“I suppose I thought you might prefer women like her.”
He was silent for a moment, then crossed to her and took the book from her hands, setting it gently on the shelf.
“I don’t prefer women who shrink themselves to be pleasing.”
She blinked, startled by his proximity.
“I prefer the ones who walk into a room like they belong there, even if no one invited them,” he added, voice lower.
Helena held his gaze. “And if they don’t ask permission?”
A hint of a smile curled at his lips. “Even better.”
Their eyes stayed locked for a moment too long, until a creak from the floorboards reminded them of the shopkeeper.
Helena stepped back, cheeks slightly flushed. “We should go. Benedict will wonder where we’ve gone.”
Silas retrieved the book she’d picked up and carried it to the counter.
She frowned. “You don’t need to?—”
“I know,” he said simply.
He paid for the volume, then handed it to her as they stepped outside.
“For the journey tomorrow,” he said.
Helena looked down at the book, then looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her said more than enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Getting back to Highcliff was a relief for Silas. He couldn’t even quantify the weight that lifted from his shoulders to have Helena home once again, safely ensconced in the castle’s protective embrace.
He had never truly appreciated the defensive nature of his estate until now. No one could enter without passing through his guards.
London, by contrast, had left him feeling exposed, vulnerable. He was filled with regret for ever having agreed to take Helena with him.
Amelia was waiting in the front hall and practically skipped down the steps when she saw them. She embraced Helena at once, looping their arms together as they walked deeper into the house.
“I am so glad you’re back,” Amelia said brightly, though a touch of concern colored her voice. “But such a short honeymoon! Did you not like London?”
Helena glanced at Silas and gave a small, conspiratorial smile. “It was… loud, and dirty, mostly. Silas didn’t think it was safe for me.”
Silas’s jaw tensed as Amelia turned a frown on him.
“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” she asked.
“I was just being a worrywart,” Silas cut in before Helena could say anything. “Don’t fret about it, Amelia.”
He didn’t want his sister lying awake at night thinking of assassins lurking in alleys, waiting for a chance to strike down her new sister.
Helena gave Amelia’s arm a gentle squeeze. “He really was. We barely went anywhere. Though,” she added with a small smile, “we did have tea at the loveliest shop Benedict insisted on, and we visited a little bookshop just nearby. That part was very nice.”
Amelia brightened. “That sounds romantic.”
“It would’ve been more so if Silas hadn’t glowered at everyone who so much as looked at me,” Helena teased.
