Eleven
Bridgette did her best to keep her distance from Lachlan over the next couple of weeks. It wasn’t that she was afraid either of them would let their desire overcome their good sense, but the more time she spent around him the more she grew to care for him and the greater hold he had over her heart. She feared the devastation she’d be forced to endure if she and Lachlan could never have a chance to be together, and part of her thought it was best if she did not allow further attachments to grow.
One morning, as she watched him across the courtyard patiently teaching a little servant boy how to shoot a bow and arrow, Bridgette could not help but wonder if Lachlan had come to the same conclusion about not letting their attachment deepen until they knew it would not be fruitless. He seemed to be avoiding being alone with her, too.
Then again, Helena was almost always with him now. Bridgette did not know whether Helena was shadowing him or he her, but either way, she was fully aware she was jealous and fearful. She had not asked Lachlan of the lengths of deception he had been asked to go to for the king—she had not thought to ask when they had spoken about it—but now that she had thought upon it, she wondered incessantly if Lachlan had been asked to seduce Helena. If he had but had not yet used that tactic, was he going to? Joining with Helena would bind him to her for life by making their pledge a marriage. Bridgette was sure he would avoid that, but thinking upon him even touching Helena made Bridgette feel ill.
She suspected Marion may well know something, given her previous comments, but since she did not know exactly what Marion might be aware of, Bridgette could not talk to her for fear of betraying Lachlan’s confidence. As a result, Bridgette felt very alone, and worry was constantly hindering her ability to keep her mind on task—like now. She should be concentrated on her target, yet she was gaping at Lachlan and the boy.
When the boy’s father came up and went to smack the boy on the head for missing yet another shot, Lachlan caught the man by the wrist. “Quinn, hitting yer son will nae teach him how to handle the bow and arrow any faster.”
“Ye’re nae his father,” the Scot growled. “A thump on the head, or even a smack across the face, will help him learn, so I’m going to give it to him.”
Bridgette held her breath waiting to hear how Lachlan would respond. She saw his eyes narrow and his free hand curl into a fist at his side. “I’m nae his father, that’s true, but I’ve trained enough men to ken what teaches them and what does nae. And cruelty does nae.”
“I’ll do as I see fit,” the Scot snarled.
Bridgette didn’t know Quinn, but she’d heard whispers that he was a harsh man who’d become so after his wife had died. She wanted to rush over and defend the boy from his father, but to do so could make things even worse for the child. She watched Lachlan, wondering how he would proceed.
Lachlan drew in a long breath, then spoke. “Let us test our skills, Quinn. If ye win, then ye can take over yer son’s training and do it however ye deem best. But if I win, I’ll continue to train yer son the way I believe to be best. What say ye?”
The man grinned. “I agree, but I get to decide how our skill with a bow and arrow is tested.”
Lachlan nodded. “Agreed. How do ye wish us to test our skill? Speed? Accuracy? Perchance distance?”
“Accuracy. Let the boy stand with an apple on his head. Whoever splits the apple in a perfect half will win.”
The boy’s face paled. “But Da—”
The man waved an annoyed hand at his son, and when he did, Bridgette noted the way Quinn’s hand trembled. She was unsure if Lachlan had seen it, but the boy tracked his father’s trembling hand from the air to his side, and a puddle of urine suddenly appeared between the child’s legs.
The father made a noise of disgust. “Ye coward,” he huffed. “Ye dunnae wet yerself over having an apple on yer head.”
Lachlan grabbed the Scot by his plaid and hauled him close. The men around Lachlan stilled. Angus caught Bridgette’s eye and shook his head when she stepped forward to come to the child’s aid. She forced herself to remain where she was, though she wanted to run to the boy and cradle him in her arms. Lachlan spat toward the ground, which Bridgette knew the MacLeod men did when confronting a man they believed without honor.
Quinn’s face mottled red, and his blond eyebrows dipped into a glare. “Unhand me, Lachlan,” he growled. “I’m going to tell Iain about this.”
“Ye be sure to do that,” Lachlan snarled and shoved the man away. Quinn staggered backward but maintained his balance. Lachlan glared at the Scot. “Yer boy was shaking because he sees that ye have drank too much. We all see it. Drowning yerself in wine will nae bring yer wife back.”
“That’s nae yer concern,” Quinn snapped and snatched an apple from the basket Helena happened by with at that moment. He shoved the apple at his boy. “Put this on yer head and stand down there.”
The boy stared at the apple but didn’t move. Bridgette couldn’t take any more. She raced across the courtyard, pointedly ignoring Angus who was now shaking his head at her. She stopped in front of Quinn. “Ye shame yerself,” she growled. “Nae yer son.” She snatched the apple out of the boy’s hand and faced Quinn, who glared at her with twitching eyes. Lachlan looked at her with so much pride that she had to fight a grin. “Leave yer son to go clean himself. I’ll put the apple on my head for the two of ye to shoot at.”
“That suits me,” Quinn replied in a grudging voice. “I’m shamed to look at the boy any longer as it is.”
Bridgette gave the child a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and then shooed him away with her hand. Her knees shook as she realized what she had done. She had saved the boy, and in doing so, put her own life at risk.
Lachlan seemed to be coming to the same conclusion as his gaze darted rapidly between her and Quinn. Lachlan moved toward the man. “If yer arrow so much as skims Bridgette’s head, I will kill ye,” he said in a low voice that only the three of them likely heard.
Bridgette caught Helena looking speculatively from her to Lachlan, and then a dark scowl settled on the woman’s face. Bridgette had an uneasy feeling about Helena’s expression, but there was naught to be done about the woman now, so Bridgette walked toward the trees and placed the apple on her head.
“I’m ready,” she called.
The dozen other people in the courtyard were eerily quiet. Lachlan motioned Quinn forward to shoot first, but then suddenly, Lachlan said something and came striding toward her. His gaze captured hers as he made a show of straightening the apple on her head. Having him so close made her feel dizzy. She curled her toes into her slippers to steady herself.
His eyes impaled her with an intensity that made her want to groan. “Dunnae ever volunteer to let someone shoot at ye again, Bridgette. Ye made my heart stop with yer foolish and wonderful courage.”
Her cheeks tingled where his breath had washed over her as he spoke. “Ye were going to let the child stand here,” she accused.
“Aye,” Lachlan replied, moving the apple again. “Because I ken his da is a terrible shot and his arrow would have nae been near the child, but ye dunnae ken that.”
“What’s taking so long?” Quinn shouted.
Lachlan waved a hand in the air. “The apple is nae wanting to stay. One more move and it will be perfect.” Lachlan moved it again as his gaze held hers. “Ye vowed to me ye’d take a care with yer safety.” His desperation vibrated the words of his request.
She swallowed hard. “I will be more careful,” she whispered. He gave her a satisfactory nod before turning and striding back toward Quinn.
The Scot stepped up to shoot, and despite Lachlan’s assurance that the man’s arrow would not come anywhere near her, her heart pounded in fear. But the minute Quinn released his arrow and it arced wide to the right, well away from her, Bridgette released her breath in a rush of relief.
When Lachlan prepared to shoot, he gave her a reassuring look, but he need not have bothered. She’d seen him shoot, knew his skill, and trusted him implicitly. Lachlan’s shot was quick and perfectly aimed. The apple flew off her head when the arrow lodged in it, and when she bent down to retrieve it, it was perfectly split in half. She could not help but be impressed at his abilities.
When she turned back around, Angus, Neil, and the other men in the courtyard had gathered around Lachlan and Quinn. Lachlan stood facing the man, a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking his head, and Lachlan gave him a pat before the man ambled off, his head hung low.
She knew she should make her way back inside and stay away from Lachlan, but she could not keep away. She walked slowly toward him, noting Helena still standing off to the side. Helena watched Bridgette approach with barely veiled scorn that curled the woman’s lips and made her eyes narrow into twin slits. It hit Bridgette that the woman was most definitely jealous of her. Did Helena sense the desire between Bridgette and Lachlan? The thought frightened her. If Helena sensed it, others might, as well. And if Helena was so jealous, was it because she had grown to care for Lachlan despite his belief that she had pledged herself to him for a deceptive purpose? Perchance Helena had grown to care for Lachlan because he had joined with her? Perchance he did so every night? Bridgette’s stomach roiled. She did not think she could accept that and dismissed it from her mind.
Helena moved toward Bridgette and stepped into her path, offering a false smile. “Yer bravery was astonishing, Bridgette.”
Bridgette offered her own false smile. “Thank ye, Helena.”
“Graham is a blessed man to be marrying an honorable woman such as ye.”
Bridgette stiffened at the scorn in Helena’s voice. Any doubt she had that the woman suspected something between Bridgette and Lachlan disappeared. The question now was if Helena would create trouble without proof and say something to Graham when he returned. Bridgette had a burning desire to throttle Helena, but instead, she said, “If ye will excuse me, I need to refresh before supper.”
“Oh, aye, I do, too,” Helena said and surprised Bridgette by linking her arm through Bridgette’s. “We can walk together to the castle and talk on the way.”
Bridgette simply nodded, not wishing to stir Helena’s suspicion further by refusing to walk with her. As they strolled past Lachlan and the other men, Helena stopped and yanked Bridgette to a halt alongside her.
“Lachlan!” Helena called.
He looked away from Angus, who he had been talking to, and toward them. His gaze narrowed, but he came to stand in front of them. “Aye?”
“I need ye to help me dress for dinner. I dunnae care for the servant who has been helping me.”
Lachlan’s gaze darted to Bridgette. His discomfort was painfully obvious. “I’ll ensure that another servant attends ye,” he finally said, and Bridgette barely contained her sigh of relief.
Helena shook her head. “Nay. I like yer hands upon me. It must be ye.”
The worry of earlier washed over Bridgette, and all her fears seemed to be glaring back at her. She gave her arm a tug and stumbled back from Helena. Lachlan and Helena looked at her at once. “I just remembered I told Marion I’d attend her,” Bridgette lied.
Helena smirked, and Lachlan’s gaze strayed to Bridgette’s lips. When she realized she had sucked her lower one between her teeth as he had told her she always did when she lied, she immediately released it. “I’ll see ye both at supper,” she mumbled before turning and rushing away.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Marion said as Bridgette entered the great hall, where Marion was sitting all alone in a chair knitting for the bairn growing in her belly.
“Aye.” Bridgette did not want to lie to her friend, and after the encounter she had just had with Lachlan and Helena, she needed to confide in her friend now more than ever.
Marion’s eyes widened. “I rather thought you might deny it.”
Bridgette sighed as she rubbed at her temple. “I likely would have, but I just had a terrible encounter with Lachlan and Helena, and I dunnae want to lie to ye. My gut already aches with the lies in my heart.”
Marion set down her embroidery, walked over to Bridgette, and took her gently by the arm. “Come,” she encouraged, as she tugged on Bridgette.
“To where?”
“The thicket of trees. I need to search for an herb, and we will have privacy there.”
They walked in silence out of the castle, into the courtyard, and down stone steps that led to an expanse of thick bushes and trees. “What are we searching for?” Bridgette asked.
Marion bent over and peered at the ground, and then she reached out and began to move, staying hunched over as she riffled through the shrubbery. “I’m searching for opium poppy to mix with some cherry bark.” Marion stood and faced Bridgette. “I am to make a paste to loosen Helena’s tongue so Lachlan is not forced to seduce her to get the information he and Iain need.”
Bridgette gasped and rushed close to Marion. “Marion MacLeod, what do ye ken?”
Marion smiled slyly. “I’ll tell you all I can. After you tell me what has occurred between you and Lachlan.”
Bridgette’s throat went suddenly dry. “What makes ye believe something has occurred?”
Marion rolled her eyes. “I have been watching you.”
“Ye pledged nae to meddle.”
“Lucky for you, I decided that was one vow that simply had to be broken.”
Bridgette snorted.
“So,” Marion urged, “Tell me.”
Bridgette quickly told her of her visit to see Eolande, the seer’s prediction, running into Lachlan, and their vows to wait for a time to come that they may discover what was between them. “I wish I could ken for certain if the time will ever come for us.”
Marion gaped at Bridgette. “You don’t need time for that! Honestly, you and Lachlan are blind to the truth! You love him! It’s why you have not been able to forget him. It’s why you cannot give your heart to Graham. I’d hazard you fell in love with Lachlan the day he kissed you in the woods four years ago.”
Shock hit Bridgette full force and made her body tremble. She never would have made such a vow if her heart were not fully engaged. If he’d asked her to wait forever, she would have. God’s bones, she loved him!
“What is it?” Marion asked on a gasp, her hold on Bridgette’s arm increasing.
Bridgette realized she’d started to sway. She steadied herself as she looked at her friend.
She stared at Marion for a long moment, amazed at her revelation. “I love him.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, but she could hear the awe in it. “I do, and I did nae even fully ken it until this moment.”
Marion smirked. “I recall you once telling me that you had loved Lachlan for as long as you could remember,” she teased.
Bridgette waved a hand. “Och! I could nae verra well admit to ye—and so soon after meeting ye—that I lusted after Lachlan! That hardly would have been proper. Ye would have thought me a woman of questionable morals.” Bridgette quirked her mouth, recalling how she had believed herself in love with Lachlan for a short spell when she was eight summers. Maybe the love had always been there, simply waiting for her to recognize and embrace it.
Warmth enveloped Bridgette at the newfound knowledge of how she truly felt, but the icy coldness of fear swiftly followed. It gripped her heart in its merciless hold. “He dunnae ken if he loves me,” she whispered. “He said so. He said he dunnae ken exactly what the thing between us is and that we need time to discover what drew us together.”
Marion patted Bridgette on the arm. “He’s a clot-heid,” she said matter-of-factly. “Most men are until a woman comes along and smartens them up. You simply need to be patient as it may take him time to accept his heart. It took Iain time, but look at him now.” Marion grinned. “If you recall, there was a time I wasn’t even sure Iain desired me. At least you know for certain that Lachlan desires you.”
Bridgette’s face flushed as she remembered their heated embrace.
“Bridgette!” Marion gasped. “What have you not told me?”
Bridgette’s skin went from warm to scalding. “We may have shared a chaste kiss.”
“Och!” Marion said, taking a Scottish word and making it sound humorously wrong with her English accent. “I doubt you or Lachlan MacLeod know how to kiss chastely, but I will not pry.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Bridgette said, to which Marion chuckled.
She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me of your earlier encounter with Lachlan and Helena.”
Bridgette quickly recalled Helena’s words and obvious jealousy, and as she did, Marion nodded. “I’ve suspected for a bit now that though she pledged to marry him for evil purposes, she now desires Lachlan and likely does not mind the prospect of joining with him and binding them in marriage for life one bit. ’Tis in the lustful way she stares at him.”
Possessiveness and uncertainty gripped Bridgette. “Do ye think he has joined with her?” she choked out.
Marion had already bent over and was searching through the brush again, but she popped up and gaped at Bridgette. “No! Of course not! He’s pestered me on a daily basis to see if I have located the herbs I need to make the paste, and he made it very clear that he had no desire to join with her.” Marion let out a disgruntled sigh. “We must find some opium poppy! But with the harsh winter I fear it’s all been killed and we will not be able to collect any until the new growth in the spring. And with the king arriving any day, he might demand that Lachlan seduce Helena to learn what they need, and I worry greatly that Lachlan would refuse. I’m quite certain that would cause grave problems given that Iain has said David returned a much sterner ruler—one who equates obedience with faithfulness.”
Bridgette immediately got to her hands and knees and started searching for the plant Marion needed. Together, they stayed that way until Bridgette’s back ached. Just as she started to stand up in hopelessness, she thought she spotted the plant. Her heart raced as she reached out and yanked it out of the ground by its root. Holding it up, she asked, “Is this what we have been looking for?”
Marion scrambled over, took the plant, and grinned widely. She hugged Bridgette to her, almost crushing the opium poppy. They gasped, parted, and both began to laugh.
Once they had calmed themselves, Bridgette spoke. “Will ye make it tonight?”
“Yes,” Marion said with a nod. A serious expression settled on her face. “It will take at least a sennight to become potent enough to do what I wish. Let us pray the king does not arrive before that and make demands on Lachlan that may start a war.”
Bridgette squeezed her eyes shut, not wishing to waste a moment in sending her prayers to God.
“A sennight?” Lachlan growled as he peered over Marion’s shoulder.
“Dunnae growl at my wife,” Iain grumbled from Marion’s other side. “Marion,” Iain said, his own voice impatient and curt, “kinnae it be done sooner?”
She glared at him. “No, it cannot. I have already told you both. Twice.”
Lachlan jerked a hand through his hair. So far he’d been unsuccessful in getting Helena to reveal anything, and if David arrived before the potion was ready, the king would not be pleased to learn Lachlan had not attempted seduction to loosen Helena’s tongue. Especially given her sudden zealous interest in joining with him. It was all he could do to put her off. He’d used every excuse he could think of, and he was certain she was now suspicious of him.
Frustration boiled within him. It didn’t help that he had to keep his distance from Bridgette for fear he would somehow give away his desire for her.
Iain paced back and forth in front of the table as Marion worked to mix the potion. “All ye ken so far is that Helena is after the Fairy Flag?”
“Dunnae ye ken if I had learned more I would have told ye?” Lachlan said irritably.
Iain’s expression darkened. “I wish to speak to ye in private,” he barked.
“As ye wish, laird,” Lachlan snapped back, his temper rising to meet his brother’s.
“Don’t argue!” Marion growled at their backs as they stomped out of Marion’s medicine room and into the smaller storage room. “Arguing will not solve anything,” she called as the door to the storage room shut.
Iain’s back was to Lachlan as he entered the room, but at the click of the door, Iain swung around with a scowl on his face. Lachlan clenched his teeth. He and Iain rarely disagreed, but if Iain was about to demand Lachlan seduce Helena, Lachlan was prepared to argue. He did not want to bind himself to that woman for life.
“When I agreed to David’s request for ye to pledge to Helena, it would have been helpful to ken the depth of yer yearning for Bridgette. It complicates matters greatly.”
Lachlan tensed. He and Iain had not spoken so plainly about this, but now that the time had come, Lachlan found he was relieved. He’d feared what Iain would think of him for yearning for the woman Graham wanted, and now he would know it and have to live with it.
“It is nae just a yearning,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear it, and I’m nae glad, too,” Iain replied with a frown. “Marion insisted that was the way of it. That what was between Bridgette and ye kinnae be denied, but I was nae as sure as she was. But yer disavowal to try to seduce Helena at all proves it to me. Ye have always been one to do whatever is necessary to defend and serve the clan.”
“I still am,” Lachlan replied, though he knew his words were not quite true. He suspected, if it came to it, he’d put Bridgette above anyone, even his clan.
But what did that mean?
Before he could examine it, Iain spoke. “If this is nae just yearning for ye, do ye ken what it is?”
Lachlan shook his head, and to his surprise, Iain smiled. “I was once in yer place, brother. My advice to ye is to figure it out with haste. Graham will be hurt, aye, and David will be demanding and angry if we dunnae ken more before he arrives. If I’m to support ye and try to compel David nae to order ye to seduce Helena, then ye need a stronger argument than yearning for Bridgette.”
“I’d nae ever ask ye to stand against Graham or our king,” Lachlan said solemnly.
A knowing glint came to Iain’s eyes. “I ken ye would nae, Lachlan. I will do all I can for ye, but as laird, I have to balance that with my duties to the clan. Marion informed me that Bridgette intends to tell Graham upon his return that she will nae marry him.” Iain’s gaze bore into Lachlan. “Did ye ken this?”
Lachlan nodded, thinking momentarily of his passionate encounter with Bridgette.
“I suspected ye might,” Iain said.
“Bridgette’s choice nae to marry Graham was nae because of me,” Lachlan replied, feeling the need to defend himself.
Iain snorted. “Ye’re more of a fool than I was if ye believe that. Bridgette may nae have ever been able to give Graham her heart, but I suspect it would have been more of a possibility if she’d nae already given it to ye.”
Lachlan stilled. Was that true? Did he have Bridgette’s heart? He wished he could talk to her and hear from her lips how she felt, but he could not.
Iain moved toward Lachlan and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Proceed slowly and carefully, aye? It is likely wisest to give this time. Give Graham time once Bridgette has told him she dunnae wish to marry him.”
Lachlan nodded. “I intend to.” The question that he wished he knew the answer to, though, was how much time would that be. “I dunnae want this to divide Graham and me further.”
“I ken that, Lachlan. Ye are a faithful brother, and Graham will come to realize it in time. I’m away now to the great hall to listen to the sennight complaints from all the clansmen.”
“I dunnae envy ye that having to hear what vexes everyone on such a regular basis,” Lachlan replied.
Iain chuckled. “Do ye remember how we used to hide in the great hall and listen to Da give out his judgments and we would pretend to be laird?”
“I recall,” Lachlan said, having a clear memory of Graham hiding with them. Tightness tugged at his chest as Iain made his way out of the storeroom.
Lachlan heard Iain making his farewells to Marion, but he did not move to follow his brother out. He stood there as memories of the past swirled around him. There had been a time, before their sister’s death, that he and Graham had been close. He hoped that time would come again, that Graham would forgive him the past and quickly embrace a new future.
Marion appeared in the doorway and startled him out of his musings. “Come speak with me as I mix the potion.”
Lachlan nodded and followed Marion to the table where she was working. They stood in silence for a spell, and then Marion spoke. “Bridgette is my dearest friend.”
He nodded again, sure that Marion was slowly making her way to her point. “You have her heart,” she went on. “Don’t break it.”
He struggled momentarily to find words, as his surprise at Marion’s declaration and warning was immense. Had Bridgette told Marion that he had her heart? Iain had said something similar. Fierce satisfaction rose in him and stirred an emotion he could not name. He studied Marion, deciding whether to ask her, but he had no right to ask of Bridgette’s heart yet. When the time came that he could, however, he would ask. “I dunnae intend to hurt her, Marion, but ye ken the complications that lie ahead.”
“I do,” she said on a sigh. “But I have to believe all will be resolved for the two of you.”
He needed to believe that, too, because each day that passed, he was coming to suspect more and more that Bridgette had his heart, and he could not imagine if their time never came. The ache in his gut made him think of Graham and how his brother was going to feel to learn Bridgette was not going to marry him. Guilt lay heavy in Lachlan. “I want ye to ken I would nae hurt my brother deliberately. So I will wait as long as it takes for Graham to forget Bridgette before I try to have a chance with her.”
Marion set her hand on his arm. “You don’t need to convince me you love your brother, Lachlan, nor that you’re honorable. I have always known it. You display honor every day in how you interact with people, and you revealed the depth of your love for your brother when you stepped back to allow him to pursue a woman who I am positive you knew you were drawn to in a special way. I wonder if Graham would have done the same for you, though.” Marion tilted her head as she waited for him to respond.
He’d wondered much the same. Given Graham always wanted to best him in all things and then became angry when he failed to do so, Lachlan suspected he would not have. “I kinnae say for certain what Graham would have done if the circumstances were reversed. I only did what I felt was right. I made a vow to keep my brother safe long ago, and I have tried my best to uphold it.”
Marion nodded. “I know of the vows your mother required each of you to make. Iain told me. I suspect, though, that your mother never intended for you to lose something precious in order to preserve Graham’s pride. And think upon this—Iain asked you to put your life at risk to help rescue me when I was being held captive in England. Did you hate him? Do you think he broke his vow to defend you?”
“Nay, but that’s different. Ye dunnae have my heart.” Marion gave him a mock frown, and he chuckled. “Ye ken what I mean. Ye have my heart as Iain’s wife and now as part of our family, but that’s different.”
She looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. “I agree it is. But I’m not convinced Graham loves Bridgette. I think he wants her, for certain, but I think what drives that desire has to do with besting you.”
Lachlan frowned. “Ye’re wrong. I’ve nae made a single mention of any interest in Bridgette.”
She shrugged. “I did not say I had it perfectly solved. It’s a feeling in my gut.”
“Yer gut is wrong,” he growled, rejecting the thought that his brother would set out to win Bridgette because he suspected Lachlan was drawn to her.
Marion sighed. “Perchance.”
Certain he did not want to stand here for any more questions of the heart, Lachlan quickly said farewell and left Marion to her work. He decided to go to the stables to see about the new shoes he’d asked be put on his horse, and when he entered the courtyard, he spotted Bridgette teaching some young boys how to shoot.
Lachlan leaned against the stone wall and watched her. Her unbound red hair swung at the side of her face, hiding her expression, but she finally reached up and tucked it behind her ear. She wore the kindest smile, and it stole his breath. He ached to go to her, talk to her, touch her, simply be near her.
“What are ye doing?” Helena demanded, suddenly by his side.
He blinked, shocked that he had been so consumed with staring at Bridgette that he had not noticed Helena’s approach. “Preparing to train,” he lied.
She pressed her lips together in hard line. “And does that training involve staring at yer brother’s woman?”
“I was watching her training technique,” he ground out. His protective instinct flared within him. He had no doubt that Helena, who was likely used to men falling at her feet, had become jealous of Bridgette and was placing the blame on her for his lack of enthusiasm for joining with Helena herself. He had to do something to mollify Helena’s tender feelings before she did something to hurt Bridgette.
“Ye’re lying,” she accused, her lip curling. “I’ve tried to puzzle out why ye have nae taken what I have offered ye, and now I ken the problem is nae me but her.” Helena’s lower lip quivered, whether from anger or hurt he was not sure. He felt a terrible guilt, though. Perchance Helena had been given no choice in regard to pledging herself to him and what she had been ordered to do.
“Helena,” he started in a soothing tone. “It is nae that ye’re lacking in any way.”
Her chin tilted up in a defiant gesture. “It’s that ye’re pining for yer brother’s lass.”
“Nay,” he managed, though Helena was partially correct. He did want Bridgette, but she was not Graham’s lass.
“Yer denying it does nae make it false,” she snapped. “And I think ye ken Bridgette MacLean is lusting after ye. What is it about her that tempts ye, Lachlan? Is it her body? Her hair? Her eyes?”
All those things tempted him, but it was beyond anything physical. Her heart made her irresistible. “Ye dunnae ken of what ye speak,” he replied.
She gave a choked, desperate laugh, but then she shook her head as if remembering something, and a cold look swept over her face. “I wonder what Graham would say if I told him what I ken.”
Lachlan clutched her by the arms and drew her to him, barely resisting the urge to shake her. “There is nae a thing to tell him. Dunnae be jealous of Bridgette. It’s simply that ye and I, well…” He stumbled searching for the words to convince her. “We barely know each other.”
“Then change that,” she said, her eyes challenging, and before he could respond, she pressed her lips to his.
Disgust hit him hard, but he could not shove her away. He detached himself from emotion and returned the kiss quickly before setting her away. “Nae out here, lass. I prefer privacy.”
“Aye,” she agreed sweetly and held out her hand. “I see we have an audience.”
Lachlan swiftly turned his head toward where Bridgette and the children had been training, and his gut clenched as he looked into Bridgette’s agonized face. Every muscle in him twitched to go to her, reassure her, and explain. Instead, he stood still and watched as she turned and left the courtyard.
Helena took his hand. “Shall we make haste to yer bedchamber?”
“I kinnae,” he replied, reeling from the hurt he knew he had inadvertently caused Bridgette. “Iain has ordered me to train.”
Shooting him a disbelieving, exasperated look, Helena stomped off in such a fury that she collided with Barclay, Tormod’s youngest son. Lachlan watched as Barclay reached out to steady Helena. She smiled up at him, said something, and then continued on her way.
Lachlan waved Barclay over. When the lad, who was, as far as Lachlan could recall, just seventeen summers, making him more man than lad, stood in front of Lachlan, he spoke. “What did the woman Helena just say to ye?”
Barclay gave him a surprised look, which Lachlan understood. It was an odd question and likely the first one Lachlan had ever directed at Barclay. “She said thank ye,” Barclay replied.
“Stay away from Helena,” Lachlan ordered, realizing Barclay would likely think Lachlan was jealous, but so be it. He didn’t care how he appeared if it ensured Barclay had no more interaction with Helena. Lachlan could not imagine how Helena and Barclay would ever come to discuss the Fairy Flag, or the fact that Barclay’s family was the keeper of the flag, but it was not worth the risk.
“As ye wish,” Barclay replied in a voice underlaid with anger.
As Barclay departed, Lachlan bypassed the children and went down to the loch to train with the men. He needed a real fight to burn off the frustration that was mounting with every breath.