Undeniable

by Violetta Rand

  *

  “Do I need to say it again, Cousin?” Alex asked in an ominous tone.

  The wine-induced fog Jamie had found himself in cleared immediately. He eyed Duncan with hatred, knowing the bastard deserved to feel pain, to bleed, maybe even to die for the disgraceful things he’d said about Helen. It shouldna surprise him that Alex demanded he unhand the Munroe heir. His cousin was acting in the best interest of his clan, not for personal satisfaction.

  Truth be told, though the MacKays were powerful enough, and their army was growing in size every day as more suitable recruits were found, if the Sutherlands and Munroes joined forces against them, it would devastate his clan—possibly even destroy it. As for their allies, few would fight alongside them if they knew Helen Sutherland was in their custody; she legally belonged with her sire.

  “As ye wish.” Jamie let go of Duncan, letting him fall to the ground with a loud thud.

  “Jesus Christ!” Duncan yelped in obvious pain. “I demand justice. This man has insulted and assaulted me without cause.”

  Jamie snorted and kicked the coward in the ribs for good measure.

  “Jamie! Step out of the cell and lock it.”

  Jamie did as he was told.

  Alex stretched out his hand, palm up.

  Jamie dropped the key in his hand. “I’ve done as ye asked.”

  “Have ye?” Alex’s face twisted with anger. “If I hadna interceded when I did, what would ye have done to him?”

  Jamie raked his fingers through his hair. “Beat him senseless.”

  Alex shook his head. “Ye never could control yer temper.”

  “Only if provoked. Only if fighting for a just cause.”

  “Fair enough,” his cousin confirmed. “Is Lady Helen Sutherland worth killing a man over? A laird’s heir?”

  “I dinna say I’d kill him.”

  “Nay?”

  “Maybe I threatened him.”

  “Doona believe it.” Duncan threw himself against the bars of his cell, clinging to the thick columns of metal. “He intended to kill me, Laird MacKay. He’s a madman, even admitted he was crazed with lust.”

  Laird Alex turned to his prisoner. “Enough,” he commanded. “Ye have borne false witness against Lady Helen, a high crime, at least beneath my roof and according to God’s law.”

  “Who accuses me?”

  “Ye’re own words condemn ye, Duncan Munroe. My secretary has confirmed that Lady Helen’s signature on that marriage contract is a forgery. Twas not her hand that put ink on that paper.”

  “Then ye’d better accuse every laird with daughters in Alba of the same crime.”

  “I am not concerned with what every other laird does with his daughters, only what affects Lady Helen. She has sought my protection, and now that ye have been proven a liar, I am even more determined to keep her safe.”

  “That, too, is a violation of the law.”

  “Is it?” Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Shall I summon a magistrate and provide the evidence against ye? Surely yer uncle would not appreciate his honor being questioned in such a public way.”

  Duncan’s lips curled into an ugly snarl as he huffed out a frustrated breath. “What will ye do with me?”

  “In order to set an example for my own people, in the morn, ye will be taken to the bailey and publicly whipped.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened. “Whipped? Like a criminal?”

  “Are ye not one?”

  “I warn ye of the ramifications ye may face once this news reaches my uncle’s ears.”

  Jamie picked up his weapon belt and buckled it around his waist.

  “It is my belief and sincerest hope that Laird Munroe might agree that his spoiled nephew is in need of a sound whipping.” With that, Alex turned, grabbed Jamie by the arm, and steered him out of the dungeon.

  Once they were in the great hall, Jamie and Alex sat at the high table alone. A maid brought them ale, bread, and cheese. “Who will deliver the blows to Duncan’s back?”

  “Is that all ye can think about, Jamie? What about yer own transgressions? Defying me? Striking Duncan without cause.”

  Jamie sucked down the ale. “He called her a whore.”

  “I would have dealt with him in time. Now I must release him after he’s received his punishment.”

  Jamie slammed his palm on the table, still enraged by Duncan Munroe’s words. “Why?”

  “To be fair. His punishment has been decided. I have no reason to hold him afterward.”

  “But…”

  “Ye took justice into yer own hands. Beat him. I could have delayed my decision, kept him in reasonable comfort, and eliminated the threat of him stirring up trouble for a while.”

  “Fook!” Jamie refilled his cup and drank it down.

  “Now, as for ye.” Alex blocked him from helping himself to a third serving of ale. “Go home for a few days. Clear yer head.”

  “Nay. I wish to see the entertainment tomorrow.”

  “I willna permit it. Trust in me, Cousin. I am not sending Duncan Munroe on his merry way. Three soldiers will escort him back to the isles, taking the longest and most dangerous route, of course. He willna be permitted to return to Dunrobin Castle, not now.”

  Relief flooded Jamie. Protecting Lady Helen came naturally to him. Which gave him pause. Perhaps he had become too involved with a woman he dinna know. Alex had a way of setting things right. Time away might help him regain control of his senses. And of course, bedding one of his pretty maidservants would cool his relentless lust. “All right,” he said, rising from the table. “I will go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Helen was awakened by loud voices in the corridor outside her chamber. She yawned and stretched, looking about the dimly lit room. The smell of fresh bread made her smile as she kicked her feet from under the heavy furs on her bed. Today was the first day she would enter the great hall vindicated, no longer an accused liar. That alone was worth rising early for.

  “Lady Helen,” Miran said. “Ye must break yer fast quickly if ye wish to join Laird Alex in the bailey to see Duncan Monroe punished.”

  Helen walked to the table where a platter of food waited and took a drink of water. She hadna learned of what happened to Duncan until she had dressed for bed. “I havena been permitted to watch such a display.”

  “Has a man ever accused ye of anything before, milady?” Miran filled a carved drinking vessel with watered-down wine and offered it to her mistress. “I think Laird Alex wishes ye to witness his justice being carried out.”

  “Will Lady Keely attend?” She sipped the wine and tasted the bread.

  “Nay, she is overly tired from all the excitement yesterday. Laird Alex insisted she stay abed today.”

  “And Master Jamie?” Helen shouldna ask so openly about him, but she couldna resist. His presence made her feel safe and comfortable, welcome within the walls of the MacKay keep.

  “Nay. I am sorry,” Keely said sadly.

  “Did something happen to him?” She set aside her food and stared anxiously at her maid.

  “He isna here.”

  “Miran, I doona need protection. If I ask ye a fair question, please answer me truthfully.”

  “Milady…”

  “I insist.” Helen sighed at her servant’s reluctant expression. “Were ye ordered not to tell me?”

  “Nay.”

  “Where is Jamie?”

  “After Petro declared the signature on the contract a forgery, Master Jamie drank too much wine and visited Duncan in his cell.”

  Helen closed her eyes, imagining a violent confrontation between the two men. “Is Jamie hurt?”

  Miran chuckled. “Only his pride for being sent home by Laird Alex. He bloodied that coward with no effort, without the laird’s approval, of course. Unfortunately, it changed the laird’s original plan to keep Duncan locked up. Tis why he will suffer the sting of the whip, then get escorted back to the isles.”

  Relieved that Jamie
remained unharmed, she said, “Is Jamie’s home far from here?”

  “Nay—half a day’s ride.”

  “Have ye been there?” Helen asked as she slipped out of her nightdress.

  “Aye, a group of women volunteered to help clean the old manor house before Master Jamie returned to the Highlands from his travels. It took months to restore it, but well worth the effort, milady. Tis a lovely home with expansive lands and a view of the mountains and firth. A wee loch even sits behind the fortalice. Any man would be proud to claim it. Any woman.” Miran gazed at her.

  “I doona know what ye mean, Miran. Help me dress.”

  The maid smiled, her capable hands securing Helen’s pale green, wool gown. “If I may say, milady, tis hard to overlook the way ye and Master Jamie stare at each other.”

  “Miran!” Helen turned sharply, knowing she should chastise her for speaking so carelessly. But she couldna. Miran had the bluest, most honest eyes. And she genuinely cared about Helen. No matter the outcome of her future, she would ask Laird Alex if Miran could stay with her, even if she was forced to return to Dunrobin Castle. “I have nothing but admiration for Master Jamie.”

  “I well know,” Miran said, directing her to sit on a chair so she could dress Helen’s hair. “But I remind ye, milady, there are a dozen women who wish the man had them in his sights.”

  “Are ye a gàirdean?”

  Miran put her hand on her hip. “I’ve been known to help people fall in love occasionally.”

  “But ask nothing in return? No man for yerself?”

  “I’ve already told ye, I made a promise to my da. When the Almighty reveals the right man, I’ll know.” She combed a few more strands of Helen’s hair, then clapped her hands together. “Ye truly are a beautiful woman, Lady Helen.”

  Helen held up a small looking glass, admiring the way Miran had coiled the length of her hair on top of her head, and the dozens of loose curls framing her oval-shaped face. She wore no embellishments in her hair and no jewelry. Twouldn’t be fitting for such a somber moment. The thought of watching a man get whipped, even if he was Duncan Munroe, made her sick to her stomach. Though she’d heard stories about men her sire had punished similarly, she’d never been around it—never seen much violence.

  Aye, the occasional smack when one of her brothers misbehaved when they were younger. However, she had been the victim of her father’s intimidating, booming voice barking orders at servants or even herself. No one defied him. No one refused him. And if they did… She swallowed hard. They simply disappeared.

  Now that her mistress was ready to go belowstairs, Miran helped Helen into her heavy cloak, then secured her boots on her feet.

  Laird Alex stood the moment she entered the great hall, as did every other man in attendance. Helen curtsied, greeting the men and women around her.

  “I trust ye are well rested, lady Helen?” Alex asked.

  “Surprisingly so,” she said. “I am not sure what kind of magic protects this keep, Laird Alex, but it has enveloped me in it’s power. I have rarely found such peace.”

  The people around her chuckled.

  “Nay, magic,” Alex assured her. “Happiness.”

  Helen curtsied again. “Yer children are the bonniest I have ever seen.”

  The throng cheered at her words.

  “Thank ye, Lady Helen. Keely asked me to tell ye, she’s with ye in spirit today.”

  “I would like to visit her later, if I may.”

  “I see no reason why ye canna. Now, let us lead my people to the bailey. Tis cold and dark, and I am sure Duncan Munroe is ready to receive the lash and make his way home.”

  Alex stepped down from the dais, approached Helen, and offered his arm. She took it, resting her fingertips lightly on his hand, happy to be escorted by such an honorable leader. The crowd spilled into the bailey, surrounding a raised stage. Many people—men, women, and children—had already gathered, jeering at Duncan.

  Liars and thieves were unwelcome on MacKay lands. They’d sooner offer sanctuary to the devil.

  Laird Alex and Helen, surrounded by his personal guards, made their way to the front of the throng, only feet away from the platform. Duncan was bare-chested, his hands tied above his head to a thick, wood pole. As soon as he saw Helen, he growled and spit.

  “Ye worthless bitch,” he yelled, struggling against the tight bonds. “My humiliation will be yer undoing. My pain, yer pain.”

  His words were soon cut off by a hooded man who shoved a wad of cloth in Duncan’s filthy mouth, silencing the wretch.

  Helen shivered, but not because of the cold. She dinna like Duncan Munroe. In fact, she feared him. The way he stared at her, the things he said, even in her sire’s presence. Twas like he was undressing her with his dark eyes—fantasizing about bedding her. Though he had been sent to secure a marriage contract for his uncle.

  “Whatever ye are thinking,” Alex said softly, patting her hand, “put it out of yer mind. This man willna get near ye again. I swear it on everything holy.”

  She nodded in appreciation. But even a capable man like Laird Alex MacKay couldna assure her complete safety, not against someone as powerful as her father and as evil as Laird Munroe. Together, they not only outnumbered the MacKays, they were not limited to what they would do by honor or God.

  “Duncan Munroe,” Alex began, raising his hands to quiet the onlookers. “Ye are guilty of lying, bearing false witness against Lady Helen Sutherland, a friend and guest of Clan MacKay. I believe the king would agree with the punishment I have chosen. Spare the rod, spoil the child—wisdom imparted from the Almighty. And since ye have acted like a spoiled lad, I feel it necessary to teach ye a lesson yer uncle has failed miserably at teaching ye himself.”

  Alex signaled the hooded man standing on the stage behind Duncan. The faceless stranger nodded, yanked the cloth from Duncan’s mouth, dropped it on the ground, then positioned himself, a thick board in his hand. Before Alex could protest, the paddle hit Duncan’s arse with such force, a loud crack sounded.

  Helen cringed, and so did everyone around her, save Alex, who frowned. But he remained silent as the hooded man delivered twenty more blows.

  If Helen knew anything, the promised punishment had been lashes, not a beating with a paddle. She stared at Alex with surprise.

  He shook his head and muttered, “I told him to go home.”

  That could only mean one thing. Her heart aflutter, Helen scrutinized the hooded man. She sized him up. Aye, his build and height matched Jamie’s. There were two narrow slits in the black hood so he could see, but she couldna make out the color of his eyes.

  As if the man knew she was staring at him, he gazed in her direction for a long moment.

  The crowd enthusiastically chanted. “More. More. More.”

  But Duncan had suffered enough, he could barely hold himself up.

  “Release the prisoner,” Alex commanded.

  Two guards freed his hands, and Duncan sank to his knees, a look of pain etched his face.

  “Do ye have any words for me, or the victim of yer deceptive tongue?” Alex asked.

  Duncan raised his head, staring at Alex. “H-how,” he stuttered. “How am I to ride a horse now?”

  The question earned him the loudest laughter Helen had ever heard. He’d been disciplined like a wayward child, not a man. And there were hundreds of witnesses. People who would never let him forget. Helen was sure word would spread quickly throughout the Highlands that the heir to Clan Munroe’s lairdship had suffered the worst humiliation at the hands of Clan MacKay. And in Alba, that kind of transgression wouldna go unpunished, even if it took generations to avenge.

  Chapter Twelve

  Satisfaction overtook Jamie like a haboob in the desert. He watched as the crowd dispersed, focusing on the lovely Lady Helen, wishing he could reveal himself to her. He’d once again disobeyed his laird and cousin. Not that he’d intended to at first. Just as Alex had commanded, he left the MacKay keep with both of his perso
nal guards and Kuresh, his best friend and advisor, to ride north to his home. Already drunk and cold, he decided to drink more ale from his wineskin. Unable to stay atop his horse comfortably afterward, he ordered his men to make camp.

  Before the white winter sun peeked over the horizon, he awoke with a solid plan in his head. Why should anyone else get the privilege of whipping that son-of-a-bastard Munroe? Jamie hungered to continue the beating he’d only started to give Duncan last eve. Jamie knew the risks of insubordination. He was a soldier above all things, raised to follow orders from his superiors and laird. And until now, he’d never broken trust.

  But Duncan’s hawkish face and obscene behavior haunted him. Something needed to be done to bring that overconfident blaffard to heel. Kuresh begged him to reconsider. Jamie dismissed his friend’s concern, even excused his guards from riding back to the MacKay keep with him. Of course, Kuresh wouldna leave his side.

  Once he arrived, it took little to convince the soldier tasked with whipping Duncan to let Jamie secretly take his place. Though Alex had won the loyalty of all MacKays, the soldiers still trusted and followed Jamie. He’d been their leader for so long, especially while Laird John still lived, before Alex returned to the Highlands to pick up the pieces of the nearly broken clan.

  If it hadn’t been for Jamie…

  “What is it ye want?” Alex growled behind him.

  “Milord.” Jamie bowed, hoping to keep his identity concealed from the onlookers.

  “Shall I command ye to remove the executioner’s hood?”

  Jamie shook his head. “And break a centuries’ old tradition? The punisher canna be condemned, for he is the hand of the laird, acting on holy orders to bring sinners to justice.”

  Alex scoffed. “Ye are as guilty as the sinner ye punished.”

  Jamie smiled to himself. Deep inside he intended for Alex to know it was him, but neither would admit it openly.

  “Lady Helen recognized ye. And I am sure Duncan Munroe knows.”

  Jamie swelled with pride as he opened and closed his hands, imagining them wrapped around Duncan’s throat. “Did ye enjoy it, milord?”