Duncan tucked an errant curl under his wife’s veil. “Mayhap in a few years’ time you’ll be greening our new castle on Loch Tay.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Pardon me?”
Duncan had only decided it was time to build during his tour with the king. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with his wife as of yet. “The king has seen fit to grant me lands, I’d best build suitable accommodations for our visits.”
Lady Margaret sat straight, looking directly at him with alarm etched in the lines of her careworn face. “But Kilchurn is the seat of the Campbells of Glenorchy.”
Duncan had expected his stepmother’s initial shock. “Of course it is mother, but with more lands comes added responsibility. My cousin, the Earl of Argyll, has three castles, and my father, your husband, was responsible for building one of them.”
She pursed her lips. “As long as the family seat remains in Glen Orchy, I have no qualms against your expanding the family dynasty.”
He patted her hand. “I knew your enterprising spirit would see reason.” He held up his tankard. “Now shall we all drink to our growing success?”
Meg smiled broadly and raised her drink. “Sláinte!”
Everyone followed suit, even Archibald at the tender age of four.
A commotion erupted at the far end of the hall and a man’s voice rose above the throng. Duncan pushed back his chair and stood.
“I care not if a feast is underway, I shall gain an audience with Lord Glenorchy now!” Aleck MacIain pushed his way through the crowd.
Duncan moved to the front of the dais and met Aleck at the steps. “MacIain? What on earth are you doing away from your family on St. Crispin’s? You should be home celebrating your grant of lands.”
“Aye? I’ve no family with whom to celebrate.” Aleck held up a missive. “I was met by one of your brother’s monks and given this.”
When MacIain shoved the parchment into his chest, Duncan had no recourse but to grasp it. He glanced back at his family. “I shall be but a moment, please excuse me.”
He ushered the uncouth chieftain to the small antechamber at the back of the hall. Once inside, he examined the broken seal. “This is from His Holiness, the Pope.”
“Bloody oath it is, and your sister conspired with your brother—His Worship, the venerated Bishop of the Isles, no less—to destroy my marriage.”
Duncan opened the letter and read. A tight ball formed in his chest. “This accuses you of beating your wife, as reported witnessed by bruising noted on her person on more than one occasion.”
The chieftain’s face flushed red. “I assure you, any disciplinary action taken by me was necessary to maintain order in my household.”
“Helen?” Duncan stared at the cad, completely dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me you had to resort to force to control my most good-natured sister?”
“She turned bad, m’lord.” MacIain shot a quick glance to the closed door. “Is she not here? I should like to take her home forthwith.”
“Lady Helen is not at Kilchurn, nor has she been.” Duncan folded the missive and faced the hearth. Did she and John truly contrive this scheme together? It isn’t like my brother to do anything untoward—or Helen for that matter. Does her claim have merits? If so, why did she not approach me? I am the Lord of Glenorchy, surely she would know I would protect her if she had a founded claim. A piece of lead sank to the pit of Duncan’s stomach. Her fears must be grave if they took this matter all the way to Rome.
Duncan glanced over his shoulder and regarded MacIain. The man has a mean streak, no doubt. But abuse his wife? Surely he would know raising a hand against Helen would put a grave strain on our alliance. An annulment granted by the Pope? Why in God’s name was I not consulted?
Duncan needed to dig to the bottom of this quandary. He faced the Ardnamurchan chieftain. “Your news is disturbing indeed. I shall take immediate steps to seek a resolution and inform you of my findings. Please, ’tis St. Crispin’s Day. Sit at the high table and enjoy the feast. On the morrow, you can return to Ardnamurchan.”
The man’s face grew even redder. “Do you think I’m planning to tuck my tail and head back to Mingary on the morrow?”
After folding the velum, Duncan slipped it inside his doublet. “I suggest that’s exactly what you should do. Dealings with my family are best left in my hands.”
The bald-headed chieftain moved his fists to his hips, forgetting who was lord of this castle. “Are you planning to pay a visit to the Bishop of the Isles? Because he’s next on my list, and I’ll not be as pleasant with him.”
Every bit as tall as the over-stuffed codfish, Duncan stared him in the eye, nose to nose. “Are you threatening to raise a hand against my brother, His Worship, the most revered holy man in the Highlands?”
Aleck’s tongue shot across his bottom lip. “He secretly obtained an annulment for your sister under false pretenses.”
The more I think on it, the more I doubt Helen’s claims are unfounded.
“I will uncover the truth.” Duncan pointed to the door. “I suggest you do as I say and find a place in the hall. Your accusations against my family are not taken lightly and will not be treated as such if I discover the assertions in that missive are true.”
Aleck narrowed his steely eyes for a moment, and then held his palms up. That he’d just exercised restraint was obvious. Had he lashed out, it would have been the action Duncan needed to take the man to his knees. But five years ago, he’d made an alliance with MacIain, and that pact had proved fruitful in bringing the MacDonald uprising to an end. This situation with Helen needed to be investigated before relations grew worse.
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.”