by Amy Jarecki
Duncan bowed and gestured to the door. “If you please.”
He waited until MacIain had made his way to the dais. God bless Meg, she welcomed the bastard with outstretched arms and summoned the servants to tend him at once. Duncan gestured to Mevan, the old man-at-arms who had been loyal to the Campbells since the early days. “Ride to Glen Strae and fetch Eoin MacGregor at once. Tell him his presence is needed urgently.”
“Straight away, m’lord.”
“We’ll leave for Dunollie at dawn. I shall have a word with Lady Gyllis before proceeding on to Iona. Perhaps she’s seen Lady Helen”
Duncan rose early and gathered his retinue by the stables. God’s teeth, there wasn’t a bloody MacGregor man in sight, yet the Kilchurn man-at-arms sat on a barrel and watched the men ready their horses. “Mevan, where the blazes is Eoin?”
“He’s not in Glen Strae, m’lord.”
What more would go wrong with this unsettling news? “Are you sure? He left Oronsay before any of us.”
“Aye, but he moored his galley at Taynult and sent his men home—they said he took a horse and headed south.”
“God on the cross, what business did he have south?”
Mevan looked like he’d swallowed a bitter tonic. “I-I didn’t ask.”
“Never mind. When he returns, tell him I’ve gone to Dunollie and then to Iona. I need his help in locating Lady Helen. MacGregor has the sharpest nose for tracking in all of Scotland.”
The old man-at-arms always remained behind to take charge of the castle guard in Duncan’s absence. “I will, m’lord.”
Duncan grabbed his horse’s reins and mounted. “Come lads, we’ve no time to waste.”
He led them through the yard to the main trail that would take them twenty miles to the west coast.
They’d been moving a steady trot for a good while when Aleck MacIain and his men galloped up behind them. “I had a change of mind this morn.”
Duncan urged his horse a bit faster. “I thought I told you to return to Mingary.”
The bastard kept pace like a pesky fly. “You did, but my galley is moored at Dunstaffnage.”
“Very well, we’ll part ways at the V in the road.”
“Why are you so anxious to be rid of me?” Aleck growled, far too disrespectful for a chieftain who was not a peer.
“Must I remind you of your station? I will take pause with your tone, make no bones about it.” He glanced at MacIain out of the corner of his eye. “I will speak to my siblings alone. If you are present with that beef-headed demeanor, they may not be inclined to speak frankly.”
The man blubbered a guffaw. “You don’t even trust your own kin?”
“’Tis not my kin that concerns me.”
Aleck thumped his chest. “So it’s me you do not trust?”
“Bloody hell, MacIain. Must everything be a battle with you? You came to me and requested my help.” Duncan pointed his gloved finger to the trail ahead. “At your request, I’ve spurred into action without hesitation. All I ask is that you allow me to discuss Lady Helen’s disappearance with Lady Gyllis and the Bishop of the Isles my way.”
The chieftain jumped his horse over a fallen log. “If you wish me to stay away whilst you speak to your kin, I’ll grant you that. But I will not tuck tail and head for home. Helen took my daughter as well.”
Duncan growled under his breath. The missive from the Pope indicated one of the criteria for granting the annulment was that Aleck refused to acknowledge the child, Margaret Alice MacIain as his only heir. But thinking of the bairn gave him an idea. He shot a sideways glance at MacIain. “What’s her second name?”
“Helen Flora,” Aleck said with overzealous annoyance in his tone.
“No, I was referring to your bairn, Margaret. What’s her second name?” Duncan asked again.
“Helen calls her Maggie.”
Wrong. Duncan tightened his fist around the reins. He would dig to the bottom of this.
About two miles out from Dunollie, Duncan and his men, including the uninvited band of MacIain upstarts, came across the MacDougall patrol. Duncan reined his horse to a stop and addressed Sir Sean’s man, Angus. “Good morrow. I hope all is quiet on Dunollie lands this day.”
“Good morrow, m’lord.” Sitting his horse, Angus dipped his helmed head. “Things are quiet, indeed. In fact, we’ve had almost no problem with outlaws since Sir Sean stopped Alan MacCoul near five year’ ago.”
“’Tis good to hear. I need a word with my sister. Is she at home?”
Angus threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the castle. “Aye, about to bid good day to the bishop—your brother.”
Duncan shot a startled glance at MacIain.
The man certainly wasn’t deaf. Aleck gathered up his reins. “We’d best make haste.” He dug in his heels, but then pulled the horse to a stop. He leaned over the gelding’s neck and eyed the soldier at the rear of the retinue.
Duncan followed Aleck’s line of sight. The man kept his face averted.
Aleck grabbed a poleax from one of the guards and rode straight toward the man. “Well, well. Hello, Mr. Keith. I thought I might find you here.”
Before Duncan had time to react, Aleck slammed the guard in the chest with the shaft of the poleax. The force lifted the guard from his saddle and sent him crashing to the ground flat on his back.
Drawing his sword, Duncan dismounted. Horses skittered aside as he dashed to the fallen guard.
Moving fast for a large man, Aleck hopped from his mount. Baring his teeth, he crouched over the guard, levering a dirk against his neck. “Where is my wife, you mule-brained backstabber?”
The guard clutched at his chest, gasping for air.
The back of Duncan’s neck burned. “How do you know this man?”
“He’s the very guard who helped Helen escape.” Aleck sneered. “Keith’s his name.”
The chieftain used that escape word again. Duncan bristled.
Aleck fisted the hilt of his dirk and struck the guard across the mouth. “I can see it in your eyes. You know where she is.”
Mr. Keith continued to gasp. Aleck hit him again. When he drew his fist back for another blow, Duncan caught MacIain’s elbow. “Can you not see he’s lost his air from the fall?”
“He’s a traitor and a backstabber.”
“Yet you said yourself he knows where Lady Helen is.” Duncan shoved Aleck aside and kneeled beside the guard. “Are you in my sister’s confidence?”
His gasps becoming slower, the man held Duncan’s gaze and gave a single nod.
Shoving Duncan aside, Aleck jumped atop the guard. With a snarl, he again held his blade to Keith’s neck. “I’ll not ask you again. Where is Lady Helen?”
The guard’s eyes shifted east to the forest.
Aleck looked toward the trees, then smirked. “MacDougall’s hunting cottage? I should have known.” Growling, the chieftain took one last swing at Mr. Keith’s head, leaving a welt spreading under his eyes.
Duncan knew the cottage well. Worse, last summer a hunting party camped there with MacIain. Ballocks.
Aleck hastened to his horse and mounted. “This way, men.”
Duncan had no recourse but to follow. He pointed at Angus. “Ride to Dunollie and tell Sir Sean to meet us at the cottage straight away.”
Duncan spurred his mount ahead. If MacIain unleashed his violent temper on his sister, she’d not survive to reveal the truth.
30
Gyllis was ever so happy to have her husband at home. Yesterday, her brother, John, had come to celebrate the holiday feast with them, and now the family sat upon the dais for their nooning before John returned to Iona.
Sean MacDougall and John had been boyhood friends and they had served together with the Highland Enforcers. The retinue had originally been established by Gyllis’s father, Colin Campbell by order of King James III to maintain order in the Scottish Highlands. Now the enforcers had a new leader and Scotland had a new king. Such was the succes
sion. As far as Gyllis knew, bringing peace to the Highlands was still their primary responsibility, though the king used them when necessary to help maintain order along the borders as well.
Half the time, Gyllis had no idea where her husband was, but today she didn’t want to think about that. Two of her favorite men were seated at the high table in Dunollie’s great hall. Sean, dressed in plaid with a black leather doublet, looked like a powerful land-owning chieftain and John appeared so incredibly official in his purple damask chasuble. Gyllis was proud of her brother’s achievements after he’d left the enforcers to join the priesthood. A second son, he had become a powerful man in his own right—The Bishop of the Isles.
“How was your visit to Rome?” Sean asked.
John dabbed the corners of his lips with his fingers—ever so proper of him. “The channel crossing was smooth, thank the good Lord. As usual, however, there was no time to venture outside the Vatican.”
“And what news have you from His Holiness?” Gyllis asked.
“A great concern consumed most of our time.” John glanced between them. “Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain commissioned a rather mysterious character, Christopher Columbus, to undertake a seafaring venture to discover worlds not following our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
“New worlds?” Sean’s eyes lit up. “I thought we’d discovered all the land our world has to offer.”
“As did all of Christendom, but the captain returned with the most disturbing information.”
“Truly?” Sean broke his bread and spread cream over one half. “Tell us.”
“The peoples he discovered were reported as going unclothed and the Christian religion is completely unknown to them.”
Gyllis reached for the remaining half of bread. “But is it not our duty to deliver the word of God to those who have not yet been saved?”
“Yes, and that is exactly what the Pope Alexander communicated to Spain in a rather pointed letter.”
Both Gyllis and Sean looked at the bishop expectantly.
Pursing his lips, John assumed the stern countenance one would associate with his position. “Under penalty of excommunication, all persons in Christendom are forbidden to trade with these uncharted worlds, lest they be struck down by the wrath of God. Only missionaries of the faith will be allowed entry with the sole purpose of bringing the Catholic religion to their inhabitants.”
Gyllis studied her brother and covered her smile with the tips of her fingers. “And clothing, I’d surmise.”
John gave her a sober nod. “Most definitely.”
Goodness, when did my brother become so inordinately serious?
Sean reached for the pitcher of ale. “What else can you tell us about these new lands? Run by naked savages? How will they know how to use their God-given resources?”
John held up a finger. “Let there be no question. His Holiness has decreed that any trade—including resource exploitation with heathen nations will be dealt with severely.”
“But why?” Sean asked. “Wouldn’t it be a way for good men, perhaps second sons like yourself, to gain lands and riches?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you utter such blasphemy. The souls of the savages you referred to are of paramount importance.” John turned to Gyllis and cleared his throat. “Now, we’ve more important things to discuss. You haven’t said a word about Helen. How is our sister faring?”
Gyllis placed her hand atop her husband’s and gave him a clench-toothed grin. “Sean hasn’t been home long enough for me to tell him. Lady Helen has obtained an annulment from His Holiness.”
Sean looked surprised, though not cross. “Interesting. And Aleck MacIain went along with this news? He doesn’t seem like the type…”
John brushed his hands over the front of his chasuble. “He didn’t have a choice in the matter, once I discovered dear Helen had been battered, I agreed to represent her plea to the Pope.”
Sean clenched his fist around the handle of his tankard. “That bastard raised a hand against my sister-in-law? My God, the very thing knights fight against was happening in our own family?”
“Mind your vulgar tongue, my dear.” Gyllis rested a reassuring palm atop her husband’s arm. “Besides, we’ve spirited her away for now, until we’re certain ’tis safe.”
Sean pulled his arm away. “You’ve done all this without me?”
Gyllis planted her fists on her hips. “Forgive me if the world doesn’t come to a halt whilst you’re away enforcing the king’s orders.”
“I—”
“M’laird.” Angus hastened into the great hall. “Lord Duncan and the Chieftain of Ardnamurchan intercepted us on the trail from Glen Orchy. His lordship asked me to have you meet him at the hunting cottage at once.”
Behind Angus, two guards helped a battered Mr. Keith to a bench.
“Goodness gracious.” Gyllis gasped. “What did my brother do to Lady Helen’s guard?”
“It wasn’t Lord Duncan. His lordship tried to step in, but Sir Aleck grew enraged.”
Rising to his feet, Sean snatched his sword belt from the back of the chair. “Angus, summon the guard. We ride at once.”
The henchman pointed. “They’re already mounted and waiting, m’laird.”
Sean bounded toward the door with long strides. “Then we must make haste.”
Gyllis dashed to Mr. Keith. His face was bloodied with one eye swollen shut. “What on earth happened?”
“Sir Aleck saw me riding patrol with the men.” The elderly man coughed. “He knocked me off my horse, then pummeled my face. I swear I didn’t tell him where Lady Helen is—but he figured it out all the same.”
“My word.” Gyllis wrung her hands. “I fear that man is evil beyond saving.”
Mr. Keith grasped Gyllis’s wrist. “He’s the worst sort.”
“I must go to her.”
He struggled to stand. “Not without a guard, m’lady.”
Helen and Eoin sat on the rug before the hearth with Maggie. Eoin had made a ball out of a piece of leather and swung it from a thong while the wee one tried to catch it. Every time she stopped the ball between her palms, she let out a squeal.
Helen threw her head back and laughed. The bairn seemed much happier in the cabin with Eoin there as well. It was so incredibly warm and homey—even happier than her childhood had been. Though she knew he would have to return to Glen Strae on the morrow, Eoin would be back as soon as his spies reported Aleck’s whereabouts—and if the man had made threats against her life. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Now away from that horrid situation, her time at Mingary seemed like a passing nightmare.
All of a sudden, Eoin stopped laughing and froze. His eyes darted to the door.
“What—?”
He sliced his hand through the air and listened. Springing to his feet, he pointed to the door. “Take Maggie to the bedchamber.”
Helen gasped.
Eoin reached for his sword belt and swung it around his hips. “Now.”
Helen pulled the bairn into her arms. Before she reached the chamber, she heard the horse hooves thumping the ground outside the cottage. How on earth did Eoin hear them so much sooner than I?
Trembling from her head to her toes, she dashed inside, wrapped Maggie in a blanket and hid her under the bed. But the babe launched into an earsplitting wail. Helen knelt down and smoothed a hand over Maggie’s crown. “Wheesht, darling.”
The door burst open and with it blew a gale that sapped the heat straight out of the bedchamber.
“MacGregor,” Aleck’s gravelly voice rumbled. “I should have known you’d be here, living in sin with my wife.”
“Lady Helen is no longer your concern or your wife,” Eoin growled.
“MacGregor?” Duncan’s voice rose in astonishment. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Duncan? Have mercy.
Helen moved so she could peer around the door. Behind her, Maggie started to wail.
Red in the face, Aleck looked as if he
were about to kill Eoin. “He’s debauched Helen. Turned her against me.”
“I have done nothing of the sort.” Eoin lowered his sword and looked to Duncan. “Lady Helen was abused by—”
Aleck drew his dirk. With a deep bellow, he launched himself at Eoin.
Taking in a sharp gasp, Helen’s heartbeat raced.
With a flick of his wrist, Eoin deflected the attack and sent the blackguard stumbling toward the hearth. Then Eoin faced him and raised his weapon. Aleck reached for his sword. It hissed from its scabbard as the two men circled.
Helen rushed forward and grabbed Duncan’s arm. “Stop them!”
“How could you degrade yourself, keeping company alone in the forest with a man?” He drew his arm away. “You are ruined. Your daughter is ruined. I cannot believe your behavior—something I would never expect from you, above all.”
Helen backed away in horror whilst Maggie’s cries grew louder. Duncan’s bitter words were far more painful than any blow delivered by Aleck’s slap.
Clutching her fists beneath her chin, she watched in horror as Eoin and Aleck crashed into the table as it screeched across the floorboards. Each man’s eyes filled with hate, they brandished their swords like wild men. Behind her, Maggie’s wails pierced through the mayhem.
Duncan stood with his fists on his hips and watched with a scowl, doing nothing to stop the fight.
Eoin moved like lightning—so fast, Helen didn’t see exactly how it happened, but Aleck was disarmed of his sword, and Eoin had her estranged husband flat on his back in a stranglehold.
Duncan stepped forward. “I’ll have words—”
Helen dashed in front of her brother and cut him off. “With me!” She jabbed her finger into his sternum. “How could you marry me off to a tyrant—a man who thinks nothing of beating me—a man who refuses to see his own daughter because he wanted a lad—a vile braggart who locks his wife in the dungeon for sennights because I asked his leman to tend the pigs and chickens when the villagers sought refuge in Mingary Castle?” She stamped her foot. “Whilst said tyrant rode off to secure his lands in Sunart, leaving me alone to defend to the keep against a MacDonald sea attack.” She took in a deep breath, hardly able to believe she’d uttered the entire repugnant affair in one outpouring.
