Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
A fter stowing away her market purchases Aileen busied herself inspecting the storm damage to the ship and the repairs being carried out by the crew under Sea’s keen-eyed supervision.
One of the sails was all but ruined and would take many hours to repair. The mast was split and was being bound with hemp cloth to which hot tar would be applied.
“Will it hold fer us tae make it tae Dunrobin?” She asked Séamus.
He gave a short laugh. “As long as the Good Lord grants us fair weather. Another storm like we had last night would finish it.”
Aileen nodded. “And then the smashed railing still needing repair.” She remembered the barrel rushing toward her and the way Maxwell had pulled her out of harms’ way. Her heart skipped a beat.
While the damage to the ship was more severe than she’d counted on, a dark cloud hovering in her thoughts carried with it another desperate storm. This time, only she could battle with the turmoil it brought.
Finn’s remarks that she should break free of Sutherland’s power circled incessantly in her head.
Of course, dear, faithful Finn was right. He was a ruthless man who cared little for Aileen and even less for Finn and Sea. If she was no longer of use, he would discard her as if she was a mere piece of flotsam. Before that day came, she should free herself from his clutches.
Bile rose in her throat as she allowed her thoughts to stray. No matter what, she could never abandon her father and as long as Sutherland had him imprisoned, she was trapped. It had hurt so badly when her beloved Gregory had been murdered after disobeying one of Sutherland’s orders that she could not contemplate any disobedience toward the laird. His vengeance would be swift and it would be her father who’d bear the brunt of his rage.
She hated Andrew Sutherland with a fierce, burning hatred. Succumbing to his demands, accepting her role as his mistress had all but robbed her of any will to resist.
Yet now, she could almost consider rebelling.
“So, it seems we’ll be here fer yet another day before she’s fit to sail again,” Aileen concluded, before she made her way back to the cabin. She found Finn there, sewing up a tear in one of the patches from the sail. She got to her feet when Aileen entered and poured a tankard of ale from the flagon. She passed the drink to Aileen’s grateful hands. No doubt Maxwell had been put to work by Ewen or Séamus.
“It’s been a long day.”
Aileen took a gulp of ale. “Aye. And an even longer night last night. I doubt any of us had more than an hour’s brief rest after we’d anchored.”
“So, tonight we’ll all sleep like the dead. Too tired tae think.” Finn looked over curiously at Aileen. “And from the looks of ye, ye’ve been doing far too much thinking today than is good fer ye.”
“Ye can read me mind, lass.”
“Aye. I ken ye well enough.” Finn’s lips quired in a knowing smile. “I ken ye’ve been spending more time in thought since the MacNeil came on board.”
“Mayhap ye’re right.”
Finn wasn’t done. “D’ye ever question yer orders?” She raised an eyebrow. “Ye ken Sutherland will end the MacNeil’s life once he captures his braither. The two MacNeil’s will die together by Andrew Sutherland’s sword.” She shivered. “I ken ye deal harshly wi’ the men who are aught but barbarians, like those slave traders ye sent tae Neptune’s rock. But what of the MacNeil lads? Both are innocent men who’ve done ye nae harm…”
“Ah, Finn.” Aileen shook her head so hard her braid flapped against her cheek. “Only a minute hence ye told me tae switch off me thinking. Now ye’ve faced me with the question that’s been haunting me dreams of late.”
“I’ve urged ye more than once tae consider a way fer us tae leave Sutherland. Mayhap we can bring yer faither wi’ us and run tae another land.”
Aileen groaned. “If only it could be. But Finn, I’m tired enough. I cannae dwell on this now. Mayhap tomorrow or the next day I’ll be able tae think on it.”
Finn took a deep breath. “Och, Captain. I ken ye’re worked tae the bone. I’ll leave ye and seek out Sea. Mind now, that ye rest. Our journey is long.”
She stepped through the door leaving Aileen, eyes closed, slumped on her elbows on the table. A vision of Maxwell’s chiseled features swam before her. From the moment she’d first caught a glimpse of him in the tavern at Loch, something had passed between them. It was as if there was some special knowing they shared, something that touched her soul and made her wish to be in his presence.
Her eyes sprang open. This was naught but foolishness. Thoughts that would addle her brain and cause rashness, impulsiveness, mistakes of judgment. This was a time when she needed all her wits about her if she was to somehow find a way to release them all from Sutherland’s will.
Rising to her feet she reached for her fur cloak and pulled it tight around her. She strode to the door. A walk on deck with the cold wind swirling about her would clear her head.
Outside, the wind still howled, although the little birlinn rode at anchor in calm waters. They had made it through the turmoil of the storm, and there was relief in the knowledge that they were safe enough now. Yet her heart mirrored the turbulence of the wind.
She paced the deck bidding goodnight to the few crewmen on watch. Mayhap tomorrow the repairs would be complete and they’d be ready to continue the journey.
As she neared the prow, she became aware of a dark figure leaning on the railing, contemplating the night.
It was Maxwell.
He turned to her as she drew near, his deep voice rumbling. “So ye dinnae wish fer sleep, Captain?”
“I may say the same tae ye, MacNeil.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “On nights such as this, when the wind seethes and there’s snow in the air I tend toward contemplation and me own company.”
She grunted and went to pass by him. “Then I should leave ye tae yerself.”
“Nay, lass. Dinnae leave on me account. ‘Tis yer ship, and ye are entitled tae walk wherever ye care tae.” He reached a hand and gently brushed her arm and her heart kicked up a beat at his touch. “If ye wish it, I’d be pleased tae have yer company.”
She leaned into the rail. Her hope had been to distract her thoughts from Maxwell, yet here he was, suddenly taking up every scrap of available physical space as well as making it impossible to eject him from her thoughts.
“I’d be happy tae share yer solitude,” she said, surrendering.
Their eyes gazing into the darkness, they stood together in silence for several minutes, the boat rocking gently beneath them, the only sound the lapping of waves and the endlessly shrieking wind. For the briefest of moments, the movement of the ship caused her to move against him.
Perhaps it was her tiredness, bordering as it was on exhaustion, or something else, but there was an ease between them as they stood together that she’d not experienced before. In the darkness it was easy to let her guard down and allow a newfound calm wash over her.
It was some time before Maxwell finally spoke. To her surprise, rather than the brittle remarks she had come to expect from him, there was a quietude about him that was soothing.
“The sea is a creature of moods,” he said, his deep voice softer than she’d heard it. “We think of her as a woman, sometimes flighty and fun, frolicking and amusing, at other times dark and vicious as she was last night.” He paused and she felt his gaze on her. “And like a woman, she may be a giver of life on one hand, but one who robs life on the other.”
His pointed remark tugged at her heartstrings.
Is that how he sees me? Daes he ken I am taking him tae certain death?
She huffed, covering the confusion and despair his words wrought. “I’d nay have taken ye fer a philosopher afore this, MacNeil.”
Now it was his turn to give a soft chuckle. “Lass, ye dinnae ken me at all. There’s way more tae me than fighting battles and drinking in a tavern.” She felt rather than saw him turn his head to the darkness. “I’m a lad who can appreciate a lass who has as much courage as a warrior and is beautiful on top of it.”
“And where, pray, would ye find such a lass?”
Again, he laughed. “I dinnae ken. There are times when I believe I’ve found her, but then she slips through me fingers and I’m left in wonderment. I can only say that I’m nae sure about her.”
Unsettled by his words she made no response. This moment of intimacy only served to increase her agitation and confusion, bringing her no closer to any kind of resolution as to what she should do.
She rubbed her arms. “I’m feeling this cold wind in me bones, MacNeil.” She turned away from the rail. Any further conversation with him risked tearing away her heart’s barrier. It would never do to have softer feelings for MacNeil. If she was to continue to do her duty to Sutherland, she would be undone if she began to see this warrior as a lad with a deep soul. She needed him to be no more than a sturdy plank in the ship, helping to sail them safely back to Dunrobin.
“Aye. There’s sleet coming down. Ye’d best hasten tae the warmth of yer wee lean-to.” He was already stamping his feet with the cold and rubbing his big hands together.
For an instant Aileen toyed with the idea of inviting him to join her. There was still a drop of that fine French claret left in the carafe. But she steeled her mind. She must do her best to avoid his presence for the remainder of the voyage.
That resolution only lasted until the following morning, when she spied him working beside Sea and several other men repairing the mast. Their shirts were off, despite the chill in the air, and his head was down, his arms bulging with the strain of working the mast. The sight of his broad back, bent over the task and the contours of his arms displaying his strength made the other men, all of them burly lads, seem small beside that giant of a man.
Her eyes traced the outlines of the ink-marks that crisscrossed his body. She wondered at the meaning of the strange markings along one of his biceps she recognized as magic Norse sigils. Was he a pagan?
The wind caught his hair, which he’d tied with a thin strip of leather at his nape, and he looked up, catching sight of her as she stood watching. He did not smile, but continued for a moment too long to gaze at her with his ice-blue eyes. She turned away, shaken by the feelings coursing through her body. Fire and ice dancing together with an irresistible pull that had her drawn to him one second and distancing the next.
She turned and walked back along the deck, determined to expel every scrap of Maxwell MacNeil from her thoughts. At least for today. Yet soon she would be forced to face the reality of the cruel fate awaiting him at Sutherland’s barbarous hands.
Back in the cabin she placed a handful of coals in the small iron brazier and lit a selection of dried twigs and leaves. In no time the little fire was blazing merrily and she warmed her hands at last.
The door opened and Sea entered amid a blustery gust from outside. He leaned over the brazier, rubbing red, raw hands.
Aileen filled a pot with water, barley, carrots, nettles and dandelions and set it to heat on the brazier.
“Yer lad is a good worker.”
This was grudging praise from Sea, from whom any word of approval was always hard-won.
She grinned at him. “The MacNeil must be an extraordinary worker fer ye tae heap such praise upon him.
“I saw ye watching him, Captain.” He paused, his eyes on her face. She felt her cheeks growing hot – and not from the heat from the brazier. “It wouldnae dae fer ye tae become too attached tae the lad. Dinnae forget that ye’re taking him as a prisoner tae Laird Sutherland. That man has nay love fer the MacNeils. They’re the only one of the Island clans that havenae bent tae his will, and he is determined tae humble them.”
Aileen nodded, her expression glum, her gaze on the flickering flames in the brazier.
“I ken, Sea. I dinnae need ye tae bring it home tae me.”
“Ye have nay choice.”
Her head shot up at that and she glared at Sea. Could she stand back and allow Sutherland to murder Maxwell MacNeil in cold blood, as he’d done with her brother Gregory?
Her heart was torn, but as long as she kept her distance from MacNeil, mayhap it was possible for her to consider the situation coolly. Although, recalling the unfamiliar sensations she felt when MacNeil was close, she was beginning to fear that remaining cool was beyond her capability.
“Have ye thought the lad might make his escape while we’re at anchor.”
She shook her head. “Nay. He gave me his word when we went ashore yesterday that he’d nae make a bolt fer it.”
Sea shook his head, casting her a doubtful look. “Ye didnae believe him, surely? Captain, ye must be bewitched by the devil.”
“He promised”, she protested, “And I consider him tae be a man of his word.”
“Lass, I never figured yer head would be turned by a pretty face. I’ll grant ye the lad is as handsome as an angel.”
She huffed loudly. “Me head has nae been turned.”
“The lad promised ye he’d make nae attempt tae escape when ye went ashore. ”
“Oh nay. I get yer meaning. Just because he promised then, it doesnae mean he won’t try something when the tide is low this night.” She groaned. “The rocks will be dry and it will be tempting fer him tae lower himself over the side and be off wi’ nary a sound tae alert us.”
“Och. That’s it entirely. D’ye wish me tae keep him chained?”
After giving this some thought, she shook her head. “I’ve another idea. I’ll keep him close and watch him meself.”
Once Sea had left her with an amused look, she pulled on her cloak and boots and set out to look for Maxwell. She knew what she would do.
He was hunkered down with several of the oarsmen, nicely sheltered between the sail and the birlinn’s hull. The men had a brazier similar to Aileen’s and were frying some fish they had caught in a pan over the fire.
She watched from a distance. Maxwell appeared at first glance to be no more than a member of the group. But as she watched she became aware of his subtle moves, his quiet directives to the men and the way they followed. Mayhap it had been his idea to try their hands at fishing, with the result that, at least for that night, the men were dining better than she was.
Stepping out of the shadows she made her presence felt. When Maxwell glanced her way she raised a hand, indicating with her head, that she wished him to join her.