ill of her husband to the servants, she nodded. “I’m afraid you could be right in this instance.” She took in a deep inhale and smiled. “Perhaps Sir Aleck and Sir Eoin will agree to put their differences behind them once the MacGregor Chieftain returns.”
Glenda coughed. “You must be the most optimistic person I know, m’lady.”
Helen pursed her lips and returned her attention to her sewing. She didn’t care to have Glenda speak out in subtle disagreement. True, Helen always tried to find the good in every situation, but lately, her kindheartedness had been pushed to the ragged edge.
Sarah brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “When do you think the MacGregor men will return?”
Helen frowned. She had hoped they would have come back by now. The return trip up around the northwestern islands should have only taken a couple of days and they’d been away an entire sennight. “I’m sure they’ve a great many things to attend,” she replied as indifferently as she could manage.
As the women returned to their needlepoint, the chamber grew quiet, the crackling of the fire in the hearth the only sound.
After Helen tied off the last stitch, the ram’s horn sounded, piercing through the silence. The suddenness of the blast nearly made her heart hammer out of her chest.
Sarah’s gaze brightened with her grin. “I’ll wager ’tis them.”
Helen waved her toward the window. “Go have a look.” She made one more knot for good measure and snipped it with the shears. If Sir Eoin had indeed arrived, she could return his shirt this very day.
“’Tis the MacGregor men,” Sarah announced, her voice squeaking with excitement.
Why Helen’s insides were fluttering, she had no idea. Perhaps the lass’s exuberance was contagious.
Glenda gestured to the door. “I’ll stay here with Maggie if you’d like to greet them.”
Sarah curtseyed. “Thank you, ta.” She bit her lip and cast a hopeful gaze toward Helen. “If that meets with your approval, m’lady.”
Helen stood and draped the shirt over her arm. “Of course. We’ll go together.”
While they proceeded down the tower stairs, Helen paused at an arrow slit and looked to the north. Stepping out the door of Mary’s cottage, Aleck was fastening his sword belt. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Sarah had seen him. The woeful expression on the maid’s face confirmed she had.
Helen pretended nothing was amiss and clapped a hand to her chest. “Thank heavens Peter has plenty of meat hanging in the cellar.”
“’Tis a good thing indeed, m’lady,” Sarah agreed.
Though Helen tried not to think of it, she suspected the entire clan avoided speaking of Aleck and Mary in her presence. She breathed in deeply through her nose. She would hold her chin high and maintain her poise just as she always had.
When they stepped into the courtyard, noisy activity echoed between the bailey walls with a refreshing air of excitement. The blacksmith shack clanged and guardsmen were all jesting amongst themselves about their surprise that the MacGregors had bothered to return after their chieftain “bested” Sir Eoin in the sparring ring. Helen wanted to issue a sharp retort. Was she the only person who’d seen Aleck lash out after Eoin had offered his hand? Or had a sennight and whisky faded their memories? Then again, by the way they were laughing and blurting yarns filled with hyperbole, she realized most were genuinely happy Sir Eoin and his men had returned.
Helen glanced at the nursemaid who anxiously strained to see beyond the open sea gate. “Do you fancy one of the MacGregor lads?”
Sarah clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”
Walking across the courtyard, Helen grasped her arm. “If you had wings, I do not believe your toes would touch ground at all.” She waved Sarah forward. “Go on then.”
The nursemaid giggled and dashed ahead, straight into the outstretched arms of a MacGregor man. Helen chewed the inside of her cheek. Would she need to find a new maid for Maggie soon?
Her thoughts were interrupted when Eoin hopped over the hull of his galley and splashed into knee-deep water. Helen shivered, well aware the North Sea was never anything but icy cold. She stood at the top of the incline, as customary. It would have been entirely inappropriate had she raced down to shore to greet the men. After all, she was lady over the lands of Ardnamurchan, a post held by a woman born into nobility. Unlike Mary the widow.
Eoin waded through the surf nodding greetings to the MacIain guards.