Miran refilled Helen’s cup with wine, then set the pitcher back on the table. “The boy is named John, after Laird Alex’s elder brother.”
Helen grimaced. The brother she was sure her father’s men had killed in battle two years ago. Though she dinna get much information from her brothers, the earl couldna hide all of the truth from her. Servants talked, and Helen had learned how to eavesdrop without getting caught.
“He favors his father, while the wee girl, Rebecca, named after Lady Keely’s mother, has the reddest, curly hair I’ve ever seen on a bairn.”
“John and Rebecca,” Helen repeated. “Which was born first?”
“The lad.”
“A true blessing for his parents.”
“Laird Alex wanted a son, of course, but one of the maids that helped birth the babes said he favored the lass as soon as he set eyes upon her.”
More news that warmed Helen’s heart. The only reason the earl cared for Helen was because he had three sons before she was born. There was something special about a man who dinna esteem his son over his daughter.
“Do ye want a big family?” Miran asked as she began to unbind Helen’s hair.
“Aye,” Helen admitted sadly. But not with Laird Baran Munroe, the monster her father had betrothed her to. His children would come into the world screaming with vengeance, for her brothers had not shied away from telling her about her future husband’s exploits. Then there was the question of whether the man had murdered his latest wife. “Someday…”
“I am sorry for asking ye that question.”
“Why?”
Miran stopped working on her hair and walked around the chair and looked down at Helen. “Yer voice changed when ye answered. And by the look on yer face…”
“Think nothing of it,” Helen said. “Like any noble daughter is expected to do, I must marry the man my father chose.”
“A man ye doona want.”
“A man I’m sure no woman wants.”
“Will he come looking for ye?”
Helen had considered that before she decided to ride to MacKay lands. Just how far would Laird Munroe go once he found out his bride refused to marry him. Highlanders dinna like being humiliated. And the shame that would fall upon her father’s shoulders, her brothers, and Clan Munroe would leave them with no choice but to recover her. The Sutherland motto,Sans Peur, meant her clan did everything without fear. The Earl of Sutherland feared nothing but dishonor. And Helen had shamelessly disrespected her sire.
“I believe he will.”
“Laird Alex will protect ye.” Miran squeezed Helen’s hand reassuringly.
“I pray he will.”
“Perhaps ye should let me finish yer hair so ye can go to sleep.”
Aye—and maybe she’d wake up and find all of this was a bad dream.
*
Jamie and Kureshcrawled through the snow, getting closer to the campfire they’d spied from the hills. Jamie had sensed trouble from the beginning. A woman like Helen Sutherland couldna possibly ride away from her home unnoticed.
These trespassers proved him right. The question was, what should he do to them? Fight to fight, or kill? He stared at Kuresh. “What do ye wish to do?”
His friend shrugged. “There’s no mercy in the desert. Why should there be any in the Highland hills?”
Jamie appreciated the way Kuresh thought. His people believed in harsh justice—an eye for an eye. Jamie licked his dry lips, weighing his options carefully.
The wet-cold bit at his skin, but he dinna care as he drew his sword, readying to attack. Four men were sitting about a blazing fire, passing a wineskin between them. And as he studied them, he realized they dinna wear Sutherland colors, but the red and green Munroe tartan.
“Shite,” Jamie whispered.
