Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4)

by Amy Jarecki

  Aleck moved to the table and stood beside him. “I’d assume the same.”

  MacIain is actually listening this time? Eoin pointed. “Our spies are posted on Eigg, The Kyle of Lochalsh and on the northern point of Ardnamurchan.” He moved his finger south and west past Mingary. “I think you need a lookout here in northern Sunart. We should be prepared for an overland attack.”

  “Have you got your head up your arse?” Aleck shook his skull with a tsk of his tongue. “MacDonald will not attack by land.”

  “No?” Eoin moved his finger a bit further north. “It wouldn’t take much effort to march an army south from Tioram Castle.”

  Aleck threw back his whisky and swallowed. “I don’t like the idea of splitting our forces.”

  “Agreed there—we’re stronger if we stay together.” Eoin tapped his finger on the region of Sunart—land recently acquired by MacIain—land he wouldn’t want to forfeit to the marauding MacDonald. “Station a watch—three men with fast horses. Where’s the highest point?”

  “Beinn Resipol.” Aleck scratched his beard. “It overlooks Loch Sunart to the south and Loch Schiel to the north.”

  “Excellent. Have them notify the local crofters to be on the lookout for MacDonald men. If they attack us from behind we’ll be ready.”

  Aleck’s expression grew dark. “I’m still not convinced we should waste our time covering our arses in the east. MacDonald wants the Lordship of the Isles back, not my lands.”

  “You think not?” Eoin met the belligerent man’s stare. “As I recall, Sunart used to be under control of the Lord of the Isles—as was Mingary. You may very well be his first target on his way down the coast.”

  “’Tis possible that they try, but no one crosses me. Though Sunart was bequeathed to me by the king after I agreed to renounce the MacDonald name, my ancestors have been the Chieftains of Ardnamurchan for a good long time. No other clan within a hundred miles would try to attack me and my men. I have the king’s backing and MacDonald knows it. If he attacks, I’ll show him no quarter.”

  Eoin listened, but Aleck’s bravado changed nothing. “Would you like to stand before the king with your bonnet in hand and explain why you allowed Clan Donald to take your lands?”

  MacIain slammed his fist on the table. “That will never happen. I’ll not allow it, and I’ll not tolerate your coming into my keep, placing your soiled hands on my wife and telling me how to manage my men.”

  Eoin sauntered forward until he was within a hand’s breadth of the bastard. Then he folded his arms and met the man eye-to-eye. Though Aleck was probably four stone heavier, they were the same height. “I’m here because our king requested my presence. As soon as this business is over, I’ll gladly take my leave.” Eoin’s ire boiled too near the surface to hold his tongue any longer. “And as for your wife? If you’d pay a mind to your own bed rather to that of the merry widow, Lady Helen just might birth the son you’ve a yen for.”

  Gnashing his teeth, Aleck drew his fist back. But Eoin was faster. Before MacIain could follow through, Eoin clamped his fingers at the base of Aleck’s neck—a maneuver he’d learned from the Black Knight—one that would cause excruciating pain.

  MacIain grimaced and tried to twist away, but Eoin held the miserable buffoon in a viselike grip. “The king has ordered us together whether you like it or nay,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I will see to the safety of this keep and the women and children within regardless of your bull-brained overconfidence.”

  Aleck dropped to his knees, sweat beading his brow.

  Eoin tightened his fingers. “The next time we’re in public together you will give me due respect, just as I pay to you.”

  With a push, he released his hold and strode out of the solar without a backward glance.

  Chapter Nine

  Eoin stood beside Fergus while they supervised the construction of the platform on the Ardnamurchan galley. His men, Samuel and Willy walked past, carrying a stack of wooden planks.

  “How much more timber do we need?” Eoin asked.

  “I reckon one more load ought to do it,” Samuel said, as he and Willy continued up the ramp of the MacIain galley.

  “Look at us working like servants for bloody MacIain.” Fergus folded his arms and spat. “I still think we should climb aboard our boat and head for home.”

  Eoin could barely hear him over the hammering. “I must admit the thought has crossed my mind more than once.”

  “Then why are we still here while the Lord of Glenorchy and the others rally their armies at Dunstaffnage? My oath, our men are doing the lion’s share of the work.”

  “We’ll be on our way soon enough. Just set your mind to the task at hand and remember we’re fighting for the king, not the mule-brained Chieftain of Ardnamurchan.”

  “What’s that you say, MacGregor?” Aleck grumbled from behind. If nothing else, MacIain had impeccable timing.

  Eoin bristled and faced the cur. “Fergus and I were just discussing how nice it would be if your men joined us whilst we build the platform on your galley.”

  The laggard planted his fists on his hips like he owned all of Scotland. “You’d best not be doing anything to make her less seaworthy. That boat has sailed up and down the west coast of the Highlands with nary an issue.”

  “Aye,” Eoin cocked his head and made a show of examining at the galley’s hull. “By the looks of the mollusks adhered to your timbers, I’d say she’s well past due for a refit. If you don’t clean her up, you’ll be lucky not to sink the next time you take her out, and the new cannon platform will not be the cause.”

  Aleck stepped closer to the boat and squinted. “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

  Eoin shrugged. “She’s your vessel.”

  “When will the deck be ready to mount the cannon?”

  Och aye, the lazy scoundrel would be interested once the hard labor is completed. “Today with luck.”

  “Send someone to fetch me when she’s aboard.” He pointed up the curtain wall. “In the meantime, I’ll be training my men to fire the big gun atop the battlements.”

  Eoin glanced up to the black cannon sticking though the crenel notch directly above them. “Just ensure you don’t misfire that damned thing and hit one of us—or my galley.”

  Aleck stepped a wee bit too close. “Boar’s ballocks, do you think I’m incompetent?”

  Aye, I ken you are. Not about to be intimidated, Eoin leaned in. “If you’ve any experience with those newfangled guns, you’ll know that they can misfire. Aim your sights out to the open sea and no one will end up dead.”

  “Bloody insolent milksop,” Aleck grumbled as he turned and marched toward the keep.

  “MacIain,” Eoin called after him.

  The man stopped and turned his ear.

  “If you hit my galley, I’ll expect you to pay for the reparations.”

  ***

  One of Helen’s favorite pastimes was collecting shells along the Mingary beach. The melodic sound of waves rolling to and from shore soothed her. And as of late, her mind had been troubled. Aleck’s clear disdain for her had grown much worse since Maggie’s birth. Worse, his open affection for Mary was an affront that insulted Helen to her very core. The tactics she’d used in the past to seek congenial ground and subdue Aleck’s temper seemed to be no longer effective. He’d grown more belligerent, negative and spiteful. She had no idea how she could live up to his expectations. It was as if he wanted her to fail.

  She’d always tried so hard to maintain kinship and goodwill at Mingary—to ensure that Aleck and all of the clansmen and women lived harmoniously, but since Sir Eoin had arrived, there was an underlying tone of angst amongst everyone. Not that there was anything wrong with the Chieftain of Clan Gregor. Simply put, Aleck was jealous of Eoin, and resented his presence.

  Regrettably, that resentment has put an even greater strain on our relationship than there was before.

  Helen bent down to pick up a sea sponge, then held it up. My,
this is a large specimen. Glenda will be impressed for certain. She placed it in her basket beside the flame shells she’d found earlier.

  Overhead, a flock of black guillemots squawked. Helen watched the seabirds land on a rocky outcropping, the white feathers under their black wings flashing with their every flap. It reminded her of a ship’s signal from across the sea.

  At least spending an hour or two alone on the beach brought her peace and a welcomed respite from her worries.

  Aside from Aleck’s increased pugnaciousness, Helen enjoyed having Eoin at Mingary. He, too, could bring a moment’s enjoyment simply with a smile, or a kind remark.

  Eying a conical snail shell, she stooped to retrieve it.

  Boom!

  A blast from atop the battlements shook the ground. Helen’s heart flew to her throat. Her entire body startled with a jolt. Before she could exhale, a high-pitched whistle soared through the air, growing increasingly louder.

  She froze.

  It’s heading straight for me.

  Before Helen could run, the cannonball thundered into the beach. Rocks and sand hurled into the air.

  Flinging her hands over her head, Helen did her best to protect herself from the flying debris. She shrieked as stones and sand slammed into her body with such force she stumbled to the ground. Something hit her head, her arm, her shoulder. Everything hurt. She crumpled into a heap and wailed. Had she become so much of a failure, Aleck had decided to fire a cannonball at her?

  “Lady Helen!” Eoin roared, sprinting along the beach.

  She swiped a hand over her crown only to be met with warm moisture. Holding her palm in front of her face, it was covered with blood.

  “My God.” Eoin dropped to his knees beside her. “You’ve been hit.”

  “M-my head’s bleeding.” The world spun.

  “Christ almighty, you’ve blood streaming down your face.” He used the cuff of his shirt to dab it.

  She hissed, her hands trembling out of control. “T-the cannon ball…ouch…and I didn’t h-have time…and rocks h-hit me. And—”

  “I know, lass. Where else does it hurt?”

  Her mind raced. “Everywhere.”

  “Can you move your arms and legs?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  Another blast boomed and whistled overhead.

  “Get down, m’lady!” Eoin flung his body atop Helen, shoving her into the stony shore.

  Her heart hammered so hard, it nearly burst from her chest. But Eoin protected her from another pummeling. The lead ball hit the surf this time, showering them with a spray of saltwater.

  “Stop firing, you bastards!” Eoin yelled, rising to his knees and waving his arms over his head.

  The men working on the galley all started hollering in a chorus to stop.

  Eoin gathered Helen into his arms and stood. “I must carry you out of harm’s way, then we’ll see to your injuries.”

  He raced toward the sea gate. “Forgive…me for…being so familiar…m’lady,” he said while sucking in deep breaths.

  “’Tis all right.” With her fists under her chin, she curled into him. “Thank you for coming to my aid, m’laird.”

  Another cannon shot boomed from the bailey wall.

  Eoin nodded at his henchman. “Fergus, run up there and tell them Lady Helen has been injured. And tell them to look where they’re aiming before they fire that blasted thing again.”

  He pushed into the courtyard and regarded her face. “I’d best see you inside, m’lady.”

  If I allow him to carry me further, Aleck will launch into a rage. “I think I can walk.”

  “Are you certain? You’ve had an awful blow to your head.”

  “Let me try.”

  Eoin carefully set Helen on her feet.

  The courtyard spun and she wobbled. He grasped her elbow.

  “Ow.” She pulled her arm away and rubbed.

  His eyebrows drew together with a concerned expression. “Your arm is hurt too?”

  “Just bruised, I think.”

  He pressed his fingers to the edge of her hairline. “You’re still bleeding and there’s a nasty knot.”

  “Why the bloody hell are you touching my wife?” Aleck cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled from atop the wall-walk.

  “You nearly killed her with your cannon fire,” Eoin bellowed back at him.

  Up on the battlements, Fergus trotted up to MacIain, flailing his arms and pointing in the direction the cannon fire.

  Aleck threw up his hands and glared down at Helen. “Stay off the beach the next time we fire the cannons, you mindless wench!”

  Wiping more blood from her forehead, Helen wanted to melt into the cobblestones and die. Can I do nothing right?

  Eoin placed his palm in the small of her back. “Come, m’lady. We must apply a cloth to your head to staunch the bleeding.”

  Nodding, she couldn’t bring herself to look up. Aleck had fired a cannon in her direction and then had berated her in front of everyone for being in the way? She tested her legs—at least nothing hurt so much she couldn’t walk.

  “Bring a bowl of water,” Eoin ordered and grabbed a cloth from the kitchen workbench as he led her to the same antechamber where she had stitched up his wound. He pulled out a chair. “Please sit, m’lady.”

  Helen did as asked and buried her face in her hands. “I had no idea Aleck was planning to test the cannon today.” Another boom ricocheted so loudly the entire chamber shuddered. She pressed her fingers against her temples. “My heavens, that thing is going to make the castle walls crumble.”

  Eoin chuckled. “I doubt it will. Mingary walls were built to withstand attacks by battering ram and catapult. I doubt the recoil from a cannon will do more than loosen a few masonry stones.” He touched the cloth to her head.

  “Sssss.” Helen pulled back. “That hurts.”

  Peter came in with the water. “What on earth happened?”

  “Lady Helen was thrashed by a cannon shot,” Eoin replied, peering closely at her wound.

  The cook set the bowl on the table beside them. “Do they not look and take aim before they fire that hideous contraption?”

  Eoin dunked the cloth in the water. “Apparently not around these parts.” He wrung it out. “This might sting a bit, but I must cleanse away the blood so I can see how bad the cut is.”

  “Very well.” Helen remained very still while he carefully dabbed her head. “Is it bad?”

  He leaned forward and looked closer. “’Tis nowhere near as bad as I thought. Cuts to the head can bleed something fierce.” He looked at her eyes. “Does your head hurt?”

  “’Tis throbbing a bit. Perhaps I should have Peter bring in some willow bark tea.”

  “Once you’re situated in your rooms I’ll ask him to send some up with chamomile added to calm your wits. You had quite a fright.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth and blinked back her tears. “Aye.” But her humiliation dove far deeper than the initial fear she’d felt on the beach. “Why could he not utter one word of apology?”

  Eoin’s lips formed a straight line and he shifted his gaze aside, as if there were a great deal he wanted to say but chose to hold his tongue. Helen wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it—most likely, he pitied her. Oh poor, forlorn Helen whose husband is a roguish beast. Too bad she was sent to Mingary for an arranged marriage and ended up an unhappy matron. Well, she needed no one’s pity.

  She started to stand, but Eoin put his hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes people do things that are nonsensical. In my opinion, your husband has acted abominably and should apologize profusely.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh no, you mustn’t approach Aleck and ask him to apologize to me. It would put him in an unimaginably foul mood. He’d lash out at you for certain.” Then she looked away. “And me,” she whispered, praying Eoin wouldn’t think less of her for such an admission.

  “I do not fear anything Aleck MacIain can dole out, but if he were to furthe
r raise a hand against you on account of this incident, I’d…I’d kill him.”

  “Please, Sir Eoin, promise me you’ll not confront him. I will check with the guard before I take a walk on the beach to ensure they won’t be firing the cannons.”

  He flung his arm in the direction of the courtyard. “But—”

  “Please let it lie.”

  He regarded her for a moment with a hard line forming along his jaw. “If that is what you wish.”

  Daring to reach out, she lightly brushed her fingers over his heart. “It is. No good can come of calling him out. No good at all.”

  Chapter Ten

  Helen hummed while she wrapped Maggie in linen swaddling clothes. She’d embroidered this set with a border of yellow primroses during her confinement. “I have decided ’tis time the lass was introduced to the clan.” Regardless of what Aleck thinks.

  Sarah twirled Maggie’s black tresses around her finger. The bairn’s hair had grown just long enough to make a darling curl atop her head. “You chose a good day for it with the minstrels coming—twill be a grand gathering.”

  Maggie wiggled with a darling squeal. She raised her head twice as if she wanted to be picked up. Helen’s heart squeezed. After she tucked in the end of the swaddle to secure it, she gathered the babe into her arms. “Hopefully the extra bit of cloth we’ve stuffed between her legs will keep her from piddling through the fabric.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I do not think you can count on it, m’lady. Piddling is what wee ones do best.”

  Maggie laughed. The joy in her tiny infant voice tickled Helen’s insides and she chuckled. Oh, how this little one could warm her heart.

  Helen gaped at the nursemaid with a wide-mouthed smile. “I think she agrees with you.”

  Holding out her arms, Sarah inclined her head to the bairn. “We’d better haste to the great hall. You wouldn’t want to be late and upset the chieftain.”