“Nay?”
He couldna lie to Alex. “I’m reminding wee Duncan that women shouldna be considered a piece of property, as if they dinna possess souls or minds of their own.”
“Some men would agree with the Munroe heir,” Mathe, the eldest council member, offered. “Depends on the lass ye’re speaking of.”
“My Nellie is as sweet as a lamb,” a soldier called from one of the trestle tables. “But when she’s angry, she turns into a bear…”
More laughter followed, and this time at Jamie’s expense.
“The lady in question will do as she’s told,” Duncan said.
“Oh?” Alex said as the room quieted. “Are ye in any position to make demands?”
“The law favors my uncle,” Duncan said with confidence. “Release Helen Sutherland and I will take her home.”
“To Dunrobin Castle or Skye?”
Duncan dinna want to answer, so Jamie smacked the back of his head, where Kuresh had hit him with the club. “Show respect to my laird.”
The Munroe heir turned violently, raising his fist in challenge.
“Ye wish to fight?” Jamie started to unbuckle his weapon belt.
“Jamie!” Alex stepped down from the dais. “Control yerself.”
“I’ve already disposed of his men, why worry about another body to bury?” Jamie rolled up his tunic sleeves. “I’m happy to send ye to the devil.”
Alex sighed with frustration, stepping between Jamie and Duncan. “Take yer seat at the high table, Jamie.”
Jamie stiffened at the order. He dinna like being told what to do as if he were a lad again. Besides, he’d like to punch the smug expression off Duncan’s face.
“If ye doona wish to stay for the meeting, go take a bath in the loch,” Alex suggested.
Jamie glanced around the room. All eyes were on him, waiting to see what he’d do. Alex and Jamie had a volatile relationship at times, both having clear visions of what was best for the clan. As the laird’s right hand, perhaps Jamie had been given too much power. And Alex wasna the same man who had arrived home two years ago. Marriage, and now fatherhood, had softened him some, made him more like his father. Jamie recognized the value in that. His cousin had matured into a capable leader.
“I’ll take my seat.” Jamie cast a threatening look at Duncan before he turned and stomped to the dais.
“Good. Now we can continue with the meeting. Earvin, bring a chair for our guest.”
A younger soldier rushed to do the laird’s bidding, carrying a chair to a spot in front of the high table.
“If ye’ll have a seat, Duncan, one of the maids will bring ye some ale.”
Duncan sat, and Alex returned to his seat at the high table.
Jamie scanned the entrances in the great hall. The guards had been doubled. There was no chance for Duncan to escape.
“Our clans have no quarrel,” Alex told Duncan. “Why dinna ye ask for my help instead of hiding on my land like a common thief?”
“Laird MacKay,” Duncan said, “isna safe passage granted to any man who is at peace with yer people?”
“Aye. Small groups of men are permitted to cross our lands so long as they keep moving and doona help themselves to our livestock.”
“Then I have broken no trust.”
“Ye followed Lady Helen to my keep and dinna tell anyone ye were here.”
“Aye. Twas necessary to confirm the lass’s intent.”
“Her innocence is in question?”
“Nay. Her loyalty.”
“Loyalty?” Mathe interjected. “To who?”
“My uncle.”
“Does she know yer uncle?” Alex asked.
“The two have never met. But she knows about the betrothal, and in the Highlands, that’s as good as speaking vows before the Almighty.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye know why the lass ran away?”
Duncan shrugged. “Does it matter? The outcome will be the same, she’ll return to Dunrobin Castle to face her father, then my uncle.”
“Spare the rod, spoil the wife?” Jamie spat.
Duncan smiled faintly. “Disobedience must be corrected immediately, whether dealing with a child or woman.”
Alex cleared his throat. “The MacKays are not so heavy-handed with their women.”
“And how has that leniency served ye, Laird MacKay? If the rumors are true, yer very own wife dishonored yer clan by running away for five years.”
Jamie and several other men shot up from their chairs.
Alex held up his hand. “If ye ever speak of my wife again, I’ll have ye flogged and thrown into a cell. Since ye lack manners and decency where women are concerned, I think it necessary to summon Lady Helen so she can speak on her own behalf.”
“I am curious what the lady has to say,” Duncan said.
“Earvin, inform Lady Helen’s guards that I want her escorted to the great hall. Bring her maid as well.”
“Aye, milord.” The lad left the room.
Jamie leaned close to Alex. “Ye’ve already granted her sanctuary.”
“Ye take much interest in a woman I’ve commanded ye to stay away from.”
“Twas me who captured that pile of shite.”
“Aye,” Alex reluctantly admitted. “I canna dispute that. Ye are the perfect soldier, Jamie, with instincts that rival a wild beast’s. But doona be overly flattered by what I say, for the beasts might have incredible survival skills, but when it comes to rutting, they are blinded by lust and ruled by their pricks.”
Jamie folded his arms across his chest. “I wouldna hurt Lady Helen.”
“Not intentionally,” Alex said.
“Not for any reason.”
Looking as proud as a queen, Lady Helen, flanked by two guards and her maid, entered the great hall, silencing everyone. Dressed in a deep-blue wool gown with her long golden hair braided, Jamie imagined what her sweet lips would feel like against his own. Would she open up to him or reject his kisses? His gaze travelled lazily down her form, over her slim neck to her proud shoulders, and stopped where her generous breasts spilled over the neckline of her fine gown. She wore few embellishments: only a gold choker and a ruby ring on her right hand.
“Good morn, Lady Helen,” Alex said.
“Milord.” Helen curtsied.
“I apologize for calling ye from the comfort of yer chamber so early.”
“Tis fine, milord, I have already broken my fast.”
“If ye would look upon the man sitting in that chair.” Alex pointed to Duncan. “Do ye recognize him?”
Jamie dinna miss Helen’s startled look. Aye, it only lasted for a blink of an eye before she recovered her composure, but he saw it. Which meant she dinna like Duncan.
“Aye, milord. His name is Duncan Munroe. He’s a guest at Dunrobin Castle, sent as a representative of Clan Munroe to conduct his uncle’s business with my sire.”
“And when did ye first meet him?”
“The day my father called me to his solar to get me to sign the betrothal contract with Laird Munroe.”
“Did ye sign the contract, Lady Helen?” Alex asked.
“Nay.”
Duncan cursed and stood. “Tis a lie. I have a copy of the contract right here.”
Rage uncoiled in Jamie’s gut—how could Alex allow the vermin to openly insult Lady Helen? He had to fight to keep his mouth shut.
“Ye carry a copy of the contract with ye?” Alex asked, sounding surprised.
“At the behest of my uncle. Would ye care to see it?”
“Sir,” Lady Helen said quietly, turning to Duncan, “I never signed a contract.”
Duncan ignored her and handed the document to one of Alex’s guards. Alex received it and untied the leather cord holding the scroll closed. He unrolled it and examined the parchment carefully.
“As ye can see,” Duncan said, “all the necessary signatures are there, and the official seals of Clan Munroe and Clan Sutherland.”
“It appears to b
e legitimate,” Alex started. “But I have learned the hard way not to trust everything I see. My secretary is experienced at recognizing falsified signatures. Petro.”
Jamie smiled with satisfaction. Alex had the lady’s best interest at heart.
“Milord.” Petro bowed.
“Please take Lady Helen, her maid, and Jamie with ye to my solar. Use all of yer skills to prove Duncan’s claim.”
“I canna be parted from the contract,” Duncan insisted.
“The document is safe,” Alex assured him. “I willna have ye intimidating my secretary or harassing Lady Helen while Petro completes his work.”
“Tis unacceptable, sir.”
Alex grinned and signaled for his two favorite guards. “Hugh. Bruce. Escort our guest to a cell and see that one of the maids prepares a tray of food for him. Make sure he has a clean place to sit and plenty of water to drink.”
“Ye are imprisoning me?”
“Nay,” Alex said. “I’m protecting ye and myself.”
After the guards dragged Duncan away, Jamie turned to his cousin. “Ye wish me to stay with Lady Helen?”
“Aye.”
“What changed yer mind?”
“The look in yer eyes when Duncan insulted her. I believe ye capable of protecting her for now.”
Jamie stood. “Thank ye, Alex.”
Alex nodded and placed his hand on Jamie’s forearm. “Tread lightly, Cousin.”
Chapter Five
Once seated in the comfortable solar, Helen waited patiently while Laird MacKay’s secretary worked diligently with the forged contract. To her left sat her maid, and to her right stood the red-haired man she had first seen last night in the great hall. He wore traditional Highland garb, a clean linen shirt with the black and blue tartan of the MacKays. His very presence made her feel safe, though his blue eyes intimidated her to the point of making her squirm uncomfortably in her chair. She tried to avoid his lingering gaze but found it impossible not to look at him.
“Thank ye,” she finally whispered. “I feared I had been followed.”
Jamie’s big hands were folded across his stomach. “I doona know why they let ye escape.”
“Perhaps Duncan preferred playing cat and mouse with me.”
His red brows shot up. “Ye are hardly a mouse.”
“Nay?” she asked with a smile. “Sometimes I feel like one. Unimportant and easy prey, surrounded by all these men who make demands of me.”
Jamie relaxed his stance. “I am Jamie MacKay, cousin to Laird Alex.” He bowed respectfully.
“I know who ye are,” Helen said. “I am Helen Sutherland, the earl’s daughter.”
“Aye. And if I may say, yer father is a fool for giving ye reason to flee yer home.”
She sighed in complete agreement. “Money and power means more to my sire than his own children. I doona blame him overmuch, my grandfather did the same to him.”
“Tis the way of Highland lairds. Something I came to dislike greatly during my travels in Constantinople—reminds me too much of the slave markets.” His handsome features showed true revulsion.
“Ye have been to Constantinople?” How fortunate he was to have such freedom. “Tell me what it is like, please.”
“Oppressively hot.”
She grinned.
“If ye dinna know sand dominated the landscape as yer ship entered the harbor, ye’d swear the place was made of gold.”
She sat on the edge of the padded chair, his simple description as exciting as he was. “And?”
“The ancient buildings are cut from stone with wide arches and decorated with colorful tiles. There’re bath houses and endless markets, white mosques where Muslims worship Allah, palaces filled with riches beyond imagination, and…” he paused.
“Aye?”
“Forgive me, milady. I lost myself.”
“Ye canna stop now.”
“Nay?” he eyed her speculatively. “I doona wish to overwhelm yer delicate senses.”
Did he mistake her as weak? “I assure ye, sir, I am capable…”
He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth and a dimple in his chin. “Veiled women who will dance for ye upon command.”
Her eyes widened in fascination. “Are ye teasing me?”
“Nay. Dancing is verra important.”
“What sort of dancing?”
He rubbed his chin. “Not a Highland dance.”
“I doona understand.”
“They doona dance with men.”
“Nay? Then how…”
Jamie moved his hips in a strange manner. “I canna do it.”
Just then, Petro rustled some papers on the table and cleared his throat. “What are ye doing, Master Jamie?”
“Trying to show Lady Helen how dancers in the palace entertain.”
Petro frowned. “Perhaps the lady would prefer to hear about the food or palace ruins in the desert. Or maybe about the Bedouins?”
“Bedouins?” she asked.
“Aye,” Jamie said. “Nomadic people who travel the desert and live in tents.”
“That canna be verra comfortable.”
“Doona think of the kind of tents we use. These shelters are made from goat or camel hair and supported by multiple poles. The chiefs live in large tents with silk pillows and thick carpets on the floor. His wives serve him night and day, seeing to every creature comfort. Guests are welcomed like royalty, fed fresh meat and fruit, given wine and honey-sweetened camel milk, entertained as princes.”
Helen tried to imagine what he meant, and when she pictured the beautiful dancers Jamie had spoken of, her cheeks heated. “Apples?”
“Nay,” Jamie said. “Think every color—as brilliant as a bird’s wing. Pomegranates. Peaches. Lemons. The sweetest grapes.”
“And what is a pomegranate? What does it taste like?”
He hesitated at first, staring at her mouth. “Tis red and plucked from a small tree. Once it is halved, there are hundreds of small, plump seeds inside. Ye suck the juice from the seeds.”
“Is it sweet or bitter?”
“Sweet.”
She closed her eyes. “And a lemon?”
“As yellow as the sun, oblong in shape. Children eat them as a treat, but I prefer to squeeze the juice onto my fish.”
She opened her eyes and gazed at Jamie. A long sword and several dirks of different lengths were sheathed at his hips. He was a warrior, not a poet. But the way he described things, the way he painted vibrant scenes in her mind, suggested he was an artist.
“I envy yer travels, Master Jamie,” she said.
“Doona,” he said softly. “For every beautiful thing I saw in those strange lands, something violent or evil overshadowed it.”
“The slave markets?”
“Aye.”
She wouldna press him for more information. He’d been kind enough to amuse her with stories. But someday, she promised herself, she’d hear more—understand what haunted the virile man standing before her.
“Lady Helen?” Petro said.
“Aye?” She turned to the scholar.
“If you would please sign this parchment…”
“Of course.” Helen stood and walked to the table. He handed her the implement already wet with ink, and she carefully provided him with her signature. “Is there anything else ye need?”
“No. This might take some time.” He looked at Jamie. “Perhaps the lady and her maid would like to take some air?”
Jamie nodded. “If ye wish…”
“I do,” she said.
Jamie walked across the room and opened the heavy, wood door. “I will escort ye to yer chamber to get a cloak.”
Chapter Six
Once outside with Helen, Jamie decided to find out more about the lady and her family. Why would the only daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Highlands flee her home because she dinna like the marriage her sire had arranged for her? Intelligent, reserved, and hopelessly beautiful, Lady Helen seemed more than capa
ble of standing up for herself. Yet, Jamie knew not everything was what it seemed. Perhaps there were dark secrets—fears the lady had no choice but to run away from. Desperate men committed atrocious acts, often hurting the ones they loved most.
If her father needed to forge new alliances to safeguard his holdings, twas no wonder he chose Laird Munroe. Like the MacKays, the Munroes were famed warriors—with one difference: a Munroe would stab a man in the back while smiling to his face. Something Jamie couldna fathom. Honor ruled Clan MacKay as much as God did. And Jamie’s cousin, who had always been more of a brother, presided over their clan with fairness. A better laird dinna exist.
He gazed at Lady Helen and her maid. A bonnie sight in the bright, winter sunshine. If he dinna know better, Jamie would swear Lady Helen’s hair was spun from the purest gold, with streaks of red in it. Her eyes were a rare crystal blue, and she was unafraid to meet his bold stare. Did she expect a man not to steal a long look at her? No sane man could resist. His gaze dropped to her slim waist, noticeable even in her fur cloak. He guessed she had long legs, for she stood a head taller than most lasses.
His thoughts returned to her pomegranate-colored lips, lush and expressive, the very place he wished to put his own mouth. Would she taste as sweet as fruit? Or would there be a trace of bitterness? Nay. He shook his head. Nothing could spoil Lady Helen’s taste. Even her gait bespoke of things Jamie dared not talk about openly. From what he could gather, the lady was unaware of her feminine superiority. Or if she did know, she chose to remain humble about it, which in Jamie’s view, only made her that much more desirable. He had no use for vanity. Hell, he had no use for women, really.
But Lady Helen Sutherland might change his mind—if he let her.
“And where are yer thoughts, Master Jamie?” she called, stopping a few feet in front of him, smiling.
He waved her query off. “On matters of soldiering. Nothing a true lady would wish to hear.”
She cocked her head. “That is where ye’re mistaken. I would very much like to hear anything ye have to say.”
Jamie took a deep breath. If she dinna attempt to seduce him with her body, she’d surely succeed with her mind. For every word from her luscious lips intrigued him. “We are recruiting new soldiers.”
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