Chapter Fifteen #2
Helene sat forward in her chair and locked eyes with the laird, willing him to say no, or to at least defer the journey for when Agnes and her family revisited Drumocher. It took a grand amount of self-control to keep her rising panic in check.
‘Please,’ begged Agnes. ‘I wish to turn over a new leaf.’
Lachlan seemed to give the idea due consideration. ‘I’ll not decide right now. Best wait until yer ankle is completely healed. Aye, lass?’
Relief had Helene reassure her friend. ‘He’s right. For your own safety. You don’t want to do more damage to your ankle before it is completely healed.’
Cuthbert gestured towards the other end of the hall, to a plush padded sofa and a cluster of armchairs with a wooden games table at its centre. ‘Well, now that we’ve eaten our fill, who’s for a game of whist or cribbage?’
‘I shall decline, for I’m a wee bit weary,’ said Caitrin. ‘Lachlan, if ye dinnae mind, I’d like a private word with ye. I willnae keep ye long. Walk me to my bedchamber, and there we’ll sit for a while and share a wee dram. It will help me sleep.’
Aila’s brooch was, without a doubt, the catalyst for Caitrin’s need to corner her son in a private discussion.
Helene could not help but suffer the intrigue of the matter.
Best set it aside. She had other matters to address.
As she stood along with the others to bid Caitrin goodnight, there came a whispered voice at her back.
‘Am I right in thinking you’re avoiding me?’
Helene bristled at the touch of warm breath on the back of her neck.
Cuthbert.
No one else would have heard him above the general chatter and commotion of chairs scraping on the wooden floorboards. Helene turned her head to the side and whispered back, ‘What reason would I have to avoid you?’
His hand went to the crook of her elbow, and to avoid causing a scene, she did not protest when he led her away from the table.
Behind them, his mother and Grizel made slow progress assisting Agnes, who hobbled one slow, painful step at a time in the direction of the armchairs and the card table.
‘Shouldn’t you lend your sister a helping hand?’ said Helene.
‘My mother and Grizel are managing well enough.’ He spoke over his shoulder to them. ‘Helene and I shall take the opportunity to stretch our legs and take a turn about the hall.’ To Helene, he spoke quietly and quickly. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. Did Lachlan kiss you?’
The tip of Helene’s shoe caught the edge of a woven floor rug. Cuthbert’s steadying hand on her arm righted her.
‘I’ll take that faltering misstep as a yes,’ he chuckled. ‘And did he touch you?’
Heat ravaged Helene’s face. The audacity of the man!
‘I’ve never seen colour rise so fast in a woman’s cheeks. Either you’re embarrassed to have been asked the question, or Lachlan’s kiss led to something more scintillating. Which is it?’
Helene stared wide-eyed ahead at the tapestry-covered wall.
‘Speechless, I see. Well, never mind, my dear Lady Helene. Lachlan did indeed sample those luscious lips. That much I know.’
Helene’s jaw dropped. ‘He told you?’
Cuthbert’s eyes lit up and he wore a triumphant grin. ‘No, but your reaction just did.’
Helene tried without success to jerk her arm free of his hold. How she detested his gloating banter.
‘Lachlan neither confirmed nor denied the same questions I asked of you. If he were innocent of any immoral or inappropriate behaviour towards you, then he would have flat-out denied it. The fact that he said nothing confirms he kissed you. My cousin is not one to lie. It’s his weakness.
His Achilles’ heel. He simply doesn’t have it in him. ’
Cuthbert patted her hand as one would pet an obedient pup. ‘You’ve accomplished what I asked of you. The rest will simply fall into place.’
‘The rest? Whatever do you mean?’
Cuthbert winked. ‘He protects you as fiercely as a king protects his queen, and in the process of doing so, he’s compromised your virtue. He must do the honourable thing now, and it’s my hope he will soon make you his queen.’
‘Your hope? What of his hopes?’
‘I understand my cousin better than he understands himself. He thinks he knows what he wants from life, but I know what he needs. It’s you, my dear. He needs you.’
Helene ground out hushed words through clenched teeth. ‘Preposterous! He can’t have me!’
‘I’m willing to bet he already has.’ He stifled a ribald snicker.
Bets! Wagers! So this was Cuthbert’s twisted motive. Using subterfuge to trap Lachlan into tying the knot with a woman of Cuthbert’s choosing.
‘And what do you stand to gain?’ she hissed.
‘The satisfaction of being right and seeing my cousin happily married and settled.’
Such arrogance. ‘And what am I in this game of yours? The lamb to lure the lion?’
‘Precisely!’
Helene’s cheeks burned hot with outrage. If not for being in the company of others, she’d have slapped Cuthbert hard across the face. Her next words delivered the impact her palm could not. ‘I’m already spoken for.’
He brought them both to a shuddering halt and looked at her with mouth wide open, a picture of stupefaction.
Then he cracked a smile and swatted the air as if batting back her words.
‘I invested considerable time making thorough enquiries about you, and my sources inform me you are not yet spoken for.’
‘Then you’ve been misinformed. My life is devoted to another.’
‘You jest.’
‘I assure you, I do not.’
‘What’s his name, his rank, his title?’
‘My personal life is not up for discussion, and how dare you even think my future is yours to manipulate and command. Now, you listen to me! I upheld my end of the bargain and kissed your cousin. Tonight, I wish to collect what you owe me. At midnight, when all are sure to be asleep, you will deliver your promissory note to my bedchamber door. You’d best stick to your end of the bargain, for if you do not, I’ll . . .’
Helene let the unspoken threat linger in the air long enough for Cuthbert to take the bait.
‘You’ll do what?’ he mocked.
‘Let’s just say, I’ve done my due diligence on you, my lord.’
His chin rose a notch, eyes narrowing. ‘You have nothing on me.’
Helene arched an eyebrow.
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Am I? Do you not think it incumbent upon me to have investigated the clandestine affairs of the man with whom I’m to do business?’
Cuthbert released her lightning-fast and took a step back, his face turning paler than the purest alabaster.
She had indeed called his bluff, a bluff based on what she’d perceived to have witnessed in a quiet and dimly lit corridor of the most recent ball she’d attended in London.
Judging by Cuthbert’s mortified reaction, her eyesight had not failed her.
Helene used her bluff to advantage. ‘I doubt your father would approve of such a, shall we say, controversial match.’
‘What are ye two whispering about?’ called Lady Sutton, having finally settled Agnes into an armchair and now shuffling a deck of cards. ‘Are ye going to join us in a game of whist or continue to stand there engaged in subdued conversation?’
Helene forced a cheery tone. ‘We’ll be there directly, Lady Sutton. Your son was telling me what a master of the game he is, but I’ve just warned him that I’ve a knack of declaring the winning hand.’
Before gathering up her skirts to join the others, Helene inclined her head at Cuthbert and curtly whispered, ‘Tonight. Midnight.’
*
Lachlan sat in an armchair beside his mother in her private quarters.
A blanket covered her knees, and a low fire burned in the hearth, chasing away the night-time chill.
They chatted and reminisced on all manner of things while savouring Drumocher’s finest whisky, but idle chit-chat was not the reason his mother wished to speak privately with him.
He waited patiently until which time she was ready to make her point.
‘The Sassenach lass,’ she began, and set about extolling the virtues of their English guest, recapping the day she’d arrived and moments henceforth. She declared her admiration of Helene’s opinionated and bold behaviour and her curious nature to explore the Highlands and understand its people.
Then came the crux of her discussion. ‘Ye’re more than enamoured with her, aren’t ye, son?’
Lachlan couldn’t deny it. Not to his mother, a woman who possessed keen powers of observation and foresight, seeing through others as if looking through glass.
‘Aye,’ he confessed.
‘I ken Aila honoured Helene’s bravery on wee Donnie’s behalf, but she wouldnae parted with and pinned her brooch on Helene if not for one qualifying truth.’
Lachlan took a slow sip of whisky. ‘Aye, there be that too.’
His mother’s face brightened, and her hand went immediately to the triquetra pendant hanging around her neck, a symbol of hope.
‘Tibbie,’ said Lachlan, remembering Ross and Aila’s granddaughter. Her name he hadn’t spoken since her death five long years ago.
His mother drew in a sharp breath. ‘If ye can say her name out loud, then ye must be finally free of her.’
‘Aye. Wholly and solely free of her.’
‘Because of . . . ?’ She paused.
‘Aye.’ He smiled and nodded. ‘Helene.’ It seemed incredible to Lachlan the speed at which he’d developed feelings for Helene, given their short acquaintance.
‘Och, son.’ Caitrin reached for Lachlan’s hand and held it tight.
‘I had to tell Aila that—’
A wave of Caitrin’s hand cut him off. ‘Save it for the Sassenach. My ears dinnae need hear it, for I ken ye verra well. Speak yer truth to Helene. Though it be early days, ye’ve met yer match in her and she deserves yer honesty. Dinnae waste time. Dinnae let her look to another.’
Lachlan refrained from saying Helene had sworn off marriage and would bend to no man’s will. ‘Do ye approve of her?’