Chapter Twenty-Five #2
‘’Tis ye who brings me here. I’ve been worried sick wondering how ye’ve been faring.’
Helene instinctively leaned into his touch. ‘I feel better now that you’re here with me.’ Tears pooled behind closed eyes.
In the next instant, Lachlan pulled her close and held her tight. ‘Christ, lass! I cannae imagine the heartache ye’ve endured.’
She clung to his hard warmth. ‘Made all the more unbearable in thinking you’d returned to Scotland without saying goodbye.
’ The confession slipped out before she had time to think.
One large hand cupped the base of her skull, and the heat of Lachlan’s lips pressed to her crown.
She revelled in the sensation of his caring gesture.
‘Goodbye? Nae, mo chridhe. Ye should ken me better than that by now. It killed me to stay away from ye, but I did so at yer father’s request. Understandably, ye and yer father and brother needed time and space to lay Prudence to rest, and to say whatever need be said between ye.’
Helene rushed to say, ‘I didn’t do it, Lachlan.’ She held back a sob. ‘I didn’t push Prudence down the stairs.’
‘I ken all about it, lass. Yer father enlightened me as to the truth of it all.’
‘I feel so broken. So damnably angry and sad about everything.’
He pulled back and thumbed the tears from her cheeks. ‘Aye, and ye’ve every right to feel that way. It will take some time before yer heart and mind heals. I ken what that feels like.’
Helene clung to him, the room silent save for the ormolu clock marking time on the mantel shelf.
She wished for this moment to last forever, never to remove herself from the security of Lachlan’s protection.
She gave a soft whimper when he set himself slightly apart from her and took her hands in his.
‘Helene. I’ve something to say.’ He swallowed. ‘Forgive me, but . . .’
His long pause and averted gaze put Helene’s expectations on high alert. He didn’t look at all like a man who was about to propose. Perhaps he’d changed his mind, or her father had it all wrong. A tight knot formed in her gut, and she braced herself for yet more despairing disappointment.
‘Considering the sobering circumstances, what I have to say is ill-timed.’ He swallowed again before meeting her gaze. ‘I want to take ye away from here, to Scotland. I want ye to be my wife.’
Breath escaped Helene on a gasp, and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Her jaw slackened as Lachlan went down on bended knee.
‘Lady Helene Beckett, would ye do me the great honour of becoming my wife?’
A tingling surge in Helene’s chest spread outwards.
Her heart raced beneath her breast, and a million butterflies danced a reel in her stomach.
She felt breathless and giddy with euphoric delight, and a flush heated her face and neck.
She tipped her head back, eyes closed. Her mind emptied of all concerns and worries.
Never had she dared to believe her wish would come true.
‘Well?’ he said in a congenial voice. ‘Are ye going to answer me, lass?’
A resounding yes was on the tip of her tongue, but in the second it took to drop her head forward and meet his golden-brown gaze, stark realisation clamped her mouth shut. Something Lachlan had said, together with things her father had said, tolled like bells warning of impending doom.
Considering the sobering circumstances. A man of honour. A man of his word. I’ve encountered many oath-breakers in my time, but not him.
Elation evaporated in the blink of an eye. There’d been no declaration of love for Helene, nor the slightest hint of affection in Lachlan’s proposal. She slid her hands from his and retreated a step.
Lachlan looked bewildered and surged to his feet. ‘What is it?’ When Helene gave no immediate reply, he said, ‘Helene, granted, my timing is poor, but—’
‘What was it you agreed to?’ Her voice was stoic. Flat.
‘Agreed to?’ Lachlan cocked his head to one side. ‘I dinnae understand.’
‘In your handwritten oath to my father. What penalty did you agree to in the event my virtue was compromised or ruined whilst under your protection and care?’
Mortified understanding dawned on his face. ‘It doesnae matter, lass.’
‘Answer the question.’
He shook his head and repeated, ‘It doesnae matter.’
Helene bit back, ‘It matters to me!’ She retreated at the same time as Lachlan took a step forward. ‘Answer the question.’
Lachlan looked away, his lips pressed together in a thin white line. ‘Dinnae do this, Helene.’
‘You committed your signature to a legally binding agreement with my father. Didn’t you?’
‘Aye.’
‘Why and what for?’
He looked at her again. ‘’Twas the only way yer father would agree to ye travelling to Scotland with Agnes, Cuthbert, and my auntie. I didnae want to disappoint Agnes. She had her heart set on ye staying with her at Drumocher for the summer.’
‘I see. You tout yourself to be an honourable man, and I know you to be just that. So tell me, Lachlan MacLanoch. What did you agree to do if my reputation was in any way tarnished or sullied whilst under your protection?’
His hands formed fists by his sides, and the muscles along his tight jaw twitched. ‘Marry ye!’
His admission hit Helene like a punch to the gut. So, his marriage proposal was as sincere as Lucifer preaching God’s word. In a tight voice, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Laird MacLanoch, but I cannot, and will not, marry you. You are free to go and do as you please.’
With head held high, Helene turned for the door. Lachlan’s hand clamped down on her wrist, staying her.
‘I dinnae accept yer answer.’
‘I have nothing more to say to you!’
‘I have plenty to say to ye!’
‘I don’t care to hear it! Now let go of me.’
‘I ken what ye’re thinking, and ye’d be wrong about it. No one kens what’s happened between us and—’
‘Then you’re off the hook on that account.
’ Her indignation flared and she narrowed her eyes on him.
‘It must be that the rumour mill is in full flow over me returning home dressed as a man, alone with you, and as we both know, rumours are enough to drive the nail in the coffin when it comes to a lady’s character and virtue.
But you needn’t feel it’s your honourable duty to marry me.
I herewith absolve you of any further responsibility over me. Consider your oath null and void.’
Lachlan snapped, ‘I dinnae ken about any gossip or rumours, and I dinnae care if they exist. Even if it were the case, that blasted oath is not the reason why I asked ye to marry me.’
‘No? Then why do you want to marry me?’ she pressed. ‘For my dowry? To establish connections here in London?’
He flinched as if Helene had struck him hard across the face.
She bore the brunt of his brutal stare and challenged him with an angry glower.
His mouth opened to speak, not once but twice, but still he said nothing.
Scoundrel! She broke free of his grasp, marched four steps towards the door, and came to a sudden stop.
Her gaze snapped to her left shoulder. She could have sworn a gentle hand had settled there.
Prudence? Helene shook her head. Grief played havoc with her thoughts. She took another step forward.
‘Love, Helene!’
His words at her back brought her to a standstill.
‘I asked ye to marry me . . . because I’m in love with ye.’
Helene’s breath caught in her throat.
‘I’ve loved ye from that first moment when ye fell from the carriage into my arms. When ye defied me in front of my clan and championed wee Donnie that day in the great hall. Every day since, I’ve fallen deeper in love with ye, and I cannae stand to be without ye.’
Though she still stood with her back to him, she heard him take one soft booted footfall towards her.
‘When ye went to see Prudence in her room the day we arrived here, I spoke with yer father and brother and offered for yer hand in marriage. Not because of any damaging gossip or rumour or an oath, but because I’m genuinely in love with ye.
I made that very clear to them. I also took the liberty of speaking on yer behalf, in saying I was certain ye had feelings for me.
Yer father informed me of another suitor who keeps pestering him for yer hand.
Ultimately, yer father chose me over the Duke of Wentworth. ’
Helene almost keeled over. Marriage to the duke—the ultimate advantageous alliance—would have opened all manner of doors for her father, and yet he’d slighted the duke and championed Lachlan.
A lump lodged in her throat. Though it was impossible to believe, her father had forgone his selfish ways in favour of accommodating her future happiness and well-being.
Despite all Lachlan had confessed, she had to ask, ‘And if my father had chosen the duke over you?’
‘I wouldnae have given up on ye! I’d have wanted to hear yer decision, and if it were me ye chose, then I’d do everything in my power to refute yer father’s wishes and make ye my wife. I’d have stopped at nothing short of kidnapping ye.’
Helene heard the determination in his voice and sensed him drawing nearer.
‘There’s something else ye need ken. When I offered for yer hand, I suggested taking Prudence with us back to Scotland, but yer father wouldnae hear of it. He explained why, saying she didnae have long to live.’
Helene’s head dropped to her chest before glancing at Lachlan over her shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you declare your love for me before I refused your offer of marriage?’
Lachlan paused for long moments. ‘Five years ago, I weathered the betrayal of an unfaithful fiancée, who subsequently took her own life to be with her paramour in death. He was a Jacobite, and she . . . Ross and Aila’s granddaughter.’
Helene gasped and spun around to face Lachlan. He’d never spoken to her of any past relationships, but then, neither had she taken the time to ask.