Page 60 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
They flew down the sand, and Helena thought that she and Gorgon might both grow wings.
This is freedom.
The thought shook her even as her entire world seemed to open up. She’d never realized how constricted, how tightly she’d held herself—how carefully she moved through the world—despitefeeling defiant and independent. But that had been a dance where she had to watch her every step to protect what freedom she could claw for herself.
Here, she did not have to do that.
And so it was no wonder that she threw her head back and screamed out in pure, triumphant joy.
Damien roared out a laugh and then let out a howl that Helena was sure he usually saved for the battlefield.
The two of them raced down the beach until they rounded a corner, and Helena’s breath caught. The land next to them had been steadily rising, hills growing and growing, but now the land reared up. Cliffs of dark stone, with bright green peeking from the snow, stretched down the coast.
Now, they slowed, as though Damien sensed that she wanted to take it all in.
Staring up at the sharp cliffs, the way shafts of sunlight cut through the morning, and unfamiliar, distant birdcalls… it all felt dreamlike. As though she’d stumbled into one of the paintings she used to stare at, wondering at the painter’s fancy, for surely places so beautiful, so austere, so wild could not exist.
If only the ton could see Lady Highbrow now.
For Helena had never felt so far away from her old life, from that old nickname, and so greedy for the next moment. She could not stop looking, and she thrilled as they came to a narrow corner of the shore, for it gave the sense of sneaking into a place that mortals should not go to.
As they came around, Helena gaped at the formations of rock rising out of the ocean, like strange pillars or old monuments, only no human could create such shapes.
Then, she could hardly breathe as she turned to see the coast sprawl out in front of them, a wide half-moon of rocky shore, melting snow, and dozens of little rivers. They poured into the ocean, causing the mist to rise and catch the sunlight in small rainbows.
All of that was lovely, and Helena stared at it until Damien called to her. She glanced at him, then rode to join him, and felt her lips part.
She’d wondered at the sound of rushing water, thinking it was echoing off the cliffs, but now she realized that she’d been mistaken. Ahead of them, the rocky shore joined a green, snowy field, where the rivers cascaded, and it stretched back until the earth abruptly rose again. Only, here, it had formed into a wide, curved shelf over dozens and dozens of waterfalls. Mist rose, catching the light in ways that made it look like there were mischievous Fae dancing through it.
No wonder why Scotland has so many myths and faerie tales.
Helena was very glad for Gorgon then, as she did not think herself capable of doing anything but looking around. Her horse followed Damien into a soft curve of stone, just beyond the sand, where the air felt a bit warmer and fresh earth was underfoot. Here, he helped her down and set about securing the horses.
All the while, Helena tried not to wander too far, but it was impossible. She stepped through the grass until she came upon a babbling river. She saw the reflection of her glasses, her wavering face, and then saw a large shadow as Damien stepped up next to her.
Helena turned to him, smiling, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He dipped his head in a solemn nod, but his smile was bright, and his eye danced.
Catching her hand, he said nothing, and instead pulled her along with him. Helena followed him, her heart hammering, and they climbed a small rise. Here, she could see the large body of water into which the waterfalls poured, the start of the rivers, and the other walls of rock curving back out to the beach.
Damien nudged her and gestured to the other side, closer to them, and said, “Just there, there is a cave hollowed out by the constant crashing of the great waves.”
She saw it then, a large opening in the cliff, receding into darkness, and alluring in its sharp, inky shadows. A cave.
A cave by the sea, exactly like the ones that the characters in her translated book attempted to hide in. But wait, did that mean?—?
As though hearing her question, Damien spoke, “Not exactly the land of Tauris on the Coast of the Black Sea, but I thought it might inspire ye all the same.”
“Inspire?” Helena echoed softly, gazing at him.
He was facing away from her, looking at the cave and the cliffs, and the wind tugged at his dark hair. Her breath caught at his rugged beauty, at how he seemed a part of the landscape.Ofcoursehe’d been born to be Laird, here.
“Aye, Hel. Ye were right, I wasnae thinkin’ of ye and yer dreams as I should’ve been. Nae as ye asked me to, I mean.” A rueful smile tugged up his cheek. “So, I brought ye here to make amends, to try and give ye a piece of our home that might verra well be the coast where the old gods hid.”
“Look there,” Helena quoted softly.“See those two sitting over there? They are gods!’”
He turned and nodded, his smile brighter than the sun breaking through the clouds, and her entire body throbbed in response. She wondered if Damien knew what he was doing to her heart.
This seems a far cry from proper courtship—more like a rout.
