Page 23 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
“Enough, Socrates,” Damien said as the Viper flashed behind his eyes, ragged against the sea. “Again, I beg ye, dinnae make me regret this.”
CHAPTER 9
Again,Damien had said the wrong thing, even as his temper seemed to frost over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helena flinch, and he sighed.
I dinnae want her to continue this line of questionin’, and Lord kens she’d never stop. Still…
As she fell silent, hugging herself, Damien felt a small pang underneath the icy storm of his heart and mind.
As though to match his mood, a torrent of rain and snow snarled through the boughs overhead, while more thunder rumbled against the mountains. The horses swayed and kicked nervously at the earth, and even Helena peered out from beneath her hood, her eyes seeking the sky.
The shiver that ran through her decided for him.
Damien moved forward, acting more on instinct than anything else. In one movement, he pulled his heavy cloak off his shoulders and draped it around hers. She started, and their gazes met for a moment. He ran his eye over her high cheekbones, the faint fogginess of her glasses, the pink of her cheeks, and the red hue on the tip of her dainty nose.
“We’ll need to get ye a proper cloak, nae these ridiculous, flimsy furs that the English prance around in for five minutes on a winter stroll,” he said with a snort.
“No, I cannot take your cloak, please?—”
“I dinnae run as cold as ye do, believe me,” he said in a grim tone. “Once the Irish sea has bitten ye—even in the goddamn depths of midsummer—ye have a different idea of what the cold means.”
Damien’s heart throbbed, and he stepped back.
Christ, why on earth had he said such a thing? This weather was making him daft.
“Honestly, I was fine,” she protested again even as her gloved fingers pulled his cloak tighter.
Her sharp eyes ran over him. They narrowed when another roar of thunder came, closer this time, and Damien tensed up all over. Her eyes flicked down, and too late, he realized that his fists were clenched.
“You truly cannot stand a storm,” she murmured.
Damien felt heat crack through his icy temper. Now, he did not give a damn and leveled her with a glare that would have made his enemies go down on their knees, one eye notwithstanding.
Helena did not flinch, however. She merely gave him a searching look, and he could almost see the quickness of her thoughts as she tried to think of something to say or do. He gave her another pointed look and moved over to the horses, checking on them.
When he looked up again, she was gone, and an ugly curse escaped him. “Where the bloody hell?—?”
A trill of laughter answered him, and he looked over to see that Helena had wandered to the edge of the clearing. She gave him a wave, thenvanishedaround the tree.
Cursing again, Damien took a moment to ensure that the horses were tied and then bolted toward his errant fiancée.
“Helena, ye are a batterin’ ram on what little patience I have left—” He nearly plowed into her and frowned at the humidity that touched his face. “What deviltry is this?”
“Come on, would you?” Helena shot him a triumphant look over her shoulder that had him stepping forward to join her.
Ahead of them, coming in and out of view through the mist and rain, was a narrow body of water, with dark rocks rising on oneside and spongy moss on the other, dotted with stones that made him think of fairy rings.
For, as in the tales of old, it was a place of strange, beguiling beauty—and its surface was thick with giant water lilies.
Though Damien intuitively knew that the vapor rising from the water meant there was a hot vent of some kind in the earth, feeding and keeping the flower alive, it was still a strange thing to see a fresh lily in the depths of winter.
Truly, it was like they’d stumbled upon the threshold of the Seelie court, and Damien couldn’t help but reach out, grasping Helena’s arm.
Helena, though, was too enraptured with the sight to take notice. “The mist was the first clue. It was so dense this way, and quite white—yet I thought I felt a bit of warmth. This must be a hot spring.” She let out a happy sigh. “And to think, water lilies. Have you ever seen them so big?”
Damien gazed out at the bubbling water, vapor rising from it, and lilies floating on the surface. “Nay, I havenae. I’ve heard of these springs, but nae the lilies. What an odd thing.”
“Not so odd,” Helena said and began to explain the heat and the flower, and how such a thing could come to pass—then broke off when she noticed his gaze. “Anyhow, when I first came here, I felt a bit like Odysseus, gazing upon white flowers out of myth, in a myth.”
