Page 72 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
He’d wrung a reluctant reassurance out of her to stay put until the threat was handled, but it had not put him at ease. If anything, he almost wished he hadn’t said a thing, because he saw curiosity flicker in her eyes. And worse, too, she knew what her damned father wanted to do to help with the Vipers.
If Helena tries to use herself as a pawn…
Nay. She wouldnae.
Or would she? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—it was that he knew she was too fierce and smart to sit idly by.
At that moment, a crash came from Helena’s rooms, followed by her muffled cry. A moment later, Damien wrenched open her door and burst inside, a sword in his hand.
“Helena, what—?” He stared. “What?”
Helena started and nearly dropped the golden, furry mess in her arms as she stared at him. A flush rose in her cheeks as she stared up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor, her lips parted, her white nightgown pooled around her.
“Are we at war, Damien?” she asked tartly and stood up, clutching Jolly—damnedJolly—to her chest. “Has something happened?”
“I could ask ye the same,” Damien rasped and lowered his sword. “Jolly’s usual antics?”
“Yes, the poor thing broke a vase,” Helena sighed. “He was scratching at the door, but I think he just wanted to say good night, not stay here. I was reading and not paying attention… until he bumped into that table.” She nodded toward the small table, now flipped on its side, and a broken vase on the floor. “I want to make sure he’s not hurt. Can you help me?”
“Aye,” Damien said and set down his sword, following Helena to the bed, where he gently held the dog, who was whining and writhing as Helena inspected his paws and stomach.
“What a relief. He somehow didn’t cut himself.”
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and Damien crossed to it, pulling it open to see the lady’s maids there.
“About time,” he growled.
“Sorry, Milaird, we were helpin’ Cook prepare for tomorrow,” Fiona said. “And, well…” She leaned forward. “Shona heard yer voice. She didnae ken whether to interrupt, but I said?—”
“Jesus,” Damien said, and Fiona grinned. “Alright, alright. Help us clean up this mess and maybe have Shona take Jolly to young Sophia.”
“Right away,” Fiona said cheerfully.
In no time at all, the maids had cleaned up the remnants of the vase, taken the dog, and then left the chambers.
Damien heaved a sigh and put his hands on his hips as he eyed the closed door. He could not imagine the stories that would make the rounds tomorrow.
Especially since…
He glanced down at himself, a rueful smile on his face. He looked like a proper ruffian, in nothing but a soft pair of trews, not even a sock, and he’d not thought to fetch a shirt.
I suppose I should be glad I’m in me trews at least, nae ass-naked with a blade.
And at least his heart had calmed somewhat. He’d managed to hide the tremors fighting to get free, the dizzying anxiety as he tried to take his leave of Helena. She stood next to a table, sorting through books, wanting to show him something. Acting as though it were the middle of the day, rather than the middle of the night, and this was all proper.
She is tryin’ to kill me.
Then, at that moment, as though to agree—and make a mockery of him—a crash came from outside. He leaped forward, snatching Helena away from the table—too close to the windows—and spinning the back to the wall. He’d gone to seize his blade when lightning flashed, and his shoulders sagged.
“Feck me,” he murmured.
“Damien.”
He immediately let Helena go, swallowing hard, searching for an excuse, when her hands landed on his upper arms. She looked him over and shook her head.
“You’re so tense. Every time…” She looked at the windows and winced. “That’s why you came in here ready to face down an army. It was the noise, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” Damien bit out, harsher than he meant.
