Chapter Seven #3
She shrugged. ‘Intuition.’ A lie. ‘And because you weren’t happy to find the two of us alone.’ The truth.
‘Aye, well, I did warn ye about Cuthbert. He’s not to be trusted around beautiful women.’
It was the second time the laird had called her beautiful. ‘Am I?’
‘Are ye what?’
‘Beautiful.’
His gaze made a leisurely sweep of her face and his voice softened. ‘I wouldnae say it if I didnae mean it.’
The back of her hand went to her cheek. She blushed as if on fire. Never had the compliment felt so good nor sounded so genuine as it did coming from him. ‘The day is warm.’ It was the only way she could casually dismiss his effect on her.
‘A stream lies ahead. The water is cooling and fit to drink.’ He continued on, turning when Helene did not follow.
She asked, ‘I’m curious to know what you both said to warrant your act of violence against Cuthbert?’
A muscle ticked along the edge of his jaw, and his broad chest expanded beneath his linen shirt and unbuttoned jacket.
He went to say something only to snap his mouth shut.
He did it again, his head cocked slightly to one side as if deliberating a reply.
Dark eyes darted in the direction they’d walked and resettled on Helene’s face.
The intensity of his stare made it clear he did not wish to discuss the matter.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
Helene walked on. His hand caught her arm and stayed her. He drew her closer to him, sliding his hand down her sleeve before letting go. Pleasurable sensation rippled through her.
‘Aye, then. Ye shall have the truth. Cuthbert and I, we . . . we’ve had ourselves a yearly wager when attending the London Season.’
‘At the gaming tables?’
He looked suddenly sheepish. ‘Not those kinds of games.’
Helene waited.
‘Each year we’d single out one of the married women of London society who was known to welcome lovers into her bed.’
Helene knew both men to be rakes but had no knowledge of how they went about seducing their prey. ‘Single out?’
Lachlan grimaced. His chin and gaze dipped down. ‘We’d compete for that woman’s attentions. Whoever bedded her first, won the wager.’
Helene held her disgust in check. ‘And how much money did you wager on each of these conquests?’
He shook his head. ‘Money held nae incentive.’
Helene gave a snort of disbelief. ‘What could possibly hold more incentive for a man than money when making a wager?’
He seemed unwilling to meet her gaze. ‘Pride, personal victory, and ego.’
‘Ego. Something you and Cuthbert definitely have in common!’
He at least had the decency to look anything but proud.
Still, his admission angered Helene. Using women to slake their lust in the name of winning a ribald bet was a despicable act.
Her anger ran deeper for reasons she could not explain.
It wasn’t as if the married women he spoke of weren’t willing participants in the bedchamber.
They no doubt enjoyed the game of seduction just as much as Lachlan and his cousin.
Helene couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. ‘And might I ask which one of you has won the most wagers?’
She had her answer the instant Lachlan averted his gaze.
Simultaneously, the motivation driving Cuthbert’s ambitions took shape.
His ego demanded he best Lachlan in the art of seduction, and by way of pretence and deceit, Helene would reap her reward for being the willing vehicle in winning that wager for him.
Hoodwink him into believing he has your interest, then turn him down and focus your efforts on me. Cuthbert’s words. He wanted to rub salt in Lachlan’s wound. He was using Helene to checkmate Lachlan. A win to be noted on Cuthbert’s score card.
‘I see,’ said Helene, and let fly with her scorn. ‘Well, with a skill like that you must be the envy of all men. If not envied, then despised. I can’t imagine how the English peers of the realm take to having other men bed their wives, especially a Scotsman.’
His eyes sharpened on her, and he leaned closer. ‘Scotsman. Frenchman. Englishman. What does it matter? Infidelity is infidelity, nae matter a man or woman’s background or breeding.’
Helene tilted her chin a little higher. ‘Cuckolds and cuckqueans. They deserve each other! Likewise with rakes and coquettes. They make an absolute mockery of the sanctity of marriage. Wouldn’t you agree?’
How the laird of Clan MacLanoch chose to conduct himself in his pursuit of carnal pleasure was no business of Helene’s, nor should it matter to her, and yet, it did.
She’d openly judged and insulted him as if he’d been unfaithful to her.
The realisation left her reeling and confused.
Her heart raced when he dipped his face to within inches of hers.
‘Point taken, Lady Helene, but ken this. I hold the sanctity of marriage in high regard.’
‘I doubt that very much, given what you’ve just disclosed!’
His gaze fell to her lips and lingered long enough to make her believe he wanted to kiss her.
Here then was her chance. Here was the opportunity to draw him in, to tempt him with a provocative pout.
Her pulse leapt at the expectation of experiencing something more than the exchange of terse words.
The scent of red wine laced his breath. Now to taste it.
Burgeoning desire caught her off guard, and her eyelids fluttered closed.
Soft words feathered her face. ‘If not me or Cuthbert, those women would have bedded another. They were willing pawns in our game. A means to an end.’
Desire withered in a flash. Helene opened her eyes and recoiled from him. ‘That end being a vainglorious boast of sexual conquests!’
‘Judge me as ye wish. My point in telling ye all this is to let ye ken Cuthbert keeps pushing to make ye our next conquest. He pushed one too many times, which forced my blade to his throat.’
‘But I don’t fit your wager criteria,’ she retaliated. ‘I’m not married.’
‘Rules of any game can change at a moment’s notice. In yer case, I dinnae like his rules, therefore I refuse to play his game. As I said, he and I have reached an understanding in that ye’re not to be toyed with. He’ll give ye nae further trouble.’
Helene gave a curt nod.
His eyes darkened. ‘There be something else ye need ken.’
‘And that is?’
He closed the space between them and slowly bent his head to within a breath of her parted lips. ‘If I were married, I’d give my wife nae reason to stray.’
The husky, sensually spoken innuendo reignited desire in Helene. She stood immobile and trapped beneath the intensity of Lachlan’s heated gaze. All coherent thought left her but for one thing. Kiss him. Now. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
Too late. He stepped back and gestured the way forward. ‘Splendour awaits ye.’