Lachlan suspected what Iain was truly testing was Lachlan’s response. His brother would never ask him to join with Helena to get the information they needed, but he knew that it may be necessary, as did Lachlan.
“I’ll do what I must,” Lachlan replied, the bitter taste of disgust filling his mouth.
Iain gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Where is Helena now?”
Lachlan was just about to answer when Helena suddenly appeared at the threshold to the great hall. She had on a gown the likes of which he had never seen. It molded to her hips and waist and pushed her breasts high for all to see. He noted with wry amusement that the men and women were already noticing. She paused at the door as Bridgette and Marion moved to greet her, and as Helena exchanged words with Bridgette, Lachlan studied both women under veiled lashes.
Bridgette was a lass with a burning fire within her. The light and goodness she possessed sparkled in her bright-green eyes and her infectious smile. The way she wore her glorious flaming hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders let anyone who was observant know that she was not one to hold to normal societal rules, and the stubborn tilt of her chin served as a warning that she was not going to be meekly crossed or told what to do. Her porcelain skin beckoned to him, and the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose stirred his curiosity and made him want to know how each one had come to be. She laughed then at something Marion said, and he found himself smiling.
Helena, however, was a woman of cold calculation, and every bit of her demeanor and appearance displayed this. Her hair was swept up in what appeared to be an artful creation that must have taken some time and patience. No doubt, she had worn it thusly so her breasts would be on full display. Her eyes did not sparkle, and her laugh was devoid of true emotion. Her dress was meant to draw attention, unlike Bridgette’s simpler gown that would likely not garner much notice if not for the beautiful woman who wore it.
Bridgette had a body that cried to be worshipped with lush curves and a glow of health while Helena was too thin and had the pallor of one who did not see the sun near enough. The women turned almost simultaneously and started toward the dais. Tension coiled through Lachlan. He wanted Bridgette who he could never have, and he perchance had to join with a woman he had never wanted. Fate was a cruel mistress, indeed.
“The way ye’re staring at Helena,” Iain said, “I’d almost believe ye wanted her.”
Lachlan barely contained the derisive noise that wanted release. Instead, he shrugged. “She’s a beautiful woman,” he replied. It might be best if his brother thought he wanted Helena. Then Iain would be freed from feeling any guilt over what Lachlan might need to do, and possibly would relinquish any suspicions of Lachlan desiring Bridgette.
Marion paused in front of the dais and set her hands on her hips as Bridgette and Helena both seated themselves on either side of Lachlan. He had to force himself to turn to Helena and not stare at Bridgette instead. “Are ye hungry?”
Iain frowned at Lachlan, likely because the question was silly given she had just come to supper—and given he was supposed to be seducing her for information—but he could think of nothing clever to say at the moment. With Bridgette near, all he could think upon was how wonderful she smelled and how her heat radiated all around her.
Helena leaned close to him and pressed her lips to his ear. “I’m hungry for ye,” she whispered, and he lurched back as if scalded. Her brow puckered, and he realized his mistake. He had to master his reactions or she would soon comprehend he did not desire her in the least.
He smiled and leaned near her, acutely aware of Bridgette on his other side. Could she hear them? He hoped not. “And I for ye. Let us eat quickly and be done with the great hall.”
Bridgette suddenly stood and moved quickly off the dais.
“Where are ye away to?” Marion asked, concern lacing her tone.
“I’m in need of fresh air,” Bridgette replied.
“Take a care in the dark alone,” Helena said in a voice edged with poison.
Bridgette must have heard the same sharpness as her gaze settled on Helena with a questioning look. “I’m nae worried about being alone in the dark, Helena. I ken how to defend myself.”
“I’m so verra glad I’ve Lachlan to watch over me,” Helena responded, and then surprised Lachlan by brushing her hand down his cheek.
He wanted to swat her hand away, but he grabbed her fingertips and kissed them, even as his gut twisted with protest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bridgette staring at him with the look of a wounded animal. The misery on her face was so acute that intense pain and shock coiled in his gut. He had not mistaken her look earlier—she desired him as he did her.God’s teeth.He could not show so much as a hint of his own yearning, for both their sakes.
“Bridgette, Iain and I will stroll with you for a bit, if you don’t mind,” Marion said.
“Dunnae make haste back for us,” Helena added in a falsely sweet tone. “I dunnae suspect we will tarry long before departing to our bedchamber.”
Her giggle made Lachlan grind his teeth, and when he saw Bridgette’s fiery blush and her hands fisting at her sides before she turned away, it was all he could do to force himself to remain in his seat and not rush to her and tell her of his true desire, and of why he was pretending to care for Helena. But he did not move, as was his duty to his clan, his brother, and his honor.
“We will see you on the morrow, then,” Marion said in a cool voice.
Iain rose, bid Helena a parting, and offered Lachlan a conspiratorial look before leaving. Lachlan stared at Bridgette until she disappeared out of the great hall. Regret assailed him, but he shoved it away as Helena laid her hand on his arm.
“Shall we simply quit the great hall now?” she inquired in a low tone. “I’m nae hungry.”
“I’m famished,” he lied. He’d already eaten a great amount and his belly was full, but he reached toward the trencher and added another heaping portion of food to his plate. He would join with Helena if necessary, but that did not mean he was going to eagerly rush to the task.
A pout came to Helena’s lips, but then she smiled and spoke. “Tell me the history of yer clan.”
The question, normally harmless, caused his muscles to tense. Would what he said give her a clue as to where to find what she sought? Having no choice but to offer her the history or else raise her suspicions, he began to speak. Near midway through his lesson, she stopped him as he was telling her of the Fairy Flag.
“Surely, yer clan dunnae really believe a fairy blessed a flag, gave it to yer former laird, and that the flag has saved the clan twice?”
