you’ve woefully failed on the second account.” Aleck’s voice resounded through the stone passageway. Then he bellowed another taunting laugh. “After all this time, do you still have imaginings of love and sailing off into sunsets, like the stories in those ridiculous books you read?”
Helen clapped her hands over her ears to block Aleck’s tirade and ran for the solace of the beach. She ran to the only place in God forsaken Ardnamurchan where she could be alone. Once outside the bailey walls, a brisk wind cut through her gown, but Helen could scarcely feel the cold. The entire time she’d been in Aleck’s solar, she’d maintained her composure, but now, free from his brutality, she couldn’t stop her tears as sobs wracked her body.
Eoin rubbed his hand over the worn timbers of his galley. The boat was in need of a good refit. At the very least, he and his men must patch the joins with pitch to ensure they had no problems when they sailed north. He walked around the outer hull, making a mental note of weak spots that could possibly give them trouble. There was nothing more damning than a bloody leak in the midst of a squall in the North Sea.
He straightened at the sound of a woman’s wail sailing past on the wind—an eerie sound. Most likely it was a seagull, but Eoin stooped and peered beneath the curve of galley’s stern, looking in the direction of the noise. Lady Helen ran across the stony beach with her hands clapped to her face. Then she climbed a small outcropping and disappeared behind the rocks.
What the devil?
It didn’t surprise him that she was upset. Any man would have challenged Sir Aleck to a brawl had they been insulted in the way Lady Helen had endured last eve. Eoin straightened and swiped a hand across his mouth. He had no business meddling. The lady had made her decision long ago. She’d broken his heart once and seeing her again only served to open the old wound.
Her wail howled on the wind.
Eoin’s heart twisted. They had been good friends once. His memory returned with clarity. Of the four sisters, Helen had always been the most well-mannered—not that any of Duncan’s sisters were audacious. But why had Lady Helen married a rogue?
Pushing aside his unfounded concern, he continued with his inspection of the hull.
The wail came again. This time the agony in the lady’s tone cut through to his gut.
Before he allowed himself another thought, he strode toward Lady Helen’s hiding place. The rocks were sharp and slick with mist. She could have fallen.
Arriving at the outcropping where she’d disappeared, Eoin looked down. The hem of her blue kirtle peeked from under the stony shelf.
As he descended, Helen’s stuttered breaths swelled up to him. Her voice filled with incredible agony, the woefulness of it wrapped tendrils around his heart.
Jumping down, Eoin landed upon smooth sand.
With another gasp, her hem disappeared further into the cavern.
“Lady Helen?”
“Leave me.” Her voice trembled.
I really ought to take her advice. Eoin crouched down and peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized she had a bruise forming under her eye.
I could kill the bastard.
He crawled beside her and kneeled. “You’ve been hit.” She had another, larger bruise on the right side of her jaw. “More than once.”
“I am fine.” She snapped a hand to her chest, sucking in sharp inhales as if she were trying to regain control.
Reaching out, he brushed the bruise near her eye with the back of his finger.
She flinched.
“Did Sir Aleck do this?” Honestly, he needn’t ask.
She pursed her lips and nodded, the anguish in her eyes unmistakable. Eoin wished he’d been the one on the receiving end of that strike. Aleck MacIain would think twice before he lashed out at a woman again.
“I-I-I…” Drawing the corners of her mouth into a tortured frown, she turned as red as a ripe apple. She hid her face in her hands, breathing like she’d just run a footrace.
Eoin slid onto his haunches and smoothed his arm over her shoulders. “Easy, lass. There’s no need to say a word.”
She leaned into him as if craving compassion. “I’m sorry.”
Wishing to give her comfort, to do anything to take away her agony, he rubbed his palm on her shoulder in a circular motion. “There’s nothing to forgive. Just have a good cry and everything will feel better.”
Gently he rocked her, realizing Helen wore no veil covering her hair. Her locks