“Mice?” Jamie asked, knowing better. All keeps had spies.
“Nay,” Crannog said, walking back to the table. “A pair of secret lovers.”
“Who happened to overhear our conversation.” That’s what concerned Jamie the most. If word ever reached Alex, his cousin would never forgive him.
There were four other MacKay branches. And before Alex reluctantly accepted the lairdship, he’d almost agreed to let the largest absorb Laird John’s holdings. Things had grown that desolate.
Jamie had sworn to never let that happen again. That’s why he spent so much time with Alex instead of at home. With the birth of Alex’s twins, however, his son guaranteed the MacKay lineage would continue.
Jamie’s presence dinna seem necessary any longer. And whenever he could, Alex encouraged Jamie to go home. Why? To be rid of him? Or to allow Jamie time to grow his own family and clan?
Maybe the two of them were thinking alike but had never discussed it out of fear of what the other would say or do. Beyond that, Jamie’s birthright, his mother a cousin to the English king, demanded he seek greater position than just being the head of Alex’s army. A man that dinna know his place could die an early death in the Highlands, that’s what Jamie’s da always said. But then when no one was about, he’d tell Jamie to accomplish more than he had.
Jamie’s sire was a second son. He’d married well, gained land and wealth by way of his mother’s dowry. And Jamie must do the same if he wanted to build a new clan. Marry for purpose not love. Which excluded Lady Helen as a potential wife, for if Jamie spent too much time with her, his heart would make him weak, that much he knew.
Chapter Fifteen
“Do ye promise not to tell yer husband?” Helen asked Keely while they were alone in the women’s solar the day after Jamie left.
Keely had made the space, located on the second floor, as elegant and comfortable as Helen’s own solar at Dunrobin Castle. A single, arched window allowed natural light to flood in. On the opposite wall was a stone hearth. Above the hearth hung a tapestry honoring Clan Oliphant, Keely’s father’s clan. A trestle table with an embroidered tablecloth and padded benches graced the center of the room. Weaving and embroidery materials were kept in baskets along the north wall. A tray of food and wine was set out on a smaller table in the corner.
“Secrets can hurt a marriage,” Keely told her. “I learned the hard way. But I also value the honesty and trust ye and I share. Is it shameful that Jamie has expressed interest in ye?”
Helen stood up from the trestle table and folded her arms across her chest. “He wishes me to stay away.”
“I doona believe him. I think ye present a challenge, make him think about things he hasna considered in a long time.”
“I asked if we could remain friends.”
Keely gave her a sideways look. “Helen, a man like Jamie doesna want to be yer friend—any woman’s friend.”
That news disappointed Helen greatly. “There’ve been other women, then? That he’s cared about?”
Keely set her embroidery aside. “Of course,” she said without hesitation. “He’s travelled halfway around the world, met many people, done many things. He’s a hot-blooded Highland warrior. Would ye expect any less?”
“No,” she answered regretfully. “I have no adventures to speak of, no great accomplishments to share. To an experienced man such as Jamie, I must appear no different than a child.”
“Why are ye so hard on yerself, Helen?”
“Because I wish for so much more than I have.”
“Ye are not alone.”
“I know.” She reached across the table and squeezed Keely’s hand appreciatively. “I am sorry if I sound selfish. It’s just…”
“What?”
“While we kissed…”
“He kissed ye?”
Helen felt her cheeks blush. “Twas more than a mere kiss.”
“Alex wouldna approve. And I am not sure…”
“Nay,” Helen said. “I wanted him to kiss me.”
“Ye did?”
“I am one-and-twenty, Keely. I have never been alone with a man, never been permitted to speak with one as I have Master Jamie, and I surely have never had the benefit of a man’s romantic attention.”
“Only because yer father wished the best for ye.”
Helen couldna help laughing. “The best for him, Keely. He guarded my virtue so he could marry me off to a powerful laird, not because he really cares.”
“I doona believe that. Somewhere underneath all his blustering, he is still yer father. Remember my own sire is set in his ways.”
“I want to believe it. But after my mother died, he changed. He tried to forget about her, took a mistress a week after. To this day, the servants whisper about it, especially when he shows interest in a new woman. I doona wish to marry a man like that.”
“I promise ye one thing,” Keely said. “Jamie isna that kind of man. And if ye stirred his emotions as much as ye have said, then I wouldna worry. He will return.”
“Even if he is different, it willna change anything, especially who I am. Perhaps it is time for me to send my father a missive, sparing Laird Alex the task. I am the one who ran away. It’s my responsibility to tell him why.”
Keely walked around the trestle table and stood in front of Helen. “I am proud of ye. The woman I met seven years ago wouldna have had the courage to say it.”
“Nay?”
“Nay,” Keely assured her.
“I wish to speak with Laird Alex.”
“Before I take ye to him, remember the feast to honor my children is in five days. I hope ye still wish to be my son and daughter’s godmother.”
Nothing could dissuade Helen from accepting that honor. Those two sweet babes were the one thing that made it worth leaving Dunrobin. Any time spent with Keely and her family would become part of Helen’s favorite memories, even if she had to marry Baran Munroe.
“Aye,” she said with enthusiasm. “I have verra special plans for John and Rebecca.” She smiled.
“I am so pleased.” Keely embraced her. “Now let us see about Alex. I am sure he willna keep ye from writing to yer sire.”
They found Alex in his solar with Petro.
“Come in,” Alex stood and bowed. “What brings ye belowstairs at this time of day, dear wife?”
“A special favor,” she answered, going directly to her husband and accepting a kiss on the cheek.
“Ask anything of me.”
Helen adored the way Alex and Keely spoke to and gazed at each other with such love and admiration. She could feel the heat between them, and it almost stole her breath.
“After I spoke with Lady Helen, she determined it would be best if she penned the missive to the Earl of Sutherland, not ye.”
Alex sat down again, almost as if he’d been forced to. “Ye caught me off guard, sweet wife.”
“I dinna mean to, Alex.”
Alex looked to Petro. “Always full of surprises.”
Petro grinned. “Tis why she is the perfect Lady MacKay.”
“What changed yer mind about me writing to yer father?” Alex asked Helen.
She moved deeper into the large chamber. “Time to think about everything,” she said. “I’ve let people make decisions for me all my life, Laird Alex. For once, I would like the earl to respect me, even if he thinks I’m wrong.”
Alex folded his hands on top of his table and leaned forward. “Yer father will most assuredly believe ye wrong. Are ye prepared if he sends yer brothers and an army to recover ye? For if ye start the conversation with him, Lady Helen, ye must face the consequences when he shows up to get a direct explanation for yer actions.”
Helen tried to ease the tension between her shoulders as she considered Alex’s warning. Every time she thought about her sire, her neck muscles tightened up and she felt like she was carrying the weight of the world on her back. At least she had gotten past the part where her throat went dry and she couldna find the r
ight words to say. But in truth, the idea of facing the earl made her want to hide in her bedchamber.
“It seems I have nay choice.”
“All right,” Alex said. “Petro?”
“Milord?”
“Are ye willing to help Lady Helen with her missive to the Earl of Sutherland?”
Petro nodded at Alex, then faced Helen. “I would be honored to assist you, Lady Helen.”
“Then it is decided.” Alex stood and stretched. “I will leave the two of ye alone. As for my wife…” He joined Keely and hooked an arm around her slim waist. “I believe we should take some fresh air together.”
“Alex,” Keely said. “Send for Miran first. Lady Helen shouldna be left alone with a man in yer solar.”
“Aye.” He walked to the solar door and opened it. A guard bowed. “Fetch Miran.”
*
“I had no reason to tell ye,” the earl said, watching as the behemoth, Laird Munroe, paced his great hall.
“No reason?” his guest snarled. “Is she my betrothed or not?”
“The lass has never disobeyed me. In order to protect her reputation, I have dealt with this quietly. My men are searching for her as we speak. If she is in the Highlands, Helen will be found and brought home. That I promise.”
Baran Munroe wasna an easy man to keep company with. He dinna care much for formalities and treated the earl as if they were equals. “This French wine,” he complained, “is meant for women to drink. Give me something with teeth, something that will cool my temper.”
The earl rolled his eyes. That wine cost more silver than all the ale in the isles. However, the laird’s barbaric manners provided some secret entertainment for the earl, for he could easily see the man wearing animal skins and roaming the vast hills barefoot and half-starved in the days of the Picts.
“Remember what a treasure ye gain with my only daughter.”
The laird reached inside his tunic and produced a small painting of Lady Helen. “Is this a true likeness?” he asked.
“It does her no justice,” the earl said as he waved one of the maids over. “Bring ale for Laird Munroe.”
The maid curtsied and left the great hall.
“She is a rare beauty, like her mother before her.”
The answer seemed to mollify Baran long enough for him to sink down in the chair beside the earl. “John…”
The earl could bear much, but not this. “I dinna give ye permission to use my name,” he said, his voice hard. “Helen will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly if she has dishonored our family. However, if she has fled in fear, as many maidens do before they marry, I will show her kindness, for she has been a tolerable lass all these years.”
Baran grunted as he swallowed down the last bit of his wine. “Ye have the benefit of three sons. I am cursed with six daughters, only two worth their salt.”
The earl knew the laird to be the lowest sort of man, and had high hopes that after he married Helen, he’d die soon, accidently of course. With him out of the way, as the marriage contract designated, half of his assets would become Sutherland property and Helen would be free to marry again, this time to a man she preferred.
Though unfair to sweet Helen, he would reward her for her pain and suffering. Laird Munroe had promised (and provided it in writing) that he wouldna mistreat, physically harm, or starve Helen: a necessary measure to protect his daughter.
Laird Munroe dropped the likeness of Helen on the table. “Where has the lass gone?”
The earl grinned behind his silver goblet. He knew exactly where to look. The MacKay keep.
Chapter Sixteen
The feast day to honor Alex and Keely’s twins arrived. Helen had stayed busy by helping Keely and the other women of the household prepare for the celebration. With no word from Jamie, Helen dinna know whether she would be expected to carry John and Rebecca into the great hall to receive a blessing from Father Michael. The idea dinna please her, for she blamed herself for his absence. Not only that, tradition would be broken; the godfather should carry any male children and the godmother, any female babes.
As Helen waited impatiently for Miran to finish dressing her hair, she stared out the single window in her bedchamber.
“If ye keep squirming like a wee lass, I willna be able to get yer curls just right, milady.”
“I doona care how I look,” she said.
Miran clicked her tongue reprovingly. “I doona believe it. As for Master Jamie…”
“Doona say anything about him,” Helen warned.
“Nay? Ye’ve held yer tongue for nearly a week. But anyone with half a brain can see that ye suffer.”
“Suffer? From what?”
“Disappointment.”
Should she continue lying? Her head throbbed, and she couldna keep her hands from shaking, either. All signs of something amiss. And if she thought about Jamie too much, her right eye twitched. She raised her chin, gazing up at the maid. “Despite all my efforts to forget about him while working from morning till night, I am no better off.”
Miran twisted the last strand of Helen’s hair and pinned it in place before she set the ivory comb aside. With her hand on her hip she said, “Whether that mhic an Diabhail returns or not, ye should be proud of what ye accomplished in yer short time here.”
Helen once again swallowed her laughter after Miran had said something inappropriate. But that’s one of the reasons why she had grown fond of the maid so quickly; the lass spoke her mind without fail. Helen would never let her go. Though she couldna agree about Jamie being the son of the devil. She cleared her throat. “Miran, I appreciate yer loyalty. Doona place such high hopes in me. I couldna even finish the missive to my father without begging Petro for time to think about what I want to say to him.”
“Ye are so wrong. Asking for that time shows how much ye care. Instead of saying something out of anger or desperation, ye are waiting for the right words to come to ye. That’s admirable, milady. Everyone speaks of what a fine woman ye are, how much they wish ye were a MacKay instead of a Sutherland.” Miran gasped a little, then covered her mouth. “Forgive me, Lady Helen.”
Though the words stung her pride, Helen had wished for the same thing over and over again. Helen of the Highlands, Jamie’s special name for her. Or Helen MacKay appealed to her, too. Dreams of a silly lass. She could no sooner become a MacKay than she could be a simple lass of the Highlands. She carried a heavy burden being born a Sutherland. Much was expected of her—but God help her, she couldna accept the fate her father had chosen for her.
“Doona worry,” Helen said, gesturing for the looking glass.
Miran handed it to her, and Helen examined her hair. Only the front and sides had been pinned up, the rest of her waist-length, blond hair had been combed out. Dried, purple blossoms decorated the curls, and she wore a lilac-colored, linen gown edged with silver embroidery and matching slippers. To demonstrate how important the honor of being named godmother to Keely’s children was, she elected to wear her mother’s favorite jewels, a Roman garnet ring, necklace, and bracelet.
“Thank ye, Miran,” she said, offering the looking glass back to the maid and standing. “Why Keely hasna appointed ye as her personal maid, I doona know. And my offer is ever enduring. Please come with me wherever I go.”
Miran blinked several times and smiled. “Ye do me a great honor by asking, milady. But the MacKays are my family, and this keep the only home I’ve ever known.”
“I understand.” And Helen did, but that dinna mean she’d give up on changing the maid’s mind yet.
Someone knocked on the chamber door, and Miran hurried to open it.
Laird Alex and two of his guards greeted them. “Miran,” Alex said, then looked beyond her. “Lady Helen. Are ye ready to go belowstairs?”
“Aye.” She curtsied, and Alex grinned ear to ear.
“Ye look beautiful,” he said.
Lady Helen straightened, holding her head high, the way she had been taught all her life. “Th
ank ye. Is Lady Keely waiting for us?”
“She is the most impatient woman I have ever met.” Alex chuckled, looking regal in his black tunic with gold thread and what appeared to be a new MacKay tartan, pinned in place by a splendid ruby and silver brooch.
He offered his arm to Helen, and she took it, followed by Miran and the guards.
The carved-from-stone, narrow, spiral stairs ended at an archway that opened into the great hall. Unlike other keeps of its kind, the MacKay’s ancestral home had windows cut into the lower floor that permitted a view of the outdoors. With the sun just setting, the fading daylight and candlelight cast the hall in dramatic fashion.
Applause sounded as Laird Alex and Lady Helen entered the vast chamber. Father Michael waited at the far end of the room in front of the dais where the high table was located. Lady Keely and the MacKay captains were already seated.
Helen counted at least a hundred attendees in the great hall, more if she considered the crowd in the antechamber—most of them crofters.
Laird Alex patted her hand before he excused himself and walked slowly toward the high table, his people standing to honor him. Aye, the respect and love Laird Alex had won from his clan showed on their happy faces. She might even call it adoration, from men and women alike. It made her both delighted and melancholy, for Helen wished her father inspired that kind of devotion.
A bit nervous, Helen looked about. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Jamie. However, the nurses arrived holding the babes, and Petro appeared.
“Lady Helen.” He bowed. “The ceremony is informal but very important to the proud parents.” He gazed in the direction of Alex and Keely. “A court jester could not smile as brightly as they.”
Helen agreed. Keely and Alex were blessed beyond measure.
“The baptism will be held on the next sabbath, a private ceremony for the family.”
“Will I be carrying both bairns?” she asked. “Or will ye stand in for Jamie?”
Petro sighed and lowered his voice. “Alex gave me specific instructions. If Master Jamie refuses to do his duty by showing up for this celebration, then the honor of being the children’s godfather is no longer his. In that case, Laird Alex has asked me to be their godfather.”
Highlands Forever (Books 1–3) Page 29
