Holding a kerchief against her wound, Helen hastened toward him, but kept enough distance to avoid another strike. “What if the MacDonalds should attack by sea, m’laird?” she asked, careful not to mention Sir Eoin’s name this time—though he had been the one who suspected a dual strike.
Aleck glared. “Do you not have something to embroider? My God, had Duncan Campbell told me how utterly daft you were, I’d not have signed my name to the marriage contract.”
“Nor would you have received my dower lands.” Helen shuffled back in anticipation of an angry strike for her impertinence.
“Watch your mouth.” Aleck stepped in, but didn’t raise a hand this time. “We’ve just returned from a sortie to the north. The MacDonald galleys are still sailing back and forth between Colonsay and Sleat. They’ve much bigger fish to fry—and I am to see they do not succeed.”
Grant strode forward, leading the horses. “Right after we stop them in Sleat, aye, m’laird?”
“Too right.” Aleck circled his hand over his head. “Come men, there’ll be no rest. We’ll not be letting Clan Gregor fight our battles.”
Helen watched as the MacIain army marched out the gate behind Aleck and Grant. All looked worn from their three-day stint at sea. They carried every manner of weapons from poleaxes, bows and arrows to dirks and swords. She could only pray that Aleck had been right—there was no threat from the sea. Once again she’d be left with Mr. Keith and the aged guardsmen. Nonetheless, not a pleasant thought, given Eoin’s warning.
Helen whispered a silent prayer for their safety and headed into the keep to cleanse the blood from her face.
Mary stood propped against the kitchen doorway, watching Helen as she passed. The widow’s arms were folded and she had a smirk across her mouth as if she enjoyed seeing Helen receive a slap from Sir Aleck.
Helen stopped short. I am in charge. I am the lady of this keep. “Mary, see to it you keep the sheep and chickens out of the garden.”
The woman’s jaw dropped. “Me?”
“Aye, and while you’re at it, you can give Master Thomas a hand with the pig’s feed.” Helen didn’t wait for a response. Rather, she proceeded through the great hall and up the stairwell. With things set in motion to secure and provision the castle, she would clean her face and then see to Maggie’s safety.
Pray the MacDonalds continue their business between Colonsay and Sleat for another sennight at least.
Chapter Fourteen
It was dark when Eoin and his men arrived on the summit of Beinn Resipol. William led them directly to the lookout sight and introduced the other two MacIain men as Malcolm and Rob. Though their hands were sooty and their fingernails caked with dirt, Eoin shook their hands. “Good work spotting the MacDonalds straight away.”
“It wasn’t too hard, given the black smoke billowing from the north,” Rob said while Malcolm nodded.
Eoin scanned the terrain below, but could only see blackness. “Where are they now?”
Malcolm threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Headed southeast, I wager they aim to pillage their way to Mingary.”
Eoin instantly thought of Helen and prayed Aleck had already arrived to defend the keep. Since the MacDonalds were heading south, it now made even more sense to sail a patrol galley through Loch Sunart. Thank heavens he’d thought to have Helen pass along the message. “How many are there?” he asked.
“Forty, near enough,” said Rob.
“All mounted?”
“Aye. I reckon they rode down from Tioram.”
Eoin looked at the sky and shook his head. The news was just as he’d predicted. If only Aleck MacIain had a brain the size of his cods, they might have stopped the invasion before it began. Now a poor crofter was out of a home, his farm burned.
“Have they set up camp for the night?”
“Aye.” Malcolm pointed to a range of craggy hills, a darker black against the cloudy sky. “Behind them crags.”
“Gather round, men,” Eoin said, beckoning the group in a huddle. “We’ll eat and camp here for the night. I want the watch changed every hour. Before dawn, we’ll ride to the southeast and set a trap in the ravine.” He looked to William. “What say you, how long will it take us to ride to the base of the hill, yonder?”
“An hour. If we head out afore the birds start chirping, we’ll be there by dawn for certain.”
“Very well.” Eoin looked at the expectant faces staring at him. “That’ll be the plan then. Get some rest. I guarantee we’ll have a nasty battle to face on the morrow.”
“Get up you laggards!” Eoin had no sooner found a comfortable patch of grass when Aleck MacIain’s irritating voice brayed across the campsite. “What the hell are you doing making camp, you miserable flea-bitten swine?”
“M-m’laird.” William immediately sprang to his feet. “Sir Eoin gave us orders to rest afore we head off the MacDonald.”
“Sir Eoin, aye?” Aleck panned his glare around the camp until he found Eoin. “Why haven’t we attacked?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Eoin stood and sauntered forward. “Why are you not protecting Mingary’s sea gate? I left word with Lady Helen—”
“A woman will never give me orders. And you’re wrong. The MacDonalds have nearly moved all their men to Colonsay.”
“Aye?” Eoin leveled his stare with MacIain’s. “That’s only a half-day’s sailing from Mingary at most. I wouldn’t put it past them to double back. Och aye, they’re uniting.”
“And I aim to stop them right here in Sunart.” Aleck shoved Eoin’s shoulder. “I asked you to tell me why we have not yet attacked.”
Grinding his back molars, it took every bit of self-control Eoin possessed to explain his plan while MacIain glared at him with those beady black eyes. Satan’s bones, Eoin wanted to slap the bastard—not only slap him, wrap his fingers around his neck and squeeze until he dropped—Aleck would be a whole lot more use if he were unconscious.
When Eoin finished, Aleck snorted with an arrogant smirk. “That’s the poorest idea I’ve ever heard. And from you, a king’s enforcer? My mother was a better strategist.”
Enough.
Before he blinked, Eoin’s hand darted out and clutched MacIain’s throat. The big man’s eyes bulged. Aleck tried to pull away, making choking gasps, but with his every move, Eoin clamped his grip harder while his gut churned with bile. “You might play the almighty chieftain to a lesser man,” Eoin hissed in a low growl. “But if you ever try to belittle me again, especially in front of the men, I’ll reach down your throat and cut that flippant tongue out.”
Aleck gurgled and clawed at Eoin’s hand. It was a matter of heartbeats before the bastard would drop from lack of air.
“Do. You. Understand?” Eoin demanded.
MacIain gave an eye rolling nod—at least as much of a nod as he could manage. Eoin shoved Aleck away. The dull-witted toad launched into a coughing fit, clutching his hands around his neck.
“He tried to kill me,” MacIain coughed out. “D-did you see that? He nearly c-committed the abominable sin of murder!”