Chapter Fourteen
It was late in the afternoon when Drumocher came within sight.
Helene had sensed a shift in the air between herself and Lachlan, and he’d initiated no conversation since leaving the rock crevice.
She kept her own counsel and drew sensible conclusions about what had occurred between them during the storm.
Lachlan had obliged her in taking her mind far from the trauma of being caught up in the squall.
For one with so rakish a reputation, he’d satisfied Helene to exquisite effect.
She’d be selfish to expect anything more of or from him, and yet, in such a short time since meeting him, he’d moved her heart and mind to a place where she’d feel comfortable baring to him her soul, revealing secrets, and confessing the turmoil of her motivations in coming to Drumocher.
Would he listen with understanding and show her compassion, or would it rile him to learn she’d used him and her visit to his family seat for no other reason than personal gain?
Ironic that she should even concern herself with the latter, when he and Cuthbert used and seduced married women for the sole purpose of inflating their egos.
Helene had a conscience, even if Lachlan did not, and guilt tapped her on the shoulder for having enticed his part in their intimate liaison.
It didn’t bother her that she was, by definition, a ruined woman, but it was on account of her Lachlan had broken his promise and oath to her father to ensure, while under Lachlan’s protection and care, she remain untouched.
What mattered most was he’d protected her well-being and safety on more than one occasion and had saved her from drowning.
Words she’d said for all to hear in Drumocher’s great hall came back to taunt her. Honour your word, Donnie, because a man without his honour is nothing.
Dread brought her to a halt. Lachlan valued honour above all else, and she’d been the one to strip it from him. It must surely be the reason for his silence.
‘Are ye all right, lass? Drumocher is verra close, but if ye’d like to take a wee rest—’
‘No. I’m fine.’ She summoned the courage to look at him. ‘Thank you, Lachlan, for . . . calming me during the storm.’
A muscle worked along his jaw. ‘Nae need to thank me, but for both our sakes, speak of it to nae one.’
She nodded in understanding. They both would suffer damaging consequences should their secret liaison come to light. Still, Helene hoped Lachlan had taken some measure of pleasure from their intimate encounter. She turned to press on down the path.
‘Tell me why ye’re so afraid of storms?’
The question caught her off guard, so too his restraining hand on her arm.
She saw genuine concern for her in the meeting of his brows and in the way his thumb gently caressed her arm.
Golden-brown eyes probed her for an answer.
She wished to confess all to this man to whom she’d fallen vulnerable.
A man to whom she’d willingly commit for the rest of her life if only he would have her, and if she were free to do so.
Impossible!
‘I did something unforgivable when I was a child of ten. My father banished me to my room for a week, but Robert, my older brother, believed the punishment not severe enough.’
Lachlan’s eyebrows drew together. ‘What did ye do that was so bad?’
In Helene’s mind’s eye she replayed her crime, and all over the possession of a stupid doll.
The memory of it sickened her. Quarrelling with her younger sister over a doll.
Shoving Prudence, taking from her the doll, and then walking away.
A high-pitched scream, then turning to watch in horror as Prudence tumbled down the stairs.
The loud thud of her head smacking the floor below and seeing her lying in a little crumpled heap. Unmoving. Lifeless.
Helene swallowed, incapable of confessing her shameful wrongdoing out loud.
‘During that week, a storm loomed,’ she said.
‘Robert lured me outside to the grounds of Father’s country estate.
He tied me to a tree and left me there. Light rainfall turned into a downpour.
There was thunder, and lightning struck the old oak within sight of where I stood. A large limb crashed to the ground.’
Helene squeezed her eyes shut and raised a hand to her ear. ‘The noise. The smell of charred wood. I was petrified.’
‘Did ye not call out for help?’
Her eyes flashed open. ‘I screamed until I was left with no voice. No one heard me above the noise of the storm.’
Lachlan’s expression morphed from concern to fury. ‘Yer brother! How long did the cruel bastard leave ye there?’
‘Until the storm passed and the rain stopped. But I deserved it. I deserved every wretched moment, and he was right. Not even that was punishment enough for what I did to—’
Helene tugged her arm free of Lachlan’s grip. Coward that she was, she could not bear to think on it anymore. Prudence. The trauma to her head. The seizures, the convulsions. Her sadness and suffering.
Lachlan was quick to restrain her again, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘The governess ne’er noticed ye were missing from yer bed?’
‘Not until Robert smuggled me back into my room. The governess knew better than to question Robert, for threat of him having her dismissed on account of letting me escape the confines of my room.’
‘Did ye tell yer parents what happened?’
Helene shook her head. ‘Robert threatened to do something worse if I told them.’
Lachlan drew her into a tight embrace. ‘I’m sorry for what ye endured. Kin are supposed to care for ye, not harm or threaten ye.’
Safe in his arms, she wanted to confess all.
That her actions had destroyed her sister’s life.
Her future. That Prudence’s condition had worsened to the point where her discreet carers in the country could no longer cater to her needs.
Father would not have her return home, fearing embarrassment and bringing shame on the family name.
Instead, he’d committed Prudence to a mental asylum.
Helene clung to Lachlan’s warmth, his strength. It was she who deserved to be locked away. Years of pent-up grief and regret threatened to burst their banks, and it took every conceivable effort to hold the emotions in check. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with my troubles.’
‘Ye’ve nae need to be sorry. Yer brother’s heinous act was unforgivable. If ever I meet the monster, I’ll—’
‘No!’ She drew back and forced a smile to her lips. ‘It’s in the past. Besides, I’ll never again fear storms, for I’ll be soothed by the memory of . . .’ Awkward and shy, her cheeks flushed hot and her chin dipped to her chest.
‘Aye, lass. I too shall remember. Always.’
Everything about the way he cupped his hand to her cheek and his gentle words and tone said he cared about her. Cared for her. And yet, it would be foolish to delude herself into believing intimacy ensured loyalty, connection, and a oneness with the laird of Clan MacLanoch.
She’d more than accomplished what she’d set out to do, and fool that she was, she’d developed more than a fleeting interest in Lachlan. Even more reason to fabricate a believable excuse to cut short her visit to Drumocher, call in Cuthbert’s debt, and return home to London. To Prudence.
‘Lachlan, I must lea—’ The sound of galloping hooves forced them apart. ‘Your sister approaches.’
Annoyance flashed in Lachlan’s eyes before he glanced over his shoulder.
‘Brother! Helene!’ Grizel reined in her horse and promptly dismounted.
‘The sentries along the castle’s battlements spied ye at a distance, and I was too excited not to ride out and greet ye.
I cannae wait to hear all about yer visit to the shielings.
’ She handed the reins to her brother. ‘Do ye mind leading the horse while I talk and walk alongside Helene?’
Lachlan obliged.
Grizel cast them an appraising eye. ‘I say, ye both look a little worse for wear. Are ye all right?’
Helene touched a hand to her untidy hair and spoke in unison with Lachlan. ‘We got caught in a storm,’ and, ‘We weathered a squall.’
‘Ah,’ said Grizel, wrinkling her nose. ‘That would explain the scent of wet plaid.’ She possessively linked arms with Helene. ‘How was it? Tell me in detail.’
Helene glanced nervously at Lachlan. ‘Being caught in the storm?’
Grizel’s shrill laughter rent the air. ‘Nae. I can see ye survived a wee squall. I’m talking about yer time away at the shielings.’
‘I can assure you, Grizel, to my way of thinking, there was nothing wee about that squall.’
Helene shot a glance at Lachlan and saw his lips twitch. It warmed her to see he appreciated and understood the hidden context in her words.
He made a clicking noise to the horse, and together they all walked on.
‘The shielings, Helene, do tell,’ said Grizel.
‘Not before I enquire after Agnes. Has her ankle healed?’
‘Aye. She’s much improved and hobbles with assistance.’
‘Promising news,’ said Helene.
‘Now, what of the shielings?’
‘Perhaps we should wait until we’re with Agnes and your family, so I need not repeat myself.’
Grizel would not be swayed and made as if swatting midges. ‘Nae! I cannae wait ’til then.’
‘All right.’
Helene began with the unfortunate details of the injured deer on the day she and Lachlan trekked up the mountain.
With mention of delivering the carcass to cottars Aila and Ross, Grizel came to a sudden standstill and her gaze shot to Lachlan.
He returned her stare like a silent warning. It was a most curious exchange.
‘Aila graciously gifted me this,’ said Helene, brushing her hair aside and pointing to the brooch pinned to the plaid wrap Grizel had loaned her.
Grizel’s eyes widened in surprise, and she shot another glance at Lachlan. The unusual interaction between brother and sister smacked of secrecy.
‘Gracious indeed,’ said Grizel. The light in her eyes reflected puzzling intrigue. She urged Helene onwards. ‘Tell me more while I have ye all to myself.’