Page 84 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
“Oh,” she murmured with a laugh. “So sorry. Well, good night, My Laird.”
With that, she got off the bed and went to her vanity, braiding her hair. He watched her go, savoring this, even as he told himself that he did not have to commit the moment to memory—that they had their whole lives together.
“Good night, love,” he said, and she smiled at him over her shoulder. “I cannae wait to marry ye.”
Helena dipped her head in a nod, and Damien walked to the door connecting their rooms.
“Damien?” Her voice made him stop, and he looked over at her. “I feel much the same—thanks to you.”
Even as he smiled at her, his pounding heart warned him,Ye are in trouble. Ye are fallin’ too fast.
The cèilidhwas a blur of music and mayhem, with more folk than Damien ever expected, even with a year’s notice of hiswedding. Family and friends had traveled in droves, it seemed, overrunning the castle.
But the way his mother beamed, walking around with Helena, warmed his heart. It was the happiest he’d seen her in years, though a few times he’d caught a wistful expression on her face as she gazed around. And he knew, then, that she wished more than anything that her husband was by her side.
It sent a pang of pain and rage through him, and again, he silently vowed to one day end the plague that was his uncle’s line.
The merriment of the cèilidhcontinued long into the night, and it seemed to take a day to recover from.
Then, the castle was thrown into the chaos of preparing for the wedding. He had never seen it so busy, not even for holidays or grand visits. Decorations were everywhere, servants dashing to and fro, and the entire castle smelled delicious. Still, he found time to toast with Leo and Grant, who told him stories that made his sides ache. He also saw how happy they were with their English wives.
I shall be just as joyous, if nae more,he mused, the evening before his wedding. They had a marvelous feast in honor of his father, and of Helena joining Clan MacCabe.
With all the dancing to come, his mother had not wanted to have a band, but his aunt had persuaded her to have one dance on the eve of his wedding.
As folk now stepped onto the dance floor, Damien thought back to the first time he’d seen Helena. She’d stepped toward him without fear, determination etched on every line of her face, fire in her eyes.
He smiled to himself as the tune rang out. Not quite the music from thereveriein Fallenworth, nay. It was far better than a sailor’s tune, but there was an echo of the fun from that night.
Straightening, Damien glanced around for his bride. He spotted Emma twirling in Grant’s arms, a smile on her face while his friend murmured something to her. Leo, meanwhile, had his arms wrapped around his petite wife. Orrick and Gwen were dancing so energetically that they were drawing every eye. Sophia swung in circles with his mother and aunts. But he did not see…
“Would you care to dance?”
A smile spread across his face as he turned and found Helena standing there, and his breath caught.
His betrothed had changed into a gown of silver shot with blue, with a sash of MacCabe tartan tied around her waist and her hair pulled up in a simple twist. The firelight danced across her brow, and her eyes flashed green and gold.
“Ye are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Damien said.
Helena’s lips parted, and she flushed, then lightly stepped forward, shaking her head. “Damien, you were supposed to say, ‘Ye’re askin’ me, love?’” Her impression of him was fairly good. “‘Are ye quite sure?’”
“I ken ye too well, now,” he teased, and Helena shook her head. “And ye memorized what I said, hm? Nae the impression I got when we met a second time.” He reached out and pulled her close. “When ye had the damn cheek to act like I didnae ken how ye tasted.”
Helena jerked back, her mouth dropping open in outrage. “You were the one who pretended not to know me.”
“I admit, I was sore at ye for offerin’ me a bloody handshake after ourgrandkiss.” Damien leaned in and whispered in her air, “More than that, I wanted ye to ask for another.”
“Oh,” Helena said and gazed at him. “Oh.” She bit her lip, and Damien’s blood surged. “I wish I did.”
“I cannae tell ye how glad I am that I was yer first kiss, Hel,” Damien murmured. “And ye have nay idea how hard it was for me to let ye walk away.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I wish I’d chased ye down, as every goddamn inch of me screamed to.”
“I would’ve escaped,” Helena whispered, then pressed her lips against his for a brief, searing moment. “But I would’ve found you again. Eventually.”
At that, Damien pulled back and gave her a searching look. “Foundme?” Helena gave him a cheeky look. “Minx.”
“You love it,” she retorted.
“I do,” he said and then pulled her onto the dance floor, spinning her around. “Ye have nay idea how much, but I plan to show ye.”
