“Nay.”
Jamie sighed. “But ye’ve wielded a sword in battle?”
“I’ve killed three men in my life.”
“Three? Were they facing ye, or did ye stab them in the back?”
Duncan gritted his teeth as if he dinna want to answer.
“Well?” Jamie pressed.
“Two in the back, one I executed at my uncle’s behest.”
“As guilty as yer murdering uncle. Twould be a service to every lass in the Highlands to eliminate ye—to cut yer cowardly bollocks off and send them back to Laird Munroe in a chest so he understands he willna ever be allowed to have an heir.”
The threat did as Jamie had hoped it would. Duncan stepped from the shadows, puffing his chest out. “Where is Laird MacKay?”
“Beyond yer miserable reach.” Jamie moved quickly, snatching the lesser man up by the nape of his neck and giving him a violent shake. “Or perhaps it would be better to carve yer evil tongue from yer mouth—silencing ye forever. If given the choice, what part would ye keep, wee Duncan? Yer bollocks or yer tongue?” To demonstrate the seriousness of his threat, Jamie produced a dirk, shoving it under Duncan’s nose. “Glorious weapon, forged in the fires of a legendary weaponsmith in Constantinople.”
Duncan attempted to kick free of Jamie’s grasp, failing miserably. Jamie simply tightened his hold, shaking him into compliance. “Answer, or I’ll make the choice for ye.”
“Tis true then,” Duncan spit. “The MacKays are corrupted. Ye’ve conspired with heathens. Ruined yer chances at salvation with God.”
Jamie threw his head back and laughed. Duncan would condemn the foreigners Jamie himself had grown to respect because they dinna worship the same god? Jamie slapped Duncan’s face. “Ye’re a hypocrite.” Just as he drew back a fist to strike, he heard someone approach the entrance to the cell.
“Jamie MacKay,” Alex’s voice came harshly. “Let him go.Now.”
Chapter Ten
“She is theprettiest bairn I have ever seen, Keely.” Helen cradled the babe in her arms, tickling her perfect chin. “Rebecca is a lovely name.”
“Ye havena asked her full name,” Keely said with a smile.
“What is it?”
“Rebecca Helen Elizabeth MacKay.”
Helen gaped at her only friend. “Ye named her after me?”
“Aye.”
“Tis an honor.” She gazed at the child with deepened wonder.
“And I want to ask ye something verra important.”
“Anything.” In the short time she’d been with Keely, her spirits had been lifted. She felt safe and comfortable within the walls of the MacKay keep. Like she belonged there, like she mattered. No longer invisible as she always had been to her father, unless he needed something, Helen decided to fight for what she wanted—the right to choose her own future.
“Would ye consider being Rebecca and John’s godmother?”
The request pierced Helen’s heart. She sat in the closest chair, lifting Rebecca to her shoulder. “And who will be their godfather?”
“Jamie.”
The idea of being responsible for a child’s spiritual wellbeing scared and delighted Helen. She gazed lovingly at Rebecca and then at John who was sleeping in his mother’s arms. “How will ye raise them?”
Keely nodded in understanding. “With more freedom than we ever had. To fear the Lord but to never be afraid to ask questions, to seek knowledge, or shrink away from doing what is right.”
“Laird Alex agrees with ye?”
