Michael’s gaze dropped for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. He took the reins from her trembling hands and tethered their horses to a nearby tree. Then, cautiously, he stepped toward her.
She didn’t wait for him to speak. Her grief erupted in a storm of sobs and curses.
“It’s me fault,” she wailed. “It’s all me fault! If I’d seen me faither for the monster he was sooner… If I’d stopped him, Alexander wouldnae have been in danger!”
“Helena—”
She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. “I should’ve stopped it, Michael! I should’ve protected him!”
Michael hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. He held her cautiously at first, unsure if she’d push him away, but when she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably, he held her tighter.
“It’s nae yer fault,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Dinnae say that. Alexander loves ye, Helena. He’d walk into hell itself for ye. Ye ken that as well as I do.”
She shook her head against his chest, her fists clutching the fabric of his tunic. “I love him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I love him, Michael. And now he’s gone, and I’ll never?—”
Her words dissolved into sobs, her whole body trembling as she clung to him.
Michael’s face was tight with emotion, his hand resting gently on the back of her head.
“We’ll find him,” he promised, though his voice wavered. “We cannae give up hope. Alexander wouldnae give up on us.”
Helena’s cries softened into broken whimpers, her shoulders shaking. She buried her face in his chest, her grief consuming her.
“Alexander,” she sobbed, his name a prayer on her lips. “Alexander…”
A rustling sound came from the riverbank. At first, Helena didn’t hear it over the sound of her cries, but Michael tensed beneath her, his hand going to his sword.
“Helena,” he said, his voice sharp.
She stilled, her breath catching. The rustling came again, followed by a hoarse voice, weak but unmistakable.
“Helena…”
Her head snapped up, her tear-streaked face turning toward the sound. Her heart stopped as she saw Alexander pulling himself up the muddy bank, his face pale and bloodied.
“Alexander!” she cried, breaking free of Michael’s arms and rushing toward him.
Behind him, her father’s body lay crumpled on the rocks, motionless. But Helena didn’t care to mourn him at that moment—he had betrayed her in the worst way imaginable.
All she could see was Alexander, alive, and struggling to his feet.
The loch shimmered as they enjoyed the rocky surface of the beach. They had laid out a large woolen blanket in the tall grassy rushes near the gray-stoned edge of the water. The horses were tied to a nearby leaning evergreen.
The entire loch smelled of rain and evergreen, but Helena was surrounded by the scent of Alexander.
She was sitting astride his lap, her skirt hiked over her hips as she kissed and ground herself against him. Their romantic idea for a picnic had quickly turned into a steamy kissing session. Now, Alexander was hungrily licking and biting at the collar of her dress, his hands cupping her bottom as he thrust his hips up.
“Alexander…” Helena breathed, kissing his lips again. “We… we may be seen…”
“Dinnae care, wife,” he growled, his hands sliding up her hips and waist to cup her covered breasts. “It’s natural for a man and his wife, and this is me land, me loch…”
“What else is yers?” she asked, meeting his eyes.
He smirked, the smoldering look making her melt as his fingers pulled her sleeves down her arms, exposing her breasts.
“These,” he murmured, sucking on her erect nipples. “And this…”
He slid his hands over her hips to cup her backside again, his lips and tongue still worshipping her pale and sensitive breasts.
