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