by Amy Jarecki
Directly beneath her, Eoin fought two at once. By the saints, he was quick on his feet. His deadly sharp sword whipped through the air so fast, Helen only saw a silver blur swinging in arcs around him while he defended every blow. Just when he cut one down, another stepped up.
On and on the battle raged with terrors far worse than the stories Helen had heard—and no one ever described such raw violence—uglier and more brutal than anything she could have imagined. War truly embodies hell on earth.
“To the boats!” a loud bellow boomed over the throng.
Before Helen could make out who’d given the order, the MacDonald men ran for their galleys. Helen raced to the other side of the wall-walk. Mr. Keith’s cannonballs had sunk one of their galleys. Eoin and his men gave chase while the surviving MacDonalds climbed over the hull and took up their oars.
Mr. Keith stepped in beside her. “Should I fire the cannon at them, m’lady?”
She’d seen enough bloodshed to last her lifetime. “I think not. Besides, if that noisy thing misfired, the men down on the shore could be injured.” She had first-hand experience with that.
He grinned at her, stretching his weathered features. “My thoughts as well.”
Eoin stood on the beach and watched the galley sail pick up the wind. It didn’t look so proud with a torn pennant and the tip of its stern blown off. But Eoin looked magnificent with his sword in one hand, dirk in the other. Drawing in deep breaths, his shoulders rose and fell in a slow rhythm. He stood with his feet apart, braced as if he were ready for another attack.
A sunbeam broke through the clouds and illuminated him.
A warrior sent from heaven.
After the galley disappeared around the point of Ardnamurchan, Eoin turned and looked directly up at Helen. Her heart swelled in her chest. Time slowed for a moment while their gazes locked. Even if Helen had wanted to, she couldn’t turn away.
If only I could race down to the beach and fall into those brawny arms.
Then Helen realized Aleck hadn’t been involved in the battle at all.
Keith tapped her shoulder. “They’re leading Sir Aleck into the keep.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and dashed to the other side. “Oh my heavens.” Aleck was walking, but his shoulders stooped, and he held his arm close to his body.
Helen rushed to the stairwell and pattered down three flights until she met Aleck and his men at the second-floor landing. “What happened m’laird?”
“Broke my arm fighting in Sunart.” From the looks of the purple bruise spreading from his forehead and around his eye, he’d nearly broken his head as well.
“We must tend it directly.” She reached for the elbow not in a sling. “Please allow me to assist you to your chamber.”
He jerked away. “I need neither your sympathy nor your help. Send Mary up with a flagon of whisky.”
“M’laird.” Helen looked over her shoulder at the stunned faces of the guard. Eoin stepped behind them. “At least allow me to see to your comfort and then—”
“Be gone with you and do as I say.” He raised his hand as if to deliver a slap, but the wallop stopped midair.
Eoin’s big hand wrapped around Aleck’s wrist. “The lady just held your keep against Alexander MacDonald and your thanks is to strike her?” Eoin’s voice seethed, as if he could snap Aleck’s arm in two.
Sir Aleck faced the MacGregor Chieftain and snarled. “If I weren’t waylaid, I’d finish this now.”
“Aye?” Eoin emitted a spiteful chuckle. “Backstab the man who saved you in Sunart?”
Aleck jutted his face so close to Eoin’s, their noses almost touched. “I told you I didn’t need saving.”
“Too right,” Eoin growled. “I should have let the MacDonald bastard run you through.”
“You sicken me. Have you not a beloved sword to sharpen?” Aleck turned his shoulder and limped toward his chamber. “Send Mary up with my whisky and leave me be.”
After the door closed behind him, Helen clapped her hands to her cheeks and ran. Must her husband now humiliate her every time she saw him? So, their first born was a lass. They weren’t the only couple in the world who had produced a female child first. Did Aleck want a boy so he could cast her aside and never have to perform the vile act of consummation with her again?
Worse, did Eoin MacGregor have to ascend the stairs just as Aleck was issuing his retort? And would she have ended up with yet another blackened eye had Eoin not intervened? Helen gasped. Would Aleck seek retribution against her dear friend and ally? Undoubtedly he would. He could not withstand any man who made him appear weak.
Tears dribbled down her cheeks as Helen reached the far stairwell and started up toward the nursery.
“Lady Helen,” Eoin called after her. “Please wait.”
She shook her head. “Go away.”
Starting up, she hoped he’d turn around, take his men and sail back to Argyllshire. But his hand wrapped around her wrist. He grasped her firmly, but not so hard his fingers would leave a bruise. “Please stop. I’d like to talk—to thank you for all you have done.”
Helen backed down the step, swiping a hand across her face. She didn’t want him to see her crying yet again. “Pardon me?”
He placed his palm on the wall near her head. “I saw enough. You stood beside the men on the battlements and fought off the MacDonalds—my, you are quite a markswoman.”
She smirked. “Aye, though all would have been lost had you not arrived when you did.”
He casually leaned toward her. “But you wore the enemy down. Made our job easy. It would be an honor to have you in Clan Gregor any time.”
If only that had been the way of things from the outset of her miserable adulthood. But no, she was married to Satan, and had been forced to act as a warrior woman due to circumstances, not because she was courageous or a great tactician. She’d had no other choice. She’d taken part in killing—and no matter how necessary it was to defend her home, her mind couldn’t rationalize it. “I am most certainly not proud of this day.”
She must have missed a tear, because he brushed the pad of his thumb over the corner of her eye. “’Tis because you have a kind heart. You should not have been forced to defend Mingary.”
“But I did, and then Aleck—” She clapped her hands over her face. Her heart twisted in knots. She must stop seeking pity from Sir Eoin. So her husband hated her—had no qualms about embarrassing her in front of the entire clan or outsiders. There was nothing she could do about it now—not with Maggie tucked away in the nursery and Aleck threatening vile acts of vengeance.
Eoin grasped her hand between palms that had no right to be so warm. “My lady, no woman should be forced to endure the humiliation I witnessed today.”
She tugged her fingers away. “Eoin, I know you have only the best intentions, but I must ask you to ignore Sir Aleck’s gruff treatment of my person. After all, he is my husband. An alliance was made upon our betrothal and witnessed in the eyes of God. When he is ready, he will come to me to produce the heir he needs to continue the MacIain name. It is my duty to see it done.” The words sank like lead all the way down to her toes.
His face fell as if he’d just lost a battle. “As you wish, m’lady.” He took a step back and bowed. “But know this. I will sail for Dunstaffnage and then Iona on the morrow. If you should want me to carry missives to either of your brothers, I would be happy to personally deliver them on your behalf.”
“I cannot.”
He narrowed his gaze and his lips formed a straight line. “If not for yourself, think of your daughter. If he can raise a hand against you, what will he do to Miss Maggie once she starts laughing and running and playing? Do you want her to live in fear as you do?”
“I-I…” Pins and needles bristling across her skin, Helen curtseyed and fled up the tower stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
After Helen had spent most of the evening holding Maggie to her breast, trying to protect her child from the Ma
cDonald pillagers who had already sailed, Sarah had finally moved in beside her and held out her hands. Helen ignored the nursemaid for a moment. She didn’t want to let go. She couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happed if Eoin and his men hadn’t arrived in time. Would the MacDonalds have killed her and the bairn? Helen never wanted to release Maggie from her arms.
“My heavens, you need your rest, m’lady.” Sarah reached in for the sleeping bairn. “I’ll put her down. You should go find something to eat and then your bed.”
Helen wanted to tell the nursemaid to mind her own affairs. But she relented. As soon as she released Maggie, a cold chill washed over her. She wanted to stay. Only she could protect her daughter. And it seemed the world was against them.
Helen stared as Sarah rested the bairn in the cradle. She’d replayed Eoin’s words over and over in her head: If not for yourself think of your daughter. If he can raise a hand against you, what will he do to her once Miss Maggie starts laughing and running and playing? Do you want her to live in fear as you do?
What would Helen do once Eoin was gone and no one remained who could stand up to the likes of Aleck MacIain?
Numb, she headed down the passageway. She couldn’t eat. On top of everything else, she had killed a man. Her hands shook violently every time she pictured him clutching at the arrow and falling to the ground. No wonder men drink so much whisky. She needed a tot herself just to calm her tremors. Perhaps after a dram she might even be capable of thinking straight.
Helen roamed the passageways of Mingary without direction. Walking invigorated her and she sped her pace. As she paced, her mind honed. She had taken charge of affairs this day because there had been no other choice. And striding through the draughty passageways, she realized she’d achieved one good thing from today’s experience. Confidence.
If I do not take action to gain control over my life, no one will.
Arriving at her bedchamber door, she knew exactly what she must do.
Upon entering, something thudded against the wall. Aleck’s bed.
At first, Helen considered checking on him, but when a woman’s voice moaned, the lady of the keep’s stomach churned.
Let Aleck while away his time with his leman. I will stand for his mistreatment no longer.
She took a seat at the writing table, reached for a clean sheet of velum and inked her quill.
My dearest brother John, His Worship, Bishop of the Isles,
It is with great heartache that I write to you this somber eve, but as Sir Eoin can attest, my situation at Mingary has become untenable…
She omitted nothing, belied nothing. In doing this, she was, in effect, committing treason against her marriage vows and had no illusions that her story must be so infallible, neither her brother nor the Pope would question her plea. She had no doubt that if Aleck discovered she’d written this missive, he would either kill her or lock her in the dungeon until she died. If she were caught, she wouldn’t be alive to protect Maggie, but if she did nothing, both she and her daughter would suffer under Aleck’s yoke of tyranny.
After she signed her name, she sanded the parchment, then folded it and held a red wax wafer to the candle flame. Once she sealed the missive with the Campbell crest that she’d brought with her from Glen Orchy, she stared at the velum as if at any moment it would be set alight by God’s own hand.
Helen stood and paced. How can I take the missive to Eoin without anyone knowing? If she stole away to his chamber, it would be scandalous. But as this late hour, it would also be unlikely she’d be seen by anyone.
The vulgar noises coming from the laird’s chamber had been replaced by Aleck’s rumbling snores. Was Mary sleeping wrapped by his good arm, or had she returned to her cottage? Helen hadn’t heard the door.
She chewed her thumbnail and paced. Every time she passed the table, she shuddered. Sleep would be impossible with that missive on the table.
***
After serving the king and Duncan Campbell for years, Eoin had learned to sleep lightly. A knight made enemies enforcing the king’s laws, a fact never far from Eoin’s mind. No one had to tell him he couldn’t be too careful and, as a result, he always slept on his side, facing the door.
The hinges must have been well oiled, because it made not a sound when the door opened and someone slipped inside. Instantly awake, Eoin made no move, and waited for the backstabber to attack. The man kept to the shadows, but the outline of his form was too small to be Aleck MacIain. Eoin wouldn’t have been surprised if that man tried to slit his throat whilst he slept.
Even the intruder’s breathing was inaudible as he hugged the walls, still as a statue.
The orange glow of coals from the hearth cast eerie amber light, shrouded and heavy with nocturnal shadows. But Eoin didn’t fear the dark. He used it to his advantage.
He palmed the dirk under his pillow and waited. Let the intruder make the first move—it would be his last. There could only be one reason for someone to steal into Eoin’s chamber—Aleck MacIain wanted him dead. The vainglorious chieftain had no integrity. Clearly, he saw the fact that Eoin had saved his life as a slight to his masculinity.
Sending someone to murder me? This is the last straw.
In his mind’s eye, Eoin pictured how the culprit would sneak across the floorboards and attack. But the intruder made not a move. Squinting, Eoin peered through the dim light. Crouched in the shadows, he couldn’t make out the stature of the man. Not that it mattered. As soon as the varlet crept toward the bed, Eoin would run his blade across his neck, and then he’d gather his men and make a damning report to the king. Attempting to murder a king’s enforcer? Doubtless, such an act would prove Aleck MacIain a traitor. His lands would be forfeit to the king and Aleck would be declared an outlaw just like the MacDonalds who’d attacked this day.
Eoin waited.
Scarcely breathing, the intruder remained still for what seemed like an eternity.
This is a very patient man indeed—or terrified—and so he should be. Fear, aye? Perhaps the bastard needs an invitation.
Eoin sprang from the bed, landing in a crouch, dirk at the ready. “What manner of murderer is it who enters my chamber and hides in the shadows?”
“Eoin?” A woman’s voice trembled. “Y-y-you’re awake?”
Shocked as if he’d been smacked between the eyes, Eoin lowered his weapon. “Lady Helen?”
“Aye.” She stepped from the darkness, shielding her eyes from him.
Eoin looked down. Without a stich of clothing, he must have frightened the wits out of the poor woman. He tossed his dirk on the pillow and snatched the plaid from his bed, tying it around his waist. “Forgive me. I thought you were an intruder.”
“Oh?” She emitted a deep chuckle, as if not entirely repulsed by what she’d seen. “Is it not every night you lie abed, waiting for the lady of the keep to spirit into your chamber?”
He laughed as well, scratching his head. “’Tis good to hear you’re in good humor, m’lady.”
She sighed and moved further into the room, her gaze fixated on his stomach. “I wish it were so. But since we last met, I’ve not been able to think of anything other than your words.”
Eoin’s muscles clenched as he held his breath. Was she saying she agreed with him? “It wasn’t my place to be so forward. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Her gaze skimmed up his torso and met his. By the stars, the amber from the coals made her eyes shimmer like the North Sea on a clear day. “I needed a good jolt to make me realize that by remaining at Mingary, I am putting my daughter’s future at risk. And as you said, my brother, John, is the only person I know who’s in a position to help.”
“I am glad you have reconsidered.” Eoin’s heart thumped against his chest. He gestured to the table. “Would you sit, m’lady? I’ll light a candle.”
“I mustn’t stay long.” She moved to the seat and Eoin swiftly stepped behind her and held the chair. She placed a sealed missive atop the
table.
Eoin wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her how courageous she’d been. But he busied himself with lighting a candle. “I’ve nothing but a tot of whisky to offer you.”
She tapped dainty fingers over her lips. “I never drink it.” Glancing up with a spark in her eyes he hadn’t seen since she was a lass, she arched her eyebrows. “However, after the events of this day, mayhap a wee sip would be permissible.”
“Straight away.” Once he poured two small tots, Eoin sat opposite her. He glanced at the velum. “I take it this is for your brother, John?”
“Aye.” She looked up with worry filling her eyes. “Are you still willing to act as messenger?”
He smoothed his finger around the wax seal. “I would be honored for you to entrust such a sensitive matter to my care.”
Helen’s breath caught and she stared at him for a moment. She needed not utter a word. This act of liberation scared her to death. It would scare anyone. Her trembling fingers lightly tapped the table and Eoin moved his hand atop hers for comfort. “’Tis a very brave thing you’ve done.”
She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“’Tis not surprising.” Her pulse beat a fierce rhythm beneath his palm. But this simple touch made his heart swell. If only he could tell her how much she meant to him. “I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice husky.
She bit her bottom lip. “I-I feel numb.”
“However nervous this may make you, I believe you should celebrate your decision.” He forced himself to remove his hand and raise his cup. “Slainté.”
“Slainté” She sipped and then coughed. “My, that is potent.”
“It is.” Eoin tapped the missive with his pointer finger. “You described your oppression…including Sir Aleck’s infidelity?”
Helen nodded then took another dainty sip.
“What changed your mind?” Eoin asked.
“This day was so terrifying. Never before have I feared for my life, and you helped me realize that if anything happened to me, Maggie would be at Aleck’s mercy.” She covered her mouth and a high-pitched cry slipped between her fingers. “And Aleck has become more abusive toward me by the day.” She fanned her face and took in a deep inhale. “I fear neither of us will be safe if we remain here.”
