Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty Book 4) (10 page)

Helen hummed while she wrapped Maggie in linen swaddling clothes. She’d embroidered this set with a border of yellow primroses during her confinement. “I have decided ’tis time the lass was introduced to the clan.”
Regardless of what Aleck thinks
.

Sarah twirled Maggie’s black tresses around her finger. The bairn’s hair had grown just long enough to make a darling curl atop her head. “You chose a good day for it with the minstrels coming—twill be a grand gathering.”

Maggie wiggled with a darling squeal. She raised her head twice as if she wanted to be picked up. Helen’s heart squeezed. After she tucked in the end of the swaddle to secure it, she gathered the babe into her arms. “Hopefully the extra bit of cloth we’ve stuffed between her legs will keep her from piddling through the fabric.”

Sarah chuckled. “I do not think you can count on it, m’lady. Piddling is what wee ones do best.”

Maggie laughed. The joy in her tiny infant voice tickled Helen’s insides and she chuckled. Oh, how this little one could warm her heart.

Helen gaped at the nursemaid with a wide-mouthed smile. “I think she agrees with you.”

Holding out her arms, Sarah inclined her head to the bairn. “We’d better haste to the great hall. You wouldn’t want to be late and upset the chieftain.”

Helen placed Maggie in the nursemaid’s arms, then straightened her red silk veil. “We do not want to do
anything
to raise Sir Aleck’s ire.”

“Not to worry, m’lady.” Sarah started for the door. “As soon as Sir Aleck sees Miss Maggie, his heart will melt.”

Helen opened the door and followed the nursemaid out. “I hope you are right.”

“Who wouldn’t instantly fall in love with such a darling face? Her blue eyes and black curls will enchant everyone in the hall.”

“I do like your exuberance.” Helen followed Sarah down the stairwell. “Now remember—we’re to parade her around the hall and then take Maggie to the dais. We don’t want to overdo her premier appearance. At the first sign of fussiness, spirit her back to the nursery.”

“All right, m’lady.”

“And we mustn’t whirl around the hall like we’re dancing a reel. Wait for me at the bottom of the stairwell.” Goodness, Helen shouldn’t be this nervous. As they descended the wheel-stairs, the noise from the crowd grew louder. She drew in a calming breath just as she rounded the last few steps. “Let us wait at the back of the hall until they notice us.”

“Aye, m’lady.” Sarah grinned. “They’ll be overcome with ooh’s and ah’s any moment.”

Helen grasped Sarah’s elbow and together they stepped into the great hall. As usual on the third Friday of the month, there was excitement in the air. The men told their stories with more animation and the women laughed with a hearty fullness in their voices. Yes, everyone knew the minstrels would play and there would be dancing and drink aplenty.

Looking out over the hall, the servants noticed them first. They stood at attention, gazing Helen’s way. Gradually, the hum of voices ebbed. Upon the dais, Aleck pushed back his chair and stood. Eoin followed suit.

When Aleck planted his fists on his hips, Helen gulped. But it was time. Miss Maggie would not be imprisoned in the nursery for the duration of her childhood. Helen gestured to the bairn and smiled. “Please allow me to introduce Miss Margaret Alice MacIain.”

As if on cue, the bairn squealed while Sarah raised her elbow so the crowd could better see Maggie’s face. Everyone audibly sighed at once.

“She’s a handsome bairn for certain,” someone called from the crowd.

“She has the chieftain’s tresses.”

“Aye but her mother’s beauty.”

Indeed, the clansmen and women gushed with admiration.

Helen gestured to Sarah and together they proceeded through the center aisle slowly so everyone could take a good look at Maggie. As they neared the dais, Aleck’s fists remained on his hips, his face unreadable.

I will not allow him to intimidate me
.

Raising her skirts to her ankles, Helen ascended the stairs with Sarah following. Aleck strode to her side, but didn’t offer his hand. Instead he pressed his lips to Helen’s ear. “I told you I didn’t want to see the bairn.”

Helen turned to the crowd and spread her arms to address them. “I thought there would be no better time than a gathering with music and dancing to introduce Maggie to the clan.”

Sarah held the bairn to Aleck, giving him no option but to reach out and cradle her. He looked up with a forced smile. “What the clan needs is a lad,” Aleck growled, none too softly.

“You’d best head above stairs and make one, m’laird,” a male voice bellowed from the crowd.

All went silent.

Helen could have withered where she stood.
Please let there not be a scene
. She clapped a hand over her mouth and scanned the faces to see who had uttered such a bold remark, but no one stood out.

“Mind your own affairs,” Aleck groused.

Maggie’s face grew red and she launched into an ear-splitting wail.

Aleck thrust the babe toward Sarah. “Take the brat back up to the nursery. She has no business in the hall until she can sit at the table and hold a knife in her hand.”

Shrieking at the top of her lungs, Maggie didn’t settle. Sarah shot Helen a panicked grimace, as if she’d just been scolded by a humongous troll.

Helen stepped in, smoothed a hand over her daughter’s crown. She would see that Maggie’s first appearance ended on a positive note. “Thank you, dear Sarah,” she said so all could hear. “Maggie made quite an impression for her first appearance and I am ever so happy to have your assistance. I believe it is time for her to retire now.”

Sarah dipped into a brisk curtsey. “As you wish, m’lady.”

Helen affixed her regal smile while Sarah proceeded to the stairwell with the howling Maggie. Honestly, the wee cry was music to a mother’s ears. The clansmen and women also watched and applauded appreciatively. Besides, no one ever expected a bairn to be silent.

When Helen turned to the high table, Aleck had resumed his seat, but Eoin remained standing. In two strides, he took her hand and led her to the lady’s chair. Helen recalled her father had paid such a courtesy to her mother often.

“Miss Maggie is delightful, m’lady.” Eoin grinned as if nothing were amiss—as if it were a common occurrence for the chieftain to shun his daughter and ignore his wife. “Thank you for bringing her for an introduction.”

Helen took her seat. “I’m ever so glad you approve, Sir Eoin.”

Aleck gestured to the empty chair with his knife. “Sit your arse down, MacGregor, and stop acting like you’re groveling to the Queen of Scotland.”

Eoin’s pleasant exterior waned. “This is a well anticipated gathering is it not?”

“Aye, everyone enjoys the minstrels when they come.” Aleck poured himself a tankard of whisky. Evidently, he’d decided ale wasn’t strong enough this eve.

Eoin reached for the bread. “I, too, enjoy music and dancing.”

Aleck snorted. “You seem like the type who would prefer to kick up your heels and rub elbows with the lassies rather than take part in more manly pursuits.”

Stopping mid-chew, Eoin rolled his eyes toward the chieftain. “Let us say I enjoy all manner of pursuits.”

Aleck took a long draw from his tankard. “Do you enjoy swivving buxom lassies?”

How utterly inappropriate
. Helen’s face burned. If only she could slide under the table and hide, but she could never do that, and chiding Aleck would only serve to rouse him further.

Without a modicum of emotion etched on his face, Eoin reached for the ewer of ale and filled his cup. “With all due respect, this is not suitable conversation for mixed company.”

“So you consider it appropriate banter for an alehouse, do you?” Aleck threw his head back and laughed.

Could things grow worse?
Helen glanced at the faces of the clansmen at the table. Every single face appeared uncomfortable and not a one looked her way.

Suddenly not hungry, she pushed her food around her trencher to the sound of idle chatter from the crowd. Still, no one on the dais uttered a word. When she at last looked up, Aleck eyed her from behind his tankard. She tensed as he leaned forward to speak. “If you continue to disobey me, I’ll have no recourse but to lock you in your chamber.”

She drew away from his foul-smelling breath. “You wouldn’t.”

Aleck scowled. “Now that you’ve asked to go to Iona, how will I know you will not run?”

“Mayhap I’d already be away if I had.”

A tic twitched under his eye. “Do not use an insolent tone with me.”

Helen pursed her lips and stared down at her lap.
Must he grow more disagreeable by the day?
She glanced at Eoin. He offered an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“What about hunting?” she asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “I enjoy a good hunt with a bow and arrow.”

Eoin appeared to appreciate the change in subject. “As I recall, your marksmanship is admirable.”

She smiled.

“We could put her atop the bailey walls if there was a siege.” Aleck swayed in his chair and laughed at his ill-placed humor.

How much whisky has he consumed?

“I’ll pray that will not be necessary,” Eoin said, but he glared at Helen’s husband like the Chieftain of Ardnamurchan must be completely daft.

Aleck picked beneath his thumbnail with his eating knife. “You’re soft, MacGregor.”

Heaven help Sir Eoin to maintain his calm
.

Her prayers were dashed when she shifted her gaze his way. Helen had seen the look on Sir Eoin’s face once—right before he and her brother launched into a real fight—one stopped only by six armed guards. She couldn’t even remember why the two friends had attacked each other with such ferocity. Though the reason no longer mattered, she knew Eoin to be deadly when provoked. Every muscle in her body tensed while the dais filled with silence.

Across the hall, the music started.

Thank the good Lord
.

Helen clapped her hands, praying the minstrels would pull Aleck from his foul mood.

Eoin raised his tankard, his jaw set. “Do you enjoy dancing, Sir Aleck, or does that not appeal to your bull-brained audaciousness.”

Helen froze.
God save us, there’ll be a brawl for certain
.

Aleck squinted. “Are you in…” He belched. “…sulting me?”

“Insult the generous chieftain of this fine keep?” Eoin spread his arms wide. “Nay, nay. I’d never consider such an offense.”

Aleck shook his eating knife as he swayed in his seat. “You’d best not.”

“I see you’ve musicians this eve.” Eoin changed the topic and sat a bit straighter. “It would be ever so enjoyable to watch you give your wife a turn on the dance floor.”

Helen tightly clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh no, Sir Aleck doesn’t care to dance.”

Her husband guzzled more whisky, the tankard weaving before he set it down. “Dancing is for lasses before they marry. A young buck has no need to strut like a preening peacock after he’s bedded a woman.”

Helen gaped, completely horrified at his remark. Yes, Aleck had always been brazen, but his behavior this eve topped all tasteless babble.

That deadly glint return to Eoin’s eyes. “I strongly disagree. I’ve watched women—er—people of all ages enjoy a good reel.” He stood, bowed and offered his hand. “May I have this dance, Lady Helen?”

She risked a startled glance at Aleck. He rolled his hand through the air. “Go on. If you want to kick up your heels like an alehouse tart, don’t let me be the one to stop you.”

Helen pushed back her chair and stood. “I beg your pardon? I have
never
set foot inside an alehouse.” Before Aleck could make another snide remark that would embarrass her to her toes, she snatched Eoin’s hand and pulled him to the dais steps. “I will enjoy this dance if it slays me.”

The MacGregor Chieftain chuckled. “’Tis good to hear, m’lady.” He offered his elbow. “No woman dressed in such style should be required sit idle while dancing music plays.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Helen had a great deal of difficulty maintaining her serene countenance. By the saints, Aleck had irritated her. Why couldn’t he have commented on Maggie’s beauty? Why did he sit on the dais and brood, pouring whisky down his gullet? Did he hate her? Surely he did and, if so, why had he not allowed her to retire to Iona? The man reveled in making other people uncomfortable or unhappy and he’d only grown worse since Eoin MacGregor had arrived with his army.

’Tis bittersweet to see an old friend. On one hand, I’ve ever so enjoyed having him as a guest, but I believe it would be best if the MacDonald uprising were quashed soon. The longer Sir Eoin remains, the more likely there will be a serious confrontation between the two chieftains
.

Eoin led her to the line of women and took the place across from her in the line of men. He looked dashing, wearing a plaid, shirt and leather doublet. Sarah had been right—the patchwork in his shirt wouldn’t be noticeable, especially when covered by a doublet.