Of course, what kind of man fantasized about bedding a maiden like Helen Sutherland when there was a keep full of willing maids? “Me,” he said aloud as he walked to catch up with the women.
No common woman would do for Jamie. He had the blood of nobility running through his veins. His beloved mother, Lady Mary, was a distant cousin of King Edward IV of England. A fact that both benefitted and harmed Jamie at different times in his life. His father had never let him forget about his connection to the English throne, but when he was angry with his mother, his sire used it against him—calling him an English bastard that could never be trusted—or denying him his birthright as a legitimate Highlander.
With both of his parents gone, it mattered little. But harsh words hurt more than slashes from a sword. And in his darkest moments, Jamie remembered his father’s words as if only spoken yesterday.
He found Helen seated on a boulder near the frozen water’s edge. “I have offended ye.”
She dinna look at him but stared across the loch. “This is a wild place,” she observed. “Untamed and unpredictable.”
“Did ye expect different when ye journeyed here?”
“I dinna expect anything, Master Jamie.” She faced him then. “I have lived a privileged life, ensconced in luxury with little exposure to the real world. Just being able to choose where I sit is strange to me. There’s not a regiment of men within sight or a gaggle of old women following me everywhere. I am free to speak my mind, to take in the fresh air—to even refuse whatever I wish.”
“And if ye could refuseanything, lady, what would it be?”
“An equally dangerous question as the one I asked.”
A grin tugged at Jamie’s mouth. She had a sharp mind. “Perhaps. And I doona expect ye to answer.”
“Oh, but I want to.”
He waited patiently for her to speak.
“I believe there are two things I’d refuse if given the chance.”
“Aye?”
“My name. And Laird Munroe.”
“Fine choices,” he said. “And if ye were just Helen of the Highlands, what would ye do first?”
“Is it not yer turn to answer a question?”
“Verra well,” he said. “I hide nothing.”
“What would ye do if ye were just Jamie of the Highlands?”
“Well that depends, Lady Helen.”
“On what?”
“On whether ye are a Sutherland in that moment, or just Helen of the Highlands.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes narrowing.
Jamie knew he shouldna speak so brazenly, especially in front of the maid his cousin had appointed to take care of Lady Helen. But their time alone together was short. And if he dinna voice his attraction, let her know that a spark of something indescribable had been borne between them, he might not get a second chance to do so.
“Helen of the Highlands,” she whispered.
Jamie stepped closer to where she sat, flexing his left hand, wrestling against the urge to touch her, just once. To finger one of her golden curls, to caress her soft cheek. To breathe in her scent. “I’d kiss ye.”
Helen nervously shifted her plaited hair from her left shoulder to the right. And Miran the maid clicked her tongue in disapproval but said nothing as she turned her back to them and pretended to be interested in something along the shore.
“Kiss me?” Helen asked breathlessly.
He nodded, so close to her he could feel the heat radiating off her body. “Now ye owe me an answer, Helen of the Highlands. What would ye do with yer newly found freedom?”
“I’d let ye kiss me,” she said as boldly as him, her confidence never wavering, her eyes never leaving his.
