“Ye dinnae need to fuss over me so much, lass,” Alexander said, his voice low but tinged with humor as they reached the heavy oak door to their chamber.
Helena shot him a wry look, her doe eyes sparkling. “And ye dinnae need to argue with the one who’s keepin’ ye on yer feet,” she fired back playfully.
A faint chuckle escaped his lips as she pushed open the door, and they stepped inside. The room was a haven, warm and inviting compared to the cold hall. The fire crackled in the hearth, its glow reflecting off the polished wooden furniture and the tapestries.
Shelves of books lined one side, a testament to Alexander’s fondness for reading, and the massive bed dominated the center of the chamber. Fresh linens and a tray bearing a pitcher of wine and two goblets sat waiting.
Helena guided him to the bed, her touch firm yet gentle. Alexander leaned against her, lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress with a relieved sigh.
“Ye have the hands of a healer,” he murmured, watching as she adjusted the pillows behind him.
“I’ve had enough practice with ye,” she replied, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Now, rest here for a moment. I’ll send word to Felicia that I’ll come see her drawing later.”
As she moved to the door, Alexander called after her, “Ye’re spoilin’ the lass, ye ken?”
“Ye’re just jealous!” Helena glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched. She couldn’t suppress the smirk on her face. “I’ll be back soon. Besides, she deserves a bit of spoilin’. Ye’ve done it plenty yerself.”
Alexander shook his head, smiling after her and waving lazily.
When she returned after speaking to a passing servant, she closed the door behind her and crossed the room, her movements fluid and steady. She sat beside him on the bed, her hand brushing his briefly before resting in her lap.
“Are ye comfortable?” she asked softly.
He nodded. “Aye, I am now.”
Helena smiled, leaning closer as if to better study his expression. “Good. I wouldnae forgive meself if ye werenae.”
Alexander shifted slightly, turning to face her fully. “Ye surprise me, Helena.”
She furrowed her brow, curious. “How do ye mean?”
He hesitated, searching for the right words. “The way ye care for everyone—me, Felicia, even yer faither today. Ye handled him with a grace I didnae expect.”
Helena’s expression softened, though a shadow of uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
“It didnae feel like grace,” she admitted quietly. “Seein’ him… hearin’ his words about our marriage… it wasnae easy.”
Alexander’s gaze lingered on her. “He surprised me, as well. I didnae think he’d come bearin’ gifts and promises of peace.”
Helena sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “I want to believe him,” she began. “But after everything, how can I?”
Alexander reached for her hand, his fingers brushing hers gently. “It’s nae wrong to be cautious,” he said. “Yer faither isnae a man to trust lightly. But if there’s a chance for peace, it’s worth pursuin’.”
She nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “I wish I could ken what he’s truly thinkin’.”
“Ye’ll ken soon enough,” Alexander said firmly. “And whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”
Her tension seemed to ease at his words, and she shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “I’m grateful I’m nae alone in this.”
“Ye never will be,” he vowed, his voice steady with promise.
The moment stretched between them, quiet but charged. The crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of voices in the castle filled the silence, grounding them in the warmth of the present.
“Let’s have an early supper,” Helena suggested after a pause, her voice lighter. “And spend the night here. I’ll read to ye.”
Alexander’s lips twitched in amusement. “Och, ye spoil me, lass.”
Helena rolled her eyes as she rose briefly, summoning a servant to arrange their meal. When she returned, they settled into a comfortable rhythm.
