Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4) (27 page)

None of the Aleck’s men knew a goddamn thing about Helen’s whereabouts. No one saw or heard a thing. The only nugget of information that could be of any help at all was that Mr. Keith had turned backstabber. He was gone and there was little doubt he’d been the culprit who’d helped her.

Sitting with his elbow on the armrest, Aleck balanced his chin on his fist and watched Grant usher his mother forward. Aleck could bet the old crow knew something, even though she made a good show of wringing her hands and appearing distraught.

When they reached the foot of the dais, Grant stepped away and left Glenda standing alone with her hands tightly clasped before her. She didn’t look up.

Aleck stared at her for a moment, well aware of the power of his steely gaze. He’d made many a man quake with a look. Such was the benefit of being an ugly cur. Sick to death with the ineptitude of his kin, he had no mind for pleasantries. “What do you know about Lady Helen’s disappearance?”

“Me, m’laird?”

He spread his palms. “There’s nay other soul standing before me.”

“The first I heard of it was when Miss Sarah came to me and told me the bairn was missing—taken straight from her cradle, Miss Sarah said.”

“And where is Sarah now? I understand she went missing shortly before I returned.” At least that tidbit of information had been easy to wrest from the men.

The old woman hunched her shoulders. “I’ve no idea. But she…” Glenda glanced at Grant.

The guard rolled his hand forward, encouraging her to go on.

“Miss Sarah took a fancy to one of the MacGregor men.”

Aleck cast his gaze to the rafters. “A MacGregor? God save the lass if she’s chasing after that worthless mob of heathens.”

Glenda’s eyes flashed wide, then she quickly looked at the floor.

Aleck sat forward. “I take it you disagree with me.”

She shook her head. “No, m’laird.”

Aleck stood and glared at the cowering woman. “I think you do know to where Lady Helen absconded with
my
child.”

“Honestly.” She crossed herself. “I know not. They must have stolen away in the night. I heard nary a sound.”

The outer door opened and a messenger walked inside. “I’ve a missive for Sir Aleck MacIain.”

Another bloody missive?
“From?” he demanded.

“Duntulm Castle. Mistress Mary has birthed a girl, m’lord.”

Glenda snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth.

For a moment, Aleck’s vision failed him. Mistress Mary was supposed to have birthed a lad. He clenched his fists. Were all his plans to be thwarted? He focused his gaze on Glenda. “Do you think this news is humorous?”

“No, m’laird.”

He clomped down the steps and towered over her. “You laughed. I heard you.”

“No, simply blew out my nose a bit too hard.” She curtseyed. “Forgive me m’laird.”

“You’re a liar.” Striking like a whip, Aleck backhanded the mouthy wench.

Glenda stumbled backward, snapping her hands to her face.

Grant stepped forward and pulled his mother behind him.

“Do not touch her,” Aleck roared. “I’ve not yet completed my inquisition.”

Grant faced him. “Leave her be, she confided to me she was as shocked about Lady Helen’s disappearance as everyone else.”

Aleck pointed to the door. “You may wait outside.”

Grant took one step back, then folded his arms. “You ken I’d give you my life, but my mother is old. I’ll take any punishment you choose to inflict upon her.”

Glenda stepped around him. “No, son.”

Aleck stepped toward the woman, ready to issue another strike.

Grant stepped in front of the woman, his jaw set. “I mean what I say. I’ll not stand by whilst you raise a hand against my mother.”

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.”

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.

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.”

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?”