Page 11 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
Emma was far more adaptable and braver than she gave herself credit for, which Helena knew.
She’d wondered if Emma had given herself a chance to see and live in Scotland, if she might thrive here. There was always that longing for more than Emma had—which Emma had told Helena she’d find in London. But now Helena knew she’d been mistaken—Emma had looked to the south when she should’ve looked to the north.
As for herself… Helena let out a rueful sigh. Perhaps she should not have come, but instead fled to Greece. Yet, she’d wanted to see Emma, explain her plans, and bid her a final farewell.
So, why did this melancholy weigh on her heart?
Perhaps I am already regretting the fact that I will never see Emma again or see her family grow. Perhaps, too, it is never enjoyable to see how badly one would fail at something.
Helena had never been one to flinch from the truth, not with a father who did not stop himself from saying exactly what came to his mind more than he could breathe.
Perhaps I had some foolish hope that I might prove him wrong—that I could be both a scholar and a lady.
Instead, the entire affair seemed to make Helena realize how truly foolish she’d been. It had also been a silly risk to comehere—and she decided she’d leave now, during the peak of the celebration. She’d write Emma a note and slip out.
She began to make her way toward the path back to the castle when Laird MacCabe stepped in front of her, inclining his head in a sardonic nod and offering her a drink.
Swallowing her protest, she thanked him and took the cup, barely able to get a mouthful down. All the while, he stood there, silent and brooding.
Finally, Helena gave up the drink as a bad job, set it aside on the table, and then glanced at the Laird. He seemed focused on the dancing, and yet her stomach swooped with foreboding.
She needed to get out of here.
About to make her excuses, Laird MacCabe said, out of nowhere, “Ye havenae danced yet, Lady Helena.” Her breath hitched. Though he used her title, he spoke with too much familiarity, and he’d been watching her. The sidelong glance told her as much. “Why?”
“I-I don’t care to,” she got out, hating how easily he wrongfooted her.
Most men, she easily outmaneuvered, which they hated. She bit her cheek, now realizing she was taking her own medicine.
“And no one has asked.”
Her eyes closed briefly. Why on earth had she revealed that to him, of all people?
“Perhaps if ye stayed still, rather than pacin’ like a caged lion waitin’ for the right moment to slip through the bars.” Her eyes flew open as Laird MacCabe loomed over her. “Ye cannae leave in the middle of a wedding, sweetheart. Terrible form. Dinnae the English ken a bloody thing?”
Her lips parted. “I was not leavin’. I merely wanted a bit of quiet.”
Laird MacCabe furrowed his brow, and he seemed almost disappointed as he glanced at her. “And now ye’re lyin’? Why?”
“Why are you watching me?”
The infuriating man had the audacity to smirk and tilt his head to the side, taking his time to finish his drink, his powerful throat moving as he swallowed. Then, he set aside his cup and turned to face her, folding his arms. “Guess.”
Helena’s hands clenched as she faced him, too. “All that to simply mock me?”
“Mock ye?” he asked. “Come now, lass, ye ken me better than that.”
“I don’t know you at all,” Helena hissed. “Not your bloody name, not that you were a laird?—”
His smile could have cut glass as he leaned in. “Is that why ye’re so angry with me? Mayhap ye should’ve asked before we—” He shrugged, a gasped. “Well, hm, ye were there.”
Helena knew that she should walk away, make her excuses, and not get dragged further into this game. Yet, she could not stop herself, because she knew, sheknewdown to her marrow what would rile up this Laird and she could not resist.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said in her most even tone and then let out a small trill, the fake laugh she’d learned to wield at Court. “After all, I think we both forgot that we only met this morning, Sir.”
A muscle jumped in Laird MacCabe’s cheek, and his eye went colder than the depths of a winter sky. “Aye, how could I forget,Lady? Only this morning.”
“Exactly,” Helena said. “When I did not realize you were a laird.” She curtseyed deeply. “My apologies. Is that better?”
