Miran put her hand on her hip. “I’ve been known to help people fall in love occasionally.”
“But ask nothing in return? No man for yerself?”
“I’ve already told ye, I made a promise to my da. When the Almighty reveals the right man, I’ll know.” She combed a few more strands of Helen’s hair, then clapped her hands together. “Ye truly are a beautiful woman, Lady Helen.”
Helen held up a small looking glass, admiring the way Miran had coiled the length of her hair on top of her head, and the dozens of loose curls framing her oval-shaped face. She wore no embellishments in her hair and no jewelry. Twouldn’t be fitting for such a somber moment. The thought of watching a man get whipped, even if he was Duncan Munroe, made her sick to her stomach. Though she’d heard stories about men her sire had punished similarly, she’d never been around it—never seen much violence.
Aye, the occasional smack when one of her brothers misbehaved when they were younger. However, she had been the victim of her father’s intimidating, booming voice barking orders at servants or even herself. No one defied him. No one refused him. And if they did… She swallowed hard. They simply disappeared.
Now that her mistress was ready to go belowstairs, Miran helped Helen into her heavy cloak, then secured her boots on her feet.
Laird Alex stood the moment she entered the great hall, as did every other man in attendance. Helen curtsied, greeting the men and women around her.
“I trust ye are well rested, lady Helen?” Alex asked.
“Surprisingly so,” she said. “I am not sure what kind of magic protects this keep, Laird Alex, but it has enveloped me in it’s power. I have rarely found such peace.”
The people around her chuckled.
“Nay, magic,” Alex assured her. “Happiness.”
Helen curtsied again. “Yer children are the bonniest I have ever seen.”
The throng cheered at her words.
“Thank ye, Lady Helen. Keely asked me to tell ye, she’s with ye in spirit today.”
“I would like to visit her later, if I may.”
“I see no reason why ye canna. Now, let us lead my people to the bailey. Tis cold and dark, and I am sure Duncan Munroe is ready to receive the lash and make his way home.”
Alex stepped down from the dais, approached Helen, and offered his arm. She took it, resting her fingertips lightly on his hand, happy to be escorted by such an honorable leader. The crowd spilled into the bailey, surrounding a raised stage. Many people—men, women, and children—had already gathered, jeering at Duncan.
Liars and thieves were unwelcome on MacKay lands. They’d sooner offer sanctuary to the devil.
Laird Alex and Helen, surrounded by his personal guards, made their way to the front of the throng, only feet away from the platform. Duncan was bare-chested, his hands tied above his head to a thick, wood pole. As soon as he saw Helen, he growled and spit.
“Ye worthless bitch,” he yelled, struggling against the tight bonds. “My humiliation will be yer undoing. My pain, yer pain.”
His words were soon cut off by a hooded man who shoved a wad of cloth in Duncan’s filthy mouth, silencing the wretch.
Helen shivered, but not because of the cold. She dinna like Duncan Munroe. In fact, she feared him. The way he stared at her, the things he said, even in her sire’s presence. Twas like he was undressing her with his dark eyes—fantasizing about bedding her. Though he had been sent to secure a marriage contract for his uncle.
“Whatever ye are thinking,” Alex said softly, patting her hand, “put it out of yer mind. This man willna get near ye again. I swear it on everything holy.”
She nodded in appreciation. But even a capable man like Laird Alex MacKay couldna assure her complete safety, not against someone as powerful as her father and as evil as Laird Munroe. Together, they not only outnumbered the MacKays, they were not limited to what they would do by honor or God.
“Duncan Munroe,” Alex began, raising his hands to quiet the onlookers. “Ye are guilty of lying, bearing false witness against Lady Helen Sutherland, a friend and guest of Clan MacKay. I believe the king would agree with the punishment I have chosen. Spare the rod, spoil the child—wisdom imparted from the Almighty. And since ye have acted like a spoiled lad, I feel it necessary to teach ye a lesson yer uncle has failed miserably at teaching ye himself.”
Alex signaled the hooded man standing on the stage behind Duncan. The faceless stranger nodded, yanked the cloth from Duncan’s mouth, dropped it on the ground, then positioned himself, a thick board in his hand. Before Alex could protest, the paddle hit Duncan’s arse with such force, a loud crack sounded.
Helen cringed, and so did everyone around her, save Alex, who frowned. But he remained silent as the hooded man delivered twenty more blows.
If Helen knew anything, the promised punishment had been lashes, not a beating with a paddle. She stared at Alex with surprise.
He shook his head and muttered, “I told him to go home.”
That could only mean one thing. Her heart aflutter, Helen scrutinized the hooded man. She sized him up. Aye, his build and height matched Jamie’s. There were two narrow slits in the black hood so he could see, but she couldna make out the color of his eyes.
