Page 73 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
“Oh,” she said and touched his face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nay, ‘tis nae yer fault or somethin’ to apologize for,” he murmured. “’Tis me. Ever since…” He blew out a breath and put his hands over hers. “Ye probably have heard bits and pieces about the siege, the pirates, and me faither’s death, aye?”
Helena gave a cautious nod, stepping back as he paced forward and stared at the rain-lashed windows.
“I swear these storms are bein’ sent to test me, but also to make me tell ye the truth of it.” He turned back. “I was taken by the Vipers. They were a motley crew of pirates and mercenaries led by me uncle Cain, a madman who fancied himself the rightful heir of Morighe. Couldnae have been further from the truth. Adair, me faither, was a hundred times the man he was. The best Laird MacCabe ever.”
He began to pace again, the storm-tossed seas, his father’s anguished face, and the flickering light of the torches being held by the invading armies flashing through his mind.
“The only reason he fell was because Cain had his men kidnap me. Take me to the sea and torture me for weeks. Me faither had nay illusions about what kind of man Cain was, and he thought I would die a horrible death—” He swallowed hard. “His love and fear for me gave me uncle the advantage.” He let out a bitter laugh. “The only one Cain could get, the underhanded snake.”
Damien turned back to Helena, who stood there, the firelight glancing off her glasses, endless compassion in her gaze.
“I wasnae supposed to survive. Nae the torture they put me through for weeks and weeks.” He gestured to his scarred chest and arms. “Nae the storm that nearly broke the ship and stole half me sight.” He gestured to his face. “But I did. Came home and killed Cain. Liberated Morighe.”
“Storms remind you of that time,” Helena ventured softly.
“Aye, it’s like they bring me back…” Damien sighed. “I hate it. I cannae tell ye how much I hate it, Hel. But I thought it was me one weakness, and one that I could fight.” At that, Helena tilted her head to the side, and he almost laughed. “For such a clever woman…”
Her eyes went wide. “You cannot mean…”
Damien stepped up to her and gazed down at her, unwavering. Her lips parted, and she shook her head, her breathing quickening as he lightly cradled her face.
“Aye, Hel. I do.”
Then, he let his hands drop and sighed, knowing he should go.
“Damien.” Light fingers brushed along his scarred cheek, and then a hand pressed against his face. “I think you should stay.” He froze and stared down at her. “Sleep here, with me, I mean.”
Pulling swiftly away from her touch, even as his body demanded less space, he shook his head.
Helena frowned, and that prompted him to let out a rough, wild laugh.
“Hel—I… nay. Nay, that is a—ye are supposed to be the sensible one, nae invite trouble.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Helena said and waved her hand. Damien let out another rough laugh. “You mistake me. Sleep here. Just sleep.” She smiled. “So that you are not alone, and I can keep you company.” Now her eyes danced a bit. “Distract you.”
He groaned before he could help it and shook his head, even as her gaze became imploring. “Dinnae give me that look,Sassenach. Ye ken nae what ye’re askin’ for. And nay, I cannae be distracted or relaxed. I cannae let me guard down while even one goddamn Viper draws breath. Or me cousin.”
“Cousin?”
Damien gave a bitter nod. “Cain had a feckin’ son out of wedlock. Lachlan. He’s the one who sent those men the other day. The one who willnae stop tryin’ to take Morighe.” He huffed a sigh. “The one yer faither thought to help me stop without havin’ a damn clue what he is capable of.”
He thought he saw Helena wince and gave her a sharp look, but she simply was looking at him.
“All the more reason to get a good night’s sleep, Damien,” she said. “I know that you came in here too fast and too alert to have been asleep.”
“Aye, well, yer pacin’ and translatin’ is keepin’ me up,” he growled.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I doubt that. And you were the one who—” She yelped as he seized her around the waist. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
Laughter rumbled out of him, and he tossed her down on the bed, then pinned her there as she tried to scramble up. Their gazes met as her chest rose up and down, her glasses slightly askew and her dark hair fanned out. He bit back a groan as his pants grew tight.
But out loud, in a stern voice, he said, “Go to bed, Hel.”
“Unless you stay in here and make me. How will you?—?”
Damien interrupted her with a kiss, teasing but intense, and then pulled back, knowing her well enough to know that she was breathless.
