Page 75 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
“I can assure ye, Milaird, there are nay unfriendly eyes or Vipers within twenty miles of Morighe. We’ve added more men to the rounds, given Darrow’s man a stern warning, and alerted our allies. I think they’ve retreated.”
Damien didn’t answer.
“Ye dinnae agree?”
“Nay,” Damien said. “And dinnae ask me to explain why. Just a feelin’…”
“Nerves,” Orrick supplied with a yawn. “Alright, I need sleep. Dinnae fash too much. We’ll get them—and they ken that. That’s why they turned tail and ran, as always.”
Damien gave a tight nod, even as his pulse seemed to writhe under his skin and his stomach twisted.
Helena still isnae safe.
“Och, ye ken I’m right,” Orrick teased. “Here, think of it this way. If the Vipers return, they’ve got days to live. Meanwhile, ye have yer whole goddamn life ahead of ye with Helena.”
Damien squeezed his eyes shut as he fisted his shirt over his thundering heart.
“Damien, come now,” Orrick urged. “That’s what ye should focus on.”
Damien all but leaped to his feet, and his chair shot out with a crash. His good eye wasblazing. It was as though the words were being ripped from the depths of his soul.
“I cannae.”
Placing his hands on the desk, unable to meet Orrick’s shocked and concerned gaze, he hunched over and repeated, “I cannae.”
What a peculiar thing.
Helena reread the letter, from her stepbrother of all people, and tried to parse out what Bartholomew really wanted between self-platitudes and smarmy congratulations.
Apparently, he’d been planning to attend her wedding to represent the Fanwrights, but now he found himself delayed and wished to hear from her. Their father had mentioned the Laird’s position as a powerful trader in the north. Could she attest to this?
Helena snorted as everything came into sharper clarity. Her father had not listened to Damien and had written to Bartholomew about allying themselves with Morighe.
Damien will not be pleased.
She picked up a quill. Tapping the end of it against her chin, she wondered if she should go and tell him. No, perhaps better to head this all off.
A thought came to her mind, and she smiled. Better to utilize Bartholomew’s foolishness against him.
Dipping her quill in the inkpot, Helena began scribbling, and then she sat back, grinning. Jumping to her feet, she folded the letter, addressed it, and hurried out of the room.
Finally, Lady Highbrow gets her revenge.
She flew down the stairs and sought out a servant who could post her letter. But as she approached a lanky young man deep in conversation with a maid, her steps slowed, and her heart misgave her.
Holding the letter to her chest, she recalled Damien’s words.“Yer faither is selfish and foolish. Ye arenae. And it ismedecision. I ask ye to respect it.”
Biting her lip, Helena knew that Damien would not agree to this, no matter how good an idea it was.
He doesn’t have to know, whispered a voice, to which Helena almost huffed a laugh.He’ll know. He…
He’d suspected as much the other night, as if he knew that I’d been thinking of doing this.She pressed the letter against her chest, her beating heart.Was Barthy’s foolish letter not a sign to write and send this?
“Milady?” The runner loped over to her. His name was Micah, she recalled. “Is that a letter? I’m about to head to town now, so it’s perfect timing.”
Looking into the grinning youth’s face, then around at the folk bustling around the castle, Helena felt a surge of affection and protectiveness. These were her people, and she would do her part and protect them.
“Yes,” she said and gave him the letter, even as guilt coiled in her stomach. “It should be posted with utmost urgency.”
