Up on the battlements, Fergus trotted up to MacIain, flailing his arms and pointing in the direction the cannon fire.
Aleck threw up his hands and glared down at Helen. “Stay off the beach the next time we fire the cannons, you mindless wench!”
Wiping more blood from her forehead, Helen wanted to melt into the cobblestones and die. Can I do nothing right?
Eoin placed his palm in the small of her back. “Come, m’lady. We must apply a cloth to your head to staunch the bleeding.”
Nodding, she couldn’t bring herself to look up. Aleck had fired a cannon in her direction and then had berated her in front of everyone for being in the way? She tested her legs—at least nothing hurt so much she couldn’t walk.
“Bring a bowl of water,” Eoin ordered and grabbed a cloth from the kitchen workbench as he led her to the same antechamber where she had stitched up his wound. He pulled out a chair. “Please sit, m’lady.”
Helen did as asked and buried her face in her hands. “I had no idea Aleck was planning to test the cannon today.” Another boom ricocheted so loudly the entire chamber shuddered. She pressed her fingers against her temples. “My heavens, that thing is going to make the castle walls crumble.”
Eoin chuckled. “I doubt it will. Mingary walls were built to withstand attacks by battering ram and catapult. I doubt the recoil from a cannon will do more than loosen a few masonry stones.” He touched the cloth to her head.
“Sssss.” Helen pulled back. “That hurts.”
Peter came in with the water. “What on earth happened?”
“Lady Helen was thrashed by a cannon shot,” Eoin replied, peering closely at her wound.
The cook set the bowl on the table beside them. “Do they not look and take aim before they fire that hideous contraption?”
Eoin dunked the cloth in the water. “Apparently not around these parts.” He wrung it out. “This might sting a bit, but I must cleanse away the blood so I can see how bad the cut is.”
“Very well.” Helen remained very still while he carefully dabbed her head. “Is it bad?”
He leaned forward and looked closer. “’Tis nowhere near as bad as I thought. Cuts to the head can bleed something fierce.” He looked at her eyes. “Does your head hurt?”
“’Tis throbbing a bit. Perhaps I should have Peter bring in some willow bark tea.”
“Once you’re situated in your rooms I’ll ask him to send some up with chamomile added to calm your wits. You had quite a fright.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and blinked back her tears. “Aye.” But her humiliation dove far deeper than the initial fear she’d felt on the beach. “Why could he not utter one word of apology?”
Eoin’s lips formed a straight line and he shifted his gaze aside, as if there were a great deal he wanted to say but chose to hold his tongue. Helen wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it—most likely, he pitied her. Oh poor, forlorn Helen whose husband is a roguish beast. Too bad she was sent to Mingary for an arranged marriage and ended up an unhappy matron. Well, she needed no one’s pity.
She started to stand, but Eoin put his hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes people do things that are nonsensical. In my opinion, your husband has acted abominably and should apologize profusely.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh no, you mustn’t approach Aleck and ask him to apologize to me. It would put him in an unimaginably foul mood. He’d lash out at you for certain.” Then she looked away. “And me,” she whispered, praying Eoin wouldn’t think less of her for such an admission.
“I do not fear anything Aleck MacIain can dole out, but if he were to further raise a hand against you on account of this incident, I’d…I’d kill him.”
“Please, Sir Eoin, promise me you’ll not confront him. I will check with the guard before I take a walk on the beach to ensure they won’t be firing the cannons.”
He flung his arm in the direction of the courtyard. “But—”
“Please let it lie.”
He regarded her for a moment with a hard line forming along his jaw. “If that is what you wish.”
Daring to reach out, she lightly brushed her fingers over his heart. “It is. No good can come of calling him out. No good at all.”
Chapter Ten
Helen hummed while she wrapped Maggie in linen swaddling clothes. She’d embroidered this set with a border of yellow