by Amy Jarecki
Eoin hid his smirk behind a cough. “If Aleck MacIain doesn’t kill him first. The Chieftain of Ardnamurchan is hell bent on seeking revenge.”
The Lord of Glenorchy gave Eoin a stern glare. “Given only two galleys attacked, I’d wager Alexander was only toying with MacIain—giving him a warning. If MacDonald wanted to sack Mingary, she would have fallen.”
How easy it is for a man to surmise, when he wasn’t even there.
Duncan moved one of the wooden markers carved in the shape of a galley and positioned it in front of the stronghold of Dunyveig on the Isle of Islay. “Spies report Alexander is preparing to defend our attack here. If we move now, as I recommend, he’ll be out-muscled, out-maneuvered and out-smarted. I’d wager my first born he’ll fall right into the king’s hands. Sir Aleck will have to settle on a win for Scotland, rather than avenging his feud.”
Eoin had to agree—after all, they’d been sitting in this stifling chamber, planning this siege for an entire sennight. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll sail for Ardnamurchan at dawn.” Finally, I’ll have the opportunity to inform Helen about my visit with her brother.
“No need.” Duncan moved the wooden figurine of the MacIain galley through the sound and placed it in front of Dunstaffnage on the Firth of Lorn. “I’ve already sent a messenger to summon Sir Aleck and his army. I expect them within a sennight.”
Eoin gaped. Perhaps he should have informed Duncan of Helen’s plight, but this was not the place. He most certainly couldn’t mention it in the king’s presence. Besides, Eoin had been reluctant to say anything to Duncan because one never knew how the baron would react. He’d made an alliance with Aleck MacIain with his sister’s marriage, and to learn that she was planning an annulment could cause Duncan to confront Aleck directly. Eoin feared such a move would put Lady Helen’s very life in danger.
He grumbled under his breath. He’d wanted to return to Mingary to ensure Lady Helen’s safety. Aleck behaved unpredictably. Even in the short time he’d been at Mingary, the chieftain had grown more hostile toward his wife.
At least she’ll be safe if Aleck is sailing here. Eoin’s gut roiled. But will he sail with his men given his arm is in a sling? “You do recall he broke his arm fighting in Sunart?”
“Aye, but a man doesn’t need two arms to stand at the helm of a galley and shout commands,” Duncan said, gesturing for Eoin to resume his seat.
“And I disagree with you, Glenorchy. Now is not the time to attack. We’ll let them think we’ve lost interest first.” The king snapped his fingers and motioned for the valet to refill his goblet. “But I do agree ’tis time to unite our armies, though not here where we are in plain sight.”
“What do you suggest?” Duncan asked.
The king smiled. “Tabert.”
“How long will we sit on our laurels at that old keep?” Eoin mumbled, casting his gaze to the fire crackling in the hearth. The heat sweltering around the room was suffocating. It would be best to keep MacIain away from Helen for as long as possible until word arrives the annulment has been granted. Mayhap the king’s idea has merit.
The only problem with this change in plans was that Eoin had no idea when he’d see Lady Helen again. Nor could he send her a missive advising of his meeting with John. Putting news of such sensitivity in writing would be too dangerous.
Duncan whacked him on the shoulder. “What the devil is under your skin? You’ve been on edge since you arrived a sennight ago.”
Eoin knitted his brows, feigning an addled expression. “I’ve no idea to what you’re referring.” He spread his palms for added effect. “We’ve a madman trying to reclaim the Hebrides and the northwest of Scotland and revert it to Norse rule. Forgive me if I’m a bit concerned.”
“You ken as well as I we’ll quash the rebellion.” Duncan shrugged. “But it isn’t like you to worry. Usually you’re the first man to take up his sword.”
“That is precisely why I’m irritated. I’ve been sitting in this solar for too long talking about what we plan to do. I was ready to sail into battle three days past.”
The king chuckled. “’Tis settled then. If my nobles are growing impatient, I can only imagine how tempers are flaring in the ranks. I agree with Sir Eoin, we shall move our base to Tabert and create a ruse. We’ll give them time—make the MacDonalds think we’ve given up on their petty scheme and then we’ll attack when they least expect it.”
Eoin didn’t like that either. Tabert? He was sailing further away from Lady Helen by the day.
Nearly a fortnight had passed while Aleck enjoyed feigning illness and allowed Mary to cater to his every whim. But the duties of a chieftain prevented him from remaining idle, especially when King James requested his services. As soon as Mary finished buckling his breast plate over his hauberk, he and his men would set sail—and when he returned, he’d impale Alexander MacDonald’s head on a spike above the Mingary gate.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said.
He flexed his arm in its sling. The damned thing still hurt. “I’m sure I will not be long. I’ll have my revenge—and then I’ll be free to think about you and the bairn.” Aside from his insatiable desire to murder the MacDonald bastard who’d tried to seize his lands, Aleck had thought of nothing else but the infant growing in her belly. It gave him renewed hope for an heir and now he’d devised the perfect scheme so no one would ever know the child was a bastard.
He cupped Mary’s face. “You are already showing, my dear.”
“Aye.” Her cheeks turned red. “I left it as long as I could afore I told you, m’laird.”
“You’ve known for a time?”
She nodded.
He didn’t blame her for hiding it from him. Anything could have happened, but having his son arrive sooner than later would only be a benefit, given his scheme. “When do you expect…ah…”
She gave him a knowing smile. “Three months give or take. Around St. Crispin’s day, I expect.”
A giddy flutter tickled his stomach. “Excellent. I shall send you to my Uncle’s stronghold in Duntulm. No one will recognize you there.”
She covered her mouth with her palm and stepped away. “You desire to be rid of me?”
“Not at all. I desire only for you to birth the bairn in secret.” He chuckled at his ingenuity. “Henceforth, I’ll allow no one to see Lady Helen. Once I receive word that you’ve birthed my son, I’ll send for you.”
“And what of your wife?”
He chuckled. “She’ll remain locked in the dungeon and receive her meals under the door. No one will know whether her belly is growing or not.” He eyed Mary. She was the only person to whom he could entrust his plan. “After I fetch you with my son, Helen will perish from birthing the bairn in her cell. I’ve the whole thing planned.”
A delightfully wicked grin spread across Mary’s face.
Helen had lost track of how long she’d been incarcerated in the dank dungeon. When the sentry came with her meals, a ray of torchlight would flicker from beneath the door, but otherwise she’d been in darkness with no idea whether it was day or night.
If only they would allow her some light, she might be able to read or embroider to allay the endless boredom. But no, the most malevolent guard in all of Mingary was her jailer.
Aleck had assigned Robert to her care. And Helen had no doubt her husband contrived to put her under a guard who had no sympathy for human life. When he wasn’t acting as a guard, Robert spent his days in the great hall sitting alone, sharpening his weapons. Helen had once caught him in the courtyard, pulling the claws from a kitten. He’d put the poor thing in a burlap sack, holding one paw through the opening. Helen wouldn’t have known he had the kitten until it yowled in pain as Robert tortured it with a pair of iron tongs. She’d given him a firm lashing with her tongue and snatched the poor, trembling kitten from his grasp.
Of course, Aleck had found the whole incident amusing and Robert never did receive a reprimand. After that, the sadistic gu
ard would sit in the hall and glare at her whilst sharpening his dirk. She could have sworn, the whetstone would screech louder when she passed through the hall. It always made her skin prickle.
For the past several days, she crouched in the corner, rubbing her outer arms. The cell was always cold. On the far wall, a stream of water trickled tirelessly. With no privy closet, she’d used that side to relieve herself. Helen hated how miserably disgusting her life had become. Living in the dark, she’d lost all sense of time. She could have been imprisoned for a sennight or a month. Time simply blurred. With her mouth riddled with sores, her hair matted, she had been reduced to a subhuman troll living in purgatory.
Aside from the lack of a chamber pot, she had no ewer and bowl for bathing. She had no comb, no cloak and no blanket. She slept on a musty bit of straw, which she imagined had been there for years. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about who else may have used it or what they might have used it for.
How could Aleck do this to me?
Helen’s anger had transformed into a numbness that consumed her. She’d never thought she could hate anyone, but now she realized exactly how much she hated Aleck MacIain, and it tore at the inside of her gullet like the iron tines of a rake claw into the earth. The only thing that kept her remotely sane was her driving need to protect Maggie.
Would Sir Eoin help her?
Did he know she was there? Surely he had returned by now. Did Aleck discover she’d sent the missive to John? Had Aleck killed Eoin?
My God, the possibilities are horrendous. Will no one come to my aid? Bile burned her throat. Why on earth did I scribe that missive to John?
The door above creaked as it always did when Robert descended the narrow steps to the dungeon with a bit of food. Prisoner’s fare she’d grown to expect. A bit of bread. A half a cup of ale—broth if she was lucky.
Heavy footsteps slapped the stone steps and stopped outside her door.
Helen crawled to the gap and held her hand to the light now shining through the three-inch space.
“Are you there, m’lady?”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Mr. Keith?”
“Aye. I’ve a trencher for you.”
He slid the wooden platter under the door. Helen nearly swooned at the heady smell of roast lamb and onions. With a trembling hand, she grabbed a piece of meat and shoved it into her mouth. The sores hurt like someone pierced her gums with knives, but she salivated at the stimulating juices and her eyes rolled back.
“Mm.”
When she swallowed, she realized Mr. Keith hadn’t yet ascended the stairs. The light still shone from beneath the door. “Thank you for bringing me something other than bread.”
“I cannot bear to see you in here, m’lady. ’Twas the least I could do.”
“Where is Robert?”
“He sailed with Sir Aleck. The chieftain received a summons from the king.”
“Whom did Sir Aleck leave behind to tend the keep?”
“Just the grey-haired warriors. Much the same as usual.”
She reached her hand under the door as if she could touch the light. “Have you seen Sir Eoin?”
“Not in some time. Come to think on it, not since you…”
Not since before Aleck threw me into the dungeon. Dear Lord in heaven, what on earth happened to him? “How is Miss Maggie? Have you seen her?”
“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?
19
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 puni
sh 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.”
