’d given her good reason to add barbaric Highlander to her sullied opinion of him.
He discreetly sheathed the dirk and let go of his cousin. ‘Nae, lass,’ he called to her. ‘We willnae be too long. Give us a wee minute longer, and we’ll be there directly.’
She pointed to indicate the direction they were to follow, then left.
Lachlan eyed Cuthbert, wary of having been played for a fool.
‘If ye’re telling me ye didnae do nor intend anything untoward with the lass, then I’ll believe ye.
But if ye continue goading me with threats of impropriety against her, then ye give me nae choice but to react as I did just now. Ye ken?’
‘Completely, but you can hardly expect me to rebuff the lady if she seeks my company of her own volition or if she flirts with me.’
‘She flirted with ye?’
Cuthbert shrugged. ‘If you call tripping on purpose so that I might prevent her fall, then yes, I do believe she not only flirted with me but also craved my touch.’ He smiled and winked. ‘She has the softest arms.’
Lachlan suppressed the urge to redraw his dirk.
He would not be baited and so relaxed his jaw from having clenched his teeth.
The worst of it was not understanding the true catalyst for his anger.
He refused to believe he envied Cuthbert for having spent time alone with Helene on their solo stroll, or because she’d chosen to be with, and flirt with, Cuthbert.
His cousin saw it as sport in making it so damned difficult to safeguard Helene.
That frustrated Lachlan to the point of making him want to lash out.
He tethered the horses to trees nearby and left enough slack in the reins so each animal could feed on the lush grass. He untied the first leather satchel. ‘Catch this!’
Cuthbert grunted with the impact of the bag hitting his chest and almost dropped it. ‘Careful. The food will spoil.’
Lachlan took the remaining satchels in hand. ‘Let me remind ye of yer oath to Grizel yesterday when ye said, hand on heart, ye’d ne’er expose a woman to the perils of danger.’
‘An oath I intend to wholeheartedly keep.’
‘Best ye do!’
Cuthbert cocked his head to one side. ‘I hardly recognise you for these threats.’
‘’Tis not a threat, Cuthbert. ’Tis a warning. Dishonour Helene and ye dishonour me, my family, and yer own. Do that and ye’ll have me to answer to.’
‘And what of your pledge to me never to let anyone drive a wedge between us?’
‘Have ye ever known me to break a solemn promise?’
‘No, cousin, I haven’t. At least, not yet.’
‘Then we understand each other. Just dinnae let it be ye who is the wedge.’
Lachlan strode off in the direction Helene had indicated and worked to discard his foul mood.
He and Cuthbert had never had cause to argue like this in the past. It rankled to be at loggerheads with him now, and he loathed himself for having held his cousin at knifepoint.
It need not have happened. If only Cuthbert wasn’t so hell-bent on winding him up about who’d be the first to claim a kiss from Helene.
‘Over here,’ shouted Agnes, giving an enthusiastic wave and pointing to a grassy verge on the loch’s bank.
Lachlan set the satchels down, from which Agnes took a woollen blanket and spread it on the ground.
Grizel thrust a pebble atop the loch’s still water. It skipped the surface five times before sinking. Helene applauded and her melodic laughter was enough to lift Lachlan’s spirits.
‘Here,’ said Grizel, selecting another flat pebble and handing it to Helene. ‘Ye try.’
Helene shook her head. ‘I don’t know how.’
Cuthbert dropped his satchel. It fell with a thud on the blanket. He took the pebble from Grizel and, with Helene’s permission, placed the flat stone in the crook of her first finger and thumb.
The intimate connection between them triggered a pulling sensation in Lachlan’s gut. There he stood, forced to watch the two of them interact. Helene mimicked the way Cuthbert drew his arm back in demonstrating how to propel the stone forward.
‘Go ahead, now,’ said Cuthbert in a voice Lachlan recognised as one reserved for enticing a woman. The smile of encouragement Cuthbert gave Helene tested the limits of Lachlan’s patience.
The stone left Helene’s hand and plopped in the water not three strides in front of her. She laughed at her failed attempt, and the colour of embarrassment infused her lovely face.
Agnes and Grizel encouraged her to try again.
Lachlan sprang into action to keep Cuthbert’s lecherous hands off Helene. ‘Allow me,’ he said, and bent to select a stone from the shore.
He offered it to her, and the sensitive shock of her fingers touching his palm took Lachlan by surprise. He was helpless to mask his reaction when their eyes met in that moment of contact.
This was not the usual way of things. Not one of the experienced courtesans he’d bedded had possessed the skill to transmit such a sensual spark.
He dropped his gaze to that spot on the edge of her wrist where, beneath the skin, her pulse throbbed. It kept pace with his own heartbeat, and suddenly intense desire prevailed upon him, leaving him wanting to press his lips to her skin.
‘What can you teach Lady Helene about skimming stones that I haven’t already demonstrated?’ challenged Cuthbert.
The jibe jolted Lachlan to his senses. He placed the pebble in Helene’s palm. Emerald eyes held him accountable. Lachlan swallowed. ‘All ye need is a steady arm and a keen eye.’
‘And plenty of practise,’ laughed Grizel.
‘Aye, practise,’ said Lachlan, his gaze fixed on Helene. ‘Can ye whistle, lass?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then learning to skim a stone is much like learning to whistle a tune. When ye master it, ’tis a magical thing. Now,’ he said, folding her fingers over the pebble, ‘feel its smoothness.’
Lachlan moved to stand behind her. He settled one hand on her upper left arm and reached around her with his right hand to adjust the stone in her grip. ‘Hold the pebble as Cuthbert showed ye, with thumb and first finger, but be sure to rest the stone on yer second finger.’
‘Like this?’ she asked.
‘Aye.’
Lachlan glanced down at her face in profile, a picture of fixed concentration. With his next breath he detected her natural scent. A scent infused with the soft notes of violets. The alluring heady mix had the power to affect him in the same way too much whisky fuddled the brain.
Gather yer wits, Lachlan! ‘When ye look down on yer hand,’ he said, ‘it should resemble the shape of a backward letter C.’
‘Or a U,’ she said.
Her hair, the colour of a raven, distracted him. Was it as soft as it looked? It had a healthy shine under the afternoon sun, and wayward strands tickled his cheek.
‘Aye,’ he whispered close to her ear, small and delicate like her hands. ‘A letter U, if ye prefer.’
He gently manoeuvred her to stand almost at right angles to the water’s edge.
‘Now pull yer hand and wrist back a wee bit. When ye flick it forward, give it a spin and release the stone away from ye in a straight line horizontal to the surface. If ye can manage that, it will skip and hop atop the water.’
Grizel appeared in front of them to exaggerate a position bent at the knees. ‘It helps too if ye crouch down like this when ye toss the stone.’
Lachlan reluctantly let go of Helene and gave her a wide berth. ‘All right, lass. Give it yer best shot.’
Helene threw the stone further than her first attempt, but it hit the surface hard, creating an impressive splash, and sank to the bottom of the loch.
‘Small progress,’ she said with a smile over her shoulder to Lachlan.
‘Aye. And practise makes perfect.’
Cuthbert offered Lachlan a stone. ‘You’ve had years and years of practise. Perhaps you could show us what you mean by perfect.’
‘With that round boulder? Nae!’ Lachlan cast his gaze over the small rocks at his feet, singled one out, and let it fly forth from his hand. It travelled far, and the times it skipped the surface were too numerous to count. Agnes, Grizel, and Helene applauded with a cheer.
Cuthbert stared at him, slack-jawed.