Page 63 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
Damien tried to smile, but his curiosity was piqued. “Lass, I dinnae mean to provoke ye, but…”
“No?” Helena teased.
“Well, I find it strange that ye use that nickname, when it’s clear to me that ye dinnae care for it.”
At that, a cool look passed over Helena’s face, one that Damien had seen before. When she retreated into herself, pulling on haughty airs like armor, and her eyes grew distant. He almost reached for her, but like a cloud over the sun, it was there and gone. She shrugged her shoulder and gave him an impish look.
“I found it better to claim it than to fight it.” Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “I’m sure that is an affront to your warrior spirit, My Laird.”
“Only a bit,” Damien grumbled.
“Hmm, these are more the tactics of the ton. How one stays afloat—alive, really, among all the intrigue.” Her pretty mouth twisted. “I will say this—my father was always excellent at it. It’s why he remarried my stepmother, another widower. She was useful, from a powerful family, and she could make use of the Lady Highbrow sneers.”
Damien frowned. “How do ye mean?”
“Her son, my stepbrother, was one of those who used them most.”
His hand on the pommel of his blade, Damien drew even breaths as disgust and rage roiled in his stomach. “Is he comin’ to our weddin’?”
“Oh, never,” Helena said with a laugh. “And you misunderstand. I never cared a fig what Bartholomew thought or said. It gave me more power for him to be my brother, for it made him look more foolish when he mocked me.” She shook her dark head. “No, I’m sure my father has already mentioned this—he married my stepmother for her ties to the Navy.”
Of all things for Helena to bring up.
Damien turned and glared at the sea, sure that her father must have been discussing it. Or said something that made hermention it now. He felt her gaze on the side of his face as he tried to swallow his rage.
“Damien?” Helena moved closer and touched his arm. “Is something amiss?”
“Yer faither had a mad plan to turn our marriage into a mercenary alliance, for both trade and connectin’ our clan to the Royal Navy.” A shudder of rage ran through Damien, and he looked at her. “I told him that he could tell his friends whatever he wanted about the money, but toneversuggest that ye are a pawn—somethin’ I wanted only to have protection from pirates with his foolish warships.”
Helena settled next to him, wide-eyed but not alarmed. The latter caused him to sit up straight and curse his unruly tongue. He should not have told her about this. She’d endured enough of her father’s cruelty.
“He is very proud of his warships,” she said in a faint, ironic tone, and her gaze flickered to the sea. “You cannot imagine how they love being close to valor without having to lift a finger.” She paused. “I’m sure my father will tell all his friends of your exploits and castle.”
“I shouldnae have told ye.”
“No, I’m glad you did. Thank you.” Helena rested her soft cheek on her knee to gaze at him. “In a strange way, I am flattered.”
A growl tore from Damien’s throat, and he glared at her. “Flattered that he suggested to use ye as a bloody pawn, Hel? He’s a right bastard. I should’ve thrown him out of Morighe for even suggestin’ such a thing.”
“I would have enjoyed seeing that,” Helena murmured. “And yes, I know that he’s using me as a pawn, but I think it’s the first time he’s ever found me useful.” She sat up in a fluid movement, her back straight, and she tilted her head as she studied Damien.
More alarm flared inside him, and he gave her a warning look, wanting to put off whatever idea brewed behind those clever hazel eyes.
“You should let him. It’s a good idea.”
“Never.”
Helena shook her head as though indulging a child. “At least consider it. I do not know the whole story of these pirates who plague you, but I do know that people want you and your men home. Orrick’s wife longs to start a family but does not say anything because she knows that Orrick must help you.” She leaned forward. “If I am to be your wife, let me help you and our people.”
Damien felt dismayed upon hearing about Orrick’s wife, but outright panic hit him as Helena calmly offered herself up.
“Nay.”
“Damien—”
“We arenae speakin’ more about this,” he said in a harsh voice, his jaw clenched, and he stared her down. “Put it out of yer head. Yer faither is selfish and foolish. Ye arenae. And itmedecision. I ask ye to respect it.”
Helena pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring, her eyes narrowed. For a moment, he thought she would argue, but then she shrugged. “Fine. But if you change your mind?—”
