“In all seriousness. You allow Lady Helen to force me to tend the pigs and then you refuse a wee bitter brew because it hasn’t a dram of spirit?” She chuckled and squeezed his upper arm. “You still feel like a brawny Highlander.”
He batted her hand away. “Silence.” He grabbed the cup from the table and threw it back, forcing himself not to make a sour face. “What is this you say? Helen made you tend the pigs?”
She sat beside him and smoothed her fingers over the plaid. “Did you not command it?”
He shifted against the pillows. “Of course I would do no such thing. When did this occur?”
“After Sir Eoin left for Sunart, Lady Helen took charge as if she were lord of the castle.” Mary thumped the bed. “She shouted orders to everyone, and then she pointed at me and gave me the lowliest duty of all.”
Aleck frowned. It came as no surprise that Helen acted out against his leman, now that she knew the truth. Though Helen had never shown she possessed a backbone. Regardless, it was a relief he no longer needed to pretend. Before Helen had birthed the worthless female bairn, Aleck had felt compelled to keep his affair hidden from his wife—but now he cared no more.
He’d never been attracted to Helen. First of all, she had no figure whatsoever. If she bound her breasts, she could pass for an adolescent boy. He hated her demureness, always trying to make everything right, always doing things to compensate for his gruff miens, as she’d referred to them. She had no idea how to handle the affairs in Ardnamurchan. If he showed the slightest inkling of compassion, his clansmen would start taking advantage. Aye, a chieftain had no recourse but to rule with an iron fist, lest he lose his lands and his castle to someone closer to home than Alexander MacDonald.
“What are you going to do about it?” Mary cut through his thoughts.
“As soon as I can use this arm, I’ll hunt down Alexander MacDonald and send him to hell.”
Mary frowned. “I meant, will you allow Lady Helen to treat me like a stable hand? Do I mean so little to you that you’ll allow her to command me to tend pigs?” The tenor of Mary’s voice rose with every word until she sounded on the verge of hysterics.
Aleck was in no mood to hear supplications even if they were from the woman he loved. But when the flicker of ire in Mary’s eye softened into a seductive glint, his heart squeezed. Truly, he could never allow Helen to mistreat his leman. If Helen had done her duty and had grown pregnant when they’d first married—and birthed a son—Aleck would not be in this predicament.
Helen would be dead.
He reached out and grasped Mary’s hand. “Ask Sir Grant to bring Lady Helen to me and I will see to her priorities.”
Mary turned his hand over and swirled her middle finger around his palm. “But I’ve something to tell you first.” Her words were pensive. It wasn’t like Mary to be shy about anything.
But her touch soothed him. He waggled his brows. “What is it?”
“I’m with child.”
Tending the wounded in the great hall, Helen applied a cool cloth to Torquil’s forehead, then pulled away the bandage and examined the arrow wound in his shoulder. Yellow puss oozed from it. She bit her bottom lip and offered a silent prayer that he’d survive the fever. So many MacIain men had been injured during the fighting. Most sported cuts that would soon heal, but Torquil and Roy could very well succumb to their now putrid wounds.
Sir Grant entered the hall and stopped beside her. “How is he?”
“I’m afraid no better.”
“Sir Aleck has asked to see you.”
Helen glanced at Torquil and wondered why her husband would care to see her now. Above stairs, he had Mary to give him everything he needed. “How is his arm?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him.” Sir Grant shrugged. “Mistress Mary fetched me.”
Why on earth wouldn’t she just come tell me? This situation grows worse by the day. Helen wiped her hands on her apron and stood. “Perhaps the chieftain wishes to listen to a merry tune. I haven’t played my lute for him in some time.”
The guard bowed and gestured to the stairwell. “M’lady.”
Grant accompanied her to Aleck’s chamber, which was a quandary. Mayhap he’s concerned for the safety of Mingary whilst Aleck’s abed. I certainly would be if I were he.