The Highland Dynasty: The Complete Series

by Amy Jarecki

  Her honeyed locks swung forward while she raised her skirts and stepped into the wooden washbasin. “Oh my, the water is cold,” she squealed.

  Maggie’s infant voice giggled on the breeze. The bairn rested against pillows atop on a plaid, watching her mother as Lady Helen stomped on the washing like Eoin had seen washerwomen do countless times.

  He marveled at the industriousness of a woman used to being catered to by servants. She’s so willing to do anything necessary to keep her house in order.

  He tapped his heels into the horse’s barrel and started forward.

  A twig snapped with a crack.

  Helen’s head jerked up. Hopping out of the basin, she dropped her skirts while her fists flew under her chin. “Who’s there?”

  “’Tis only me,” Eoin said, riding into the clearing.

  She planted those fists on her hips, her initial expression of fear turning angry. “Eoin MacGregor, you said you would visit me as soon as you could get away. Do you realize I’ve been beside myself for the past fortnight because I have received no word from you?”

  “Forgive me, m’lady.” Eoin hastened to dismount and bowed deeply. “There have been continuous skirmishes up and down the seaboard. My men and I haven’t had a moment’s rest.”

  “Not even to send a missive to Lady Gyllis? How much time does it take to dispatch a letter to Dunollie?”

  Eoin smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I was hesitant to write because of the importance of keeping your whereabouts hidden. But I should have penned a missive to Gyllis.”

  She shook her finger. “Yes, you should have.”

  He tossed the reins around the post outside the door. “Please accept my deepest apology. The thought didn’t cross my feeble mind.”

  “Did I say how worried I have been?”

  He nodded. “Aye.” Then he tried to reach for her. “It was wrong of me to allow so much time to pass without sending word.”

  She clasped her hands behind her back as if not yet ready to make amends. Then she looked away, her bottom lip trembling. “The last time you were here, everything was so heavenly, so perfect…a-and I knew you had to go away, but anxiously awaited your return. And then when you didn’t come for sennights, I began to think of awful things.” She gasped “Anything could have happened. Your galley could have sunk, you could have been severely injured in the fighting—or killed.” Helen wrung her hands. “I do not think I could have survived if something horrible had happened to you.”

  A tear dribbled from her eye and streamed down her lovely cheek.

  Eoin’s heart twisted. The lass was so fragile. He pulled her into his arms. “My God, Helen, I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by not sending a missive, but seeing you so distraught, I realize how mistaken I was.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Do not ever do that to me again.”

  “I promise I will not.” He held her at arm’s length and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “But you are aware I am oft required on the king’s business. At times, such work can take me away for a month or more.”

  She nodded. “I hate to think of ever being without you.”

  He pulled her into his chest and cradled her head to his heart. “I know my love. I feel the same.”

  Taking in a staccato inhale, Helen leaned into him. “Once I am out of hiding, I must tell Duncan he cannot require you to spend so much time away from your home and your family.”

  Eoin liked the sound of that. At long last, he would have a family of his own—sharing his life with the woman of his dreams. “I daresay if anyone can persuade Duncan to her will, it is you.”

  Maggie blubbered behind them, like she was trying to talk.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s awfully chatty.”

  “Aye, making new noises every day.” Helen started to pull away.

  Moving quickly, Eoin captured her face between his palms. “I’d feel so much better if you’d kiss me first.”

  Her eyes glistened with her smile. Yes, she might have been worried and angry, but sliding her hands around his waist and tugging him into her supple body, Eoin knew she loved him. Dipping his head, his lips met hers as her soft, sweet breath whooshed. When he held Helen Campbell in his arms, nothing in this world could deter him.

  As the kiss ended, she emitted a long sigh. “I need to finish the washing.”

  He inclined his head toward the bairn. “Let me say hello to Miss Maggie, then I’ll help you.”

  “I’m nearly done.”

  “’Tis good to hear, because I have other plans about what I want to do with you.” Eoin scooped Maggie into his arms and gave her a kiss on her chubby cheek. “And how are you, miss? Giving your mother strife?”

  The bairn threw her head back and laughed from her belly.

  Eoin couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you seem awfully happy about it, too.”

  “I think she’s missed you,” Helen said while raising her hem and resuming her stomping.

  He regarded the child now tugging at his shirt laces. “I missed you too.” Then he stared at Helen, her bare calves glistening with streaks of water. “Not a moment passed when you weren’t on my mind.”

  She looked up and smiled, her cheeks taking on a blush. “Will you be able to stay long?”

  “A sennight. If I remain away much longer, your brother will pronounce me dead and assume my lands due to my lack of an heir.”

  “He wouldn’t dream of pushing out Clan Gregor.”

  “Nay?”

  “Absolutely not.” Helen stepped out of the basin and rung out the linens.

  Eoin set Maggie on her blanket and stepped beside Helen. “I’ll dump the water.”

  She straightened and brushed off her hands. “I’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have a brawny knight in attendance.” Looking at her palms, she blew over them. “Though I’m rather proud of these new calluses.”

  Returning with the empty basin, he examined Helen’s hands. “Your palms look like they’ve been shredded.”

  She closed her fists. “’Tis not that bad.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  “Nothing more than fetching water…and cooking…and chopping wood. You ken, things a woman must do when fending for herself in the wild.”

  “God’s teeth, I should be here to do those things for you. The thought of your noble hands set to labor goes against every knightly code.”

  “You mustn’t look at it that way. I certainly do not.” She picked up Maggie and balanced the bairn on her hip. “I see it as my liberation from helpless lady to independence.”

  He placed his arm around them both and escorted them into the cottage. “It pleases me that your independence makes you happy…as long as you still need me.”

  Helen stretched up and kissed his cheek. “I will always need you, sir knight.”

  The sennight with Eoin flew past in a blur. Though half worried out of her mind, Helen couldn’t remain angry with her handsome knight. And having him to share the chores, gave them more time in the evenings after Maggie drifted off to sleep. She and Eoin shared tenderness so deep, she never could have guessed a man and a woman could harbor such powerful love.

  Now Eoin had but one night before he must leave again.

  After Maggie fell asleep for her midday nap, the sound of an ax chopping wood came from outside. Helen moved to the shutter and peered through the gap.

  In one fluid motion, Eoin swung the axe in an arc. With a crack, the log split on contact. Helen shook her head. She would have had to whack that big piece of wood four or five times to achieve the same result.

  He worked tirelessly to build up a pile of wood, every swing of his ax cutting deep. Stopping for a moment, he wiped his brow with his sleeve. Then he pulled his shirt over his head.

  Helen gasped and touched a hand to her chest. Autumn had begun to turn the leaves golden, and with it came cooler temperatures, though the perspiration glistening across Eoin�
�s skin testified to the exertion he made.

  As he resumed chopping, the muscles in his arms flexed like iron gauntlets. The sunlight highlighted the contours in his back, while every movement rippled with masculine vitality.

  A bead of sweat dripped from his hair and slid down his spine. He seemed not to notice, wielding his ax like a well-oiled machine. Simply by watching him, Helen worked up a thirst. She hastened to the bowl, doused a cloth with water, and then she poured two cups of watered wine and headed out the door.

  With a crack, wood splinters darted through the air.

  She inclined her head toward the wood stack. “Look at all you have accomplished, and in short order.”

  Eoin lowered his ax and turned. “I’ll not be having you chop another stick of wood, m’lady.”

  She handed him a cup. “You do take care of me.”

  He rested his ax on the woodheap and held up his watered wine. “’Tis a responsibility I embrace.”

  They tapped their wooden cups together and drank.

  “Mm,” Eoin said. “’Twas just what I needed to quell my thirst.”

  Helen licked her lips and stepped into him. She smoothed the damp cloth over his shoulders and chest. “Maggie’s asleep.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled through his throat and he slid his hand around her neck, plying her mouth with a kiss. “That sounds like a promise.”

  “Aye.” She chuckled. “I thought that might draw your attention.”

  He grasped her waist and pressed his hips against hers. “Always.”

  Blessed desire gripped her nether parts as her passion inflamed. Helen shamelessly rocked her hips from side to side. “My, you have turned me into a wanton woman.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” His voice grew deeper with each word.

  She emitted a seductive hum. “Perhaps not when we’re alone.”

  Helen loved the look of desire on Eoin’s face when he gazed upon her with a fervent hunger through half-lidded eyes. Their bodies entwined while their lips joined in a languid dance. Warm and enticing, his mouth invited her to sail uncharted waters with him, and after a sennight of passion, Helen’s excitement grew. Every blessed joining brought a new adventure.

  Eoin’s hand slid down her thigh and grasped her skirts. Her heart fluttered. Would he take her there, outside with a cold breeze caressing their skin? Anticipation of a new path to pleasure heightened her hunger.

  Helen slipped her fingers into the top of his breeks and pulled on the cord holding them up.

  An infant’s cry squealed from inside the cottage.

  Eoin touched his forehead to hers and chuckled. “It appears we timed things a bit late.”

  Helen took in a ragged breath. “Will you remember where we are until we’re alone this eve?”

  He nuzzled against her ear. “I’ll be thinking of it every moment until then.”

  Maggie’s cries rose until they bordered on panic-stricken.

  Helen gave him one last kiss. “Then I shall hold you to it.”

  24

  At long last the king had decided to deploy his forces—not a few galleys at a time to quell skirmishes, but the entire armada King James had amassed set sail on course to capture Alexander MacDonald once and for all. It was a chilly October day when Eoin stood manning the tiller of his galley, wearing his helm and hauberk. He and Aleck MacIain flanked each side of the V formation, with Duncan’s three galleys taking the lead, followed by five of the king’s royal galleys.

  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 si
de. 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.