A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) (31 page)
Read A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) Online
Authors: Amy Jarecki
Heat flooded her cheeks, but she did not falter. How she’d expected
him
to support her assertion was beyond Helen. Clearly, he cared not about her humiliation upon arriving in the great hall to see a woman pressing her breast into her husband’s arm. Then to be swatted aside with a “sit elsewhere” was almost more than Helen could bear.
She pursed her lips and slid into the chair at Aleck’s right, then looked out over the hall. Stunned faces gaped back—faces of people she’d grown to love, and she hoped had also developed a fondness for her. She spread her palms and offered gracious smile. The banter resumed and a servant placed a tankard of mead in front of her.
Helen bowed her head in appreciation. “My thanks, Roderick.”
On her other side, Grant, the MacIain henchman, dipped his head politely. “’Tis good to see your bonny face this eve, m’lady.”
He’d learned his manners from Glenda, his ma.
Thank heavens all MacIain’s are not brutes
. “I’m glad to be well enough to dine in the hall, though it was difficult to leave Miss Maggie.”
“Och, the bairn will be right with Sarah. She’s a fine nursemaid.” Grant held up a trencher of bread and offered it to her.
“Aye, she is,” Helen said, reaching in.
Before she could tear off a bit from the loaf, Aleck stretched in front of Helen and snatched the tray from Grant. “When I said it was time to return to your duties, I expected you to be attentive to the ram’s horn announcing the evening meal.”
Helen drew back her fingers and clutched her fist to her chest. “Forgive me. I had a bit of trouble fitting into my gown. The one I wore for my confinement is now too large, and this one…” She gestured downward.
He arched a brow and glanced at her breasts. “I reckon a bit of fat on your bones is not a bad thing.”
She pulled her mantle across her open neckline. “I was thinking of asking the tailor to let out one or two gowns to provide a bit more comfort.”
His shoulder shrugged. “Do what you must.”
When he started to turn toward Mary, Helen grasped his arm. “It would be ever so nice if you would pay a visit to Maggie, m’laird. She changes every day.”
Aleck brushed her hand away and gave her a steely glare. “I’ll not be visiting the nursery until there’s a wee lad occupying it. I need a son to inherit my name, not a daughter. You’d best heal fast, wife, for I’ve no option but to visit your bed again soon.”
She preferred not to have this conversation in the hall, but now that he’d mentioned the bedchamber, Helen would have her say. She leaned closer so only he could hear. “And once you return to my bed. Will you stop keeping company with the widow?”
“Wheesht and mind your own affairs.” He grasped her hand under the table and squeezed. Hard. “I’ll not have any lassie yapping in my ear like a bitch. I need your noble arse to bear my son, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it.”
Suddenly not hungry, Helen pulled her hand away and rubbed her fingers. How could her brute of a husband treat her with such disdain? And how in God’s name was she to endure his boorishness for the rest of her life? Yes, her mother had always repeated the words:
that which cannot be helped must be endured
. But Da had treated Ma with respect, even in the beginning. Though Helen’s parents had an arranged marriage, they’d grown to love each other, and in short order, too. Helen glanced at Aleck’s bald head. She no longer harbored hope of love ever growing between them—tolerance was the best she could hope for.
But I must try harder
.
The big oak doors at the far end of the great hall opened with a whoosh. A sentry wearing the king’s surcoat emblazoned with an orange lion rampant stepped inside. “I’ve a missive for Sir Aleck MacIain.”
The Chieftain stood and beckoned him. “Are you blind? Bring it here to the
high
table.”
Helen huffed. Decorum would never be her husband’s strong suit. Who on earth would not be aware the clan’s chieftain sat at the high table? And flaunting the fact by being rude only served to promote discourse among those who paid fealty to him.
Aleck drummed his fingers while the man strode through the hall and climbed up to the dais with all eyes upon him. The room hummed as people mumbled, clearly impressed that a king’s man had come all the way to Ardnamurchan to deliver a missive to their chieftain. Aleck snatched the velum from the man’s fingertips and sliced his eating knife under the seal. Leaning toward the light of the enormous candelabra, Aleck knit his bushy eyebrows as he read.
Helen craned her neck in a futile attempt to see the writing. “What news, m’laird?”
With a frown, he shoved the missive into his doublet and looked to Grant, completely ignoring Helen’s question. “The king has requested my presence at Stirling Castle. We must leave on the morrow.”
“Stirling?” Helen clapped her hands together. “Oh it would be lovely to purchase some new fabric at the castle fete.”
“Aye, but
you
will not be accompanying me.”
Helen frowned. It was no use asking if he would bring back a bolt of gold damask. He wouldn’t do it. And making such a request would only give him another opportunity to berate her.
Grant stood and bowed. “I’ll ready the men.” He looked to Aleck. “We’ll take the galley to Dunstaffnage and ride from there as usual?”
“Aye.”
Helen nearly melted when she heard the henchman say
Dunstaffnage
. She had many fond memories of that castle. It was only a short ride from Dunollie where her sister, Gyllis, lived with her husband, Sean MacDougall. If only she could stow away on Aleck’s galley with Maggie. Helen could visit Gyllis, and then travel east to Kilchurn Castle and see her mother. How wonderful such a holiday would be. She hadn’t seen her kin in years.
Alas, Aleck would be in too much of a hurry to take her and Maggie to Dunollie—only four miles south of Dunstaffnage.
However, in her usual mien, Helen chose to see the positive side of this turn of events. Perhaps this journey would take Aleck away for an entire month. She smiled. Indeed, his absence was something she would welcome.
End of excerpt from Highland Knight of Rapture
Highland Force Series:
Return of the Highland Laird
(A Highland Force Novella)
Highland Dynasty Series:
Highland Knight of Rapture
Pict/Roman Romances:
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A descendant of an ancient Lowland clan, Amy adores Scotland. Though she now resides in southwest Utah, she received her MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. Winning multiple writing awards, she found her niche in the genre of Scottish historical romance. Amy loves hearing from her readers and can be contacted through her website at
www.amyjarecki.com
.
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