Chapter Eight
Lachlan followed Helene as she carefully picked her way along the path ahead. The slender-built lass possessed strength of will, courage that counts, and an ability to coax secrets from him.
An donas dubh! Never in his twenty-eight years had he confessed as much to Drumocher’s family priest, so what had compelled him to spill the truth of his sins to this lass?
He cared not a whit for another person’s opinion of him, except for immediate family. Still, it set his teeth on edge to have watched Helene stand in judgement of him. He cared about her, not for her. Begrudgingly, this Sassenach raised more than his interest. Hell. He’d almost kissed her!
According to Cuthbert, the lass believed all men to be unworthy of her.
Be that as it may, she’d intimated to Lachlan he was at least worthy of her kiss.
He’d recognised the signs in her quickened breath, the way she leaned in closer, gaze falling to his mouth.
When her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted, he’d been at risk of crushing her in his arms and tasting what was so tempting and willingly on offer.
But the lass was not to be interfered with, and this overriding restriction was his saving grace. If he were to take advantage of her vulnerability, it would add strength to her already stained opinion of him. Besides, what man compromises his honour for the sake of a mere kiss?
‘Can ye hear it?’ he said at her back.
She stopped and turned. ‘Hear what?’
‘Listen.’
Helene tilted her head to one side. Deep concentration gave way to wide-eyed recognition. ‘I hear running water.’
‘Aye. There’s a fork in the path ahead. We’ll need to break left, away from the loch.’
Lachlan reached her side, and together they walked to a point where they veered off along another path. Thick tree roots ruptured the ground, forcing the need to proceed with care.
The lass rejected Lachlan’s helping hand, and he could not help but admire her independence to forge on unassisted.
Her determination boded well for their trek to the shielings.
She lifted the hem of her skirts to step clear of nature’s stumbling blocks, giving Lachlan a glimpse of shapely stockinged calves above laced ankle boots.
Rustling sounds from the underbrush drew her closer to him. ‘What was that?’
Lachlan smiled at the fright in her voice. ‘A mountain hare or pine marten. Perhaps even a fox. Dinnae be scairt. They’ll scarper from us.’
Vegetation became denser, the air moist beneath a canopy of trees, and the path’s gradual descent meandered between a small ravine-like formation.
‘The sound of water grows stronger,’ Helene observed.
Lachlan kept a close eye on her when they turned a corner along the path. She reacted just as he’d hoped, speechless with mouth agape, head tilted back, and eyes focused on water spouting from high up a jagged rock wall.
Water plunged into a crystal-clear pool strewn with smaller rocks on its bed. From there it cascaded down a series of smooth stair-like stones worn from centuries of continuous fast-flowing water. Like an adder on the move, it meandered through lush woodland.
‘How utterly beautiful,’ said Helene with a sweeping gaze of their surrounds.
She trod carefully to the edge of the pool and ran her hands over a large, moss-covered boulder.
‘It feels like velvet.’ She turned to look with a smile at Lachlan over her shoulder.
‘So green. A rich shade I’ve never seen before.
’ She bent down beside the babbling stream and laughed the instant her hands touched the water. ‘Chilly and fresh!’
‘Aye. ’Tis indeed bracing. Grizel and I each used to visit here often when we were bairns. We’d climb up those rocks and scoot over as close as we could to the waterfall. Then we’d splash about in the pool of water.’
‘I envy you for having such a wonderful childhood playground,’ said Helene with a wistful smile. ‘So very different to mine.’
There followed a melancholy silence between them, save for the settling sounds of nature. Helene turned her face to the tree canopy overhead, and her chest expanded with a lungful of fresh air.
‘The perfume of pines. So delightful and invigorating.’ Again, she cast her gaze wide. ‘A deep and soul-easing peace resides here.’
It gave Lachlan great pleasure to know she shared his appreciation of his Scottish homeland, but the flash of disturbing sadness he’d seen in her eyes came as a stab to his heart.
‘Why are ye not yet married, lass?’ The question was out before he gave thought to ask it.
She turned her head sharply to look at him.
‘’Tis a personal question, I ken, but yer a bonnie lass from an upstanding family. Why would ye choose to spend time here in the Highlands in lieu of the London Season?’
‘If it’s good enough for your cousin Agnes, then it’s good enough for me.’
‘Aye, but she’s not the one who’s refused the hand of London’s most coveted suitors. Did ye reject them because ye dinnae think them worthy of ye?’
Helene remained silent for so long that Lachlan regretted the directness of his interrogation.
She spoke in a flat voice. ‘I’ve no need of a husband.’
‘Nae need?’ Lachlan’s laugh was one of disbelief. ‘Lass, ye either marry or see out yer days as a lonely spinster. I hardly believe ye’d forgo a fortunate life of elegant frippery and endless balls in favour of the latter.’
Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘And you draw that assumption about me based on what? Gossip? Has Agnes said—?’
‘Nae. Not Agnes.’
‘Then who?’
‘Cuthbert.’
Helene rolled her eyes. ‘Well now. He’s a reliable source.
’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘Yes, I’ve refused several suitors, and with good reason.
Aside from that, you know nothing about me, and yet you assume my life’s ambition is to secure a wealthy husband, bear his children, and enjoy life’s finery. ’
She was right. Lachlan knew nothing about her other than what Cuthbert had told him.
If she had been at last year’s Season, or even the one before that, then why hadn’t he noticed her?
Probably because he’d been too damned busy chasing and charming the skirts off an adulterous wife in a bid to win a pathetic wager with his cousin!
‘I’m sure yer father wishes to see ye happy and comfortably settled in marriage.’
‘He and my brother, though not for reasons of love or compatibility or my personal happiness.’ There was a sardonic twist to her smile as she shook her head.
‘Their priority is to marry me off to someone of my station or above. A man with money, title, and useful family connections. Isn’t that the way of it with fathers and their daughters? ’
Her words rang true in part. It was what Lachlan’s father would want for Grizel. It was what he and his mother wanted for Grizel.
As if reading his mind, she cocked her head to one side and asked, ‘Is your sister free to marry a man of her choosing?’
‘Within reason.’
She gave a derisive snort. ‘Let me rephrase the question. Would Grizel have your blessing and consent if she were to fall in love with, and wish to marry, a Jacobite? Or perhaps the son of one of your tenants?’
Her question hit a raw nerve, and he responded with a resounding, ‘Nae!’
Her face was a mix of triumph and contempt. ‘Just as I thought. On that count you and my father and brother are one and the same. We women are nothing but puppets, our strings pulled by the men who seek to manipulate and control us.’
‘I’m sorry ye feel that way.’
‘Don’t be.’
Helene plucked a large leaf from a nearby tree and crouched down beside the stream.
She lay the leaf atop the water, watching in silence as it drifted away on its solo expedition.
‘Like the women in your games of seduction, I too am a pawn, albeit an unwilling one, in my father’s quest to marry me off. ’
‘Ye may well have a cynical view on marriage, but in these turbulent times, I for one do not wish to see my sister married to a man who doesnae have the means to provide for or protect her. I daresay yer father only wishes the same for ye.’
Helene remained crouched, turning only her head to look at Lachlan. ‘And if your sister detests or doesn’t love the man of your choosing? What then?’
‘I can only hope she trusts me enough to secure her a good match. If love comes of it, then all the better. But I wouldnae force marriage on her.’
Helene picked up a large stone. She tested its heaviness in one hand as if weighing up the merit of his response.
‘If ye had a daughter, what would ye wish for her future?’ Lachlan caught something akin to regret in her eyes before she turned her gaze downstream.
‘I shall never have a daughter, or any children for that matter, but I will have—’
She broke off suddenly and her hand fisted around the stone, turning her knuckles white.
In a flurry of movement, she stood and with great force hurled the rock away from her.
It landed in the water on the opposite side of the stream.
The sound and size of the splash frightened a stoat from the underbrush, the bushy black tip of its tail flicking in protest as it bounded away.
The lass was a most perplexing enigma. Her words and sudden outburst suggested she wrestled with inner demons.
It triggered in Lachlan the need to reach out, if only to lend her his ear, but her stiff back and clenched hands warned him off.
Perhaps with time spent together at the shielings, he’d get to know and understand her a little better.
‘Come, lass. We’d best be going now.’
Her head tilted towards sunlight filtering through the canopy, and the small breadth of her back expanded with another breath of fresh air. Fingers unfurled at her sides, and both hands shook off whatever had caused them to clench.
She turned to face him. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
Her smile radiated gratitude, and in that moment, Lachlan’s heart smiled too.