The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(19)

Helen frowned. “Does William usually fight with your husbands?”

“Not all the time,” Christina offered in another vague response.

“When will they be back?”

“A week,” Bella said. “Maybe longer.”

Helen knew she shouldn’t feel so relieved, but she was. William’s departure gave her plenty of time to prepare herself for what was to come. For she did not delude herself—if she took William’s offer, it would make all her previous “wayward” decisions pale in comparison.

“It seems odd that they would be called away in the middle of the celebration like that,” she said. Especially the groom. According to Kenneth, William had been a man-at-arms for his uncle Sir Adam Gordon—the head of Clan Gordon. When they’d had a falling-out, he’d joined Bruce, then the Earl of Carrick, in his rebellion. That William had distinguished himself on the battlefield was evidenced by the king’s insistence that the wedding be held at his recently acquired castle of Dunstaffnage. But beyond that, she knew little about his place in Bruce’s army. “What is it exactly that William does for the king?”

Both women appeared decidedly uncomfortable—even nervous—about her question. “It’s best if William explains it to you,” Bella said.

Christina leaned closer, so as to not be overheard. “I know you have questions, but try to keep them until William returns. It’s safer that way. Questions sometimes have a way of reaching the wrong ears.”

Helen didn’t understand the warning, except to know that she’d been given one. She decided to let it go—for now.

She would recall it, however, a short while later when her brothers and Donald Munro entered the Great Hall. Dreading their questions, she would have tried to avoid them by accepting Bella’s offer to join the women with their children in Lady Elyne’s chamber—apparently her husband, Erik MacSorley, had gone as well—but then she caught sight of her brother’s face.

She rushed forward to intercept them before they sat at one of the trestle tables that had been set out for the meal. Her hand went to Kenneth’s bruised and battered cheek. “What happened?”

It was obvious that he’d been struck—repeatedly. He had an enormous bruise on the left side of his mouth and jaw, a split lip, a bruised and swollen left eye, and a large cut on his cheek.

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“You were fighting.” It wasn’t unusual for her quick-tempered brother. He was quick to take offense and quicker to exact retribution.

“Aye, he was,” her eldest brother replied. Unlike she and Kenneth, Will and she had never been close. He’d always seemed a stranger to her. At ten years her senior, he was being fostered with the Earl of Ross when she was born. By the time he’d returned to Dunrobin, he was more concerned with improving his battle skills and learning the duties that would be his as earl than troubling himself with a ten-year-old sister who clearly baffled him. He was not unkind or uncaring, but simply preoccupied. Stern and more than a little intimidating, he’d assumed the duties of the earldom upon her father’s death with the ease of a man who’d been trained for the role since birth. “It seems that young MacKay hasn’t learned any discipline in the past few years. But what can you expect from a cur—young or old.”

Helen gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Magnus did this to you?”

Will’s gaze sharpened; he didn’t like being reminded of her “ill-conceived” acquaintance with their enemy.

“Aye,” Donald said. “He attacked your brother without cause.”

That didn’t sound like Magnus. The frown Kenneth sent in Donald’s direction seemed to suggest there might be something more to the story. She hoped that something didn’t concern her. She knew that Donald, too, hated Magnus—even more so since his defeat that fateful day.

“Being forced to abide the usurper is bad enough, but MacKays? Your new husband keeps unfortunate company, my lady,” Donald added.

Will shushed him harshly under his breath, looking around as though the walls might have ears, though they stood to the side of the Hall a good distance from anyone. “Have care, Munro. I like it little more than you do, but ‘the usurper’ is now our king.”

Donald had been vocal in his objections to submitting to Bruce, and his continued disgruntlement was plain in his face. But he clenched his jaw and nodded. Donald’s loyalty to their father had passed to his son. As had his sword. He’d retained his position as the An Gille-coise, the chief’s personal henchman, for her brother.

“Where is your new husband?” Kenneth said, scanning the room behind her. “I should have thought to find him here with you.”

There was something pointed in his question that caused her to flush. Recalling Christina’s warning, she said, “He was called away for a few days.”

“Called away?” Will repeated, voicing the surprise evident on all the men’s faces. “What do you mean ‘called away’?”

She gave a careless shrug. “The king had need of him.”

“The day after his wedding?” Kenneth didn’t hide his incredulity.

She forced a smile to her face. “He will be back soon.”

“Where did he go?” Will demanded.