“Are ye in pain?” She started to reach for him but thought better of it and lowered her hand.
“Aye, in a way.”
“Is there anything I can do to help ye?”
“Helen…” He said her name several times. The only relief would come if he could sink his length inside her and make her his. He dipped low and captured her perfect lips, his tongue seeking sweet sanctuary in her mouth. He kissed her long and hard until they were both breathless.
Then, unable to resist, he cupped her breast, finding firm flesh and a hard nipple through the delicate material of her gown. She had full breasts, the kind that would fill his big hands. He cupped the other, squeezing gently and kissing her at the same time. She writhed beneath him, her tiny moans and breathless noises making him harder and more of a beast.
Enough! he told himself. She deserved better than being bedded on a dirt-packed floor. He slowly broke the kiss, climbed off her, then pulled her up. “I’m starting to think keeping Miran with ye is the best choice.”
She smiled and wiped the dirt from the back of her gown.
“Let me help ye.” He turned her around and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts, admiring the curve of her back and the shape of her lovely arse. Aye, Helen Sutherland was a fine lady in all the right places.
A soft knock sounded and Jamie cursed as he showed Helen where to hide before he opened the door. To his surprise, Miran was in the passageway.
“Master Jamie, tis time for me to take Lady Helen to her chamber. Laird Alex is looking for ye and her. Lady Keely told him she drank too much wine. But as for ye…”
He nodded with appreciation. “Helen.”
She appeared from behind a row of crates. “Aye?”
“Go with Miran, please.”
Before she left, he kissed her lips. “This is only the beginning.”
*
Jamie returned to the great hall alone. Only the men were left, half of them passed out on the benches or sprawled on the floor. He stepped over numerous bodies and made it to the high table where Alex sat with Mathe and Petro.
Jamie scowled at Mathe. They still hadna made peace with each other. “Alex?” He bowed.
“Cousin,” Alex slurred. “Come. Sit with us. Mathe, move down a chair, give Jamie his rightful place.”
Jamie knew it was wrong to hold a grudge against his kinsman, but Mathe had rubbed him raw over the last year with his incessant complaints. And even after Alex ordered him to move, he dinna budge from his spot.
“Mathe?” Alex said.
“Why do ye give him the honor of being yer right hand when he has ambitions to form his own branch of the MacKay clan?”
It took a long moment for the old man’s words to sink in. But then Jamie reached across the table and grabbed a fistful of Mathe’s shirt. He yanked him halfway over the table before Alex slammed his fist down.
“Let him go, Jamie.”
Anger filled every empty space inside Jamie’s soul. Where had Mathe gotten his information? From Crannog? Kuresh? Or one of his loose-lipped maids? “He deserves a beating, Alex.”
“Maybe.”
“He speaks without proof.”
“Does he?” Alex eyed Jamie. “Is there any truth in what he says?”
Jamie stared at Mathe with a newly formed hatred, then dropped him. Mathe sputtered and lifted himself off the table, straightening his ruined tunic as he slid down three chairs.
“Answer my question, Jamie.”
“There’s been talk, nothing more.”
“Sit,” Alex commanded.
Jamie had no right to deny his laird. He did as he was told, walking around the table and sitting beside his cousin in shame.
“I am not blind, Jamie.”
“I know.”
“Nor am I an unreasonable man.”
“I know.”
“Tell him, Petro,” Alex addressed his secretary.
“Laird Alex,” Petro said. “You are tired, and I am sure Lady Keely would like to spend some time with you tonight.”
“Always the peacemaker.” Alex waved his friend off. “Jamie … speak plainly with me.”
“Tis not the time or place for this conversation, Alex.”
“I am laird here!” Alex rarely shouted, but when he did, people ran for cover. “I will decide where and when we speak. Betrayal is a serious allegation.”
Is that what his cousin really thought, that he’d betray him? It broke Jamie’s heart to think so. “I am not a criminal nor a betrayer of any kind. I would die for ye, Alex.”
“Would ye?”
How many times had he proven his loyalty? Actions spoke louder than words, and Jamie had done nothing to form a new branch of the clan. “Aye.” Jamie bowed his head in reverence.
“Do ye wish to break away from this clan and form yer own branch of MacKays?”
“My father always wished it, and yer sire, my beloved uncle, promised that one day, after this keep had been completed, he would give my home back to us so my father could build his own clan.”
Alex rubbed his stubbled chin. “Ye speak truthfully. I remember hearing it.”
“Men often make promises they intend to break.”
“Not my sire, and not me.”
Jamie poured himself a serving of ale. “Ye shouldna have found out like this!” he shouted so Mathe would hear. “I’d like to know where Mathe heard this rumor.”
“Mathe is bedding one of yer maids.”
Jamie shot up from his chair, headed for Mathe. But Alex latched onto his tartan.
“Sit down.”
“Which maid?” Jamie demanded.
“Struanna,” Mathe said.
“The toothless wench from the kitchens?” Jamie asked, realizing Mathe had been the one hiding behind the curtains the night he had returned home and was talking with his captain. “What man in his right mind would bed her? She’s as old and haggard as the hills.”
Alex bellowed with laughter.
“She may nay be much to look at,” Mathe said. “But she will never stray, and she sews the finest tunics.”
Jamie shook his head. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness, including Mathe and Struanna. Knowing he couldna employ her anymore, he said, “Ye will marry the woman and bring her to live here.”
Mathe held up his hands. “I dinna say I wanted to marry her.”
“If ye can plow in her field,” Alex said. “Then ye will marry her.”
Jamie laughed into his ale. Finally, a way to get back at Mathe without lopping his bloody head off. Saddling him with Struanna as a wife pleased him very much.
“And what are ye so happy about?” Alex asked seriously. “Ye have disappointed me greatly, Cousin. And it will take much to repair the trust between us.”
“Ye canna hold my father’s aspirations against me. Ye acknowledged hearing about it.”
“Tis the way ye went about it that disturbs me. Secretly discussing it with yer men but not me. If I were any other laird…”
“Ye’d kill me?”
“I could, and no one would say anything against it.”
Jamie immediately stood and loosened his tunic collar, revealing his neck. “If ye think of me as a usurper, end my life now. I doona wish to live another day without yer trust and respect.”
Their gazes locked.
Jamie wasna merely testing his cousin’s resolve. He’d rather die than live outside Alex’s grace. He meant that much to Jamie. All of the clan did. He gazed about the great hall; so many memories had been built there. He’d learned to fight in the bailey, had his first kiss by the hearth across the chamber, gotten into his first fight at the lower tables, and was voted in as a council member… “Ye are my brother and laird, Alex.”
“Am I?” Alex waved him away. “Ye will await my thoughts on this matter.”
Chapter Nineteen
A week later while Helen and Jamie were taking a walk by the loch, Petro and Miran with them, a maid from the kitchens arrived out of breath.
“What is it, Tavia?” Jamie asked. “Is Laird Alex safe? Keely?”
“Aye,” she answered. “The laird has summoned ye, Master Jamie. It’s of great importance. Strangers have arrived from Constantinople.”
Helen looked at him. “Perhaps friends have made a long journey to see ye?”
Jamie dinna have any friends there, not anyone that would travel all this way to see him. Had he failed in some way when he went there to conduct business on Alex’s behalf? That would mean he had failed his cousin twice. Twould do no good to stand about wondering. “I must go,” he said to Helen. “Forgive the abruptness of my departure. Petro, stay with the women.”
“With pleasure.” Petro bowed.
Jamie jogged up the footpath and strode through the gates with purpose. A retinue of men on horseback wearing Ottoman armor and carrying the empire’s red banner waited in the bailey, surrounded by Laird Alex’s captains.
Jamie’s heart thundered as he walked up to Keith MacKay to find out what was going on. “Where is Alex?”
“In the great hall,” Keith said, focused on the foreigners.
“Why are they here?”
“I doona know much. An old woman with a babe escorted by two men went inside with Mathe. These are hired escorts, not enemy soldiers.”
Jamie eyed the scimitars at the hip of every soldier and the bows and arrows on their backs. If not enemies, why were they heavily armed?
“Where is Kuresh?”
“Inside,” Keith said.
“Thank ye,” Jamie said, then departed for the great hall.
He climbed the stairs to the main doors, his instincts on high alert. Somehow, he knew what to expect. That old woman must be the soothsayer who foretold his future—she had come all this way to make sure her prophecy came true. As he entered the hall, everyone turned and stared at him. And that’s when Jamie saw her—Nudar—the witch. But his gaze quickly left her and focused on the bundle in her arms. A child with flame-red hair like his. His babe. His son. He could feel it in his bones. But his certainty did not destroy the shock.
“Jamie,” Alex motioned for him to step forward. “Are ye acquainted with this woman?”
Jamie joined his cousin on the dais.
“Master Jamie.” Nudar bowed her head. “I have come a long way to see you.”
“Are ye here to play a trick on me?” he asked. “To use yer magic against me?”
The old woman grinned, showing her perfect teeth. “I have brought yer son—my grandson.”
“Jamie?” Alex glanced at the child in her arms, then back at him. “Is this the woman…”
“Aye. Her name is Nudar, and she is a famous prophetess, according to Kuresh. How did ye come by this bairn?” Alex asked her, part of him unwilling to believe her.
“My daughter was Hana.”
Jamie felt lightheaded and leaned on the high table for support. “Hana is the lad’s mother?”
“She is dead.” Nudar said with sadness. “But she left us both a precious gift. It was her dying wish for me to bring Ramsey to you.”
Jamie studied the sleeping babe in her arms. The child had golden-colored skin and a thick head of red curls, which made the lad undeniably his. Even if he wanted to deny the child’s birthright, he couldna.
“Why did Hana give him a Scottish name?” Jamie asked.
“She called him the bridge between the old and new worlds—Istanbul and Alba. She believed he should know his father. His name is Ramsey Jaleel MacKay.”
“Ye knew Hana was pregnant when ye visited me at the harbor.”
“Yes,” Nudar said. “I wanted to meet the man who cared for my daughter and gave her a child.”
“Why dinna ye tell me then?” If she had, Jamie would have stayed with Hana.
“Hana knew you didn’t love her. And I sensed your restlessness. Just as with your cousin, Laird Alex, the desert wasn’t the right home for you. You both left pieces of your souls behind. Nothing can change the past, but the future…”
“Do ye have proof my cousin is his sire?” Alex asked.
“Alex.” Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Have ye not looked closely at the lad?”
“What if she dyed his hair?” Alex asked critically. “Such deceptions are possible.”
“To a flame-red?” Jamie straightened and walked slowly down the two steps of the dais, stopping feet away from his son. “What did Hana die from?”
“Fever. She didn’t suffer, though, simply faded in her sleep.”
“I am deeply sorry.”
“Life and death are one in the same to me,” Nudar said. “My concern is for Ramsey. What you will do with him.”
Jamie reached for the child’s head, wanting to touch his hair, wanting to confirm the child wasn’t a dream. But he lowered his hand, unsure what to do.
“Jamie.” Kuresh came forward. “This is a common trick to entrap men, to gain financial support for a family. Let me interrogate the old woman and her escorts.”
“I doona want the woman and child turned out or harmed.”
“There are ways to get answers without breaking bones,” Kuresh assured him. “I know this woman well. She visited my home on many occasions, a respected adviser to the women in my father’s harem.”
“You are the son of Emine Hatun bint Mehmed. A rare beauty and favored wife to your father.”
“That life is long over,” Kuresh told her bitterly. “Why are you here, woman? What is it you seek?”
“Prince Kuresh,” she said. “The reason for my long trip is in my arms. Look upon him, he is awake.” She freed his tiny body from the confines of his fur. “Seek the truth in your son’s eyes, Master Jamie.”
The child cried out, fisting his tiny hands, and opening his blue eyes. The final proof Jamie needed to acknowledge him as his son. “Give him to me.”
Nudar handed him over, and Jamie lifted the lad so he could see his face. Aye, the golden-colored skin of his mother, with his eyes and hair. “Ramsey,” he said. “If ye could speak, what would ye say, wee one?” He kissed his head.
“Jamie?”
Jamie cringed upon hearing Helen’s sweet voice. This wasna the right time for her to find out about his illegitimate child. He had hoped Miran and Petro would keep her busy for a while. But that hope faded when he met her curious gaze.
“What child do ye hold?” she asked.
“Is treun te an eolais,” Nudar whispered to him. The woman that knows is powerful. “And she is the one who rules your heart.”
“Take him,” Jamie growled at the old woman. “Say nothing.”
Kuresh escorted Nudar to the far side of the hall, giving Jamie a chance to explain everything to Helen.
“Sit with me,” Jamie said, leading Helen to one of the trestle tables. “I doona know how to tell ye this…”
“Who is that woman? And the wee one?”
“We’ve spoken before about my time in Constantinople. I kept a màthair. Hana.”
“Did ye love her?”
“Nay, but we understood each other, respected each other.”
“I dinna know ye then, Jamie. That time in yer life is over.” Though her voice was steady, her face betrayed a hint of hurt and sadness.
Helen was too selfless to judge him, to hold anything from his past against him. “Before I left, I gifted her with a house and enough coin to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. I dinna want her to have to take another lover to eat and clothe herself. Women are treated differently across the ocean, Helen. In ways I doona approve of, that I have grown to despise since I’ve returned home. And after meeting ye…”
“The babe is yer own?” she asked calmly.
“Aye,” he admitted. “I dinna know. I swear it.”
Helen rested her hand over his on the table. “I willna judge ye. All children are gifts from God.”
Amazed by her unselfish nature, he placed his free hand over hers, then quickly thought better of it, for their feelings for each other were not publi
cly known yet. “We shouldna act so boldly in front of anyone.”
Helen withdrew her hands. “Sometimes I forget myself.”
“As do I. So much has happened over the last few weeks. I feel as if I am living in a dream world, that I will wake up tomorrow and ye will be gone.”
She smiled so sweetly. “Go to the child. I will be here when ye need me, Jamie.”
If only he could take Helen and his new son home and banish the rest of the world from his life. He wanted something to call his own. And now—Jamie gazed in the direction of Ramsey—he had a child. One he must immediately claim in front of Father Michael, for Ramsey wouldna be raised in shame, as a nameless bastard. He was a MacKay and deserved all the honors that went with the title.
“Meet me in the storage room tonight,” Jamie said.
Helen blushed. “Ye are a man who likes to take chances.”
“No,” he said. “I am a man slowly starving to death because I havena kissed ye in three days.”
She nodded. “All right, I’ll be there. I feel confident enough to finish the missive to my sire today.”
“I am proud of ye, Helen. Maybe the earl will see the error in his judgement once he reads that missive. Speak from yer heart.” Jamie stood. “I will carry yer sweet smile with me for the rest of the day.”
*
Once Helen, Miran, and Petro left the great hall, tears stung Helen’s eyes.
“Milady? Why are ye crying?” Miran asked. “Is it about the babe?”
“Partly,” she admitted. “I had hoped…” She sniffed and wiped the tears away.
“Lady Helen,” Petro said quietly, “are you in love with Jamie MacKay?”
Shocked and embarrassed the scholar would ask such a question, she stared at him, not knowing what to say.
“Petro!” Miran said. “Tis not an appropriate thing to ask a lady.”
“No?” Petro clasped his hands behind his back. “In Rome…”
“We’re in the Highlands,” Miran reminded him.
“Yes. Is a Highland woman’s heart any different than an Italian maiden’s?”
Helen shook her head. “I am sure ye will say love is the same everywhere.” She had grown to like the scholar very much and trusted his opinion.
Highlands Forever Collection: A Highlander Romance Bundle Page 31