Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4)

by Amy Jarecki

  “I believe she’s well. Miss Sarah has orders to keep the bairn above stairs.”

  “Could you…” She had to ask. After all, Mr. Keith was loyal to her—at least a little. “Could you please bring her to see me?”

  “Oh no, m’lady. I shouldn’t even be speaking with you. We’ve all strict orders to stay away. I took a risk bringing you a good meal—if it weren’t for Peter’s insistence, you would have ended up with your ration of bread and ale.”

  Helen wasn’t about to stop. Deploringly, she pushed her hand under the door as far as it would go. “Please. I’ve not seen a soul in God knows how long. I need to hold my bairn in my arms. You cannot know how devastating it is to be locked in blackness for days on end.”

  “I-I’m ever so sorry, m’lady, but Sir Aleck threatened to hang anyone who dared help you.”

  “I’m not asking for help. I’m merely asking to see my bairn. Please. Talk to Glenda. She’ll ken how to spirit Maggie here with no one the wiser.”

  “You do not ken what you ask. These walls have eyes.” His feet shuffled. “I’d best be getting back to the patrol, m’lady.”

  “Mr. Keith,” Helen raised her voice, her pulse racing. “Please. Fetch Glenda. You can bring Maggie—”

  Footsteps clapped. The light faded.

  “I need to see my daughter!”

  The door above boomed, snuffing the light.

  “I must see her!” Helen screamed at the top of her lungs. Over and over she shrieked and pounded her fists on the door. “Please, please, please, pleeeeaaaasssse. I will die if I cannot see her.”

  Kicking the trencher aside, Helen crumpled onto the musty straw and bawled. Her voice box grated as she shrieked.

  “I have done nothing wrong!”

  She howled into the crux of her arm.

  “I am innocent, yet I am being treated as horribly as the most heinous criminal. Is there no one who will stand up to Aleck MacIain?”

  Tears burned her eyes as her throat closed.

  My God, my God. Will I never again see the light of day? Will I never again rest my gaze upon my beautiful child?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Helen’s eyes snapped open when the lock clicked. She sat up with a jolt and rubbed her neck. The awkward angle in which she had been sleeping gave her a needling pain running from the base of her head all the way down her spine.

  An eerie light drifted from under the door.

  A wee voice cooed.

  “Maggie?” Helen managed to choke out while a lump formed in her throat. The door opened, rendering her completely blind.

  “Aye, m’lady.” Glenda’s voice rose above the creaking of the door. “I’ve your daughter and a satchel with your things.”

  Helen barely heard the end of Glenda’s sentence. Blinking rapidly so to gain her sight, she braced her hand against the wall and stood. Goodness, her legs were trembling. She locked her knees and reached out her hands. “Please. I would like to hold her.”

  Glenda’s ghostly outline became clearer as she stepped forward. “She has missed you, m’lady. I’m sure of it.”

  A tear streamed from Helen’s eye when Glenda placed the wee bairn in her arms. Maggie’s tiny fists were curled under her chin as she slept without a care. “Praise to the heavens. I cannot tell you how much this means to me.” Sniffing, she touched her lips against Maggie’s forehead.

  Someone in the corridor moved. “We mustn’t tarry.”

  Helen glanced up at the sound of Mr. Keith’s voice. “Please. Allow me more time.”

  “Nay, m’lady.” He gestured up the stairs. “’Tis the witching hour and the castle is quiet. I’ve a skiff waiting to ferry you away from here.”

  She clutched Maggie to her breast. Surely she must have misunderstood. “Y-you’re helping me escape?”

  “’Tis the only way. I wish I had time to brush your tresses and help you wash.” Glenda tucked a lock of hair behind Helen’s ear. “I overheard the chieftain when I was dusting your chamber. I could not make out every word, but plain as the nose on my face, I did hear him say you would perish in your cell whilst birthing a bairn. Are you with child, m’lady?”

  Helen looked from Keith to Glenda and coughed. “Not unless the Lord in heaven has seen fit to grace me with an immaculate conception.”

  Glenda clapped her hand over her mouth. “Then I fear the worst for you. You must go with Mr. Keith.”

  “But what will you do once Sir Aleck discovers I’m away?”

  “Me?” Glenda chuckled. “Why, how would I know you escaped from the dungeon? I’m a sound sleeper if there ever was one. Besides, I doubt even the chieftain would punish the mother of his henchman.”

  “I do not trust him,” Helen said, shaking her head.

  Glenda grasped her hand. “I can watch out for myself and I have Grant to protect me.”

  From the intensity of Glenda’s stare, Helen knew she’d not be able to persuade her chambermaid to go with them. She shifted her gaze to the guard. Helen would see no one sent to the gallows for her escape. “And you, Mr. Keith. You’ve been assigned to guard me. Sir Aleck will punish you for certain—you said yourself you’d be sent to the gallows for helping me.”

  He dipped his chin and raised his brows. “If it please your lady, I should be honored if you would appoint me your man-at-arms.”

  “It would be my honor, but…” Cradling Maggie with one arm, she reached out and grasped his shoulder. “You do realize you will never be able to return to Mingary?”

  “Aye, m’lady. I cannot stand idle and watch you be treated like a common criminal. I heard your cries earlier this day and you are right. You are innocent and the laird is...” Keith glanced over his shoulder as if he feared someone might be listening. “He has gone too far this time.”

  Helen’s bottom lip trembled and she dropped her gaze to Maggie. Mr. Keith was offering her a chance at freedom and the protection of his sword. He was giving her a gift she could not refuse. Not when she had this precious bairn to protect. “I will see that you are safeguarded by my family. The Campbells are one of the most powerful clans in all of Scotland.”

  He bowed. “I thank you m’lady.”

  “Quickly,” Glenda said, holding up Helen’s sealskin cloak. “I’ve brought your mantle to keep you warm.” She draped it across Helen’s shoulders. “Pull the hood low over your head. Hold Maggie close and keep her quiet.”

  “We shall spirit through the shadows, m’lady. I’ve left the sea gate ajar. No one will realize we’re gone…hopefully for days.”

  Helen situated the bairn beneath the cloak and pulled the hood over her brow as Glenda suggested. “I cannot tell either of you how thankful I am.”

  Glenda drew her into an embrace. “Slip away and never come back. You are too refined a woman to put up with the likes of Aleck MacIain.”

  Helen took in a stuttered breath. Would she ever again set eyes on her loyal servant?

  Keith swung the satchel over his shoulder. “We must make haste.”

  “I shall miss you most of all.” Helen kissed Glenda’s careworn cheek, then followed the guard up the steps. There was no time to consider the consequences. She was fleeing her home and Aleck MacIain must never find her.

  ***

  Mr. Keith doused the torch before they stepped into the courtyard. “This way, m’lady.”

  Helen cradled Maggie as tightly as she dared and followed the guard into the shadows. Her heart beat a fierce rhythm, thundering in her ears while they made their way to the sea gate. She couldn’t recall ever being so afraid in her life, sneaking away from her home as if she were a criminal.

  Blast Aleck for forcing me to this.

  For a moment, her blood turned to ice. What if the Pope does not approve the annulment?

  She stopped dead, but Mr. Keith grasped her elbow and pulled her along. “This way,” he whispered.

  I cannot allow thoughts of doom to cloud my mind.

  Once beyond the gate, Mr. Keith led her around the
rocky outcropping to a skiff sitting askew on the stony beach where it was out of sight from the castle battlements. He placed the satchel in the boat. “Climb aboard and I’ll cast off.”

  She did as told, her arms aching from maintaining the tight hold on her daughter. She sat on a bench toward the stern and arranged Maggie in her lap. The bairn launched into a wail that cut though the cold night air like a siren.

  “Ballocks,” Keith grumbled while pushing the skiff into the surf.

  Helen cradled the babe to her breast. “There, there. Wheesht, little one.”

  Maggie’s cries softened to whimpers, but the damage had already been done. Shouts rang out from atop the wall-walk. Helen watched the guards assemble in the light of the blazing braziers while Keith heaved on the oars.

  “Do you think they’ll come after us?” she asked.

  “And leave Mingary unprotected?” He shook his head. “Besides, I made certain there were no boats nearby.”

  “You put a great deal of thought into my rescue.”

  “Aye, m’lady. I suppose I did.”

  “I am indebted to you for my very life.”

  “You are my lord and master…och, I mean my lady and mistress. I will see to your protection as long as you should need me.” He steered the skiff through the heavy swells of Loch Sunart. “Once we cross into Argyllshire, we’ll hug the coast to avoid being capsized should the sea decide to turn angry.” He pointed to the dark outline of the far shore. “After we traverse the Firth of Lorn, I reckon we should row through Loch Etive until we reach Taynult. ’Tis but a day’s hike to Kilchurn Castle from there.”

  Helen couldn’t imagine hiking through the rugged Highlands along the River Awe with a bairn in her arms. Besides, that would be dangerous. “Kilchurn is the first place Sir Aleck will look, and if I know Duncan, he’ll be so irate with me, he’ll bow to Aleck’s claims before I’ve had a chance to explain.”

  Mr. Keith stopped rowing. “What do you recommend, m’lady?”

  “After we pass through the Sound of Mull, head across the Firth of Lorn for Dunollie. My sister Gyllis will help us—and we’ll not have so far to row.”

  He again pulled on the wooden oars, taking them further from Mingary. “She must be the one married to Sir Sean MacDougall.”

  “Aye, she is. And I would trust her with our lives.” Helen shivered as the skiff rocked and bobbed in the swells. Dear God, please keep us afloat. “How long will it take to pass through the Sound of Mull?”

  “Once we enter the narrows, the current will help. I’d reckon we’ll reach Dunollie by midday on the morrow.”

  Helen groaned. “That will be a terrible strain for you. If only we had a sail.”

  “Not to worry, m’lady. There’ll be plenty of time to rest once I am content you are safely away from Mingary.”

  ***

  The king’s move to Tabert Castle on Kintyre enabled him to amass a secret fleet of loyal clans. Situated at the mouth of Loch Fyne, deep in Campbell territory, there would be no opportunity for Clan Donald to spy on the king and his ever-growing forces.

  Before Aleck MacIain joined them, Eoin and his men sailed daily in and out of the Firth of Clyde. They posed as merchant seafarers, running goods up through the Sound of Jura. They were, in fact, spying on the heightened activities of the MacDonalds on the Isle of Islay.

  Normally, Eoin had patience for surveillance, but the daily sorties had him on edge. He couldn’t stop thinking about the missive the Bishop of the Isles was carrying to Rome. What if the Pope refuses to grant Lady Helen the annulment? What in God’s name will I do then?

  His mind had run the gamut. The only thing he hadn’t considered was walking away. He should have let the MacDonald warrior kill Aleck in Sunart, but Eoin wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t stepped in. His code of honor would never allow such malfeasance. Unfortunately, Aleck MacIain would have to see to his own ruination.

  “Ruination,” Eoin said aloud, mulling the word over in his mind. Though he’d welcome MacIain’s ruination, he needed to safeguard Lady Helen’s reputation to ensure she remained in good standing.

  “Bloody oath.” Fergus gripped the rail of the galley beside him. “We’ll see to the ruination of Clan Donald before this war has ended.”

  Eoin nodded at his henchman, not letting on to why he’d uttered the word. He took in a deep breath of salty air. What more could he do to protect Lady Helen? She was as fragile as fine blown glass. What Duncan had been thinking when he’d arranged her marriage to that bombastic swine, Eoin couldn’t fathom. If he’d been the suitor who’d won her hand, she would have all the luxuries life could afford.

  A dark chasm spread through his chest. Again, he reminded himself that he was lord over lands with a stone longhouse, not a castle. Helen has lived her entire life in a keep, her every need catered, as it should be for such a delicate flower. Eoin’s wealth was a pittance compared to the Campbells of Glenorchy or the miserable Clan MacIain of Ardnamurchan.

  The galley sailed around the Mull of Kyntire for what seemed like the hundredth time. Fergus pointed toward Dunyveig Castle on the southern shore of Islay. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Eoin chuckled. “They’ve decided to show their hand, have they?” At least thirty galleys moored in the shallows, and though it was too far to see, Eoin didn’t have to guess that they were all flying the MacDonald colors. He circled his hand over his head. “Tack to starboard. Set a course for Tabert. I’ve no doubt this news will interest the king.”

  Chapter Twenty

  By the time Helen and Mr. Keith had rowed through the Sound of Mull, Maggie could not be comforted. The bairn’s high pitched wails rattled in Helen’s skull, giving her a royal headache, and she had no doubt the poor guard suffered as well. “If only I had some milk for her.”

  Mr. Keith dragged the oars through the swells like a man ready to drop from exhaustion. “There’re some oatcakes in the satchel. Try chewing up a bit and feeding it to her.”

  Helen reached for the satchel and did as he suggested. Cradling the babe in her arm, she swiped a bit of the paste from her tongue with her finger. “Here you are, darling.”

  Maggie howled and thrashed her head from side to side until Helen shoved her finger in the bairn’s mouth. Within the blink of an eye, Maggie sucked the paste from Helen’s finger. Helen worked quickly to feed her more, then grinned up at Mr. Keith. “Did you have children?”

  “Not me.” He grunted with another heavy pull on the oars. “I’m a confirmed bachelor, but I was the eldest of twelve.”

  “Twelve? Bless your mother.”

  “Aye, she was a saintly woman.”

  The bairn continued to eat and suckle from Helen’s finger while the waves tossed the boat. Gazing at her daughter’s cherubic face, Helen counted her blessings. Aye, her life was in a shambles, but she had a brave guard willing to row all the way to Dunollie, and praise the heavens, she cradled her daughter in her arms. Better, somewhere out there Sir Eoin MacGregor worked to help her appeal for an annulment.

  Helen looked at her attire and sniffed. With matted hair, her gown caked with filth, Gyllis would hardly recognize her.

  Mr. Keith rested the oars on the sides of the skiff. “Are you all right m’lady?”

  “Aye, just struck by a moment of reflection.” She glanced at him. “I lost track of time. How long was I in the dungeon?”

  “About a fortnight.”

  “That long?”

  “I regret that I was unable to aid in your escape sooner,” Mr. Keith said, wiping his forehead with his shirtsleeve.

  Helen took in a stuttered breath. “I thank the Lord for your generous kindness.”

  “I could watch you suffer no longer.”

  She knew he referred to far more than the past fortnight. The clansmen and women had watched her take Aleck’s abuse for years, but things had grown worse in the past several months.

  Mr. Keith blew on his palms and resumed rowing. “At least we’re sa
iling with the current.”

  “Perhaps you should rest while we coast toward the shore.” She glanced over her shoulder. The eastern sky had taken on a cobalt hue with the promise of a new day. She made out the contour of the mainland, though it seemed ever so far away. “Why not let me row for a while?”

  “Nay m’lady.” He chuckled. “I could never allow that.”

  Maggie yawned and stretched, and Helen wrapped the bairn in her cloak, her eyelids growing ever so heavy. The crossing of the Firth of Lorn seemed to take an eternity as Mr. Keith labored to row the tiny skiff through the swells, his movement becoming more sluggish by the hour.

  Helen must have curled over and dozed for a bit, because she startled at the sound of Mr. Keith’s voice. “We’re nearly there.”

  Sitting upright, she yawned and looked over her shoulder. A quick stuttering of her heart lifted her spirits. Indeed, the outline of Dunollie Castle loomed above the verdant trees on the shore. “I’m certain I could row the remaining distance.” She grinned. “I used to row a skiff on Loch Awe with my sisters.”

  He smiled with clenched teeth making him looked like he grimaced. “Aye, but Loch Awe is inland. She’s not subject to the currents of the sea.”

  “But you must be exhausted.” Helen moved Maggie, cradling the bairn’s head to her shoulder and patted her back, as they rocked with the erratic sway of the boat.

  With a nod of his head, Mr. Keith gestured to the shore ahead. “I’ll rest once you’re safely delivered into your sister’s arms.”

  “You are truly a saint.” She kissed Maggie’s temple. “See, lassie, we are nearly there.”

  Then, Helen situated her cloak’s hood to cover her matted hair.

  The strength of the current proved to be far stronger than Loch Awe. They reached the shore far sooner than Helen anticipated. Thank heavens!

  A Dunollie guardsman met them at the embankment and offered his hand. “Did you row all the way across the Firth of Lorn?”

  She entrusted Maggie into Mr. Keith’s strong hands, and let the guard help her alight, careful to keep her mantle closed to hide her filthy kirtle. “My man-at-arms rowed all the way from—” She stopped herself from saying anything about Mingary. “A very long way. I am Lady Campbell and I’ve come to visit my sister, Lady Gyllis.” With two other sisters, Helen wasn’t the only Lady Campbell—and it would be impertinent of the guard to ask.