Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4)

by Amy Jarecki

  And Eoin had stood aside and allowed Aleck to claim victory. The onion-eyed milksop. He’ll never amount to anything.

  Heavy clouds rolled in and the calm seas turned into angry swells, but Aleck wouldn’t allow that minor inconvenience to darken his mood. He’d move Mary to the castle on Islay where she could take charge of the servants. He’d winter with the widow in his arms, but Mingary would always be his primary estate.

  He again chuckled. Now that he had won the king’s favor, he needn’t worry about Duncan Campbell. Many women died in childbirth. With his excuse for Helen’s death, she would no longer cause Aleck consternation. Perhaps he could make an alliance with the house of Stewart with Maggie’s hand. God, he hated the name Maggie. The sooner he sent Helen’s bitch away from his lands, the better. At least he would profit from a formidable alliance first, and now that he’d been granted additional lands, he could use a small portion for the child’s dowry to entice the right suitor.

  Mayhap the king will be so kind as to grant me an earldom?

  By the time Mingary Castle appeared as a grey speck on the horizon, Aleck had convinced himself that, for the rest of his life, Scotland would be his oyster. He would continue to impress the king and continue to gain lands owned by his now distant and disowned relations, the MacDonalds. By the time they laid him to rest, he would be the most powerful man in Scotland, second only to the king himself.

  As they approached the fortress, a small birlinn bobbed in the waves, moored near the sea gate. Aleck didn’t recognize the boat and wondered who on earth would pay Mingary a visit so close to St. Crispin’s Day.

  Something unpleasant needled at the back of his neck. He glanced at Grant. “Do you recognize that birlinn?”

  “Nay.” The henchman frowned and scratched his chin. “Perhaps Lady Helen’s mother has come to call.”

  Aleck narrowed his gaze. At times he believed his henchman a bit soft-hearted, especially in matters where Helen was involved. Aleck had frequently reminded Grant that it behooved him to remember who paid his wages—and kept his mother fed. “Hold your tongue and your insolence. The next time you make such an untoward statement, I shall cut that useless thing out.”

  “Forgive me, m’lord. I couldn’t help but wonder how Lady Helen has fared during the lengthy duration of our absence.” Grant bowed his head and moved toward the stern.

  Blast him, and blast any man who has a soft spot for that woman. Aleck expected to receive word of the birth of his son any day and then he would finally be free to dispose of Helen.

  Aleck’s heart twisted. Was that birlinn from Duntulm Castle, bringing word that Mary had delivered his son? Of course. Why shouldn’t his good fortune continue?

  Once the galley pulled onto the shore, Aleck hastened toward the keep.

  An old guard fell in step beside him. “Welcome back m’laird. I…um…there’s something I should t-tell you.”

  Aleck dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. “I see we have guests. I trust it is a messenger from Duntulm.” He walked into the great hall with purpose.

  A monk wearing a brown habit stood and bowed. “Sir Aleck MacIain, I presume?”

  “Aye.” That his uncle opted to send a cleric struck him as odd. “And what news have you for me?”

  “I’ve a missive from the Pope—was told I could deliver it only to you. I’ve been here for a fortnight.”

  The grey-haired guard stood in the doorway and wrung his hands, his gaze trailing to the stairwell.

  Aleck frowned at the monk. “What the devil would the Pope want with me?”

  “I am merely a messenger of God—not of the Devil.”

  Plucking the missive from the holy man’s fingers, Aleck examined the stamp. Indeed, it bore the seal of His Holiness. He slid his finger under the wax and shook open the folded velum.

  His blood boiled.

  He didn’t care if Mary birthed a toad, he would kill Helen for her finch-brained madness. He glared at the nervous sentry. “Did you know about this?”

  “T-to what are you referring, m’laird?” Samuel asked with all color draining from his face.

  “Did you know Lady Helen applied to the Pope for an annulment?”

  “L-lady Helen did that?”

  “No, you dull-witted imbecile. She requested to be interred as a saint.” Aleck marched up to the soldier and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

  “I-I’ve been trying to tell you…” Samuel shot a panicked look to the monk. “Lady Helen escaped three months ago.”

  “Excuse me? My wife escaped three months past and this is the first I’ve heard of it? Why in God’s name did I not receive a missive with such disturbing news?” Aleck shook the guard and pushed him away.

  Samuel stumbled. “I—”

  The monk hastened across the floor. “In using the term ‘escaped’, I can think of nothing else but you were holding your, now annulled wife, prisoner?” The man crossed himself as though he’d uttered blasphemy.

  Aleck glared. If he weren’t a holy emissary in the service of the Pope, he’d run the dull-witted swine through. “You, sir, should mind your own affairs.” He pointed in the direction of the sea gate. “You’ve delivered your missive, now be gone with you.”

  “Very well, but first I require your signature and seal to recognize your marriage has been dissolved in the eyes of God, and you henceforth have no claim over the Lady Helen of Glenorchy.”

  With his nostrils flaring, Aleck drew his dirk from his belt. “I will acknowledge no such thing and I shall cut your tongue out for uttering such ungodly accusations. In fact, I deem your missive a forgery of the most disturbing nature.”

  The cleric drew back. “I assure you, I am in the services of His Holiness, Pope Alexander VI, and any actions against me will be considered an act against the Pontiff, the church, and Almighty God himself!”

  Aleck raised his dirk and lunged. “Be gone with you afore I make good my threat.”

  The monk hastened to the door. “You will be severely punished for this come the Day of Judgment.”

  With a bellowing roar, Aleck started after the bumbling magpie.

  Some errant cur grabbed his arm and stopped him. Blindly, MacIain reeled around with a fist.

  Sir Grant blocked the blow and clamped his fingers tighter around Aleck’s wrist, making the dirk drop to the floorboards. “All your good deeds will be for naught if the king hears you’ve attacked a Benedictine monk who delivered a document from the Pope.”

  Aleck jerked his arm away and rubbed it. “I’d like to wrestle that bastard to the floor and cut out his tongue.”

  “Aye, and I’m sure you’d do it to any other man,” Grant said. The damned henchman always had a way with words.

  Aleck shook his head. Though he’d never admit it aloud, he knew full well Helen’s brother, John, was the Bishop of the Isles and wielded the power to secure her annulment. He should have seen this coming. Leaving her here with a handful of worthless guards would have only served to empower her to persuade them to assist her.

  He pointed to Grant. “Bring the old guards to me. I will discover where she’s fled, even if I have to hang every last one.”

  The henchman eyes flickered sidewise. “Straight away, m’laird.”

  Aleck sauntered forward. “Loyalty before family, aye, Grant?”

  “As you’ve taught, sir. Loyalty before family.”

  “I shall have words with your mother as well.”

  “Aye, m’laird.” Grant turned and nodded to the guards flanking him. “Assemble the men in the great hall. I’ll fetch my ma.”

  Aleck slapped the flat side of his dirk in his palm. “If I find anyone in my service has withheld information from me, they will endure a slow and painful death.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  None of the Aleck’s men knew a goddamn thing about Helen’s whereabouts. No one saw or heard a thing. The only nugget of information that could be of any help at all was that Mr. Keith had turned backstabber. He w
as gone and there was little doubt he’d been the culprit who’d helped her.

  Sitting with his elbow on the armrest, Aleck balanced his chin on his fist and watched Grant usher his mother forward. Aleck could bet the old crow knew something, even though she made a good show of wringing her hands and appearing distraught.

  When they reached the foot of the dais, Grant stepped away and left Glenda standing alone with her hands tightly clasped before her. She didn’t look up.

  Aleck stared at her for a moment, well aware of the power of his steely gaze. He’d made many a man quake with a look. Such was the benefit of being an ugly cur. Sick to death with the ineptitude of his kin, he had no mind for pleasantries. “What do you know about Lady Helen’s disappearance?”

  “Me, m’laird?”

  He spread his palms. “There’s nay other soul standing before me.”

  “The first I heard of it was when Miss Sarah came to me and told me the bairn was missing—taken straight from her cradle, Miss Sarah said.”

  “And where is Sarah now? I understand she went missing shortly before I returned.” At least that tidbit of information had been easy to wrest from the men.

  The old woman hunched her shoulders. “I’ve no idea. But she…” Glenda glanced at Grant.

  The guard rolled his hand forward, encouraging her to go on.

  “Miss Sarah took a fancy to one of the MacGregor men.”

  Aleck cast his gaze to the rafters. “A MacGregor? God save the lass if she’s chasing after that worthless mob of heathens.”

  Glenda’s eyes flashed wide, then she quickly looked at the floor.

  Aleck sat forward. “I take it you disagree with me.”

  She shook her head. “No, m’laird.”

  Aleck stood and glared at the cowering woman. “I think you do know to where Lady Helen absconded with my child.”

  “Honestly.” She crossed herself. “I know not. They must have stolen away in the night. I heard nary a sound.”

  The outer door opened and a messenger walked inside. “I’ve a missive for Sir Aleck MacIain.”

  Another bloody missive? “From?” he demanded.

  “Duntulm Castle. Mistress Mary has birthed a girl, m’lord.”

  Glenda snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  For a moment, Aleck’s vision failed him. Mistress Mary was supposed to have birthed a lad. He clenched his fists. Were all his plans to be thwarted? He focused his gaze on Glenda. “Do you think this news is humorous?”

  “No, m’laird.”

  He clomped down the steps and towered over her. “You laughed. I heard you.”

  “No, simply blew out my nose a bit too hard.” She curtseyed. “Forgive me m’laird.”

  “You’re a liar.” Striking like a whip, Aleck backhanded the mouthy wench.

  Glenda stumbled backward, snapping her hands to her face.

  Grant stepped forward and pulled his mother behind him.

  “Do not touch her,” Aleck roared. “I’ve not yet completed my inquisition.”

  Grant faced him. “Leave her be, she confided to me she was as shocked about Lady Helen’s disappearance as everyone else.”

  Aleck pointed to the door. “You may wait outside.”

  Grant took one step back, then folded his arms. “You ken I’d give you my life, but my mother is old. I’ll take any punishment you choose to inflict upon her.”

  Glenda stepped around him. “No, son.”

  Aleck stepped toward the woman, ready to issue another strike.

  Grant stepped in front of the woman, his jaw set. “I mean what I say. I’ll not stand by whilst you raise a hand against my mother.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Aleck gnashed his teeth and balled his fist. With a bray, he delivered the hardest punch he’d ever thrown—right across the insolent henchman’s jaw. Jesus Christ, his knuckles stung, but he wouldn’t let on about it. “Leave my sight and there’ll be no meals for either of you for a day.”

  The damned chivalrous guard grasped his mother by the elbow and helped her to the stairwell.

  Across the hall the sniveling messenger cleared his throat and held up the missive. “I was told to await a reply, m’laird.”

  Aleck snatched it from the imbecile’s hand and read. “God’s teeth, Mary named the bairn Fiona. What kind of name is that?”

  “Sir?”

  Aleck could have smacked the messenger too. “Tell Mistress Mary there’s been a delay.”

  The man bowed. “Thank you, m’laird.”

  “Haste ye to your boat, else you’ll feel the cold steel of my hospitality.”

  Aleck stormed to the courtyard. “If there’s anyone left in this godforsaken castle whom I can trust, prepare to set sail forthwith.”

  “Where to, m’laird?” Robert asked with a bit too much delight.

  “Kilchurn Castle.”

  “What will you do when you find Lady Helen?” The sadist jailer rubbed his hands.

  “I’ll kill her.”

  Robert licked his lips. “At Kilchurn? In the presence of her family?”

  Aleck swatted the ignoramus on the back of the head. “We sail within the hour.”

  He stomped back inside. A man’s supposed to celebrate when the king has just granted him lands. But no. My inept guard allowed my useless wife to escape and now I’ve no choice but to hunt her down.

  ***

  Helen took a bite of pheasant. “Mm.” She closed her eyes and savored the roasted meat. “We are truly blessed this St. Crispin’s Day.”

  “I agree.” Eoin smiled from across the table holding Maggie on his lap. “Even her ladyship agrees.” He placed a sliver of meat into her upstretched hands.

  Helen chuckled. “I do believe she is enamored with you.”

  “She had better be. I just gave her the most succulent part.”

  The bairn seemed to approve, as she gnawed on the meat with drool wetting her apron.

  Helen watched Eoin feed her and himself, playing a game of hide-and-seek, which Maggie found outrageously funny.

  If only we could hide here forever.

  Eoin caught her staring and held her gaze. “You look deep in thought.”

  Helen stretched her arms forward. “I suppose I am.”

  “And…?”

  “I was just wishing we could stay here and allow the rest of the world to pass us by.”

  “Aye, we could try. No doubt Duncan would be the first to lead a search party.” Eoin reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers. His hands were always so warm. “I need to return to my clan soon and I intend to do so with you beside me.”

  Helen bit her bottom lip. “Do you think Aleck knows yet?”

  “John said he’d dispatch a monk to Mingary with a missive.” Eoin gave Maggie another morsel of meat. “There’s no reason to think Aleck has not received it.”

  Helen slipped her fingers out from under Eoin’s palm and wrung her hands. “I hope he accepts the Pope’s decree without causing a row.”

  “Oh, he’ll act out, all right. I only pray that once he’s had a chance to mull it over, he’ll realize an annulment is for the best.”

  Helen refilled his cup with wine. “Gyllis will let us know any news.”

  “I’m sure she will. But we cannot tarry here much longer, else Duncan will have all of Argyllshire searching for us.”

  Though she knew Eoin was right, she hated to think of it. “What if we stayed another month? Surely Duncan can live without your services for that long. Besides, winter is nearly upon us.”

  “Exactly. We’ll see our first snow soon. This wee cottage isn’t equipped for us to survive the entire winter. I need to take you to Glen Strae where we’ve supplies built up for the season.”

  Helen looked away. With the hearth at her back, she suddenly grew overwarm.

  “There’s something else bothering you,” Eoin said.

  “Aye.”

  “We can harbor no secrets.”

  She crossed her arms and hu
gged her shoulders. “I’d like to visit Kilchurn and reconcile with my mother, if not Duncan as well. This news will be upsetting.”

  “I agree.” But Eoin didn’t want to approach the Lord of Glenorchy too soon. “We should pay a visit after His Worship has had a chance to talk to them.”

  Helen cringed. “I don’t think Duncan will ever forgive me.”

  “When he learns of Aleck MacIain’s treatment of you, it will be difficult to prevent him from launching an attack on the blackguard.”

  “But that would further ruin the alliance between our families.” She tsked her tongue. “That’s why Duncan contracted with him in the first place.”

  “If it is an alliance with MacIain he needs so badly, I suggest we let Duncan figure out how to maintain favorable relations.” Eoin reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair. “His love for you will not be diminished over this. I’m sure of it.”

  “I hope you are right. And…”

  He leaned in and arched his eyebrow. “Aaaand?”

  It wasn’t her place to be anxious about taking their nuptials, but she had to say something. He had, after all, asked her to become Lady MacGregor. He just hadn’t mentioned when that might happen. She hung her head. “I am now a marked woman—a disgrace to society.”

  Eoin stood and placed Maggie on the sheepskin. Then he sat beside Helen on the bench and slid his arm around her shoulders. “M’lady.” He kissed her cheek. “We must rectify that first and foremost. We can be wedded by the priest as soon as we leave this cottage.”

  Helen nodded. “I will not be allowed to be married in a church.”

  “A church isn’t the only hallowed ground on this earth.” He grasped her hand and kissed it. “We shall ask the first cleric we find to marry us.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you happy?”

  A satiated chuckle rolled through her insides. “I am happier now than I’ve ever been in five and twenty years.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Duncan Campbell, Lord of Glenorchy, enjoyed the music and ale while celebrating St. Crispin’s Day with his clan in the great hall of Kilchurn Castle. It was a pleasant respite to be home amongst his family after so many months fighting the MacDonalds. His wife, Lady Meg, sat to his right, and his mother, Lady Margaret, on his left. The high table presented an elaborately dressed array of meats, vegetables and breads to rival the king’s fare.