The Highlander’s Pirate Bride (Sparks and Tartans #10)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

M axwell groaned and stretched his arms above his head. “And ye’ll have me rowing again this night?”

“’Tis early still and I see smoke from a chimney. Mayhap if ye can drag yer poor wee body a little further we may find a lass or lad who’d welcome a gold coin in exchange fer a piece of cheese and a slab of fresh baked bread.”

“Aye.” He managed a grin. “’Tis a prospect dear tae me heart.”

After hunting around, they found a track not far from where they’d left the boat. As it was heading in the direction of the smoke they held high hopes for, Maxwell suggested they follow it and they set off. Once they were in sight of the tiny stone cottage with its smoking chimney, his spirits lifted.

The door to the cottage was open, but when they peeped inside the sole occupant was an old grey-beard, rocking himself gently before the fireplace. Maxwell rapped on the timber door causing the old man to startle and look around fearfully.

“Dinnae fear us, grandfather.” He spoke in a soothing, measured tone. “We mean nay harm.”

The man’s eyes were fixed on the claymore affixed to Maxwell’s belt. Seeing the fear in the old man’s eyes Maxwell unbuckled the claymore took and laid it on the table. The old fellow nodded his approval.

“D’ye have troubles hereabouts?”

The old man nodded. “’Tis a wild part of Skye. A few miscreants have made the woods their home. They come and steal chickens or whatever food they can.”

“Ye’ve naught tae fear from us.” Maxwell looked around the neat cottage. “D’ye live alone here?”

The man shook his head. “Nay I bide here wi’ me son and his wife and his two weans. They’re all out in the hills now searching fer some of our beasts that have got loose.”

“D’ye ken when they’ll be back?”

“Nay. They may be gone all day. It all depends on the beasts. If they wish tae come home or nae. Ye’d best wait outside if ye wish tae meet wi’ them.

Aileen sucked in an audible breath and Maxwell glimpsed the anxiety in her eyes. It would be a mistake to tarry here much longer.

“We’d best nae wait, grandfather. We’re needing something tae break our fast.” He said this in as gentle a voice as he could manage. “We’ve had nay food since the day before yesterday and tonight we’ll be setting off for the Small Isles.”

Aileen took out her purse and retrieved one of her gold coins. “If ye’ve some cheese and a bannock or two we’d be especially grateful.”

Maxwell nodded enthusiastically.

As the old man got to his feet Maxwell proffered his right hand in a gesture of trust, and they shook hands together.

“I’m Will MacLeod. I’d be happy tae help ye break yer fast.” He led the way to a small cupboard where the shelves held an assortment of jams and pickles, a pitcher of milk, a fresh-baked loaf of oat-bread alongside a wedge of cheese.

“Fer two gold coins ye can break yer fast with whatever ye please. Dinnae take it all, fer me daughter-in-law will nae be pleased.”

“Aye Will, we’ll nae leave ye tae starve.”

They helped themselves to enough to tide them over for another day but, mindful of the remote place they were in and thinking of the old man facing his daughter’s wrath when she found her cupboard was bare, they left plenty of the delicious-looking food on the shelf. They supped on milk, and took the loaf, some cheese and pickles.

Maxwell thanked the old man for his trouble, adding, “And, should anyone be enquiring after yer two guests, my name is Joshua Turnbull and this is my sweet lady-wife, Janet.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “How is it then, Master Turnbull that I heard yer wife calling ye MacNeil, and ye calling her by the name of Aileen? Are ye recently wed that ye forget each other’s names.

Maxwell winked, hoping Will, like the wedding-guest had done, would assume they were eloping lovers. “Ye’re right, we’re recently wed. Sometimes we forget.”

Will followed them to the door and when they reached the turn in the path, he was still standing there keeping an alert eye on these mysterious strangers.

“D’ye think he’ll be questioned by Sutherland’s crew?” Aileen asked.

“Nay, lass. Dinnae forget we’re on the Isle of Skye now and the MacLeods are nay friends to Sutherland. I doubt his men would come ashore here in this hostile place.”

They wandered back to the spot where they’d left the boat. To Maxwell’s relief, it was still there, its covering of bracken ferns undisturbed.

After making themselves as comfortable as was possible on the rocky shore, remaining well-hidden behind the boat, they tucked into the food they’d brought from the cottage. Once they’d finished off every crumb, Maxwell drew a breath. There were matters he needed to discuss with Aileen before any more time passed.

“’Tis nae far tae Canna from this place. If we set off at dusk we’ll be there afore dark.” Maxwell spoke quietly, his heart missing a beat as he contemplated this plan. All of a sudden, the notion of parting company with Aileen didn’t bring the relief he’d once imagined it would.

She delivered a wry grin. “Aye. And then, once I go ashore at Canna and search fer me friends and me uncle, it will only be a short sail fer ye tae make it to the Isle of Barra.” She gave his forearm a brief squeeze. “D’ye think ye can sail her on yer own MacNeil? Or d’ye need me tae come along and help ye find yer way?” There was a quavering note in her usually confident tone that started him wondering if she shared something of how he was feeling.

“Aye, lass, ye’re welcome tae come wi’ me. I dinnae ken how tae manage a wee sailboat after all this time.” He laughed, covering his own note of uncertainty. Damn. He was starting to think leaving her behind was a very bad idea.

She laughed with him. “I’ll come wi’ ye, if ye truly need me alongside of ye.”

Was there a hint of wistfulness in her voice?

He lay back, his arms folded under his head. “Come. I like the feel of ye beside me, keeping me warm in this chill weather.”

She shuffled over and lay with him, snuggling close, her head on his chest.

“Aye. I could dae wi’ a lass tae keep me bed warm.”

She pshawed loudly. “I’m nay bed-warmer, Maxwell. If that’s all ye wish fer, then ye’d best look further than Aileen MacAlpin.”

He laughed at her feisty response, stroked her hand, and softly brushed the scars on her arm. “Nay. ‘Tis nae everything I wish fer.” His voice was suddenly husky and his pulse was pounding. A wild idea was forming, making his head whirl and his breath quicken.

“Oh?” She nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Then what else d’ye wish fer?”

“Mayhap I wish fer a lass who can call down the stars tae show her which way she should travel.”

He heard the breath hitch in her throat, and she ran a hand across his shoulder, lingering at the eagle’s wing wrapping his throat. “What else d’ye wish fer?”

“Ah. Let me think.” He paused, teasing her with a drawn-out silence. “Mayhap the lass I’m wishing fer… has hair that’s…”

She pinched his arm. “Hair that’s what?

“Ouch.” He laughed and stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Hair that’s red and gold, as bright as the sunset.”

“Hm. Anything else?” There was a smile in her voice.

“The one I’m wishing fer must be fierce and brave, but gentle too.”

She shook her head. “Ye’re wishing fer a lot.”

“Nay, lass. There’s more.”

She grunted disbelievingly.

“Mayhap the one I’m wishing fer is skilled at all the wifely arts.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed at that.

“Nae. I dinnae mean the wifely skills of cooking and sweeping, or embroidery and stitching.”

“Then what wifely arts d’ye mean?” She ran a finger slowly down his cheek bone and outlined his soft lips. “Surely ye dinnae mean the wifely arts of the bedchamber?”

“Mayhap I wish fer a lass who can kiss me so that I forget me own name and where in the world I am.” He laughed at the sound of her gasp. “A lass who’ll open her legs and welcome me inside her and it’ll feel like home. A lass who feels like velvet, with skin like silk and satin. A lass that’s hot and wet fer wanting me. A lass that calls out me name when the tide takes her tae bliss in me arms.”

She was laughing now. “D’ye ken such a lass? I dinnae believe there is such a lass alive.”

He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Well, ye’re wrong about that. There is such a lass. I’ve lain wi’ her and held her in me arms and I believe she’s exactly the one I’ve been wishing fer.”

“And where, pray tell, is this wondrous creature? Surely if she’s everything ye wish fer, she’d be by yer side.”

He laughed and seized her with both hands. “Before I answer yer question, tell me, Aileen MacAlpin, d’ye have a lad ye might wish fer.”

She shook her head as if she was considering this carefully. “Mayhap I dae?”

“And will ye tell me what it is ye wish fer?”

Laughing, she looked up. “I ken the man I wish fer must have many ink drawings on his body.”

He sounded surprised. “What kind of drawings?”

“He must have the white-tailed eagle, lolaire suile na greín spread across his shoulders, and the feathers at his throat. He must be taller, broader, stronger and braver than all other men I have ever met. He must be handsome above all others, with dark hair and blue eyes, and he must make love like the god Freyr .”

He kissed her softly on the lips. “Is that all ye wish fer?”

“That is all I will tell ye this day, MacNeil.”

“Then I shall ask ye the same as ye asked of me. If such a man exists, where is he? Surely ye would wish him tae be always by yer side?”

She laughed, tangling her hands in his hair. “He is by me side, MacNeil, and I dae wish him to be always there.”

He hugged her close. “I wish fer my lass tae be with me, as she is now.”

A moment before they lost themselves in a kiss, Maxwell touched the earth long enough to say, “We’ll sail for the Isle of Barra, nay the Isle of Canna.”

Aileen favored him with the sweetest of smiles and leaned in. “The Isle of Barra it shall be.”

They waited until dusk before they took their little craft across the sand and slid it silently into the waves. They leapt on board, Maxwell settling with the oar and Aileen unfurling the sail.

“I can guide us as far as Canna,” Aileen admitted. “But beyond that ye’ll need to take us tae the Isle of Barra.”

“So ye’ve nae visited Barra? Nae even in yer young piratical days?”

In the soft starlight he saw her doleful face.

“The MacAlpins never bothered the MacNeils. I cannae be certain, but I think yer faither and mine had some sort of an agreement. When I last saw Da, he hinted that they were never friends but that there was something of long standing between them.”

They sailed on, the wind strong so there was no need of the oars.

Maxwell saw Aileen’s head drooping. “Sleep fer a while lass. While ye can.”

She curled herself into her cloak and lay down on the small space on the deck. In a trice she was asleep.

While Aileen slept, he kept the course he knew so well, heading for his island. These were the waters he’d sailed in as a lad. That was when his mother was still with them, before he’d left Barra for the MacAulay Castle and his long apprenticeship as a squire. After that, he’d had no wish to return to his home. Both his mother and his father were dead, his sister was married away and his brother Everard was the laird. It seemed to him there was no place for him and no one, save for his brother, to care whether he lived or died or ever set foot on the isle again.

With the sail full and a stiff breeze behind them, the little boat made good speed, skipping lightly across the waves. He felt the wind in his hair and caught the scent of peat and salt in his nostrils. It took him back to his childhood days, when he’d sailed his little skiff, a tiny boat very like the one he was returning in.

He and Everard had sailed, as had all his friends. They were bold lads and good sailors, yet he’ never ventured as far as the Isle of Skye. However, he’d sailed to the Isle of Canna many times, even though he’d been warned by his father and the elders never to set foot on that nest of pirates.

He laughed to himself, mayhap he’d glimpsed a barefoot, fiery-haired urchin among the youngsters that had plagued them for pennies whenever they’d gone ashore. No. That wasn’t her way. Aileen would have held herself aloof, never diving or scrambling for coins the way the others did. She had her sights set on far seas and bounty beyond the others’ ken.

And now he was taking her with him to Barra. He wondered if the Laird Everard would approve of the Pirate Queen residing on MacNeil lands. Everard had always been one for keeping to the rules and Maxwell supposed that it had been because the weight of his future as clan chief had always sat heavily on his shoulders.

After the years of fighting in France, Maxwell had at last returned home. And, as all he knew was war, it made sense for Everard to appoint him as Clan War Chief. It was a role he was fit for and he claimed it as an honor to serve his clan. There were enough skirmishes and troubles among the clans and not the least of these with the pirates from the Isle of Canna. Yet the biggest thorn in their side was the Laird Andrew Sutherland, a man who owned a fleet of birlinns to do his bidding and plagued the islands and every ship that sailed in Scots waters and beyond.

He was all too familiar with the likes of Andrew Sutherland, the powerful laird who wished for more power and would never be satisfied until he ruled all the clans. His reach went beyond Scotland. His name was spoken with fear even as far as the Baltic Sea.

With Everard’s help, Maxwell was determined they would make Sutherland pay dearly for his captivity and for the man’s audacity in wishing to abduct the Laird of the MacNeils.

He was still unsure why Sutherland was so determined to make Everard his prisoner. But he knew enough by now to understand that such a proud and evil man would never wish them well.

The night wore on and the wind whipped the water, the waves growing higher. He kept his course for Barra, but it was becoming more difficult to hold steady. It was time to wake Aileen.

“Aileen.” Still keeping one hand on his steering oar and holding steady in his westerly direction, he bent and captured a lock of her hair that had come free of her braid and was blowing in the wind. He held it to his lips for just a moment, breathing in her sweet scent of wildflowers and honey and the salt sea air.

She slowly straightened, stretched, and pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are we near?”

“We’ve nay far tae travel lass, but I’d welcome yer hand on the second oar so I can steer us safe into the bay and over it, to the castle.” He reached a hand and helped her to her feet.