The old man-at-arms always remained behind to take charge of the castle guard in Duncan’s absence. “I will, m’lord.”
Duncan grabbed his horse’s reins and mounted. “Come lads, we’ve no time to waste.”
He led them through the yard to the main trail that would take them twenty miles to the west coast.
They’d been moving a steady trot for a good while when Aleck MacIain and his men galloped up behind them. “I had a change of mind this morn.”
Duncan urged his horse a bit faster. “I thought I told you to return to Mingary.”
The bastard kept pace like a pesky fly. “You did, but my galley is moored at Dunstaffnage.”
“Very well, we’ll part ways at the V in the road.”
“Why are you so anxious to be rid of me?” Aleck growled, far too disrespectful for a chieftain who was not a peer.
“Must I remind you of your station? I will take pause with your tone, make no bones about it.” He glanced at MacIain out of the corner of his eye. “I will speak to my siblings alone. If you are present with that beef-headed demeanor, they may not be inclined to speak frankly.”
The man blubbered a guffaw. “You don’t even trust your own kin?”
“’Tis not my kin that concerns me.”
Aleck thumped his chest. “So it’s me you do not trust?”
“Bloody hell, MacIain. Must everything be a battle with you? You came to me and requested my help.” Duncan pointed his gloved finger to the trail ahead. “At your request, I’ve spurred into action without hesitation. All I ask is that you allow me to discuss Lady Helen’s disappearance with Lady Gyllis and the Bishop of the Isles my way.”
The chieftain jumped his horse over a fallen log. “If you wish me to stay away whilst you speak to your kin, I’ll grant you that. But I will not tuck tail and head for home. Helen took my daughter as well.”
Duncan growled under his breath. The missive from the Pope indicated one of the criteria for granting the annulment was that Aleck refused to acknowledge the child, Margaret Alice MacIain as his only heir. But thinking of the bairn gave him an idea. He shot a sideways glance at MacIain. “What’s her second name?”
“Helen Flora,” Aleck said with overzealous annoyance in his tone.
“No, I was referring to your bairn, Margaret. What’s her second name?” Duncan asked again.
“Helen calls her Maggie.”
Wrong. Duncan tightened his fist around the reins. He would dig to the bottom of this.
About two miles out from Dunollie, Duncan and his men, including the uninvited band of MacIain upstarts, came across the MacDougall patrol. Duncan reined his horse to a stop and addressed Sir Sean’s man, Angus. “Good morrow. I hope all is quiet on Dunollie lands this day.”
“Good morrow, m’lord.” Sitting his horse, Angus dipped his helmed head. “Things are quiet, indeed. In fact, we’ve had almost no problem with outlaws since Sir Sean stopped Alan MacCoul near five year’ ago.”
“’Tis good to hear. I need a word with my sister. Is she at home?”
Angus threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the castle. “Aye, about to bid good day to the bishop—your brother.”
Duncan shot a startled glance at MacIain.
The man certainly wasn’t deaf. Aleck gathered up his reins. “We’d best make haste.” He dug in his heels, but then pulled the horse to a stop. He leaned over the gelding’s neck and eyed the soldier at the rear of the retinue.
Duncan followed Aleck’s line of sight. The man kept his face averted.
Aleck grabbed a poleax from one of the guards and rode straight toward the man. “Well, well. Hello, Mr. Keith. I thought I might find you here.”
Before Duncan had time to react, Aleck slammed the guard in the chest with the shaft of the poleax. The force lifted the guard from his saddle and sent him crashing to the ground flat on his back.
Drawing his sword, Duncan dismounted. Horses skittered aside as he dashed to the fallen guard.
Moving fast for a large man, Aleck hopped from his mount. Baring his teeth, he crouched over the guard, levering a dirk against his neck. “Where is my wife, you mule-brained backstabber?”
The guard clutched at his chest, gasping for air.
The back of Duncan’s neck burned. “How do you know this man?”
“He’s the very guard who helped Helen escape.” Aleck sneered. “Keith’s his name.”
The chieftain used that escape word again. Duncan bristled.
Aleck fisted the hilt of his dirk and struck the guard across the mouth. “I can see it in your eyes. You know where she is.”
Mr. Keith continued to gasp. Aleck hit him again. When he drew his fist back for another blow, Duncan caught MacIain’s elbow. “Can you not see he’s lost his air from the fall?”
“He’s a traitor and a backstabber.”
“Yet you said yourself he knows where Lady Helen is.” Duncan shoved Aleck aside and kneeled beside the guard. “Are you in my sister’s confidence?”
His gasps becoming slower, the man held Duncan’s gaze and gave a single nod.
Shoving Duncan aside, Aleck jumped atop the guard. With a snarl, he again held his blade to Keith’s neck. “I’ll not ask you again. Where is Lady Helen?”
The guard’s eyes shifted east to the forest.
Aleck looked toward the trees, then smirked. “MacDougall’s hunting cottage? I should have known.” Growling, the chieftain took one last swing at Mr. Keith’s head, leaving a welt spreading under his eyes.
Duncan knew the cottage well. Worse, last summer a hunting party camped there with MacIain. Ballocks.
Aleck hastened to his horse and mounted. “This way, men.”
Duncan had no recourse but to follow. He pointed at Angus. “Ride to Dunollie and tell Sir Sean to meet us at the cottage straight away.”
Duncan spurred his mount ahead. If MacIain unleashed his violent temper on his sister, she’d not survive to reveal the truth.
Chapter Thirty
Gyllis was ever so happy to have her husband at home. Yesterday, her brother, John, had come to celebrate the holiday feast with them, and now the family sat upon the dais for their nooning before John returned to Iona.
Sean MacDougall and John had been boyhood friends and they had served together with the Highland Enforcers. The retinue had originally been established by Gyllis’s father, Colin Campbell by order of King James III to maintain order in the Scottish Highlands. Now the enforcers had a new leader and Scotland had a new king. Such was the succession. As far as Gyllis knew, bringing peace to the Highlands was still their primary responsibility, though the king used them when necessary to help maintain order along the borders as well.
Half the time, Gyllis had no idea where her husband was, but today she didn’t want to think about that. Two of her favorite men were seated at the high table in Dunollie’s great hall. Sean, dressed in plaid with a black leather doublet, looked like a powerful land-owning chieftain and John appeared so incredibly official in his purple damask chasuble. Gyllis was proud of her brother’s achievements after he’d left the enforcers to join the priesthood. A second son, he had become a powerful man in his own right—The Bishop of the Isles.