by Amy Jarecki
Standing with her back to the door, Glenda clapped her hands together. “Thank heavens. Forgive me for intruding, m’lady, but when I heard the commotion, I ran to fetch Grant, but Sir Eoin was the first man I saw…”
Eoin stood. “Thank you for alerting me, matron. You may return to your quarters. I’ll see to it Sir Aleck makes it to his bed.”
“Aye.” She curtseyed and looked to Helen. “If you do not need me for anything else, m’lady?”
“N-no.”
Eoin held the door. “Please keep this incident in your confidence. I wouldn’t want anyone bearing false witness against your lady. Sir Aleck fell because he is in his cups.”
“Of course. I’ll not tell a soul.” She leaned forward. “’Tis about time Lady Helen stood up to him. I’ll own to that fact even if it earns me a month in the dungeon.”
“You are a good woman.” Eoin patted her shoulder. “Good morrow.”
“Are you certain you don’t need me, m’lady?” Glenda cast a worried look to Helen.
“I’ll be fine.” At least Helen’s breathing had returned to normal, though her hands still shook. “I’ll see you on the morrow.”
After he showed Glenda out, Eoin closed the door and faced Helen, but his expression had changed. His expressive eyes reflected the same myriad of emotions churning in Helen’s breast.
Needing to explain, she spread her arms. “I—”
Before she blinked, Eoin enveloped her in a sheltering embrace.
11
Eoin shouldn’t have run to Lady Helen and gathered her in his arms, but she looked so vulnerable standing there trembling, her face stricken. However, now that his arms surrounded her, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
She huddled into him, still shaking like a frightened kitten. “I do not know what came over me, b-but he slapped my face, and I fell into the table. And then he-he-he wrapped his fingers around my neck. And-and I don’t know how I ended up with the candlestick, but I swung it at him to make him stop cho-k-ing meeeee.”
Sobs racked her body, and he held her tighter, wishing to God Glenda had fetched him sooner. If Aleck wanted a fight, Eoin would have been a more apt opponent.
“There, there,” he soothed, pressing his lips to the top of her head and closing his eyes. Who in their right mind would raise a finger against lovely Lady Helen? Beautiful, gentle, unpretentious Helen. Her fragrance alone was sweeter than an entire meadow abloom with heather. A willowy woman, she seemed so frail in his embrace. If he squeezed too taut, she might snap. This precious jewel of a noblewoman needed to be put on a pedestal, protected and admired.
She coughed. “My throat still hurts.”
Forcing himself to release his embrace, he cupped her face. Helen winced. Knitting his brows, Eoin examined her. She had a red mark along her cheek bone, with purple spreading beneath. The monster. “It looks like you’ll have another bruise.”
“Not again,” she groaned.
Eoin’s gaze trailed downward and he hissed. “Sir Aleck’s fingerprints have left bruises on your neck as well.”
She covered her throat with her hand. “Is it bad?”
“’Tis a bloody outrage if you ask me. A knight takes an oath to protect women—to honor them. This is a disgrace against you and against the code of chivalry. I ought to—”
“But Aleck will severely punish anyone who tries to stand up to him.” Her voice warbled with fear. “He’s lord of these lands.”
“Aye, but he’s not lord over Scotland, nor is he God’s emissary on earth.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Pope, m’lady. No woman should be forced to suffer the brutish hand of her husband and only the Pope can free you from this unbearable marriage.”
She swayed in place, covering her mouth with her hand. “An annulment?” she uttered the abomination in a whisper.
He reached out and brushed away the lock of hair covering her eye. “Aye.”
“Aleck would kill me first—he said so himself.”
“Not if you had my protection.”
She stepped away from him and paced, clutching her arms around her stomach. “But I have Maggie to think of. I can never leave Mingary without my daughter. I am the only person who will look out for her.”
“No one would expect you to give up your child to a tyrant.” Eoin grasped her hand. “Please. Allow me to help you.”
Uncertainty and fear shadowed her eyes as she cast her gaze to the brute still flat on his back.
Aleck moaned and snorted.
Eoin hastened to MacIain’s side. Good, he hadn’t roused from his drunken stupor.
Helen stepped beside him. “Are you sure he’ll be all right?”
“With a bull’s head like his? The only thing that will be ailing him come morn is a nasty ache in his skull caused by guzzling too much whisky.”
“Oh dear, that’ll make him angrier than a badger.” Helen grimaced. “And I’ll wager he’ll blame me.”
Eoin, kicked the bottom of Aleck’s foot with no result. “Perhaps not if we spirit him to his bed. When he wakes, he’ll have no idea how he arrived there.”
“But he’ll suspect I had something to do with it.”
“He mightn’t even remember what happened.”
“I hope you are right.” She didn’t appear to be convinced, but Eoin needed to move Aleck out of her chamber. If the bastard awoke on her floor, she’d be punished for certain.
“Is there a door between your chambers?”
She pointed. “Nay—his chamber is the next one along the passageway.”
Eoin scratched his chin. “Unfortunate.”
Helen tapped her fingers to her lips. “He mustn’t stay here. You are right about that. If we can slip out quietly, no one will be the wiser. Aleck only posts a guard at the stairwell.”
“The one I walked past on my way up here?”
“Aye, most likely.”
“A great deal of protection he’ll provide. He was slumped over and sound asleep.”
Eoin grasped Aleck’s arm and pulled him to a sitting position. The chieftain’s head dropped forward and he snored. Such a display of exemplary boorishness.
Helen clapped a hand to her chest. “How do you think you’ll lift him? Sir Aleck’s an awfully large man.”
Eoin grinned. “After years of rescuing your brother from every peril imaginable, I think I can carry this bear to the next room.” But it’s damn near going to break my back. Eoin planted his feet and heaved, swallowing his urge to bellow as he lifted.
Once Aleck’s body was up, Eoin crouched and slid his shoulder under him. “Go,” he strained through gritted teeth.
God’s teeth, the bastard must weigh twenty stone.
Helen pattered ahead and opened the doors. The sinews in Eoin’s neck strained. He either was going soft or Aleck MacIain was the heaviest blighter he’d ever carried.
Once inside the chieftain’s chamber, Eoin staggered to the bed and unfolded MacIain onto the mattress.
Helen lifted the man’s legs and pushed them onto the bed.
Watching her touch the overstuffed codfish made his gut clench. He didn’t care if MacIain was Helen’s husband, the bastard hadn’t earned the right to be tended by her loving hands.
She removed his shoes and covered him with the plaid from the end of the bed. “I don’t suppose there’s much else we can do for him.”
“Nay. The best thing for him is sleep.”
Again she wrapped her arms around her midriff, then turned full circle as if looking at the chieftain’s chamber for the first time. Lit only by the fire in the hearth and a candle flickering on the mantel, she shuddered. “I hate it in here.”
Eoin didn’t need to ask why. He placed his palm in the small of her back and ushered her through the passageway to the lady’s chamber door.
Helen placed her hand on the latch but hesitated. “I do not know how to thank you, Sir Eoin. Your kindness has exceeded
all bounds.”
He brushed the back of his finger along her smooth, unbruised cheek. “If only I could do more.”
She caught his fingers and brushed her lips over them. Then with a squeeze, she released his hand. “Sleep well.”
He bowed. “I shall see you on the morrow, m’lady.”
He waited until she slipped inside. Then he raised the hand she’d kissed and pressed it to his lips. The lady mightn’t ever end up wrapped in his arms again, but after this eve’s events, Eoin vowed to henceforth protect her.
Helen awoke when Glenda drew aside the window furs. A cock crowed and Helen pulled a pillow over her head. “It cannot possibly be morning.” Helen’s throat hurt and her voice rasped.
“’Tis time to break your fast m’lady,” the chambermaid said with too much enthusiasm.
With a groan, Helen sat up and pushed the bedclothes aside. “Brr. There’s a cold wind coming from the window.”
“Aye, it looks like it might rain.” Glenda held up Helen’s dressing gown. “Are you still planning to go to the village today, m’lady? You sound like you might be coming down with a sore throat.”
“I’m fine.” Yes, her voice was a tad gravelly, but it was Saturday. Helen visited the village with food and her medicine basket every Saturday. “Everyone would miss me if I didn’t go. Besides, I’d like to spend a day away from Mingary.” If only I could tell her how much I’d like to get away. Helen donned the dressing gown and then grimaced, tapping her fingers to her tender jaw.
“Are you hurt, m’lady?”
“I’ll come good in a day or two.”
Glenda placed her palms either side of Helen’s face. “Let me have a look.”
Helen flicked up the neckline of the robe to cover her neck. No use causing a stir about the fingerprint bruises as well.
“Lord in heaven, he’s given you another bruise.”
Helen pulled away. “’Twas just a slap.”
“Just? Pardon me for speaking my mind, m’lady, but Sir Aleck should never raise a hand against you. ’Tis just not right.”
Helen looked to the tray with a bowl of porridge and a cup of mead awaiting her on the table by the hearth. “I’ll set to eating if you could brush out my blue kirtle and cloak.”
Glenda didn’t budge. “I do not understand why you always pretend nothing is wrong. From the noise coming from this chamber last eve, I was afraid Sir Aleck was going to do more than slap you.”
Helen sat and stared at her porridge. “It was that bad?”
“Why else would I barge in with an armed knight in my wake?”
“Thank you.” Helen sighed and looked her chambermaid in the eye. “I have no idea what I would have done…” Devil’s bones, I’ll not start weeping again.
“I believe Sir Aleck has grown more short-tempered since Miss Maggie was born.”
Helen picked up her spoon and nodded. Glenda was right, but there wasn’t anything Helen could do about it. “Mayhap ’tis the MacGregor army.” He must feel threatened as well.
“Who knows?” Glenda held up her finger. “But I’ll say it was fortunate Sir Eoin was about last eve.”
“It was,” Helen said, doing her best to be vague. Even Glenda could make a slip, inciting unwanted rumors.
“What happened after he sent me away?” she persisted.
Helen pretended to flick a bit of lint from her sleeve. “We took Sir Aleck to his chamber and put him to bed.”
“Heavens.” The chambermaid fanned her face with a brisk wave of her hand. “If only Sir Eoin were our chieftain.”
Helen looked up, affecting disdain. “Glenda, what a horrible thing to say.” Though Helen admonished her maid, she couldn’t deny she felt the same. Still, some thoughts should never be uttered.
“Apologies for speaking out of turn, m’lady.” She opened the trunk and held up the kirtle. “Come, ’tis time to dress.”
Helen took one last swallow from her cup of mead and stood.
Glenda gasped and stared directly at Helen’s neck. “My heaven’s m’lady, you’ve hand prints on your throat.”
Curses, the blasted dressing gown slipped. Helen moved to the looking glass and examined the purple bruises. “Only high-collared gowns for the next fortnight.” She tried to sound jovial.
Glenda harrumphed. “How you can be so unconcerned about nearly being choked to death is beyond me.”
Helen was very concerned. She was beside herself. Aleck actually had tried to choke her. What would have happened if Glenda hadn’t intervened? A Cold chill slithered up her spine. What might happen if he struck out against Maggie? She hated to think of it.
After pulling off Helen’s dressing gown, Glenda eyed her expectantly. In no way would it be proper for Helen to share her feelings, so she opted for the adage her mother had always used. “That which we cannot help must be endured.”
The chambermaid held up a set of stays. “I’m not sure how much more enduring you can do, m’lady.”
Helen held out her arms and stood patiently while Glenda transformed her into the Lady of Ardnamurchan, the picture of the woman the crofters and patrons had grown to love and respect. After covering her head and neck with a grey wimple, Helen regarded herself in the polished copper mirror. “With a dab of lime, no one will even notice the bruise on my cheek.”
After she bid good morn to Maggie, Helen gathered her wits and proceeded to the second floor where she rapped on Aleck’s solar door. Though he would be aware of her usual Saturday trip to the village, she’d always given him the courtesy of letting him know before she set off. Though she would have preferred to avoid him altogether, it was best to maintain her regular routine, lest she create further discourse. When there was no answer, she pulled down on the blackened iron latch and peered inside.
Odd, Aleck always spends his mornings in here. Where has he gone? Is he still abed?
She let out a long breath. At least she wouldn’t have to face him. Only heaven knew how he’d respond after last evening’s events. And he’d most definitely find a way to make the candlestick incident appear to be her fault. In the five years of their marriage, Aleck had proven an expert at passing the blame, not only to her, but to anyone who disagreed with him.
She headed to the courtyard to look for Grant. Surprised to find it unusually quiet, she found no guardsmen whatsoever. The blacksmith shack clanged with the sound of iron striking iron, the piglets in the pen by the stables squealed, roosters crowed, but aside from the few sentries patrolling the wall-walk above, the MacIain guard was not training with weapons as expected. Where are Eoin and his men? Are they gone as well?
Perplexed, she headed out the main gate to the stables. At last she discovered the MacGregor guard busy at work honing their weapons. Every man wielded a rasp, working blades of swords, dirks and battleaxes into deadly sharp weapons.
Eoin made an imposing sight, supervising with his fists on his hips. When he spotted her, he smiled and hastened her way. “Good morrow, m’lady, I hope you are well.” He peered closely at the bruised cheek, now concealed by a layer of powdered lime.
Bless him for not saying a word about last eve’s blunder in front of the men. Helen still held on to a thread of hope the argument hadn’t wormed its way through the castle gossips. “I am feeling very well, thank you.” Aside from the throbbing on the right side of my face and my gravelly voice. She held up her basket. “I usually visit the villagers in Kilchoan on Saturdays, but I cannot find Sir Grant anywhere.”
“Are you looking for him to provide an escort?”
“Aye.”
Eoin’s angled brows drew together. “Did you not know Sir Grant and most of the MacIain men sailed north for a sortie at dawn—ah—with your husband?”
Helen glanced up at the elderly guard on the wall-walk. “Aleck is away?” They always left the older sentries at the castle.
“Gone up to Sleat to inspect a report of suspicious activity.”
“That sounds rather dangerous,” she said abse
ntly, wondering whom else she would ask to escort her to town.
“No more so than sparring in the courtyard every day.” He pointed to his men. “My lads are taking a moment’s respite to sharpen their weapons.”
“Is that not a daily necessity?”
“Aye it is, especially to keep a man’s sword and dirk from rusting, however, pikes and battleaxes do not always receive the same care.”
She looked beyond Eoin to ensure they were out of earshot of his men. “Did you speak to Sir Aleck this morn?” she whispered.
His blue eyes squinted a little in the morning light. “For a brief moment. After a messenger arrived, he hastened away.”
“And said nothing about…” She rolled her eyes toward the keep.
“Nary a word.” He grinned. Blast, how his grin could unravel her wits. “Though I doubt he’d confide anything to me.”
“Fortunate, I suppose.” With a nod, Helen spotted Mr. Keith up on the wall-walk and waved to catch his attention.
“Ah,” Eoin’s deep voice rumbled behind her, oddly making gooseflesh rise on her skin. “If it would please your ladyship, I’d enjoy escorting you to the village this day.”
Mr. Keith waved. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Is all well?”
“Aye, m’lady,” he hollered.
Normally Helen would never raise her voice, but she’d needed to act quickly. She returned her attention to Sir Eoin. “Why thank you. It would be an honor to be accompanied by the Chieftain of Clan Gregor. I’m sure the townsfolk would be very impressed indeed.”
He gestured forward with that handsome grin. “If you are ready, may I carry your basket?”
“My thanks.” Not even Sir Grant had offered to carry her basket on their many trips to the village.
Helen led the way along the path she’d traveled countless times. When sufficiently far enough away from the castle gates, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one else had followed. “What is the suspicious activity that was reported?”
“Nothing too alarming, just undue movement of galleys, similar to that which I saw with my men on our last sortie.”