“Cook has it well in hand,” Aleck said, his mouth so full, he spat food across the table. “Lady Helen had little to do with it.”
The lady’s lips disappeared into a thin line and that rigid spine somehow inched a bit straighter. Eoin couldn’t help but lean toward her ear and whisper, “My guess is your husband’s quite mistaken.”
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a delicate finger. “Actually,” she said loud enough for Aleck to hear. “Had I not stopped by the kitchen on my way out to welcome you, we might be dining on bread and cheese this eve.”
Aleck reached for the ewer, then slammed it down with overzealous force. “Bring me some whisky!”
Helen jolted and clapped a hand to her chest.
Married five years and her husband’s raucous behavior still makes her jump? Dear Helen, what mess have you made of your life?
Eoin raked his fingers through his hair and looked away. How many times must he remind himself Lady Helen’s plight was not his worry? She hadn’t asked him for help. In fact, aside from Sir Aleck’s ribbing, she appeared to be healthy—coping quite well.
After a servant brought a flagon of whisky, Aleck poured for himself then shoved it past Helen where it nearly toppled over in front of Eoin. “Join me in a tot?”
“My…ah…thanks.” Eoin would have preferred to tell the lout he was about as chivalrous as a moray eel.
Aleck took a swig. “Play us a tune, wife.”
Helen regarded him. “I don’t think our guests—”
“Bloody hell, woman. I want to hear some music—playing the lute is about all you’re useful for around my keep.” He flicked his wrist. “Go on.”
Eoin had heard enough. He pushed back his chair and stood.
Helen did as well, but grasped his arm. “Leave it be,” she said in a low tone.
Eoin glared at Aleck—the bastard had remained seated when his wife stood. “Did you not see the lady rise?”
The chieftain looked up with an irritated glare. “Pardon me?”
“Your wife.” Controlling his rage, Eoin opted for restraint rather than inviting the ruffian out to the courtyard. “Aside from being the lady of the keep and a wife of one of Scotland’s noble chieftains, she’s the daughter of a baron. Do you not show her a knight’s courtesy when she stands?”
MacIain’s eyes grew wide while he gaped at Eoin, but his surprise was soon replaced by a black-hearted scowl. “She would have earned her respect had she birthed a lad.” He gestured to the empty seat. “I suggest you mind your own affairs whilst you’re a guest in my castle.”
Eoin paused for a moment. If only MacIain would lose his temper and blurt out a threat. He’d welcome any excuse to take the bastard to the courtyard and teach him a lesson in chivalry. But aside from a smoldering fire in his eyes, the chieftain managed to control his ire. Eoin bowed to Lady Helen, took his seat, and turned his attention to her performance.
As he’d remembered from his years at Kilchurn Castle, Helen had a magical talent with the lute.
She sat on a stool and tuned her instrument. While Eoin watched, he tried to recall her age. If he remembered correctly, she was seven years his younger. That would make her five and twenty—still young and certainly able to produce an heir for MacIain several times over.
Taking in a deep breath, Helen began to strum a familiar tune, a ballad he could accompany her with on the pipes. The music floated on the air as if carried on butterfly wings. Aye, her proficiency rivaled the king’s minstrels. And when she opened her mouth, her voice was soft, though clear as a lark. But it held a sultry sadness Eoin hadn’t remembered.
A buxom woman climbed the dais stairs, clutching a flagon. She had a handsome face and ample hips made for child-bearing. She grinned at Aleck. Eoin had seen that look on a woman’s face many times before. There was no mistaking what she had on her mind as she sauntered around the table. Aleck slapped her bottom, then held his hand there.
Eoin looked to Helen. Her tone had grown softer. The lady shifted upon her stool and projected her song out to the hall. The crowd listened appreciatively, but all eyes were on the chieftain. With Helen’s back now turned, MacIain pulled the woman onto his lap.
Eoin stared, mouth agape while Aleck devoured the wench with a lascivious kiss that made no bones about his intentions.