The Highland Dynasty: The Complete Series

by Amy Jarecki

  “Then why are you not sending the Lord of Glenorchy up there rather than me?” Eoin would much prefer to be stationed at Dunstaffnage. There were a host of reasons why he’d do anything to avoid Mingary, not the least being its vulgar lord and master.

  The king rapped his knuckles on the table. “Because I agree with Campbell. The greatest threat comes from the south where the bastards are closer to the throne. Glenorchy needs to be stationed at Dunstaffnage because he has the largest army at his disposal.”

  The door opened and in walked Aleck MacIain—the very man they had been discussing. He was a thick Highlander with a scraggly black beard. His beady eyes darted around the chamber until they rested on Eoin. Looking away, Eoin’s upper lip curled. He didn’t know Aleck well, but the few times he’d encountered the man, he hadn’t been impressed. He was loud and gluttonous. Worse, he was Helen Campbell’s husband. Aside from Aleck MacIain, the last person on earth Eoin wanted to see was Lady Helen.

  Aleck bowed to their sovereign. “Your Grace.”

  “Sir Aleck.” Duncan stood and offered his hand. “How is my sister?”

  MacIain looked at Duncan’s outstretched palm a bit too long before he shook it. “Birthed a bloody lass.”

  Eoin clenched his fist and ground his knuckles into his palm. If the bastard utters a single insult about Lady Helen, I’ll wring his unshaven neck—providing Duncan doesn’t beat me to it.

  “Aye?” Duncan grimaced. “The good news hadn’t yet reached me.”

  Aleck took a seat across from Eoin and shrugged. “Such is the tireless duty of a chieftain. I’ve not yet set quill to parchment.”

  “Gentlemen,” said the king. “Allow me to apprise Sir Aleck of our plans.”

  Eoin regarded the black-bearded rogue across the table while the king talked. What Helen saw in the man, he had no idea. Other than being uglier than a hairy arse, she might be attracted to his size—though MacIain had a belly like a pregnant heifer.

  Eoin again glanced to Duncan. Helen’s marriage had been arranged by her elder brother. Though Eoin had never asked, he’d always wondered if the lass had encouraged it. He swiped a hand across his mouth. It didn’t matter now. She’d been married for ages and she’d just given birth to a daughter. Eoin doubted Lady Helen would even remember him from their childhood.

  When he was a lad, Helen’s mother had asked him to stand in as an occasional partner for the lass’s dancing lessons. Aye, he’d spent his youth as a squire for the Lord of Glenorchy, Duncan’s da. Eoin smirked. Sitting across the table, Sean MacDougall had also attended those lessons. The Chieftain of Dunollie always managed to be partnered with Helen’s elder sister, Gyllis, who happened to now be his wife of five years. Lucky bastard.

  “How fast can you and your men relocate to Mingary?” the king asked.

  Eoin looked to his sire and realized the question had been directed toward him. “Ah...If I leave for Glen Strae at first light, we should be in Ardnamurchan before the month’s end.” He turned to Aleck. “Have you cannons?”

  “Bloody oath, I do,” the braggart gloated. “Two black shiny barrels arrived from Portugal but two months ago.”

  “Good. We’ll build a platform on your galley and turn it into a warship.”

  Aleck frowned. “Warship? I wouldn’t want one of my cannons to sink—they’re worth their weight in silver.”

  The king rapped the table with his knuckles. “You’d best change your thinking, Sir Aleck. The way to beat the MacDonald upstarts is to ensure we have bigger cannons, faster boats and better trained soldiers. Sir Eoin MacGregor is one of the best fighting men in Scotland. He’ll see your men become trained soldiers and make the best use of your guns.”

  Aleck glared across the table. Eoin folded his arms and raised his chin—not about to cower at the overblown boar’s show of impudence.

  The king appeared to ignore the exchange. “I’m famished. Shall we retire to the great hall?” When the monarch stood, all chairs scraped across the floorboards as the men rose and bowed.

  After the king took his leave, Eoin adjusted his sword belt and headed for the door. Sir Aleck stepped behind him. “I give my men all the training they need.”

  Eoin made a show of glancing at the man’s belly. “Well then, it should be easy work to quash the MacDonald uprising to the north.”

  “Aye, and then I will enjoy the spoils.” MacIain grinned.

  Eoin’s jaw twitched. So that was why Aleck had opted to side with the king—not that it wasn’t common for a chieftain to shift his loyalties with the promise of riches. It’s just that Eoin MacGregor would never turn his back on his clansmen and thank God he was on the right side of this battle.

  While Aleck was away, Helen found it necessary to jump back into assuming her duties a little faster than she would have liked, though she still spent every spare moment in the nursery with Maggie. Honestly, she welcomed the added work, regardless. Everything was so much more pleasant when Aleck was anywhere other than Mingary Castle.

  This morning, she stood in the enormous kitchen with Peter the cook. Since she’d been a lass, the kitchen had always been one of Helen’s favorite places in a keep, and Mingary’s scullery was every bit as large as Kilchurn’s had been. It was always so warm inside, even during the bitterest days of winter. At one end, a fire crackled endlessly in the giant hearth, with all manner of iron pots stewing over the grill at any given time.

  Adding to the warmth was the bread oven. It, too, baked loaves upon loaves during the day to feed the many soldiers and their families who resided at the keep. Helen inhaled and filled her senses with the mouth-watering scent of baking bread while she stood at the board, reviewing a ledger of food stores with Peter. “I think we’ve enough flour to last through the first harvest.”

  He scratched his chin. Though Peter couldn’t read, he was more familiar with the contents of the barrels in the cellar than she. “I think you’re right, though it will be close.”

  “Should I order a barrel just to be certain?”

  “I’d reckon so.” He nodded. “And while you’re at it, we could use two more barrels of oats.”

  “Very well.” She made a note in the margin.

  The outer door opened. “I’ve brought a basket of eggs. My hens have started laying like they’ve been sprinkled with fairy dust.”

  Helen turned. Though every muscle in her body tensed, she forced a smile.

  Mary’s eyes widened, then she quickly looked away. “M’lady. I didn’t expect to see you in the kitchens.”

  “Oh?” Helen had no idea why. She had always spent a great deal of time working with Peter, from ensuring the stores were in good order to menu selection. She glanced to the basket. “Thank you for the eggs. It does look like your hens have been busy.”

  Mary arched an eyebrow and set the basket on the table. Then she regarded Helen with a defensive air. “Do you think Sir Aleck will return soon?”

  A dozen retorts sprang to the tip of Helen’s tongue. She wanted to shake her finger and accuse the woman of being an adulteress. But that would only serve to deepen the ill feelings between them. She was lady of the keep and she would maintain her poise and authority. In no way would she lower herself and engage in a discussion of Mary’s lewd behavior—especially in front of Peter. “I imagine the galleys will return any day now.” Helen plucked an egg from the basket. It was still warm.

  Mary had the gall to jut out her chin. “Things around the castle are ever so dull when the chieftain’s away.”

  The egg in Helen’s palm cracked, sending yellow goo oozing through her fingers. Has the woman no shame?

  Peter handed Helen a cloth. “Gratitude for the eggs, Mary. We’ll see you at the evening meal.” He inclined his head toward the door.

  She gave Helen another look, her eyes as deceitful as a snake’s. Mary drew in a breath as if she had something more to say, but she smirked, then turned with a huff and left.

  “That windbag’s head will be too fat to fit throug
h the door soon,” Peter said.

  Helen chuckled and rubbed her hands clean. Gossip of Aleck’s indiscretions would have run rampant through the castle like a brushfire. After all, he hadn’t even tried to be secretive upon her appearance in the great hall. Even if that was his only slip, one act of carelessness was enough. It was human nature for everyone to love scandalous gossip—everyone aside from me, that is.

  Hamish, one of the crofters, strode inside and dropped a massive mule deer stag across the table. “I’ve come to pay me rent, m’lady.” He puffed out his chest and gestured toward the dead animal, blood encrusted around its nose. “He’s an eight-point beauty.”

  Helen clapped. “My, that is an impressive animal.”

  Peter grabbed the basket of eggs from the table and clutched them to his chest. “Remove the beast from me board and go hang him in the cellar.”

  “Thank you, Hamish.” Helen smiled. “I’ll ensure the ledgers reflect your payment.”

  Peter put the eggs on the bench against the wall where they’d be less likely to be broken. “Mayhap I should set the boys to turning the spit on the morrow. That stag will keep us fed for days.”

  Helen watched the crofter disappear through the passageway. “The meat will be better after it cures for a bit and Sir Aleck will appreciate a meal of roasted venison upon his return.”

  Peter looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Aaaaye.”

  “You disagree?”

  He scratched his greying head of hair. “Your affability never ceases to amaze me, m’lady.”

  Helen knew what he meant. She’d always catered to Aleck’s whims and, though he didn’t show appreciation for her efforts, he expected her to run the keep and see to his comfort. And she took pride in doing it well. At least that was one thing her husband was unable to take from her. She picked up the ledger. “I’ll order the flour and oats and see to it everything else runs smoothly at Mingary.” She turned and faced him. “Let no one say I’ve been remiss in my duties.”

  “Nary a soul would ever think that, m’lady. You’re the one who keeps the castle in order.”

  She hesitated. It was pleasant to receive a compliment. A small patter of pride swelled in Helen’s breast. “Thank you. ’Tis ever so nice so hear you say.”

  3

  Helen sat in the rocking chair in the nursery and watched Maggie wrap her tiny hand around her pointer finger. “I cannot believe she is already five weeks of age.”

  Having sent the nursemaid for a moment of respite, Glenda folded linen swaddling clothes near the window embrasure. “And I cannot believe how much she’s grown already, m’lady.”

  “’Tis a pity Sir Aleck will not visit the nursery.” Helen sighed. “I do think even he would agree Maggie’s a healthy lass, and she’s so bonny, he’d truly fall in love with her.”

  The chambermaid frowned over her shoulder. “He’s missing an opportunity to be a part of the greatest miracle of life, if I may be so bold as to say.”

  Helen’s throat closed. But then Maggie cooed and grinned, snatching the lady from her sudden melancholy. “Oh my, look at that. She just made her first smile.”

  Glenda hurried across the floor. “Honestly? I must see.”

  “Have you another smile for me, lass.” Helen cooed and smacked her lips. “Come now, show us your wee grin.”

  Maggie didn’t disappoint and squealed with an even larger smile. Glenda clasped her hands together. “Oh, m’lady. Doubtless, she will turn the heads of every laddie in the Highlands.”

  Helen cringed. “Let us delight in her infancy for a time. I hope not to see any lusty lads for twenty years or more.”

  “If I know Sir Aleck.” Glenda shook her finger. “He’ll marry her off as soon as her menses show.”

  For a moment, Helen could scarcely draw in a breath. Not if I have any say in the matter. She looked into her daughter’s innocent eyes. “We shall see. Perhaps my next child will be a lad and Maggie will find favor with Sir Aleck at last.”

  A cynical sounding snort rumbled from the chambermaid’s nose. “Do not count on the chieftain having a change of heart.”

  “Glenda,” Helen chided.

  The outspoken servant dipped her head in a bow. “Apologies, m’lady. I’ve never known anyone as hopeful as you. I’d wager most noblewomen would have given up by now and returned to their kin.”

  Helen wouldn’t admit that she’d considered it. She’d even gone so far as to wonder if her brother, John, now Bishop of the Isles, would help her approach the Pope to enquire about an annulment. But such action would bring disgrace to the Campbells of Glenorchy. She had put the ghastly notion out of her mind and had tried not to think on it again.

  The ram’s horn sounded with three consecutive blasts. Glenda hastened to the window as voices rose from the courtyard. Helen stood and carried Maggie to the embrasure and squeezed in beside the chambermaid.

  Fortunately, the nursery was on the fourth floor—an advantageous position from which to view the wall-walk surrounding the keep. Built of stone, Mingary was a sturdy fortress, sitting proudly atop a rocky promontory. The castle presided over the region of Ardnamurchan, flanked by steep cliffs on three sides.

  Helen peered down into the courtyard and then out over the sea. Her smile faded. Alas, her time of peace had come to an end.

  “It looks as if the chieftain has returned,” said Glenda. “And there’s an additional galley in his wake.”

  “Look at that.” Helen leaned further toward the window. “King’s men?”

  “You’d ken better than I, m’lady.”

  Though Helen couldn’t make out the design on the pennant flapping in the wind, it was white and blue with no likeness to the king’s yellow and orange colors. “Whoever they are, I suspect they’ll be hungry.” Peeking through the heavy clouds, the sun indicated the hour was late morning. She must make haste.

  Glenda reached for Maggie. “I’ll stay with the bairn until Sarah returns. Go meet the ships, m’lady.”

  Helen smiled. “Thank you.” She quickly pattered through the stone passageway and down the stairwell. The great hall was empty, all except for Robert, the cruel guard who always seemed to be sharpening his weapons. With a scrape against the whetstone, he looked up and offered a yellow-toothed sneer. “M’lady,” he said without the least bit of reverence in his voice.

  Helen tried not to shudder, nodded, and hastened straight for the kitchens. Stepping inside the enormous chamber, the smell of onions and turnips filled the air. “Peter! Sir Aleck has returned with an additional galley in his wake and they’ve arrived just in time for their nooning.”

  The cook turned, four plucked chickens suspended from his fingers. “I heard the ram’s horn.”

  She hastened across the flagstone floor. “What can we feed them?”

  He tossed the fowl on the butchers block and snatched a cleaver. “I’ll add these to the pottage I’ve set over the fire.”

  Helen regarded the raw meat—hardly enough for an army. But at least the enormous cast iron pot suspended above the hearth was boiling. “We’ll need more than a few hens.”

  Peter attacked the chickens with violent hacks of the blade. “The maids are plucking a half-dozen more. I’ve bread and oatcakes aplenty, and cheese.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “Sir Aleck won’t like being met with such simple fare, but it will have to do at short notice.” Helen pointed toward the cellar. “Set the lads to turning the venison on the spit.”

  The cook didn’t look up from his work. “There’s hardly enough time for that, m’lady.”

  Helen affected one of her pointed stares. “If they start now, the beast will be roasted through by the evening meal, and your chieftain will be happy.”

  Peter stopped chopping. “Right. I hadn’t thought past the midday meal. I’ll fetch the young fellas as soon as I’ve added these to the pottage.”

  “Very well.” Helen smoothed her hand over her veil to ensure no tresses were loose. Then she pinched
her cheeks and straightened her skirts and apron. Her appearance would have to do—not that Aleck ever noticed when she made an effort to look her best.

  The incident in the great hall with Mary had her hackles up for the past month. Helen never considered herself unattractive, but it surely seemed as if she’d contracted a case of leprosy where Aleck was concerned. He made no secret of the fact he preferred larger women and Mary certainly fit that bill. The widow had enormous bosoms and a full body to support them. Forever seeing the logical side of things, Helen supposed Aleck’s attraction to Mary made sense. After all, he was a large man.

  Hastening ahead, she berated herself for always rationalizing everything. Blessed be the saints, Helen was Aleck MacIain’s wife, and now that he had returned, she would do everything in her power to win his favor. She would never give up. He would visit her bed, and by God’s grace, she would conceive immediately and bear a son. Then everything at Mingary would be pleasant.

  Perhaps for the first time since she’d married him, Aleck would shed his gruff demeanor and be agreeable as well. There’s always hope.

  As she made her way to the sea gate, men and women followed, an excited hum rising from the crowd. Aleck’s galley had sailed ashore and the guards were heaving her onto the beach. The boat behind was following suit, the crewmen hopping into the shallows, tugging the ship’s ropes. None of the visiting Highlanders sported a royal surcoat, but they all wore hauberks and bits of armor. By the swords strapped to their backs, Helen had no doubt they were fighting men.

  Wringing her hands, she watched Aleck jump over his galley’s bow onto dry land—he’d stood at the stern of the boat while his men heaved it ashore.

  With squeals grating in Helen’s ears, Mary dashed up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Aleck kissed the widow on the mouth. It wasn’t a peck. It was a vulgar clamping of the lips, their bodies crushed together in an obscene embrace.

  Mortified, Helen covered her eyes, fearing they’d never pull away.