Page 18 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
Again, he moved closer, until his body was nearly brushing hers.
“Fine, I agree,” he murmured. “I willnae touch ye—unless, of course, ye ask me to, love.” He smirked as she sucked in an outraged breath. “Again.”
Helena seemed ready to slap him, but instead, she gave him a cold look that he admired and tossed her head. “I will not. Do you see any brigands about?”
“Nay, more’s the pity,” Damien said. “And we’ll see, Milady. We’ll see.”
He leaned in, waiting for her to slap him or step back, but she simply stared him down. Her lips were parted now, her pupils dilated, and the color on her face had deepened. Ah, but he loved undoing this pretty, cleverSassenach. And he enjoyed the effect she had on him—which was a first in more ways than one.
“We’re agreed then,” he said and stepped back.
Was that disappointment in her eyes that he had not leaned in for a kiss?
He hid his laughter as he solemnly stuck out a hand. “Our accord, Milady.”
Helena’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and she gave his hand a hearty shake.
It took everything in Damien not to take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but he’d let her off easy.
At least for tonight.
Only, Helena didn’t pull away. Their hands were still clasped, and he glanced down, remembering how it felt to twine his rough, scarred hands in that elegant grip. How right it felt.
And the restlessness that had dogged him for months, the weight on his chest—that anger toward the world, the English Queen, all his responsibilities, his need to kill every last one of the remaining Vipers… it was gone.
For the first time in ages, Damien felt light. His heart unburdened—though still scarred—since losing his father, suffering aboard his uncle’s ship, and then returning to take up the Lairdship of MacCabe.
Only, in that same moment, as he held Helena’s hand, he felt unmoored. As though there was a shift in the current that he had not planned and now they were tacking in a direction he had not expected—one he could not control.
Pulling free, he flexed his hand again and stared out into the dark woods. Perhaps this was a mistake. After all, what laird would agree to such a foolish deal? Waiting a year for bairns when he needed one to secure his legacy, especially in his quest for revenge? And more or less starting on a path where he’d need to seduce his bride?
Have I lost me mind?
Nothing had made sense since their kiss, and he wasn’t sure it did now. Yet, he also had the strangest sense that was why he’d agreed to go along with all of this.
The confusion roiling in his brain dredged up other worries, and he drew away from Helena when he heard her light step toward him.
“My Laird?”
Damien turned to her with a sharp motion that made her fall back, her eyes wide and wary. “We’ll start for Morighe Castle tomorrow. Once we arrive and put plans in place for our wedding—which should take place as soon as possible—we’ll send for yer faither and sister.” He bowed. “Milady. Sleep well, it’s a long trip.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his heart roiling as much as it had when he’d walked away from her that morning.
Only this time, he could feel her eyes following him.
So many thoughts and emotions whirled through Helena that she barely noticed the walk back. Not until she was inside the stone walls of Banrose, the firelight dancing merrily and cozily across the walls, and the sense that she was not the same woman who’d left this place.
Much like that dratted kiss.
Inside the Great Hall, folk milled about—some of her father’s servants, her sister Sophia, who bounced up when she saw her, along with Emma, Laird Ronson, and several other residents of Banrose Castle.
Her father looked like he wanted to speak, but Laird Ronson came forward first and smiled at her.
“Did ye accept his suit, then?”
Helena gave the Laird a questioning look, and he gave her one in return that plainly said,I ken me friend—mayhap better than himself.
“I-I accepted,” Helena said in a voice that she hoped no one noticed shaking.
