Eoin stepped forward. “Forgive me for conducting this proposal in public, but in light of all that has transpired, I want everyone present to hear.” He took Helen’s hands in his ever-warm palms and kneeled. “Lady Helen, I ask your forgiveness. I should not have behaved so rashly when I discovered you had been spirited to this cottage. I should have insisted on a chaperone at all times to ensure your virtue was never brought into question.” He bowed his head. “Will you please find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Helen glanced to Duncan who was looking on with his usual dour frown. Generally a man on bended knee meant only one thing, but Sir Eoin was begging an apology. And he had nothing to apologize for. She knew better than to say so, especially not when they had an audience.
“Sir Eoin, you acted gallantly on my behalf, delivering my missive to my brother, John, Bishop of the Isles, and pleading my case, given the precarious circumstances. On threat of death by my annulled husband, I was unable to personally seek John’s assistance. Afterward, the security you provided whilst I hid in this domicile was greatly appreciated by my person and cannot go without expressing my sincere gratitude.” Praise God her tongue had not failed as she delivered her oration. She even managed to maintain the serene expression she’d mastered after so many years of hiding her emotions.
Eoin raised his head and grinned at her. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, telling her she chose exactly the right words. And then the look in his eyes took on a deeper meaning, one that she’d seen in the bedchamber, one that made her insides swarm with a maelstrom of desire. Helen took in a deep breath and held that gaze. Though she loved him to his toes, she would not permit Eoin MacGregor to disarm her resolve in this hour.
He squeezed his fingers tighter. “With your acceptance of my apology, I would ask you something else.”
Helen’s insides became weightless, like she’d just leapt from a cliff. “Aye?” she whispered, almost afraid to speak.
Eoin cleared his throat, but his eyes never wavered from her face. “Lady Helen, I haven’t a keep encircled with bailey and curtain to offer you, but I can say this: You will have the protection of Clan Gregor, the fiercest force in all the Highlands. You will preside as lady over the clan, and have servants to attend your every need. But moreover, I pledge to you my unfaltering love, my life, my sword, my honor and my heart, if you will agree to be my wife.”
By the time he’d finished, tears streamed down Helen’s face. A smile stretched her lips and, at first, all she managed was a nod. When finally she found her voice, she said, “Aye. I will marry you, Sir Eoin MacGregor.”
He stood and wrapped her in his arms. Oh how wonderful his body felt pressed against her bosom, knowing that he would be hers for all eternity.
Duncan grasped Eoin’s shoulder and pulled them apart. “You’ll not be touching my sister again until you are properly wed.” He reached for Helen’s left arm. “And you will go home with me.”
Eoin grasped his lady’s right hand. “Oh no, I’m finished with waiting.”
Duncan scowled. “Pardon me, but—”
“If you would allow me to explain.” Eoin tugged Helen behind him to shield her from Glenorchy. “We have The Most Illustrious and Most Reverend Lord, His Worship the Bishop of the Isles, in our midst. Who better to marry us than your brother?”
Duncan blinked rapidly. “But Mother will have one of her spells and tie me up by my thumbs.” Such an admonition sounded trite coming from the most powerful man east of Inveraray.
Gyllis cleared her throat from beside the hearth where she cradled Maggie. “Please, Duncan, the spoiled laddie pout no longer suits you.”
“Then Mother will have to live with our decision.” Moving from behind Eoin, Helen took up his hand. “I will marry the Chieftain of Clan Gregor this day if John will be so kind as to do us the honor.”
John thoughtfully stepped forward with praying fingertips touched to his lips. “Though this situation is rather untoward, it is my opinion than an expeditious marriage would be the best for both Lady Helen and Sir Eoin.” He eyed Duncan. “And the least damaging to our sister’s reputation. Mother will have to understand.”
“She will,” Gyllis said.
“’Tis settled then.” John stepped into the center of the room.
Duncan moved beside him. “I do believe I have been usurped by my siblings.” He cleared his throat with a sheepish dip to his chin. “And presently I’m feeling a bit the heel. Helen, I wanted to wait until we returned to Kilchurn to say this, but I believe now is more appropriate. Please forgive my harsh words. I spoke before I had uncovered all the facts.”
Yet another weight lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you. You’ve no idea how much it means to have your blessing.”
“Aaaand, though I said differently, I do believe a wee dowry is appropriate.” He looked to Eoin. “I grant you three hundred acres north of the River Orchy.”
Eoin bowed. “Your generosity is very much appreciated, m’lord.”
Duncan nodded and gestured to John. “Well then, shall we move on with this marriage?”
Beckoning both Helen and Eoin to step forward, he grasped each by the wrist. “Come forward and allow me to join your hands by binding them together with the holy stole of Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Helen’s skin tingled with gooseflesh as she faced her dearest friend and lover. At long last the dreams of marrying her hero had arrived. She had eyes for no one else but Eoin as John wrapped his stole around their wrists while chanting the Latin mass for Holy Matrimony.
Behind them, Maggie cooed as if she approved of this union.
While she gazed into Eoin’s loving eyes, Helen had found happiness at last. She would live out her days with the only man she had ever loved. Finally, her heart’s desire would be fulfilled.
Epilogue
Two years later
Before the altar in Kilchurn Chapel, Helen cradled her son, Alasdair. Eoin stood beside her, holding Maggie’s hand. The wee lass wore a blue damask gown with a square neckline and a matching coif atop her head. The darling grinned up at her wee brother. Och aye, Alasdair’s elder sister looked incredibly grown up for a child of two-and-a-half.
Wearing an ivory mitre atop his head, the Bishop of the Isles posed an impressive sight as he consecrated the holy water in the baptismal font. The Latin recitations rolled off John’s tongue as if it were his native language.
Helen glanced over her shoulder and regarded her family standing in the front row. How Duncan and Gyllis’s grins reminded her of the day she and Eoin had wed. Shortly after the ceremony in the cottage, the retinue had ridden to Kilchurn Castle to announce the news of their marriage. Helen’s mother, Lady Margaret, had been elated to hear that Helen and Maggie had not been ruined—aye, the news of Duncan discovering Eoin and Helen in the cottage indeed had reached Kilchurn before Helen’s arrival on that day. It may have been a good thing, however, because Mother’s look of horror changed to rapture when Duncan delivered the news that Helen had wed Eoin, one of Lady Margaret’s favorite knights in the Highland Enforcers. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Dowager Lady of Glenorchy had welcomed their marriage with open arms.