Chapter Seventeen #2
He strode to the loch’s edge, swiped up a stone, and flung it into the water. Ripples formed from its point of entry and caused widening circular shapes on the surface.
‘Wrong again,’ said Cuthbert, following in Lachlan’s wake. ‘You are very much in her present, and if you play your cards right, she’ll be in your future too.’
‘She told ye she was already spoken for.’
‘A lie to deflect from whatever it is she hides. A secret she withholds from her father. I of all people understand such a burden.’
‘An elopement, then, with a suitor of lesser means. A man whom her father would ne’er give his consent to her marrying.’
Cuthbert shook his head. ‘No. She told you she refuses to marry and that she has no need of a husband. Perhaps she finds herself in a predicament for which she needs the money.’
Lachlan felt the blood drain from his face. ‘What if she suffers the shame of having been forced upon and now carries that man’s child? It would explain why she doesnae want bairns. What if she intends using the money to—’
Cuthbert raised a hand to silence him. ‘My, but you’ve a wild imagination!
I don’t know the full extent of what has transpired between you and Helene, intimacy or otherwise, but think, Lachlan.
Think over your conversations with her. She must have said something that might lend itself to interpretation. ’
Lachlan inhaled a deep, calming breath and tilted his head up to see the osprey, still perched on a limb overhead, staring down at them.
In the next instant, it cocked its head to the high-pitched call of its mate and spread wide its wings to take to the sky.
In flight, the large brown-and-white raptors held their wings with a noticeable crook at the wrist. Wild and free, they soared and dipped and glided on the breeze.
Lachlan lowered his gaze, his attention suddenly captured by a large trout breaching the loch’s surface.
Seconds after falling back into the water, one of the ospreys swooped down, legs and talons readied in a forward position.
It hit the water with an almighty splash and grabbed its quarry.
Wings flapped with the need to get airborne once again, lest the large trout match the bird weight for weight and drag it down to its death at the bottom of the loch.
The osprey’s powerful wings lifted it from the water, overcoming the struggle. Curved claws grasped the thrashing trout in an unbreakable hold, carrying it off.
‘Astonishing!’ said Cuthbert. ‘Now, there’s a substantial meal to feed a few hungry chicks.’
Those words, and the scene he’d just witnessed, triggered in Lachlan a memory.
‘You’re doing it again,’ said Cuthbert.
‘Doing what?’ said Lachlan distractedly.
‘Slowly running your hand over your chin in such a way as I know you’re deep in thought. What is it? What are you thinking?’
Lachlan paused before answering. ‘When I rescued Helene from her near-drowning in the river, I wrongfully blamed and chastised her for having no regard for her safety and that she could have died. At the time, I was so fraught with anger and fear over the unimaginable possibility of losing her that I paid nae heed to what she said in retaliation.’
‘Until now,’ affirmed Cuthbert.
‘Aye.’
‘Well?’
‘Helene said her death would mean her father had one less female in the family to worry about. As far as I ken, she has one sibling. An older brother, aye?’
‘Correct, and her mother passed on years ago.’
‘Odd that her father ne’er remarried.’
‘Perhaps his heart remains true to his wife, with no other ever to replace her.’
Lachlan turned to his cousin in dismay. ‘Ye sound like an idyllic sentimentalist.’
Cuthbert winked at him. ‘It’s all part of my charm.’ On a more serious note, he said, ‘As for Helene’s comment? Well, truths are often spoken in the heat of an argument. She might have been talking about a cousin or some other relative for whom her father is responsible.
‘Come to think of it,’ continued Cuthbert, scratching his neck, ‘Helene said she was spoken for, not promised or engaged to another. In fact, her exact words were, “My life is devoted to another.” That could mean anything.’
‘Aye. ’Tis a thread I need to unravel.’
After a pause, Cuthbert said, ‘Fight for her, Lachlan. We’re here for the summer, so you’ve plenty of time to elicit and cement her trust in you. Gain her favour. Leave no room for regrets.’
Lachlan nodded his agreement. ‘I’ll not tell her I’m privy to the transaction between ye two. I should like to think she learns to trust me enough to take me into her confidence, without having to force the truth from her.’
‘Good move.’ Cuthbert cocked his head to the side and pointed to his cheek. ‘How do you propose I explain this to the family?’
Lachlan eyed the swelling and the emerging bruise where his fist had connected with Cuthbert’s jaw. ‘I’m sure ye’ll think of something, given all that charm ye possess.’
‘Or I could just tell it like it is, saying we came to blows over a disagreement and I came off second best.’
‘Ye might raise Helene’s suspicions with that explanation, but our mothers and sisters will doubtless accept it and roll their eyes at the manner in which we men often settle our personal disputes.’
Cuthbert laughed. ‘There’s nothing like a vigorous tussle in the settling of scores. Let’s be on our way. I need to clean up and change my clothes.’
As they made their way back to the keep, and considering all Cuthbert had disclosed about his dealings with Helene, Lachlan ruminated over something niggling away at him.
What had Helene done as a child that still haunted her to this very day?
She’d implied she’d done something to someone, describing the act as unforgivable, and carrying with it, so it would seem, everlasting consequences.
Rationale suggested this someone and the person to whom she claimed to be devoted were one and the same.
Each stride lengthened in his haste to return to Drumocher, to seek out Helene, pry open her secrets, and win her over to the point where he was the only person in whom she placed her complete trust.
*
After breaking their fast, Helene, Grizel, and Lady Sutton settled down to a game of whist in the drawing room. Lady Caitrin opted for a book and sank into the comforts of an armchair close to the women.
Agnes reclined on a chaise positioned beside the games table, with both feet elevated to take the weight off her sprained ankle. ‘How odd that we’ve seen nothing of Lachlan or my brother this morning. Did they take to the moors for an early ride?’
The same thought had crossed Helene’s mind. Their early-morning disappearance, with no word of their whereabouts, gave her cause for concern. Especially so because of the palpable tension between the two men since she and Lachlan had returned from the shielings.
As dealer, Helene gave her attention to the cards and shuffled the deck.
Caitrin glanced up from her book in reply to Agnes’s question. ‘I’ve nae idea, although ’twould not surprise me if they had. ’Tis perfect weather for a ride. Perhaps ye young ones might take some fresh air once ye’ve digested yer morning meal.’
‘How am I to do that in my condition?’ said Agnes, gesturing to her injured ankle.
Caitrin winked at her niece. ‘We’ve plenty of strong clansmen who’d be more than willing to be yer personal conveyance and carry ye to a comfortable patch of grass in the sunshine.’
Agnes giggled. ‘You make it all sound so romantic, Auntie.’
Elspeth sent her sister a speculative glance. ‘Is it yer intention to matchmake my daughter to one of yer MacLanoch clansmen?’
Caitrin raised a brow. ‘Nae, but now that ye mention it . . .’
Helene and Grizel exchanged amused looks while listening to the sisters bicker about suitors for Agnes—Scotsmen and Englishmen alike—as if Agnes wasn’t there.
‘Mother! Auntie! Do stop,’ protested Agnes. ‘The order of the day, or at least for this morning, is cards. Being betrothed, and to whom, is the least of my interests.’
Helene dealt thirteen cards to each player and then turned the last card face up. ‘Trump suit for this first round is spades,’ she declared.
In the prevailing silence, each player sorted their cards into suits.
Helene worried herself over how to break the news of her intention to leave Drumocher and return home to London.
Stating she was homesick would be a weak excuse, but she could think of no better or believable alternative.
What would they all think of her after having travelled so far into the Highlands to get here?
An early departure would make her look nothing less than flippant and just plain rude.
Now that she was in possession of the promissory note, she had nothing holding her here.
Therein was another lie. Lachlan was here.
If she were free to do so, she’d remain and relish every moment of his company.
Even now she longed to steal away into his warm embrace, to savour his lips and to once again feel his hard body pressed against hers.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach with the memory of their time together when taking shelter from the squall.
She could not conceive of the magic he’d wielded over her, making her senses sing and soar to heights she’d never known or dreamed possible.
She became so lost in the memory of how and where he’d touched her that the cards in her hand blurred before her eyes.
‘Are ye quite all right, Helene? Yer cheeks are flushed.’
Caitrin’s observation startled Helene into placing the back of her hand to her cheek, mortified to think her body betrayed her thoughts. ‘Flushed? Am I? But I feel fine. Perhaps some water.’
A maid came instantly to her side, delivering a glass of water. Helene nodded her thanks and took a sip before pressing the cool glass to her heated cheeks.
‘Better now?’ asked Caitrin.