Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4)

by Amy Jarecki

  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 ahead—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.

  Pray the MacDonalds continue their business between Colonsay and Sleat for another sennight at least.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was dark when Eoin and his men arrived on the summit of Beinn Resipol. William led them directly to the lookout sight and introduced the other two MacIain men as Malcolm and Rob. Though their hands were sooty and their fingernails caked with dirt, Eoin shook their hands. “Good work spotting the MacDonalds straight away.”

  “It wasn’t too hard, given the black smoke billowing from the north,” Rob said while Malcolm nodded.

  Eoin scanned the terrain below, but could only see blackness. “Where are they now?”

  Malcolm threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Headed southeast, I wager they aim to pillage their way to Mingary.”

  Eoin instantly thought of Helen and prayed Aleck had already arrived to defend the keep. Since the MacDonalds were heading south, it now made even more s
ense to sail a patrol galley through Loch Sunart. Thank heavens he’d thought to have Helen pass along the message. “How many are there?” he asked.

  “Forty, near enough,” said Rob.

  “All mounted?”

  “Aye. I reckon they rode down from Tioram.”

  Eoin looked at the sky and shook his head. The news was just as he’d predicted. If only Aleck MacIain had a brain the size of his cods, they might have stopped the invasion before it began. Now a poor crofter was out of a home, his farm burned.

  “Have they set up camp for the night?”

  “Aye.” Malcolm pointed to a range of craggy hills, a darker black against the cloudy sky. “Behind them crags.”

  “Gather round, men,” Eoin said, beckoning the group in a huddle. “We’ll eat and camp here for the night. I want the watch changed every hour. Before dawn, we’ll ride to the southeast and set a trap in the ravine.” He looked to William. “What say you, how long will it take us to ride to the base of the hill, yonder?”

  “An hour. If we head out afore the birds start chirping, we’ll be there by dawn for certain.”

  “Very well.” Eoin looked at the expectant faces staring at him. “That’ll be the plan then. Get some rest. I guarantee we’ll have a nasty battle to face on the morrow.”

  ***

  “Get up you laggards!” Eoin had no sooner found a comfortable patch of grass when Aleck MacIain’s irritating voice brayed across the campsite. “What the hell are you doing making camp, you miserable flea-bitten swine?”

  “M-m’laird.” William immediately sprang to his feet. “Sir Eoin gave us orders to rest afore we head off the MacDonald.”

  “Sir Eoin, aye?” Aleck panned his glare around the camp until he found Eoin. “Why haven’t we attacked?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Eoin stood and sauntered forward. “Why are you not protecting Mingary’s sea gate? I left word with Lady Helen—”

  “A woman will never give me orders. And you’re wrong. The MacDonalds have nearly moved all their men to Colonsay.”

  “Aye?” Eoin leveled his stare with MacIain’s. “That’s only a half-day’s sailing from Mingary at most. I wouldn’t put it past them to double back. Och aye, they’re uniting.”

  “And I aim to stop them right here in Sunart.” Aleck shoved Eoin’s shoulder. “I asked you to tell me why we have not yet attacked.”

  Grinding his back molars, it took every bit of self-control Eoin possessed to explain his plan while MacIain glared at him with those beady black eyes. Satan’s bones, Eoin wanted to slap the bastard—not only slap him, wrap his fingers around his neck and squeeze until he dropped—Aleck would be a whole lot more use if he were unconscious.

  When Eoin finished, Aleck snorted with an arrogant smirk. “That’s the poorest idea I’ve ever heard. And from you, a king’s enforcer? My mother was a better strategist.”

  Enough.

  Before he blinked, Eoin’s hand darted out and clutched MacIain’s throat. The big man’s eyes bulged. Aleck tried to pull away, making choking gasps, but with his every move, Eoin clamped his grip harder while his gut churned with bile. “You might play the almighty chieftain to a lesser man,” Eoin hissed in a low growl. “But if you ever try to belittle me again, especially in front of the men, I’ll reach down your throat and cut that flippant tongue out.”

  Aleck gurgled and clawed at Eoin’s hand. It was a matter of heartbeats before the bastard would drop from lack of air.

  “Do. You. Understand?” Eoin demanded.

  MacIain gave an eye rolling nod—at least as much of a nod as he could manage. Eoin shoved Aleck away. The dull-witted toad launched into a coughing fit, clutching his hands around his neck.

  “He tried to kill me,” MacIain coughed out. “D-did you see that? He nearly c-committed the abominable sin of murder!”

  Eoin gave him an emotionless stare. “If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, you daft Highlander.” He backed away and stood between Fergus and Samuel. As far as he was concerned this battle of wills was over, but he didn’t trust MacIain to let it rest. “Now, I’d like to get some sleep afore I ride into battle.”

  The firelight was bright enough for Eoin to see the faces of Aleck’s men. They were unshaven and haggard—each one looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a sennight. Not that this night would be restful. “You all look like shite.”

  “The MacIain Clan can withstand a night without sleep,” Aleck rasped. “And I will not take orders from a MacGregor.” He pointed to the horses tied at the edge of camp. “We’ll be collecting our horses and we will beat back the MacDonalds without the likes of you.”

  Fergus stepped beside Eoin, gripping the hilt of his sword. Eoin sliced his palm through the air. “Let them go.”

  “You’re serious?” The henchman dropped his hand.

  “Aye.”

  After Aleck had ridden off with the horses, neither Eoin nor his men could sleep. They all sat around the small campfire staring at the flames as if mesmerized.

  “Why didn’t we fight them?” Fergus asked.

  “You want to spill blood for naught?” Eoin studied the faces of his men. They all questioned him as Fergus had. “Over the past month have you found MacIain’s men disagreeable?”

  “Nay, just their leader,” said Samuel.

  “Exactly.” Eoin shrugged. “Let them venture down to meet the MacDonalds. The grade is steep and it won’t be any faster going with horses than on foot. We’ll wake as planned and we’ll cover their backs…if they need us.”

  Fergus chuckled. “Oh, I’ll wager they bloody will need us and in short order.”

  Eoin stood and headed toward his patch of grass. “As MacIain said, let them fight their own battles. Besides, while Clan Donald is toying with the chieftain, they’re not threatening the king at the moment. And that’s the reason we’re here—to subvert any action against the crown.”

  He flopped down and pulled his plaid over his shoulders. The only problem with Eoin’s current plan was that he was too far away from Mingary. He could hardly believe Aleck hadn’t at least left a few seasoned soldiers to guard the keep.

  He lay on his back and a rock poked straight into his spine. Worse, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Helen. No matter how much he wanted to be there to protect her, it wasn’t his place, dammit. And blast her for refusing to pursue an annulment.

  From the outset, he knew the king shouldn’t have sent him to Ardnamurchan. He was doomed the day he arrived. The first person he saw when his galley sailed ashore was Helen Campbell and, ever since, he’d been able to think of little else.

  Even worse, he’d had no recourse but to bite his tongue and witness MacIain’s deplorable treatment of the lady. And she was so frail. When she was young, she was smaller and more delicate than her sisters. Lady Helen needed someone to revere and protect her—not issue a slap at every disagreement.

  Eoin slapped a hand to his forehead. Ballocks. Did he have to kiss her after they’d found shelter from the rain? What the hell had he been thinking? But, God almighty, she felt like heaven in his arms. What was a single man to do when a soaking wet woman’s succulent body was pressed against him? Protect her you stupid lout.

  But Lady Helen wasn’t going to make it easy for him to safeguard her. Oh no, and Eoin didn’t blame the woman. She was right to worry about her daughter. What Eoin feared the most was as soon as the bairn reached an age where she would be playing about the castle, her father would behave like a tyrant. MacIain had already proved he had no qualms about striking a woman. What reprehensible things would he do to a child?

  Eoin didn’t want to find out.

  And when the time came, he didn’t want to leave Lady Helen alone to endure her miserable marriage. But he couldn’t force her to seek an annulment…and she was right. If Aleck MacIain discovered she’d even thought about approaching the Pope, he’d lash out at her. She’d said he’d already threatened to kill her.

  Eoin tried
to adjust to a more comfortable position. Why the bloody hell did the king send me here?

  ***

  Eoin did eventually fall asleep, because after Fergus stirred him awake, he could have sworn someone had bludgeoned him between the eyes. But once the men were up and on the trail, the pounding in his head ebbed.

  God, he loved the Highlands. The crisp morning air filled his lungs with vitality, as the frost-kissed grass crunched beneath his feet. The men headed down the mountain at a steady jog, Eoin’s legs brushing the heather. Though it would be a month or so before it was in bloom, brilliant green grass peeked everywhere. At one with nature, this was Eoin’s favorite part of his membership in the Highland Enforcers. He was meant to live off the land and sleep under the stars. Breathing the fresh clean air away from the stench of humanity revived his soul.

  As the sun rose, the path ahead grew clearer and the men sped their pace. Eoin and his band of warriors could continue all day, only stopping for water and food.

  They’d traversed about six miles when the orange glow completely receded from the wisps of clouds above and the sun fully illuminated the path ahead. Eoin estimated they’d nearly reached the place where he’d planned to set a trap for the MacDonald reivers.

  Ahead, voices rose in a battle cry. Had Aleck opted to wait until daylight? Most likely, the witless Highlander.

  “It looks as if you’ll have your fight after all,” Eoin said, taking a deep breath.

  Fergus chuckled. “At least…they’ll wear them down first.”

  With any luck, the MacIains would send the MacDonalds running for their mothers.

  But when they ran atop the ridge, Eoin’s wishes were dashed. Blood splattered everywhere. Some horses were down along with their riders. Clad in a full set of battle armor, MacIain spun his mount in the middle of the mayhem, bellowing curses as he wielded his sword like he was hacking with an ax.

  The sheep-headed maggot is going to get himself killed. What the chieftain lacked in skill, he made up for with the pure aggression reflected in his technique. But no one could last long, brandishing a sword as vigorously as MacIain with such little effect. The men attacking him on either side dodged Aleck’s enormous blade each time it swung their way. As predictable as the tide, the chieftain didn’t even bother to change the cadence or direction of his swings. Above all, he could have benefitted from a bit of training in the courtyard.