by Amy Jarecki
No? “Why have you not married after all these years?”
He chuckled. “Because either the king or your brother has me running sorties all over Scotland. I’ve scarcely had the time to think about it.”
“But you’ve been to court.”
“Aye.”
“I think we should find you a wife.”
He shot her a wee frown. “Pray Lady Helen, I’d prefer to find my own wife.”
The food churned in her stomach. “Have you someone in mind?”
“Not yet.”
She knew she shouldn’t press, but couldn’t help but ask. “Not ever?”
He shrugged. “No one who ever stuck.”
Good Lord, what did he mean by that?
They danced through one song after another and Helen never tired. At the end of a high-steeping reel, she dipped into a curtsey and fanned her face.
“Are you enjoying dancing with my wife, MacGregor?” Aleck groused from behind Helen.
Her back tensed as if someone had just run a block of ice along her spine.
Eoin straightened from his bow. “You would have been welcome to cut in at any moment.”
The two men regarded each other with leery eyes, but Aleck swayed—and smelled pickled. He faced the thinning crowd and clapped his hands while swaying in place. “The hour is late. Good m-morrow.”
He’s in his cups for certain.
Helen searched for Mary. The nasty widow was still sitting in Helen’s chair, watching them as if a spectator at the Highland games.
“Come, Helen,” Aleck said loudly as he clamped his fingers around her wrist. “You’ve frolicked with Sir Eoin enough for one night.”
The stragglers in the hall stared.
Helen cast an apologetic look at Eoin. “Thank you for dancing with me. It was most invigorating.”
The muscles in Eoin’s jaw tightened and his eyes grew dark—deadly. But he smiled at her and bowed his head. “The pleasure was mine, m’lady.”
“Bloody frivolities,” Aleck grumbled as he pulled her to the stairwell. Helen tried to yank her wrist from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. She could never imagine Aleck gently holding her hand in an almain. She couldn’t imagine him dancing with her at all. If he did, it would be with a grudging scowl on his face.
She hastened her step to keep from being dragged. “Why do you not dance with me?”
He continued up the steps. “I don’t care for dancing.”
“But I do.”
“Mayhap that’s why I allowed that sniveling maggot to fawn all over you.” He exited the stairwell and pulled Helen to her chamber door.
Surely he isn’t planning to go inside. “Are you well m’lord?”
“I’m bloody fine.” He opened the door and pushed her in. “You dishonored me with your making merry.” He held up her discarded veil. “You are a married woman and yet you bared your tresses in front of the entire clan.”
Her face grew hot. “You dare criticize me?” Clenching her fists, Helen refused to look away from his angry stare. She didn’t care if he towered over her by a foot and looked like an overstuffed black boar. She would not tolerate his scorn behind closed doors. “I have watched you fawn all over that woman, that whore, for ages, and you have the audacity to confront me about dancing at a gathering?”
“Your place is not to question me but to obey.”
“Is it now? I am to remain taciturn and non-communicative in infinitum whilst you spend your days within Mary’s cottage? And presently you do not even try to be secretive about your infidelity.”
His eyes had taken on a red hue, but that only served to make him appear more hideous. He grabbed her fingers and squeezed while he leaned forward, his sour breath oozing over Helen’s face. “Mary is my business and you will never speak ill of her.” Though his words slurred a bit, he’d been perfectly clear, especially with his bone-breaking grip.
But Helen ground her teeth and bore the pain. “Is that so? Do you know how humiliating it is to be gazing out the window with Sarah while you’re adjusting yourself when leaving Mary’s cottage?”
He stepped in with a deadly glint in his eye. “I—”
“No. I’ll not listen to another overbearing word.” Helen snatched her hand away and skittered from his unpredictable right-handed slap. “What about slinging your arm around Mary’s shoulder and kissing her after disembarking from your galley? Bless it, Aleck. The entire clan watched you.”
He sauntered forward, swaying a bit. “You are a bitter shrew.” As he neared, her nostrils filled with the stench of distilled spirit mingled with sour male sweat. “I ought to still your tongue with the iron branks and lock you in the dungeon.”
Helen inched backward until she bumped into the table. Three years past, he’d imprisoned her in the iron branks for a whole day. Every time she swallowed, the metal contraption holding her tongue cut a little deeper. No, she shouldn’t have held forth so boldly, but so much angst had built up of late, she had no recourse but to confront him.
“No.” She shook her head, trying to keep her tears at bay. “N-no...” She couldn’t lose her courage now.
With a mean growl, Aleck lunged and snatched her arm.
Helen tried to yank away. He raised his palm. With a screech, she recoiled, but his slap connected with stinging force. Reeling backward, Helen stumbled into the table, grasping it to maintain her balance. Her fingers wrapped around a candlestick.
Aleck grabbed her by the hair and yanked her into the center of the floor. “You will obey me.”
Before she could twist away, he latched a hand around her throat. Helen couldn’t breathe. His torturous fingers dug into her voice box. She screamed, but only emitted a choking croak. The room spun. With a surge of courage, Helen swung the candlestick with all her might, twisting enough to bash him in the temple.
He released his grasp and tottered backward.
“Help!” Helen shrieked, praying someone might hear. She stood square and faced him, brandishing her makeshift weapon with both hands, prepared to defend herself against another strike. Aleck’s red eyes grew wide as if stunned. Then they rolled up. Toppling backward, he thudded to the floor with a resounding boom.
Helen gasped, clutching the candlestick for dear life, her entire body trembling. Merciful father, what have I done? She looked at the weapon in her hands. I didn’t think I hit him that hard.
The door opened. Her candlestick clattered to the floorboards as Helen’s gaze snapped up. Glenda led Sir Eoin into the chamber and quickly shut the door.
A tear dribbled from Helen’s eye as she gestured toward Aleck’s body. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt…” She clutched her throat. “H-he was choking me—and then I-I.”
Eoin knelt and patted Aleck’s face. The big man moaned and licked his lips. “He’s drunk.”
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.”
&n
bsp; 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.
Chapter Eleven
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.”
“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.”
