Narrowing his eyes, Aleck gnashed his teeth and balled his fist. With a bray, he delivered the hardest punch he’d ever thrown—right across the insolent henchman’s jaw. Jesus Christ, his knuckles stung, but he wouldn’t let on about it. “Leave my sight and there’ll be no meals for either of you for a day.”
The damned chivalrous guard grasped his mother by the elbow and helped her to the stairwell.
Across the hall the sniveling messenger cleared his throat and held up the missive. “I was told to await a reply, m’laird.”
Aleck snatched it from the imbecile’s hand and read. “God’s teeth, Mary named the bairn Fiona. What kind of name is that?”
“Sir?”
Aleck could have smacked the messenger too. “Tell Mistress Mary there’s been a delay.”
The man bowed. “Thank you, m’laird.”
“Haste ye to your boat, else you’ll feel the cold steel of my hospitality.”
Aleck stormed to the courtyard. “If there’s anyone left in this godforsaken castle whom I can trust, prepare to set sail forthwith.”
“Where to, m’laird?” Robert asked with a bit too much delight.
“Kilchurn Castle.”
“What will you do when you find Lady Helen?” The sadist jailer rubbed his hands.
“I’ll kill her.”
Robert licked his lips. “At Kilchurn? In the presence of her family?”
Aleck swatted the ignoramus on the back of the head. “We sail within the hour.”
He stomped back inside. A man’s supposed to celebrate when the king has just granted him lands. But no. My inept guard allowed my useless wife to escape and now I’ve no choice but to hunt her down.
Helen took a bite of pheasant. “Mm.” She closed her eyes and savored the roasted meat. “We are truly blessed this St. Crispin’s Day.”
“I agree.” Eoin smiled from across the table holding Maggie on his lap. “Even her ladyship agrees.” He placed a sliver of meat into her upstretched hands.
Helen chuckled. “I do believe she is enamored with you.”
“She had better be. I just gave her the most succulent part.”
The bairn seemed to approve, as she gnawed on the meat with drool wetting her apron.
Helen watched Eoin feed her and himself, playing a game of hide-and-seek, which Maggie found outrageously funny.
If only we could hide here forever.
Eoin caught her staring and held her gaze. “You look deep in thought.”
Helen stretched her arms forward. “I suppose I am.”
“And…?”
“I was just wishing we could stay here and allow the rest of the world to pass us by.”
“Aye, we could try. No doubt Duncan would be the first to lead a search party.” Eoin reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers. His hands were always so warm. “I need to return to my clan soon and I intend to do so with you beside me.”
Helen bit her bottom lip. “Do you think Aleck knows yet?”
“John said he’d dispatch a monk to Mingary with a missive.” Eoin gave Maggie another morsel of meat. “There’s no reason to think Aleck has not received it.”
Helen slipped her fingers out from under Eoin’s palm and wrung her hands. “I hope he accepts the Pope’s decree without causing a row.”
“Oh, he’ll act out, all right. I only pray that once he’s had a chance to mull it over, he’ll realize an annulment is for the best.”
Helen refilled his cup with wine. “Gyllis will let us know any news.”
“I’m sure she will. But we cannot tarry here much longer, else Duncan will have all of Argyllshire searching for us.”
Though she knew Eoin was right, she hated to think of it. “What if we stayed another month? Surely Duncan can live without your services for that long. Besides, winter is nearly upon us.”
“Exactly. We’ll see our first snow soon. This wee cottage isn’t equipped for us to survive the entire winter. I need to take you to Glen Strae where we’ve supplies built up for the season.”
Helen looked away. With the hearth at her back, she suddenly grew overwarm.
“There’s something else bothering you,” Eoin said.
“Aye.”
“We can harbor no secrets.”
She crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders. “I’d like to visit Kilchurn and reconcile with my mother, if not Duncan as well. This news will be upsetting.”
“I agree.” But Eoin didn’t want to approach the Lord of Glenorchy too soon. “We should pay a visit after His Worship has had a chance to talk to them.”
Helen cringed. “I don’t think Duncan will ever forgive me.”
“When he learns of Aleck MacIain’s treatment of you, it will be difficult to prevent him from launching an attack on the blackguard.”
“But that would further ruin the alliance between our families.” She tsked her tongue. “That’s why Duncan contracted with him in the first place.”
“If it is an alliance with MacIain he needs so badly, I suggest we let Duncan figure out how to maintain favorable relations.” Eoin reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair. “His love for you will not be diminished over this. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope you are right. And…”
He leaned in and arched his eyebrow. “Aaaand?”
It wasn’t her place to be anxious about taking their nuptials, but she had to say something. He had, after all, asked her to become Lady MacGregor. He just hadn’t mentioned when that might happen. She hung her head. “I am now a marked woman—a disgrace to society.”
Eoin stood and placed Maggie on the sheepskin. Then he sat beside Helen on the bench and slid his arm around her shoulders. “M’lady.” He kissed her cheek. “We must rectify that first and foremost. We can be wedded by the priest as soon as we leave this cottage.”
Helen nodded. “I will not be allowed to be married in a church.”
“A church isn’t the only hallowed ground on this earth.” He grasped her hand and kissed it. “We shall ask the first cleric we find to marry us.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy?”
A satiated chuckle rolled through her insides. “I am happier now than I’ve ever been in five and twenty years.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Duncan Campbell, Lord of Glenorchy, enjoyed the music and ale while celebrating St. Crispin’s Day with his clan in the great hall of Kilchurn Castle. It was a pleasant respite to be home amongst his family after so many months fighting the MacDonalds. His wife, Lady Meg, sat to his right, and his mother, Lady Margaret, on his left. The high table presented an elaborately dressed array of meats, vegetables and breads to rival the king’s fare.
Meg speared a tidbit of venison with her eating knife. “I do believe we shall have a festive Yule this year. I can hardly wait to green the castle.”
Duncan blessed the day he’d rescued Meg from the clutches the Earl of Northumberland a hundred times over. If he hadn’t been the man in charge of the mission to infiltrate Alnwick Castle, he may have never met the fiery, redheaded lass. He grinned at their progeny sitting across the table—at the age of seven, the twins Colin and Elizabeth both sported their mother’s ginger hair. Archibald, seated beside his sister, was blessed with Duncan’s black locks. He grinned at the likeness. Black tresses had served him well—made him look fiercer—a characteristic useful for a land baron in the Highlands.