course had he not been invited, MacIain would have acted against every code of decency in Christendom. Nonetheless, Eoin hadn’t expected even one shred of decorum, given the pummeling the Ardnamurchan men took in the courtyard.
He was further taken aback when directed to sit at Lady Helen’s left, but then, having her placed between Eoin and Aleck was good insurance against a brawl. Eoin was fairly certain he wouldn’t allow MacIain to work him into a rage, but one never knew—especially if whisky was involved.
Wearing a scarlet gown of velvet, Lady Helen suited her role as lady ideally. The gown’s feminine lace collar accentuated her neck, especially with her honeyed tresses drawn up under a conical hennin, with only a few wispy curls showing at her nape. She would have blended in well at the king’s table and presently seemed out of place, considering her uncouth company.
Eoin smoothed his hands down the front of his doeskin doublet. He’d not thought to bring courtly attire on this journey, though he always carried this piece of finery in his traveling kit. One thing Helen’s mother had taught him during his fostering at Kilchurn Castle, was the adage, clothes maketh the man, which was the only reason he carried the damned thing. Aside from its excellent craftsmanship, it was useless as an arming doublet and provided little warmth. He leaned back in his seat and regarded the Chieftain of Ardnamurchan. The lord of the keep looked slothful, wearing only a linen shirt over a pair of leather breeks. Worse, the shirt was unlaced at the collar—very slovenly indeed. Eoin puzzled. Wouldn’t Lady Helen have set him to rights above stairs, if not his valet?
Aleck reached for a ewer of ale and poured for himself without a passing glance to his wife.
Lady Helen watched him with an unruffled expression.
Something is amiss.
Eoin swallowed his mouthful and leaned far enough forward to see that her tankard was empty. “Please excuse me.” Eoin reached across for the ewer and held it up. “M’lady?”
Her eyes brightened with her smile. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Eoin poured. “I understand you have a daughter.”
“Aye, she’s but six sennights old.”
“She is a wee one indeed.” His gaze slid down to her slender waist. “You are fit. No one would have any idea you’d recently birthed a bairn.”
“How nice of you to say.” Helen chuckled softly. “I named her Margaret for Mother and Alice for my younger sister.”
“I am impressed. If the wee one grows up to be anything like Lady Margaret, she will be a woman to be reckoned with.”
“I hope so.” Helen daintily used her teeth to clip a bite of roast venison from her eating knife. “I call her Maggie. Margaret seems ever so serious for a bairn.”
“Maggie? I like it.” Eoin raised his tankard. “To Sir Aleck and Lady Helen for the birth of a healthy lass. May she grow up to be as bonny as her mother.”
Aleck slowly picked up his tankard, a sneer stretching one corner of his mouth. “The bairn should have been a lad.”
Eoin shrugged. “Aye, but the world needs lassies as well as lads—and she’s only your first.”
“It took five miserable years for Maggie to come about.” Aleck slammed his tankard onto the table and glared at Helen.
Folding her hands in her lap, she fixated on her trencher, her face nearly as red as her gown. Eoin averted his gaze and shoveled a bite of food in his mouth. He had no business worrying about Lady Helen’s domestic issues. MacIain was irritated that she’d birthed a lass? The bastard had best get his arse above stairs and start working on the next bairn, which Eoin prayed would be a lad—not for Sir Aleck, but for Lady Helen’s sake.
Eoin tore off a bit of bread and slathered it with butter while watching Helen out of the corner of his eye. She’d always been mindful of her manners, but her motions seemed exact, as if she were making a conscious attempt to be perfect. Her back was erect, her chin level—she was the picture of a well-bred woman. The only problem was she appeared too stiff. Was she trying to hide something? Come to think of it, since Eoin had taken his seat, Sir Aleck had hardly given his wife a nod.
“The venison is delicious.” Eoin tested the waters. “I commend your excellent skill with the menu, considering you had little notice of such an immense gathering of guests.”