Helen backed down the step, swiping a hand across her face. She didn’t want him to see her crying yet again. “Pardon me?”
He placed his palm on the wall near her head. “I saw enough. You stood beside the men on the battlements and fought off the MacDonalds—my, you are quite a markswoman.”
She smirked. “Aye, though all would have been lost had you not arrived when you did.”
He casually leaned toward her. “But you wore the enemy down. Made our job easy. It would be an honor to have you in Clan Gregor any time.”
If only that had been the way of things from the outset of her miserable adulthood. But no, she was married to Satan, and had been forced to act as a warrior woman due to circumstances, not because she was courageous or a great tactician. She’d had no other choice. She’d taken part in killing—and no matter how necessary it was to defend her home, her mind couldn’t rationalize it. “I am most certainly not proud of this day.”
She must have missed a tear, because he brushed the pad of his thumb over the corner of her eye. “’Tis because you have a kind heart. You should not have been forced to defend Mingary.”
“But I did, and then Aleck—” She clapped her hands over her face. Her heart twisted in knots. She must stop seeking pity from Sir Eoin. So her husband hated her—had no qualms about embarrassing her in front of the entire clan or outsiders. There was nothing she could do about it now—not with Maggie tucked away in the nursery and Aleck threatening vile acts of vengeance.
Eoin grasped her hand between palms that had no right to be so warm. “My lady, no woman should be forced to endure the humiliation I witnessed today.”
She tugged her fingers away. “Eoin, I know you have only the best intentions, but I must ask you to ignore Sir Aleck’s gruff treatment of my person. After all, he is my husband. An alliance was made upon our betrothal and witnessed in the eyes of God. When he is ready, he will come to me to produce the heir he needs to continue the MacIain name. It is my duty to see it done.” The words sank like lead all the way down to her toes.
His face fell as if he’d just lost a battle. “As you wish, m’lady.” He took a step back and bowed. “But know this. I will sail for Dunstaffnage and then Iona on the morrow. If you should want me to carry missives to either of your brothers, I would be happy to personally deliver them on your behalf.”
“I cannot.”
He narrowed his gaze and his lips formed a straight line. “If not for yourself, think of your daughter. If he can raise a hand against you, what will he do to Miss Maggie once she starts laughing and running and playing? Do you want her to live in fear as you do?”
“I-I…” Pins and needles bristling across her skin, Helen curtseyed and fled up the tower stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
After Helen had spent most of the evening holding Maggie to her breast, trying to protect her child from the MacDonald pillagers who had already sailed, Sarah had finally moved in beside her and held out her hands. Helen ignored the nursemaid for a moment. She didn’t want to let go. She couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened if Eoin and his men hadn’t arrived in time. Would the MacDonalds have killed her and the bairn? Helen never wanted to release Maggie from her arms.
“My heavens, you need your rest, m’lady.” Sarah reached in for the sleeping bairn. “I’ll put her down. You should go find something to eat and then your bed.”
Helen wanted to tell the nursemaid to mind her own affairs. But she relented. As soon as she released Maggie, a cold chill washed over her. She wanted to stay. Only she could protect her daughter. And it seemed the world was against them.
Helen stared as Sarah rested the bairn in the cradle. She’d replayed Eoin’s words over and over in her head: If not for yourself think of your daughter. If he can raise a hand against you, what will he do to her once Miss Maggie starts laughing and running and playing? Do you want her to live in fear as you do?
What would Helen do once Eoin was gone and no one remained who could stand up to the likes of Aleck MacIain?
Numb, she headed down the passageway. She couldn’t eat. On top of everything else, she had killed a man. Her hands shook violently every time she pictured him clutching at the arrow and falling to the ground. No wonder men drink so much whisky. She needed a tot herself just to calm her tremors. Perhaps after a dram she might even be capable of thinking straight.
Helen roamed the passageways of Mingary without direction. Walking invigorated her and she sped her pace. As she paced, her mind honed. She had taken charge of affairs this day because there had been no other choice. And striding through the draughty passageways, she realized she’d achieved one good thing from today’s experience. Confidence.
If I do not take action to gain control over my life, no one will.
Arriving at her bedchamber door, she knew exactly what she must do.
Upon entering, something thudded against the wall. Aleck’s bed.
At first, Helen considered checking on him, but when a woman’s voice moaned, the lady of the keep’s stomach churned.
Let Aleck while away his time with his leman. I will stand for his mistreatment no longer.
She took a seat at the writing table, reached for a clean sheet of velum and inked her quill.
My dearest brother John, His Worship, Bishop of the Isles,
It is with great heartache that I write to you this somber eve, but as Sir Eoin can attest, my situation at Mingary has become untenable…
She omitted nothing, belied nothing. In doing this, she was, in effect, committing treason against her marriage vows and had no illusions that her story must be so infallible, neither her brother nor the Pope would question her plea. She had no doubt that if Aleck discovered she’d written this missive, he would either kill her or lock her in the dungeon until she died. If she were caught, she wouldn’t be alive to protect Maggie, but if she did nothing, both she and her daughter would suffer under Aleck’s yoke of tyranny.
After she signed her name, she sanded the parchment, then folded it and held a red wax wafer to the candle flame. Once she sealed the missive with the Campbell crest that she’d brought with her from Glen Orchy, she stared at the velum as if at any moment it would be set alight by God’s own hand.
Helen stood and paced. How can I take the missive to Eoin without anyone knowing? If she stole away to his chamber, it would be scandalous. But as this late hour, it would also be unlikely she’d be seen by anyone.
The vulgar noises coming from the laird’s chamber had been replaced by Aleck’s rumbling snores. Was Mary sleeping wrapped by his good arm, or had she returned to her cottage? Helen hadn’t heard the door.
She chewed her thumbnail and paced. Every time she passed the table, she shuddered. Sleep would be impossible with that missive on the table.
After serving the king and Duncan Campbell for years, Eoin had learned to sleep lightly. A knight made enemies enforcing the king’s laws, a fact never far from Eoin’s mind. No one had to tell him he couldn’t be too careful and, as a result, he always slept on his side, facing the door.
The hinges must have been well oiled, because it made not a sound when the door opened and someone slipped inside. Instantly awake, Eoin made no move, and waited for the backstabber to attack. The man kept to the shadows, but the outline of his form was too small to be Aleck MacIain. Eoin wouldn’t have been surprised if that man tried to slit his throat whilst he slept.