Chapter Eight #2
As they neared their picnic site, Grizel approached them at a run. ‘It’s Agnes! She’s hurt her ankle.’ Grizel stopped to catch her breath. ‘She tripped over a fallen branch and fell most awkwardly.’
Lachlan wasted no time in sprinting to the spot where Agnes sat on a patch of grass, her face contorted in pain.
Cuthbert took the reins of a horse and swung up into the saddle. ‘We must leave. Agnes can ride with me.’
‘Aye. In a minute,’ said Lachlan. ‘Agnes, do ye mind if I take a look?’ She winced when he gently touched her stockinged foot. ‘Do ye have any numbness or tingling, lass?’
Agnes shook her head.
‘’Tis a good sign, then. Yer ankle doesnae look off either, so I dinnae think it’s broken. When ye tripped, did ye hear a popping sound, or a crack?’
‘No.’
Lachlan placed his hands directly over her ankle bone. ‘Does it hurt here, or feel tender beneath my touch?’
Agnes swiped away a tear. ‘No.’
Lachlan tested the soft part of her ankle. ‘What about now?’
She sucked in a breath. ‘That hurts!’
He removed his hands. ‘Seems more than likely ye’ve sprained yer ankle rather than broken or fractured it. Ye’ll need rest and to keep yer foot elevated.’
‘How long will it take to heal?’
‘If it’s a minor sprain, it could take between two to four weeks. Any worse than that, then ye’ll be off yer feet for a month or two.’
‘Weeks! Months! But I don’t want to be confined indoors. How shall I pass the hours on my own with you all away at the shielings?’
Cuthbert exaggerated having taken offense to her question. ‘Sister! You’ll have me to keep you company, as well as Mother and Auntie Caitrin.’
When Agnes groaned, Cuthbert teased, ‘Don’t be like that. We’ll teach you how to be proficient at whist, or we can play gammon, as they call it here in Scotland. You could of course immerse yourself in Drumocher’s well-stocked library.’
Grizel took Agnes’s hand in hers. ‘I’ll stay with ye.’
This cheered Agnes no end. ‘Oh! Would you?’
Grizel glanced up at Helene. ‘That’s if ye dinnae mind. I’m sorry not to accompany ye to the shielings, but I dinnae feel right abandoning poor Agnes given what’s just happened to her.’
‘I can stay too,’ said Helene. ‘I need not go to—’
‘I think you should!’ said Cuthbert.
‘The lass can make up her own mind,’ objected Lachlan.
‘Of course she can. I just want to emphasise the opportunity might not present itself again. You will keep her safe, Lachlan, and you, Helene, will find the scenery to be simply breathtaking.’ He smiled down at her from his seat in the saddle. ‘You’ll not reap a better reward.’
Agnes echoed her brother’s sentiments. ‘Don’t stay on my account, Helene. My ankle will mend soon enough. If it’s something you wish to do, then do it. Leave the Highlands with no regrets.’
Deep down, Lachlan embraced the prospect of spending time alone with Helene on their trek to and from higher ground. This self-admission caught him off guard. It was the first time he’d been genuinely interested in and drawn to a woman since— He quickly buried that thought. ‘What say ye, lass?’
‘If it’s not too much trouble, then I’d like to visit the shielings.’
‘’Tis settled.’ Lachlan carefully lifted Agnes and seated her on the horse behind her brother. Grizel attached the picnic satchels to her own saddle, mounted her horse, and set off at a trot behind Cuthbert.
Lachlan readjusted the saddle on the remaining horse and held out his hand to Helene. ‘Ye’ll ride with me.’ The uncertainty in her eyes amused him.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can walk.’
‘I ken ye can walk, but we’re going to ride back to Drumocher.’ His hand beckoned her forth.
One more moment’s hesitancy and she complied. Lachlan hoisted her up onto the horse and then swung into the saddle behind her. His hands came around her waist to gather up the reins. He urged the horse forward to follow the others.
Helene said not a word. Just as well. Lachlan was preoccupied with the mesmerising column of a pale slender neck perfumed with the scent of violets.
His fingers twitched with the need to unpin glossy blue-black hair and let it fall about her shoulders.
A matter of inches separated her rigid back from his chest, and yet the warmth he enjoyed had nothing to do with the late-afternoon sun.
He resisted all temptation to lean forward and align his body with hers.
Best he steer clear of wayward thoughts and think about something else.
Cuthbert.
Having threatened him with violence to back off from Helene was one thing, but for Cuthbert to capitulate to the point of pressing Helene to travel alone with Lachlan to the shielings was another.
For the first time in his life, instinct had Lachlan mistrusting his cousin.
Keeping Helene at a safe distance from Cuthbert was for the best.
‘Those tenants. The ones who couldn’t afford their rent?’
Helene’s question startled Lachlan. ‘Aye. What of them?’
‘You showed great kindness in waiving whatever they owed.’
‘’Twas not so much kindness, lass, but compassion. I ken we all fall on hard times, but as laird I cannae show weakness by wiping the debt completely. ’Twould send the wrong message to all tenants and set a precedent. Their debt will be paid, if not in coin then by some other means.’
‘How?’
Lachlan liked that the lass showed interest in understanding the reason behind his ruling. ‘Come spring, the cottars might gift me a lamb or a calf, or bags of wheat at harvest time. Whatever they can afford, and equal to their debt, will suffice.’
She fell silent again. Lachlan tilted his head to the side to see her look of deep contemplation.
‘Donnie,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘I’m glad you sent him to the chapel with Father Crawford to ask for God’s forgiveness.’
‘I doubt there’s anything a wee child could do that God could not forgive.’
Helene’s stiff spine softened. Her shoulders sagged forward, and her chin fell to her chest. ‘Some sins can never be forgiven.’
So faint were her words that Lachlan felt sure she did not intend for him to hear her. He didn’t comment or pursue the conversation further, instead taking his cue from her silence, lending his support as a prop when she slowly leaned back against him.
Intriguing mystery, thicker than a winter morning’s fog, shrouded the lass. For Lachlan, their time away at the shielings couldn’t come soon enough.
*
When Helene leaned back against the laird, it was because she suffered a moment’s weakness and craved human comfort. As his arms closed loosely about her waist, his touch came as a stark reminder to set aside self-pity and focus on the task at hand.
Seduction.
Had Agnes not injured herself, then this opportunity for close contact with Lachlan might not have presented itself. Helene used it to her advantage and settled her forearms on the outside of his, gently pressing inward so that his arms hugged her waist.
She heard a slight catch in his throat, yet he did not pull away. His breath on her neck made her skin tingle. Her eyes closed and she rested her head against his shoulder as if drowsy from fresh air and exercise.
‘Mo maise.’
Whatever he’d whispered in Gaelic sounded like a softly spoken endearment.
Her eyes remained closed, and she opened up her senses to the surrounds, from the sun on her eyelids and the constant twitter of birds, to a mix of floral perfumes and Scots pine.
Above all that, her senses filled with the man at her back.
A pillar of solid strength. Warm. Protective.
She could smell the wool in Lachlan’s plaid kilt, the smoky scent of hearth and home, and something so masculine as to make her breathe and draw him in.
Their bodies moved as one, in sync with the horse’s restful clip-clop gait. Helene knew herself to be in danger of never wanting to be separated from the here and now. How ironic. She, the seducer, was being seduced. She remained this way until Lachlan spoke as one does when gently waking another.
‘Helene. We’re home.’
She couldn’t bring herself to stir. Her time here in the Highlands had been so short, and yet, in some strange way, she did feel at home. In his arms.
‘Lass, wake up.’
Warm lips moved against her cheek, sending the most pleasant shiver down her left side.
Her eyes opened just as they passed through Drumocher’s yawning gates and overhead portcullis.
Ahead, a stable-boy came running, arms outstretched ready to take the reins and care for the horses.
Cuthbert dismounted, scooped his sister into his arms, and made for the lord’s tower.
Poor Agnes. Her resting face suddenly contorted from the pain she suffered.
Grizel dismounted, as did Lachlan. He reached up to Helene.
Large hands spanned her waist, igniting in her body another bout of giddy sensations.
She braced herself against his shoulders, and when he set her on solid ground, he eyed her in such a way as she could not decipher.
She ruled out having upset him because he still held her firm about the waist.
His gaze fell briefly to her mouth, and then, as if gathering his wits, his arms dropped to his sides. ‘I’ll see after Agnes.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Helene’s gaze followed his every stride.
Grizel hailed another stable-boy and instructed him to return the food satchels to the kitchen. She stared at Helene with the hint of a mischievous smile.
‘What?’ asked Helene.
Grizel glanced at her retreating brother and then back at Helene. Her smile grew wider. ‘Nothing. Come on. Agnes will want our company.’ She hurried towards the tower’s entrance and disappeared inside.
Helene had taken only a few steps when something even more puzzling than Grizel’s curious behaviour brought her to a halt. Courtyard activity had stalled. Clan men and women stood motionless, seemingly fixated with her.