Laird Munroe dropped the likeness of Helen on the table. “Where has the lass gone?”
The earl grinned behind his silver goblet. He knew exactly where to look. The MacKay keep.
Chapter Sixteen
The feast dayto honor Alex and Keely’s twins arrived. Helen had stayed busy by helping Keely and the other women of the household prepare for the celebration. With no word from Jamie, Helen dinna know whether she would be expected to carry John and Rebecca into the great hall to receive a blessing from Father Michael. The idea dinna please her, for she blamed herself for his absence. Not only that, tradition would be broken; the godfather should carry any male children and the godmother, any female babes.
As Helen waited impatiently for Miran to finish dressing her hair, she stared out the single window in her bedchamber.
“If ye keep squirming like a wee lass, I willna be able to get yer curls just right, milady.”
“I doona care how I look,” she said.
Miran clicked her tongue reprovingly. “I doona believe it. As for Master Jamie…”
“Doona say anything about him,” Helen warned.
“Nay? Ye’ve held yer tongue for nearly a week. But anyone with half a brain can see that ye suffer.”
“Suffer? From what?”
“Disappointment.”
Should she continue lying? Her head throbbed, and she couldna keep her hands from shaking, either. All signs of something amiss. And if she thought about Jamie too much, her right eye twitched. She raised her chin, gazing up at the maid. “Despite all my efforts to forget about him while working from morning till night, I am no better off.”
Miran twisted the last strand of Helen’s hair and pinned it in place before she set the ivory comb aside. With her hand on her hip she said, “Whether thatmhic an Diabhailreturns or not, ye should be proud of what ye accomplished in yer short time here.”
Helen once again swallowed her laughter after Miran had said something inappropriate. But that’s one of the reasons why she had grown fond of the maid so quickly; the lass spoke her mind without fail. Helen would never let her go. Though she couldna agree about Jamie being the son of the devil. She cleared her throat. “Miran, I appreciate yer loyalty. Doona place such high hopes in me. I couldna even finish the missive to my father without begging Petro for time to think about what I want to say to him.”
“Ye are so wrong. Asking for that time shows how much ye care. Instead of saying something out of anger or desperation, ye are waiting for the right words to come to ye. That’s admirable, milady. Everyone speaks of what a fine woman ye are, how much they wish ye were a MacKay instead of a Sutherland.” Miran gasped a little, then covered her mouth. “Forgive me, Lady Helen.”
Though the words stung her pride, Helen had wished for the same thing over and over again.Helen of the Highlands, Jamie’s special name for her. OrHelen MacKayappealed to her, too. Dreams of a silly lass. She could no sooner become a MacKay than she could be a simple lass of the Highlands. She carried a heavy burden being born a Sutherland. Much was expected of her—but God help her, she couldna accept the fate her father had chosen for her.
“Doona worry,” Helen said, gesturing for the looking glass.
Miran handed it to her, and Helen examined her hair. Only the front and sides had been pinned up, the rest of her waist-length, blond hair had been combed out. Dried, purple blossoms decorated the curls, and she wore a lilac-colored, linen gown edged with silver embroidery and matching slippers. To demonstrate how important the honor of being named godmother to Keely’s children was, she elected to wear her mother’s favorite jewels, a Roman garnet ring, necklace, and bracelet.
“Thank ye, Miran,” she said, offering the looking glass back to the maid and standing. “Why Keely hasna appointed ye as her personal maid, I doona know. And my offer is ever enduring. Please come with me wherever I go.”
Miran blinked several times and smiled. “Ye do me a great honor by asking, milady. But the MacKays are my family, and this keep the only home I’ve ever known.”
“I understand.” And Helen did, but that dinna mean she’d give up on changing the maid’s mind yet.
Someone knocked on the chamber door, and Miran hurried to open it.
Laird Alex and two of his guards greeted them. “Miran,” Alex said, then looked beyond her. “Lady Helen. Are ye ready to go belowstairs?”
“Aye.” She curtsied, and Alex grinned ear to ear.
“Ye look beautiful,” he said.
Lady Helen straightened, holding her head high, the way she had been taught all her life. “Thank ye. Is Lady Keely waiting for us?”
“She is the most impatient woman I have ever met.” Alex chuckled, looking regal in his black tunic with gold thread and what appeared to be a new MacKay tartan, pinned in place by a splendid ruby and silver brooch.
He offered his arm to Helen, and she took it, followed by Miran and the guards.
The carved-from-stone, narrow, spiral stairs ended at an archway that opened into the great hall. Unlike other keeps of its kind, the MacKay’s ancestral home had windows cut into the lower floor that permitted a view of the outdoors. With the sun just setting, the fading daylight and candlelight cast the hall in dramatic fashion.
