The Highland Dynasty: The Complete Series

by Amy Jarecki

  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.”

  20

  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 sailing 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.

  The guard examined her sealskin cloak from head to toe. Thank goodness Glenda had thought to bring Helen this one piece of finery. “Well then, let us away to the keep. I’m sure Lady Gyllis will be delighted to see you.” He turned to a guard standing with a poleax at the sea gate. “Run ahead and tell her ladyship her sister has arrived—quickly, now.”

  After Mr. Keith retuned Maggie to her arms, they proceeded up the embankment. Though exhausted, Helen took in a deep breath and strode with renewed hope filling her heart. Dunollie had never looked so grand with ivy growing up her stone walls. The guard ushered them through the sea gate and up the steep path to Dunollie’s inner courtyard. By the time they reached the keep, her legs were a bit unsteady. Bone-weary beyond anything she’d ever experienced in her life, Helen grew woozy at the prospect of seeing her sister.

  The door to the keep burst open. A lad stood beside Gyllis, with a toddler peeking out from behind her skirts. Helen’s sister grinned wide enough to see her back molars, but as soon as she looked at Helen, a grimace of concern quickly turned down her exuberant smile. Gyllis spread her arms wide. “My heavens, what on earth has happened? You look as if you’ve sailed through the bowels of hell.”

  Helen fell into her sister’s embrace. “Indeed, I have.” Inhaling the familiar lavender fragrance, a load as heavy as stones lifted from Helen’s shoulders.

  Gyllis squeezed tight. “Why did you not send word?”

  “There wasn’t time.” Between them, Maggie fussed. Helen pulled back far enough to give the bairn room to breathe. “I’ve much to tell you.”

  Gyllis looked down and her eyes popped. “Oh my. Is this Margaret? I received your missive some two months ago.”

  Helen raised her elbow to show off the babe. “Aye, I call her Maggie.”

  Grasping the lad and the lass beside her by the wrists, Gyllis grinned. “This is Zander and Anna—meet your Auntie Helen and your wee cousin.”

  Helen knelt down so the children could get a good look at the bairn. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Anna shoved her finger in her mouth. “Can she talk yet?” The words came out a bit garbled due to the finger, but Helen understood well enough.

  “Not yet. She’s but four months of age.”

  “I’m two-and-a-half.” The darling looked awfully proud of herself—already standing like a well-bred lass with chestnut locks.

  Helen chuckled. “My, you are a young lady nearly grown.”

  Zander, a good head taller, nudged Anna aside with his shoulder. “I’m almost five and my da says I’m to be a knight.”

  “I’m certain you will be a fine knight indeed.” Helen scrubbed her fingers into his sandy hair. “You’re already a brawny lad. I’ll wager you take good care of your sister. That is what knights do. They protect women and children.”

  The lad twisted his mouth and gave Anna a sideways glance. “Och, you mean I have ta protect her?”

  “Aye,” Helen offered a stern nod. “Without hesitation, a man defends his family first—”

  Maggie launched into a wail. Evidently the soggy oatcakes had run their course.

  Gyllis offered her hand and pulled Helen up. “Forgive my impertinence, but you look like you’ve spent a month in purgatory.”

  Helen stood with a woeful glance at her gown. She parted her cloak enough to show her sister the extent of the filth. “I have.”

  With a gasp, Gyllis cringed. “I cannot believe my eyes. My sister would never be seen in public clad thus. For the love of all that is holy, your plight must be inordinately grave.” Gyllis gestured inside. “Come above stairs and we’ll set you to rights straight away.”

  “I’d like nothing more, but first may I ask for some warm milk for Maggie, and food and a bed for Mr. Keith? He nearly broke his back rowing a skiff all the way from Mingary Castle.”

  “Rowing a wee skiff?” Gyllis’s jaw dropped. “I’ll see it done.” She clapped her hands and faced a woman who’d been standing in the kitchen doorway. “Jinny, please see to all Helen has requested.”

  The matron curtseyed. “Straight away, m’lady. And I’ll fetch the nursemaid for Anna and Zander.”

  “You’d best fetch the milk for the bairn first,” Keith said with a bow. “She’s been howling since daylight broke.”

  Gyllis knit her brows. “Goodness, your circumstances sound graver and graver.”

  Helen inclined her head toward the stairwell. “You shall not believe how dire things hav
e become.” She again parted her cloak. “May I request a bath as well?”

  “Of course.” Gyllis slipped her arm around Helen’s shoulders. “You shall be treated as royalty whilst you’re at Dunollie.”

  As they proceeded toward the stairwell, Gyllis’s limp was barely noticeable. Helen’s sister had suffered from a bout of paralysis before she had married Sir Sean MacDougall. The disease could have left her abed for the rest of her days, but Gyllis had been determined to walk again. Only through her determination and perseverance did she recover. Helen maintained the utmost respect for her sister—she proved herself the strongest of all the Campbell lasses. With hope, Helen had inherited some of that strength as well—no doubt she’d need it.

  Once in the lady’s solar, Jinny arrived with Maggie’s milk in no time. Helen accepted the bowl and spoon. “Thank you ever so much.”

  “My pleasure, m’lady. The lads will bring up the bath barrel and buckets as soon as the water has warmed.”

  “Lovely, again, I cannot thank you enough.”

  Jinny curtseyed and left them.

  Helen cradled Maggie on her lap and spooned the milk in the bairn’s mouth. The wee one lapped it up like a greedy puppy.

  Gyllis sat in the overstuffed chair opposite. “She has Aleck’s coloring.”

  “Aye, but she’s fine-boned like me.” Helen tried not to show her irritation. She didn’t want Maggie to resemble Aleck in the slightest, but the lass did have black hair.

  “Hmm.” Gyllis pursed her lips. “I can tell by your frown, my remark displeases you.”

  Helen bowed her head. “Aye,” she whispered.

  “Tell me why you’re here looking like a guttersnipe. Truly, Helen, your news must be deplorable.” Gyllis drew her eyebrows together. “What of Sir Aleck?”

  Closing her eyes, Helen took in a deep breath. Where should she start? She gave Maggie another spoon of milk. There was no way to soften the news. “I have appealed to the Pope for an annulment.”