“Nay.”
“Let it be our secret, then.”
“If ye wish, Lady Helen.”
“I do wish. Now, about Master John and Mistress Rebecca?”
Miran took a tentative sip of wine. “Both have thick black hair and blue eyes.”
“Doona all babes have blue eyes?”
“Aye,” the maid confirmed. “But we are counting on the color not to change.”
“I believe ye told me John has unusually thick hands for a bairn.”
“Indeed, he does. He will grow strong like his da and wield a sword as easily to protect our clan.”
“And what if the young MacKay heir was born to be a priest or scholarly sort?”
Miran took another drink of the sweet wine. “Laird Alex doesna need a priest, he needs a fighter, an heir to take his place.”
Helen smiled sweetly. “I am sure Lady Keely has honored Laird Alex with a virile son.”
“And a perfect daughter.”
“Do ye think there will be more children?”
“Aye. The way Laird Alex loves my mistress… I’ve heard him say if a man keeps away from his lady’s chamber for too long, the devil is after him.”
Helen sighed.
“What troubles ye, Lady Helen?”
“I am overjoyed for my friend, she has found happiness at last. But I… Tis nothing worth discussing.”
Miran shook her head. “Ye are the earl’s daughter—a powerful lady in yer own right. Should ye not have what Lady Keely has?”
“If I had a sire who cared anything about matters of the heart. Or at least was willing to make a match where love might be possible over time.”
“Laird Munroe is a murderer of women,” Miran whispered. “Did ye know one of the girls he bought for marriage jumped off a cliff a week before her wedding day?”
A violent shiver went up Helen’s spine. She hadna heard that before. But rumors dinna mean truth. “Nay? Who was the poor soul?”
“A commoner from the border lands. A pretty lass with a mother who birthed twelve sons. Twas the sole reason Laird Munroe sought the girl to wife. He was willing to forgo a dowry in order to guarantee himself an heir.”
“And to this day, Duncan Munroe, his only nephew, remains his heir.”
“Aye. Unlessyeproduce a son.”
The thought of climbing into bed with such a cruel beast made Helen’s heart turn to ice. She’d rather burn in the fires of Hades than risk marrying Baran Munroe. “Now do ye understand why I must know what the men were discussing belowstairs? If it was about me…”
“Only one man spoke against ye.”
Helen swallowed, trying to guess. Surely not Jamie, for she couldna deny the way he stared at her—the way he licked his lips in anticipation whenever there was a chance for them to kiss. And how she wanted it—for the brawn warrior to risk one kiss with her, to give her a happy memory for the trouble of running away from Dunrobin. If she was forced into marriage with the Munroe, the kiss with Jamie would give her something to hold on to, something to fantasize about while Laird Munroe had his way with her.
He might be able to rule her body, but her private thoughts were her own.
“Jamie?” she whispered.
