Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4)

by Amy Jarecki

  Finally, they would confront the MacDonald marauders. Eoin only hoped this grand sortie would put an end to the unpredictable MacDonald raids up and down the coast as well as end Alexander’s outrageous claim to the Earldom of Ross.

  Manning the cannon, Fergus and Willy stood upon the platform Eoin had built at the stern. With luck, they’d sink a MacDonald galley or two before they ran aground and alighted for the battle. The more MacDonald men they could dispatch now, the better their chances for a swift victory.

  Before they approached the shore, he saw a MacDonald ship on the horizon. Eoin watched it change course. Anyone within miles would spot the king’s armada. Aleck’s galley veered off course and headed toward the distant ship.

  Bloody hell, he’s splitting our forces. Groaning, Eoin had no choice but to follow. All the boats were paired to ensure strength of numbers—and Eoin would make certain Aleck didn’t have a sudden change of heart and swap sides.

  The MacDonald galley’s sail picked up the wind, speeding to the southwest.

  “After them. Due south,” Eoin bellowed the order and countered with pull of the rudder, putting his ship on a direct course to intercept the galley. Aleck’s boat adjusted too, but not as fast. Picking up a hearty gust, Eoin’s men quickly overtook MacIain, gaining on the MacDonald ship.

  Once in range of the cannon, Eoin bellowed, “Set your sights, Fergus. I’ll not watch this MacDonald vessel slip away from our clutches.”

  The henchman touched the flame to the cannon’s fuse and the big gun blasted with deafening force. The gun recoiled so violently, it trundled to the length of its anchoring chain before Eoin blinked. A resounding splash indicated a miss.

  “Raise your sights and blast again,” Eoin yelled, though he could scarcely hear his own voice due to the ringing in his ears.

  Willy labored to turn the crank while Fergus used the ramming iron to stoke the barrel with black powder.

  Eoin held the rudder steady. The galley rose and fell as it cut through the waves at a steady tack. “We need a direct hit this time, men.”

  When the cannon again boomed, the wheels screeched as the barrel recoiled and rolled back until the chains bolted to the hull stopped it from smashing through the other side. The cannonball whistled away and Eoin peered through the thick smoke, praying.

  A crash roared across the sea. Eoin ran to the side of his galley, peering through the sulfur cloud. His gut squeezed. The MacDonald galley’s mast was down. Her oars slid out and the boat turned south.

  Eoin blinked and wiped his eyes. They’re heading straight for the Isle of Oronsay. “We’ll finish it on land, lads,” he yelled while muscling the rudder.

  Eoin’s blood coursed faster as their sail picked up the gale and they gained on the crippled galley. MacIain wasn’t far behind. Good, they would make quick work of these scoundrels and then they’d rejoin the king’s fight on Colonsay. “Heave to,” Eoin gave the command to slow as they approached the shore. The men worked quickly to furl the sail and man the oars—a maneuver every man could perform in his sleep.

  Ahead, the MacDonald galley groaned and scraped as she ran aground, then listed to port.

  Eoin expertly sailed his boat and stopped just as the hull met with sand. “Drop anchor,” he yelled. “Draw your weapons and prepare for battle!”

  The MacDonald men scrambled over the side of the crippled boat and Eoin wasn’t about to wait for them to regroup. Clan Gregor warriors splashed into the thigh-deep surf. Eoin pulled his sword as he rushed ahead and led the charge.

  Surrounding a man protectively, three burly henchmen moved up the beach. Fighting off a scoundrel with a poleax, Eoin tried to make out the man’s face. As the MacDonalds sped toward his men, Eoin chanced another glimpse at the mysterious lord. One of the big men stepped around a rock, revealing a glimpse of Alexander MacDonald. Bloody Christmas, they’d chased after the scoundrel himself.

  Bellowing his war cry, Eoin surged forward. A battleax came from nowhere and swung at his knees. Leaping in the nick of time, the ax hissed beneath him. A lance came from the side. Eoin deflected with a backward slash of his blade. On he fought while Alexander MacDonald and his henchmen raced for the scrub beyond the beach.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Eoin caught sight of MacIain charging after them with Grant in his wake. “MacDonald,” Aleck roared. “Stand and fight, you milk-livered coward!”

  With a thrust of his sword, Eoin cut down the man with the battleax. The other soldier lunged with his lance. Eoin dodged to the side. The man stumbled forward and Eoin pummeled him on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword.

  Finally free to run ahead, Eoin challenged two of the henchman while Aleck circled with Alexander MacDonald. Though Eoin wouldn’t lose any sleep if the MacDonald Chieftain won the fight, his duty was to capture the man and, if possible, keep him alive to stand trial in Edinburgh.

  Together Grant and Eoin fought the henchmen while Aleck and Alexander clashed in a battle of strength.

  Eoin quickly bested his attackers and spun, ready for his next opponent. On the beach, Fergus and the MacGregor army had already taken control and were binding the surviving enemies’ wrists and ankles as MacDonald soldiers lay on their bellies. Off the shore, most of the MacIain men still watched the battle from the safety of their galley. Milksops, the lot of them.

  They’d chased down Alexander MacDonald and not ended up on a wild goose chase, even though Aleck MacIain had driven them away from the armada. Perhaps the chieftain recognized the galley? It mattered not why. Capture of the MacDonald Chieftain meant Eoin would soon part company with the Ardnamurchan Clan and never need see them again.

  Eoin knocked Grant’s opponent in the back with the pommel of his sword. Spinning, Grant used his hips to gain an advantage and cut down his foe. The MacIain henchman readied his weapon and started toward Aleck, but Eoin grasped the younger man’s shoulder. “Let Sir Aleck have his vengeance.”

  The MacGregor guard joined them, encircling the fighting nobles. Sweat streaked from Aleck’s brow, his breathing labored. Between bouts, he balanced his great sword on the sand to catch his breath—but doing the same, Alexander was every bit as exhausted.

  Though the two proved to be equally matched, Eoin stood ready to pounce if MacDonald gained the upper hand.

  He watched as a battle between love and duty warred inside him. Eoin himself yenned to face Aleck MacIain in a fight of swords and brawn, but Alexander MacDonald’s crimes against the crown must not pass by unpunished. If only Eoin and his men had taken control of the beach before Aleck had arrived.

  The contenders faced each other, bleeding and haggard, each one barely able to lift his weapon. Aleck sneered with blood staining his teeth. He dropped his sword and staggered forward while shaking his left arm at his side—the one he’d broken.

  A dagger dropped from Aleck’s sleeve into the blighter’s palm. “You will never attempt to take my lands again,” he growled, slashing the knife across Alexander’s throat.

  Eoin clenched his fists.

  The MacDonald Chieftain, descended from the Lord of the Isles, stood for a moment. A stunned look stilled his features as blood flowed down his iron breastplate. Without uttering a word, he crumpled to the sand in a heap.

  Aleck swayed on his feet and smirked at Eoin.

  Behind them, Duncan and the king strode up the beach.

  Aleck raised his dagger in the air. “The usurper has been vanquished by my hand.”

  Eoin gaped at the bastard in disbelief.

  With a hearty laugh, the king marched straight to MacIain and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done Scotland a great service.” King James raised his palms in triumph and walked in a circle. “This day, we have quashed the rebellion against Scotland and I am very pleased.”

  Aleck slid his dagger back into his shirtsleeve and grinned.

  The young king faced the miserable blackguard. “Sir Aleck, I bequeath to you lands on the former MacDonald Islands of Jura and Isla
y, for you are the true hero of this battle.”

  Aleck puffed out his chest like a strutting peacock, then bowed deeply. “I am forever in your debt, your Grace.”

  The king slapped his shoulder. “You are and I caution you to nay forget it.”

  Eoin could have taken his dirk and stabbed himself. No doubt the land on Islay included one of the MacDonald castles.

  Duncan stepped beside him. “What really happened here?”

  Eoin pulled his friend aside. “MacIain had a feud to solve with the MacDonald, so I allowed him to fight.” Eoin thumbed his finger at the MacIain men who were still watching from the safety of their galley. “Half the MacIain cowards are trembling in their boat, while my men have battle wounds to tend. What do you think happened?”

  Duncan shrugged. “No matter. The lands will all remain in the family.”

  “Your family, aye.”

  “Of which your clan is a part.”

  Eoin bristled. He dearly loved Duncan Campbell, but the man had no idea what it was like to be a Clan Chieftain and owe fealty to another. The Lord of Glenorchy owned lands and castles far greater than anything Eoin could ever hope for.

  He summoned his men and headed for his galley. He’d endured just about enough of battles for one season and there was another place he’d much rather be.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “This cider is delicious,” Helen said, taking another heavenly sip while balancing Maggie on her lap.

  “I knew you would enjoy it.” Gyllis sat across the table, enjoying a cup as well. “And I filled two satchels with apples.”

  “Thank you so much. I love the harvest. Everything is so fresh.” Helen glanced at the book on the table and chuckled. “I’m ever so grateful that you brought a book as well. I’ve missed reading.”

  Gyllis smoothed her hand over the worn leather volume. “The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle & other Romantic Tales,” she recited. “Do you remember when Mother sent this to me at Ardchattan Priory?”

  “Aye, I’m the one who picked it out, lest you would have ended up with a copy of The Holy Bible for your entertainment.”

  Gyllis chuckled. “I’d always thought it was awfully bold of Mother to send a romantic book. I must thank you. Enduring the monks day and night whilst I suffered with paralysis was penance enough.”

  Helen hated to think of all the pain and suffering her sister had borne. “I knew it at the time. I worried about you ever so much.”

  Gyllis sat quietly for a moment, as if recalling something sad. “And then you paid a far greater penance than I, suffering the ire of Aleck MacIain for so many years.”

  Helen gulped. “Let us pray those years are now behind me.” She lowered the cup to Maggie and the bairn helped guide it to her mouth with her tiny hands.

  Gyllis watched them while a smile spread across her lips. “Every time I visit, she’s doing something new.”

  Helen looked up. “Was it that way with your two?”

  “Aye, the first year always has the most changes. And then they start thinking about walking. That’s when things really become interesting.”

  “I’ll be happy when she can talk and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I agree with you there. Why God saw fit for us to bring helpless bairns into the world, I’ll never understand. Wee chicks can walk and eat, even puppies are up and around in a few days.”

  Helen gave Maggie a squeeze. “I don’t think I’d have it any other way. This little miss is ever so interesting to watch. I wouldn’t want her to forgo a moment of her childhood.”

  “No parent would care to miss it.” Gyllis looked away, biting her lower lip. “’Tis unfortunate some do not see it that way.”

  Helen took a sip of cider and thoughtfully swirled the tart liquid around her mouth. She knew exactly what Gyllis implied. “I only hope I’m doing right for her.”

  “Of course you are. In my opinion, Aleck MacIain has no honor.”

  “I daresay I agree.” Helen stood and held Maggie out to Gyllis. “Would you hold her for a moment? I’d like to take a cup of cider out to Mr. Keith.”

  “Och aye, you should. He’s been ever so kind. Why not invite him in as well? ’Tis chilly outside.”

  “Very well.” Helen pattered across the floor and opened the door.

  She jolted so violently, cider splashed over her hand.

  Eoin’s knuckles were raised as if he were about to knock. “You look surprised to see me.” His deep voice flowed like thick treacle.

  “Thrilled is more like it.” She offered her hand, inclining her head toward Gyllis.

  Eoin nodded his understanding and graciously accepted her offering, bent over her hand, and plied it with a kiss.

  “Shut the door you two, you’re letting all the heat escape,” Gyllis complained from the table.

  Helen beckoned Mr. Keith. “Won’t you come in and join us in a cup of cider? I’m afraid the one I poured for you has sloshed all over my sleeve.”

  The guard blew on his hands and rubbed them. “Thank you, m’lady.”

  Eoin stepped inside and removed his cloak while Mr. Keith did the same.

  Helen gestured to the table. “Please sit.”

  Gyllis greeted Eoin with a smile. “How goes the battle?”

  “Alexander MacDonald was killed by Sir Aleck at Oronsay.”

  “Honestly?” Helen kept her surprise hidden as she poured for the men. “Does that mean the rebellion is quashed?”

  “Aye.” Eoin raised his cup. “It also means everyone’s headed home for St. Crispin’s Day. I’ve sent my men to their wives in Glen Strae as well.”

  Gyllis clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sean might already be at Dunollie?”

  Eoin picked up his cup and gave her a nod. “If he’s not there now, he will be. I left him and Lord Duncan standing on the shores of Oronsay with King James.”

  “You left them?” Helen asked, worried that he might have been remiss.

  Eoin shrugged. “I figured they no longer needed my services—at least not in the next sennight anyway, given the holiday and the fact we’d finally stopped Clan Donald from razing half of Scotland.” He looked to Helen and waggled his brows. “I’ve some good news to share.”

  Could she allow herself to hope? “Aye?”

  Eoin looked to Gyllis and Mr. Keith. “I’d wager you both can keep a secret.”

  The elderly guardsman placed his hand over his heart. “You ken I’d protect her ladyship with my life.”

  Helen inched to the edge of the bench. “We’ve nary a secret amongst ourselves.”

  “Very well, then.” Eoin removed a missive from inside his quilted doublet, his big grin stretching his features made Helen’s insides swarm with butterflies. “After we stopped Alexander MacDonald, I sailed to Iona on my way back here. Your brother had returned from Rome only two days prior.”

  Gyllis cleared her throat.

  Eoin’s gaze darted to Mr. Keith. “M’lady,” he added hastily. After all, certain formalities could not be cast aside when in the presence of others.

  Helen’s fingers trembled. “Is that missive for me?”

  Eoin nodded and held it out.

  After she took it, Helen could scarcely hold the velum steady enough to run her finger under the wax seal.

  “What does it say?” Gyllis asked before Helen even had the missive opened.

  “A moment.” Helen took in a calming breath and read. A tear spilled from her eye and streamed down her cheek. “Praise the heavens.”

  “The Pope approved?” Gyllis snatched the parchment from Helen’s hands.

  “Aye. My marriage has been annulled.” She stared at Eoin in disbelief. Though her toes touched the floorboards, she felt light enough to float up to the rafters.

  Eoin reached out as if to give her a squeeze, but that wouldn’t appear proper in front of Mr. Keith and he drew his hand away. “The bishop advised we…uh…you should continue to remain hidden. He’s dispatched a messenger to Mingary
and it would be best if Aleck didn’t know your whereabouts until he’s had time to adjust to the idea.”

  “Do you think he’ll try to lash out?” Gyllis asked.

  Mr. Keith held up his cup of cider. “If I know Sir Aleck MacIain, he’ll be in a rage for a month or more.”

  Helen couldn’t have put a damper on her giddiness if the sky had fallen. “I don’t mind staying here all winter if that’s what it takes.”

  “You shouldn’t need to hide that long.” Eoin moved his palm over her hand—a simple enough gesture. “Also, John intends on visiting Duncan after St. Crispin’s Day to personally explain.”

  “Bless him. Bless both of my brothers.” Helen stared at Eoin, wishing they were alone. Oh, how much she wanted him to pull her into his arms and never let go.

  “My, look how low the sun is in the western sky. I do believe the day has drawn away from us.” Gyllis, ever so good at taking her cue, stood and placed Maggie on the sheepskin rug. “We’d best be heading back, Mr. Keith. And pray Sir Sean hasn’t yet arrived home. I’ll want to be on the shore watching his galley sail to the embankment.”

  Mr. Keith gulped down his cider. “Thank you for the tot, Lady Helen. ’Twas good to see you as always.”

  Helen’s insides still quavered with the news, but she managed to bow her head to the guard. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Keith. I shall never forget your selfless kindness.”

  “Nor shall I.” Eoin held out his hand.

  Mr. Keith glanced at Helen before he shook the MacGregor Chieftain’s hand. Though they already considered each other man and wife, the rest of the world had yet to be advised, including Mr. Keith and the clergy.

  Eoin bowed his head respectfully. “I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again soon.”

  Helen and Eoin stood together and watched as Gyllis and Mr. Keith rode into the woods, until they disappeared into the foliage. Eoin placed his arm around her shoulder. “I believe I gave the guard a bit of a surprise.”

  “I daresay you did—though he does know you are the one who appealed to John on my behalf. I hope he doesn’t think badly of us.”