Home > Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty #4)(44)

Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty #4)(44)
Author: Amy Jarecki

Aleck sneered. “Unfortunate you are not more like him.”

I am my father’s daughter and you can never take that away from me.

Grant again tugged on her arm and pulled her into the passageway.

Helen stumbled over her skirts. “I am no common criminal!”

“You are and have always been a thorn in my side!” Aleck’s hateful bellow echoed through the stony corridor.

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

On the second floor of Dunstaffnage Castle, Eoin sat with Lord Duncan and King James in the king’s solar and stared at the map on the table in front of them. They’d gone over the plan so many times, the topography of the west coast of Scotland was permanently emblazoned upon Eoin’s mind. Worse, as he feared, as soon as he’d arrived at Dunstaffnage, he’d been embroiled in meetings about the MacDonald raids up and down the seaboard. At least he’d learned the attack on Ardnamurchan lands had been a part of many raids the MacDonalds had staged to wreak havoc against the king.

Lord Duncan hit the table with his fist. “We cannot allow them to further build their forces. We must attack at once.”

The king ran his fingers down to the point of his brown beard, making his frown look graver and far older than his twenty years. “We shall not fail this time. I will have Alexander MacDonald’s head. I gave him quarter once. It shan’t happen again.”

Eoin hid his smirk behind a cough. “If Aleck MacIain doesn’t kill him first. The Chieftain of Ardnamurchan is hell bent on seeking revenge.”

The Lord of Glenorchy gave Eoin a stern glare. “Given only two galleys attacked, I’d wager Alexander was only toying with MacIain—giving him a warning. If MacDonald wanted to sack Mingary, she would have fallen.”

How easy it is for a man to surmise, when he wasn’t even there.

Duncan moved one of the wooden markers carved in the shape of a galley and positioned it in front of the stronghold of Dunyveig on the Isle of Islay. “Spies report Alexander is preparing to defend our attack here. If we move now, as I recommend, he’ll be out-muscled, out-maneuvered and out-smarted. I’d wager my first born he’ll fall right into the king’s hands. Sir Aleck will have to settle on a win for Scotland, rather than avenging his feud.”

Eoin had to agree—after all, they’d been sitting in this stifling chamber, planning this siege for an entire sennight. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll sail for Ardnamurchan at dawn.” Finally, I’ll have the opportunity to inform Helen about my visit with her brother.

“No need.” Duncan moved the wooden figurine of the MacIain galley through the sound and placed it in front of Dunstaffnage on the Firth of Lorn. “I’ve already sent a messenger to summon Sir Aleck and his army. I expect them within a sennight.”

Eoin gaped. Perhaps he should have informed Duncan of Helen’s plight, but this was not the place. He most certainly couldn’t mention it in the king’s presence. Besides, Eoin had been reluctant to say anything to Duncan because one never knew how the baron would react. He’d made an alliance with Aleck MacIain with his sister’s marriage, and to learn that she was planning an annulment could cause Duncan to confront Aleck directly. Eoin feared such a move would put Lady Helen’s very life in danger.

He grumbled under his breath. He’d wanted to return to Mingary to ensure Lady Helen’s safety. Aleck behaved unpredictably. Even in the short time he’d been at Mingary, the chieftain had grown more hostile toward his wife.

At least she’ll be safe if Aleck is sailing here. Eoin’s gut roiled. But will he sail with his men given his arm is in a sling? “You do recall he broke his arm fighting in Sunart?”

“Aye, but a man doesn’t need two arms to stand at the helm of a galley and shout commands,” Duncan said, gesturing for Eoin to resume his seat.

“And I disagree with you, Glenorchy. Now is not the time to attack. We’ll let them think we’ve lost interest first.” The king snapped his fingers and motioned for the valet to refill his goblet. “But I do agree ’tis time to unite our armies, though not here where we are in plain sight.”

“What do you suggest?” Duncan asked.

The king smiled. “Tabert.”

“How long will we sit on our laurels at that old keep?” Eoin mumbled, casting his gaze to the fire crackling in the hearth. The heat sweltering around the room was suffocating. It would be best to keep MacIain away from Helen for as long as possible until word arrives the annulment has been granted. Mayhap the king’s idea has merit.

The only problem with this change in plans was that Eoin had no idea when he’d see Lady Helen again. Nor could he send her a missive advising of his meeting with John. Putting news of such sensitivity in writing would be too dangerous.

Duncan whacked him on the shoulder. “What the devil is under your skin? You’ve been on edge since you arrived a sennight ago.”

Eoin knitted his brows, feigning an addled expression. “I’ve no idea to what you’re referring.” He spread his palms for added effect. “We’ve a madman trying to reclaim the Hebrides and the northwest of Scotland and revert it to Norse rule. Forgive me if I’m a bit concerned.”

“You ken as well as I we’ll quash the rebellion.” Duncan shrugged. “But it isn’t like you to worry. Usually you’re the first man to take up his sword.”

“That is precisely why I’m irritated. I’ve been sitting in this solar for too long talking about what we plan to do. I was ready to sail into battle three days past.”

The king chuckled. “’Tis settled then. If my nobles are growing impatient, I can only imagine how tempers are flaring in the ranks. I agree with Sir Eoin, we shall move our base to Tabert and create a ruse. We’ll give them time—make the MacDonalds think we’ve given up on their petty scheme and then we’ll attack when they least expect it.”

Eoin didn’t like that either. Tabert? He was sailing further away from Lady Helen by the day.

 

 

Nearly a fortnight had passed while Aleck enjoyed feigning illness and allowed Mary to cater to his every whim. But the duties of a chieftain prevented him from remaining idle, especially when King James requested his services. As soon as Mary finished buckling his breast plate over his hauberk, he and his men would set sail—and when he returned, he’d impale Alexander MacDonald’s head on a spike above the Mingary gate.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said.

He flexed his arm in its sling. The damned thing still hurt. “I’m sure I will not be long. I’ll have my revenge—and then I’ll be free to think about you and the bairn.” Aside from his insatiable desire to murder the MacDonald bastard who’d tried to seize his lands, Aleck had thought of nothing else but the infant growing in her belly. It gave him renewed hope for an heir and now he’d devised the perfect scheme so no one would ever know the child was a bastard.

He cupped Mary’s face. “You are already showing, my dear.”

“Aye.” Her cheeks turned red. “I left it as long as I could afore I told you, m’laird.”

“You’ve known for a time?”

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