by Amy Jarecki
She glanced over her shoulder. Eoin looked at her with such deep care reflected in his eyes, she could not deny the truth. “You can read me too well.”
For a moment she thought—hoped he would kiss her neck, but instead, he nudged her tresses and wimple aside with his chin, his warm breath making gooseflesh rise along her shoulders. “It doesn’t take a seer to realize you’re being mistreated.”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Helen closed her eyes and ground her teeth against her urge to cry. What a mess she’d made of her life. But she would not again break down in front of Eoin MacGregor. She needed no man’s sympathy. She must be strong.
“I cannot bear…” Eoin removed his hands from her shoulders.
Cold chills coursed across her skin. If only she hadn’t turned away, his arms would still be surrounding her. She faced him. “You cannot bear?”
“I-I’ve always held the sanctity of marriage in high esteem, yet I cannot bear to watch you suffer under the hands of that tyrant.”
Helen should admonish such a slander against her husband. But Eoin was not a servant. He was the only person in Ardnamurchan who knew about her past—about who she was at her core. “Duncan considered it a good alliance for the Campbell Clan. Mingary gives him a base from which to spy on the MacDonalds.” She didn’t need to tell Eoin about the centuries-long feud between their clans.
“I suspect the alliance had something to do with Sir Aleck’s separation from Clan Donald.”
She huffed. “Sir Aleck will be loyal to whomever offers him the greatest prize.”
A shadow passed over Eoin’s face. “I feared as much. He cannot be trusted.”
“You shouldn’t say that.” Helen clapped a hand over her mouth. Though Eoin was right, she’d trained herself to stand up for her husband.
“You, more than anyone, should realize the truth.”
She crossed her arms and rubbed the outside of her shoulders with a subtle nod.
“Come here,” he beckoned her. “I promise I will not try to kiss you again.”
To her surprise, a twinge of disappointment squeezed her heart. “You’re as damp as I, yet so warm.”
He chuckled and Helen again relaxed into his embrace. Thunder cracked overhead as the downpour continued.
Odd, the torrent is ever so soothing.
“Lady Helen?”
She loved how her name rolled off his tongue. “Aye?”
His hand rubbed her back in a circular motion. “I think I should talk to your brother about asking the Pope for an annulment.”
Every muscle in her body tensed and she pushed away from his arms. “You cannot be serious.”
Eoin groaned and released her. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I found you in the alcove on the beach. John Campbell is the Bishop of the Isles. He has the Pope’s ear.”
A cold shiver twitched through her body. “But Aleck has sworn he’ll murder me. If I’m deceased, Maggie will have no one to protect her.”
“I will protect you. I vow it.” Eoin combed his fingers through his damp tresses. “That did not come out as genteel as I would have liked.” He inhaled deeply and gazed at her eyes intently. “I also promise I will not approach your brother unless you give your consent. Please, Lady Helen. Think about this for a moment. Remaining at Mingary is not a viable solution for you or the bairn.”
Arms folded, Helen paced in a circle, her mind abuzz with all the reasons she should not listen. “What you suggest is madness.”
“Just hear me.”
She moved to the edge of the crude shelter and stared at the driving rain. She would never do anything to compromise Maggie’s safety. “I cannot abandon my daughter.”
“Of course no one would ever expect that of you. She’s a part of you and deserves your love. Aleck has proved he has no capacity to care for the babe.”
Helen folded her arms tighter. All the tension in her body returned tenfold. Aye, things were bad with Aleck, terrible, even. But seeking an annulment could purchase more trouble than she’d ever experienced in her life—and Maggie could end up in the midst of the worst of it.
“If you scribe a letter to your brother, I will deliver the missive without Aleck ever being aware.” Eoin stepped behind her, his presence radiating like a furnace, but his words so extremely disconcerting. “If the Pope grants the annulment, Aleck doesn’t need to know about it until you and Maggie have been safely spirited away from Mingary.”
Again she tensed. “Aye? And then what? Aleck will come after me. He sees Maggie as his mark for bargaining, and if it weren’t for the feud he’d cause with the Campbell Clan, he’d sooner see me dead.”
“Your words ring true,” Eoin agreed. “But you and Miss Maggie would have the protection of Clan Gregor and Clan Campbell. On that you have my vow.”
Too many warring consequences muddled her mind. “Please. This is too terrifying to consider. What if my missive were intercepted? What if the Pope rejects my plea appeals directly to Aleck?”
Eoin clapped his hand over his heart. “I will have words with John to ensure that does not happen. Once your brother knows of your situation, I am certain your protection will be paramount to the family.”
If only she could believe him. If only she could be sure she and Maggie would be free from Aleck’s retribution. But Helen could not take such a risk. She plucked her cloak from the peg and slung it round her shoulders. “Please, take me back. This talk of annulment is too disconcerting.”
She caught the look on Eoin’s face before he turned to retrieve his mantle. His frown forlorn, he looked as if he’d just received notice of the passing of a loved one. Did he care for her that much? If he helped her and was discovered, Aleck would not only kill her, the Chieftain of Ardnamurchan would not rest until Eoin was dead too.
She could never put so much at risk.
Could she?
13
The rain had stopped, though every stitch of Eoin’s clothing was still soaked clear through.
As they approached Mingary Castle, the hair at Eoin’s nape stood on end. He had a hunch something had happened and knew better than to ignore his instincts. All was quiet. Too quiet. There wasn’t even a sentry upon the wall-walk.
He drew his sword and motioned for Lady Helen to move behind him.
“What is it?”
“Just a feeling, but there’s no guard above.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Stay behind me.”
Voices echoed from behind the man door. He recognized Fergus’s voice. Eoin pounded his pommel on the hard oak. “’Tis Lady Helen and Sir Eoin.”
The door opened straight away to Fergus’s wide-eyed stare. “Thank heavens you’ve returned, m’laird.”
Eoin ushered Helen forward. “What the blazes is going on?”
“William’s arrived from Sunart with news. The MacDonalds are marching overland.”
“’Tis the truth.” A MacIain man stepped forward. “And they’ve already burnt out Gilles’s cottage. We saw the smoke first.”
“Are you William?” Eoin asked the man.
“Aye.”
“Did the other men from your post come with you?”
“Nay.” William inclined his head eastward. “They’ve stayed to keep an eye on the Donald’s whereabouts.”
“Good.” Eoin looked between the men. “How much time do we have before they cross into Ardnamurchan?”
“A day, mayhap two,” William surmised. “Depends on how intent they are on pillaging poor crofters.”
Damn, there was no time to wait for MacIain to return with his best fighting men. I told Sir Aleck the greater threat was Sunart, but the bastard wouldn’t listen. Forced to make a snap decision, Eoin pointed to the stables. “Ready the men for battle. We’ll ride at once.”
Helen grasped his arm. “What can I do to help?”
“Keep everyone calm.” Eoin patted her fingers. “Ensure you have enough food and water within the walls in case there is a siege.”
“A siege? I
thought you said they wouldn’t march on Mingary.”
“I aim to see that they do not, but you must prepare for the worst.” Eoin grasped her hand. “We shall leave the remaining Mingary guardsmen here. With luck, Sir Aleck and his men should return soon and provide reinforcements.” He pointed to an elderly sentry sporting a bow and arrow—one who clearly had left his post atop the wall-walk, having left it unguarded. “Resume your station immediately. There must be at least three sentries on the battlements at all times. No question.”
“Yes, m’laird.” The man bowed his head and hastened off.
With her chin raised, Helen looked Eoin in the eye. “I will make certain we secure the fortress.” Though she was a small woman, her stature exuded confidence—something absolutely necessary in a leader. By God, she was Colin Campbell’s daughter.
“It is up to you to rally the Mingary forces in the absence of Sir Aleck. Your word is law. Do not forget that, m’lady.” He pulled her aside. “The attack on Sunart might be a ploy to pull us away from Mingary. When Sir Aleck returns, tell him to prepare for an attack by sea. With the MacGregors protecting your back and the MacIains covering the sea gate, all should be well.”
As Helen watched Eoin take charge, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and beg him to stay. He could be killed in the fighting—or injured. He’d sworn to protect her and now he planned to ride off and face a band of pillaging rogues. She clasped her hands together to stop herself from embracing him. I mustn’t fear. Eoin has ridden into far worse. He’s a king’s enforcer. If anyone can stop Clan Donald, it is he.
But watching him ride through the gate, clad and equipped for battle without so much as being able to give him her kerchief, tied Helen’s stomach in knots. Dear Lord, please watch over Sir Eoin and his men and bring them back to Mingary safely.
The gates closed behind the mounted warriors with a resounding boom.
Her nerves jumped across her skin.
What on earth should I do now?
Blinking, she recalled how Eoin took charge, and how her brother managed his men. Her father had been a legendary commander in The Crusades. Squaring her shoulders, Helen knew what she must do. Casting misgivings about her gender aside, she turned in a circle. She’d been left with the elder guardsmen—every man sported greying locks, if they still had hair. Presently, they all stared at her—even Peter the cook had come into the courtyard with an expectant gaze.
Snapping a hand to her hip, Helen pointed in the direction of the east paddock. “Bring a dozen head of sheep into the courtyard and three times as many hens. Have the lads fill every spare barrel with water.”
No one moved.
She clapped her hands. “Quickly. Work together. I want all this done and the gate bolted before the evening meal.”
She turned to the nearest guard—Mr. Keith. “Do you have enough men to maintain three lookouts in a scheduled rotation?”
“Aye, m’lady. ’Tis what Sir Aleck ordered afore he set sail.”
“Very good.” At least she didn’t have to worry about organizing the guard. She’d assumed as much, but presently she was in charge and needed to know exactly when and where to expect her guards. “I want a weapons report. Pikes, swords, number of arrows, and number of fighting men remaining at the castle.”
Mr. Keith bowed. “I’ll fetch that for you straight away, m’lady.”
“Tell the men we are on full alert until Sir Eoin returns.”
“Very well, m’lady.”
He hesitated for a moment. Helen looked at him directly. “Was there something else you needed?”
He scratched his head. “I don’t believe so.”
She shooed him away with a flick of her wrist. “Then get to it. We must ensure we have plenty of arrows to defend the keep and provisions to ensure we are all fed.”
Glenda hastened to Helen’s side. “I just heard the news. ’Tis terrible Sir Aleck is away whilst we are under attack.”
Helen held up her finger. “We are preparing for an attack that may not come. The important thing is that we are ready should such an incidence arise.” As people scattered, she eyed Thomas, the stable hand. “Send a runner to the village. Tell the crofters they must take refuge within the castle walls immediately.”
The boy gaped. “’Tis that bad?”
“Nay,” Helen reassured him. “But I’ll not wait until the Donald is upon us to open the gates to our kin.”
The ram’s horn sounded from the wall-walk. Helen’s heart lurched. She peered up at the lookout.
He cupped his hands to his mouth. “A galley flying the MacIain pennant.”
Aleck has returned.
Though the fighting men were needed, Helen could not assuage the tightening in her chest. Heaving a heavy sigh, she grasped Glenda’s hands. “I haven’t seen Miss Maggie since before I left for the village this morning. How is she?”
“A happy bairn. Do not worry, Sarah has the lass’s care in hand.”
Helen she pressed her palms against her abdomen. “I will be up to check on her as soon as I am able. Go help Peter with the provisions. I must hasten to face the dragon.”
Glenda snorted out a howling laugh.
Helen bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. She’d never made such a derogatory remark about Aleck to the chambermaid. Reminding herself she mustn’t ever reveal her true feelings about her husband, no matter what, she let out a heavy sigh. Helen must be careful not to slip again. Gathering her composure, she headed for the sea gate.
Men furled the galley’s sail while others took up the oars and guided the boat toward the shore. The men’s voices echoed on the breeze as they sang a seafaring ditty to the rhythm of their rowing. Aleck stood astern, manning the rudder. The sight of the clansmen sailing home always brought an air of triumph and the castle courtyard buzzed with excitement.
Helen often stood beneath the archway of the sea gate and watched Clan MacIain approach—usually from a day of fishing. Typically she watched with an emotionless gaze, but today her insides jumped with restlessness.
After Aleck hopped over the side of the galley, Helen hastened toward him. “Urgent news m’laird.”
He smirked, hardly regarding her. “What is it now?”
Helen didn’t allow his gruff demeanor to dissuade her. Eoin had put her in charge. She would not shirk from any duty required of her. “A sentry reported the MacDonalds have burned out the Gilles’s cottage in Sunart. Sir Eoin and his men have ridden to intercept them before they march into Ardnamurchan.”
Aleck jammed his fists into his hips, leaning in so he towered over her. “He’s ridden without me?”
Helen mirrored his pose. “Aye—and not too long ago.”
“You stupid woman, why did you not tell him to wait?”
She blinked in rapid succession, willing away his insult. I have a duty to the clan. “We had no idea when to expect your return, m’laird. With news of the raid, Sir Eoin hadn’t any choice but to make haste.”
Aleck lashed out with a swift backhand. Flinching, Helen tried to duck, but he clipped the side of her cheek with his fingernails. Stumbling backward, she touched a hand to her face.
“Sir Eoin?” Aleck said. “I’ve had a gut full of that cur coming into my keep and giving orders as if he were lord and master.”
Helen looked at her palm. Blood streaked across her fingers. She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. The iron taste of blood swilled across it while every muscle in her body clenched. She was no pigeon for Aleck to strike whenever he pleased.
“Ready the horses,” he bellowed.
Thomas stepped into view, wringing his hands. “So sorry, m’laird. Sir Eoin and his men took most of the horses. We’ve only a couple of nags left.” The lad’s gaze shifted to Helen’s bleeding mouth.
“He bloody what?” Aleck looked as if he were going to wallop poor Thomas. But he growled instead. “Saddle those that remain and fetch my battle armor.” He beckoned Grant. “You and I will ride ahea
d—the rest of the men will follow on foot.”
Holding a kerchief against her wound, Helen hastened toward him, but kept enough distance to avoid another strike. “What if the MacDonalds should attack by sea, m’laird?” she asked, careful not to mention Sir Eoin’s name this time—though he had been the one who suspected a dual strike.
Aleck glared. “Do you not have something to embroider? My God, had Duncan Campbell told me how utterly daft you were, I’d not have signed my name to the marriage contract.”
“Nor would you have received my dower lands.” Helen shuffled back in anticipation of an angry strike for her impertinence.
“Watch your mouth.” Aleck stepped in, but didn’t raise a hand this time. “We’ve just returned from a sortie to the north. The MacDonald galleys are still sailing back and forth between Colonsay and Sleat. They’ve much bigger fish to fry—and I am to see they do not succeed.”
Grant strode forward, leading the horses. “Right after we stop them in Sleat, aye, m’laird?”
“Too right.” Aleck circled his hand over his head. “Come men, there’ll be no rest. We’ll not be letting Clan Gregor fight our battles.”
Helen watched as the MacIain army marched out the gate behind Aleck and Grant. All looked worn from their three-day stint at sea. They carried every manner of weapons from poleaxes, bows and arrows to dirks and swords. She could only pray that Aleck had been right—there was no threat from the sea. Once again she’d be left with Mr. Keith and the aged guardsmen. Nonetheless, not a pleasant thought, given Eoin’s warning.
Helen whispered a silent prayer for their safety and headed into the keep to cleanse the blood from her face.
Mary stood propped against the kitchen doorway, watching Helen as she passed. The widow’s arms were folded and she had a smirk across her mouth as if she enjoyed seeing Helen receive a slap from Sir Aleck.
Helen stopped short. I am in charge. I am the lady of this keep. “Mary, see to it you keep the sheep and chickens out of the garden.”
The woman’s jaw dropped. “Me?”
“Aye, and while you’re at it, you can give Master Thomas a hand with the pig’s feed.” Helen didn’t wait for a response. Rather, she proceeded through the great hall and up the stairwell. With things set in motion to secure and provision the castle, she would clean her face and then see to Maggie’s safety.