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

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A ileen curtseyed low to Raven and Arne, wrapped herself in her cloak, and left the solar, retracing the steps she’d taken yesterday with Maxwell up to the battlements.

The breeze whipped around her, catching her coppery tresses and sweeping them around her face. Pulling back her hair and braiding it loosely she gazed across the bay and focused her eyes on the open sea. Out there was her old home, the Isle of Canna. And there, like an avenging beast, waited the Laird Andrew Sutherland. A block of ice dropped into her belly, freezing her bones and the blood in her veins.

Despite the brave words spoken by Arne and Maxwell, she was under no illusion that they could prevail against Sutherland’s might. His army numbered many men, all of them hardened fighters, while the MacNeils were few in comparison. Sutherland had a fleet of fast-sailing birlinns, including her own, making any escape by sea an impossibility.

She chewed on a fingernail, biting down hard enough to break the skin. She ignored the sting and the drop of blood. The trouble brewing was all her fault.

If not for her kidnapping Maxwell and escaping from Dunrobin, Sutherland would not be there. By her actions she had led him there. Now, it seemed, there was no avoiding the clan war that was to come. Lives would be lost needlessly because of her actions.

And what of her father!? Did he still live, or had Sutherland wreaked his vengeance on the defenseless old man? She hugged her arms around herself, tears burning behind her eyes.

I should never have left me faither behind in the clutches of a fiend.

She shook her head, loosening her braid so that her hair swarmed around her face. Berating herself would do no good. What choice had she had? If she’d stayed, Maxwell’s death would have been laid at her door. The choice had been between Maxwell’s life and her father’s.

Her thoughts shot back to their farewell. Her father had urged her escape, understanding her servitude and everything it entailed. Yet, if Sutherland believed she had been taken against her will surely, he’d have spared Barclay MacAlpin’s life.

Consoling herself with the thought that Sutherland would have kept her father alive if for no other reason than to use as leverage against her and force her return to Dunrobin, she turned back to the stairs, a plan forming in her mind. Her heart leapt like a frightened deer as the idea took hold.

She would return to Sutherland and beg him to leave the people of Clan MacNeil in peace.

Raven looked up with concerned eyes when Aileen re-entered the solar. The men were nowhere to be seen. Thorsten was sleeping peacefully by the fire, his ever-watchful nursemaid by his side.

“Sit down, Aileen. Ye’re very pale.” She nodded to the servant-girl who stood by the door. “Please bring a peppermint tisane fer the lady Aileen.” Turning to Aileen, she looked her up and down. “I fear this latest news doesnae sit well wi’ ye.”

Aileen took her seat by the fire, rubbing her hands to warm them. She gave Raven a grateful look. “It is news that makes me fearful. I ken the Laird Sutherland. He shows nay mercy tae those he believes have defied him.”

Raven reached over and took Aileen’s cold hand in hers and shook her head. “Maxwell and Arne will find a way tae defeat him.”

Aileen shrugged. “I wish I could believe that tae be true.”

“Come.” Raven put down her embroidery hoop. “While Thorsten sleeps, let us walk in the garden.” She took up her woolen cloak from a hook beside the door and the two women left the solar.

Like the castle itself, the garden was of small proportions, the walls covered in ivy providing the only greenery. In the center were three fruit trees, all of which were bare of leaves. Along the wall where the sun brightened the path were rows of sweet-smelling herbs.

They came to a little bench protected from the wind and sat, the sun streaming on their upturned faces.

“’Tis a bonny place.” Aileen’s voice was wistful.

“Aye. There is a great deal of charm about this wee castle. In spring, the garden will be bright with flowers.” She pointed to several rose bushes on the other side. “The roses will bloom and the garden will smell sweet.”

Despite the warmth of the sun, Aileen shivered. It caused her a great deal of pain to imagine this place overrun with Sutherland’s ruthless soldiers, smashing and tearing everything to pieces and putting to the sword the faithful servants. She hauled in a long slow breath, and observed the misty cloud of her breath as she exhaled.

She would do all she could to prevent such a thing from happening.

A maid appeared with a small tray bearing a mug and a small jug which she left beside the bench. “Thank ye, Mairi.” Raven turned to Aileen. “This is yer tisane. When ye drink, it will lift yer spirits.”

Aileen took the warm, pungent, tisane and sipped. She smiled at Raven. “Thank ye. I feel better already.”

As the afternoon wore on, they chatted merrily about their childhood days. Raven had been raised on Barra, where she had been happy despite her cruel father who had then married her off for his own interest to an even crueler man, and Aileen told on the Isle of Canna. Both of them avoiding any talk of the time when each of them left their homes and the unhappiness that had befallen them both.

“Our lives have taken a similar path, Aileen.” Raven said. “I have found me joy and happiness with me husband Arne. I pray that ye will find the same wi’ me braither.”

Aileen shook her head. “He is a good man. Mayhap too good fer me.”

“I’ve seen his eyes when he gazes at ye, Aileen. He loves ye.”

Aileen had no reply. The words, welcome though they were, struck a blade of remorse through her heart.

The shadows were lengthening and there was a fresh chill in the air. They were about to return to the castle when Arne appeared with Thorsten in his arms, Muriel close behind. He hastened over, his eyes alight.

“Come quick.” He reached a hand and helped Raven to her feet as Muriel took Thorsten by the hand. “’Tis yer braither’s birlinn.”

Together the hastened up the tower stairs to the parapet above. Maxwell was waiting there already, his eyes glued beyond the bay to wide ocean.

There, he pointed to a speck on the horizon. “According tae the fishermen, that is a birlinn flying the yellow and white colors of the Clan.” He turned to them, his eyes aglow, a smile spreading across his face. “There’s nay other birlinn that would be sailing with our colors. It must be Everard.”

“I pray ye are right, and it is our braither who sails, nae one of Sutherland’s men hell-bent on deceiving us.”

“Nay. Look closer.” Maxwell shielded his eyes, squinting into the distance. “There are two other, smaller, boats in its wake. If that is the Laid MacNeil, there are two birlinns in pursuit of him.”

They watched, hearts in their mouths as the larger of the three ships moved swiftly through the waves. As it came nearer, they could see its two sails were full, its oarsmen straining as the lead between it and the pursuing birlinns lengthened.

Ranald Dunbar appeared at the top of the staircase. “We’ve yer second birlinn ready tae sail.”

Maxwell turned to Arne. “Are ye with us? We’re sailing tae meet the ship whether it be one of ours or nay.”

Arne, who like Maxwell had his longsword buckled at his belt, nodded. Raven paled as he bid her farewell. He bent to place a soft kiss on his son’s cheek and the wean smiled up at his father.

“I will come with ye,” Aileen insisted before Maxwell could say another word. “I have spent me life on board and if things go wrong I can help.”

“Say a prayer for us,” was all he could add, looking at his sister.

Raven clutched Aileen’s hand. “Dinnae fear. I ken all will be well.”

And with that the two men and Aileen dashed down the stairs.

By now the leading ship was close enough for Raven to make out its flag.

“Those are indeed our Clan colors and the ship bears every resemblance to Everard’s birlinn.”

Raven and Muriel held their breath as the big birlinn drew closer to the entrance to the bay. As they watched, they saw the second MacNeil ship bearing Maxwell and Arne move into the bay. Within minutes its sail was full and the oarsmen were taking it toward the open sea.

As appeared, the two pursuing birlinns fell back and began tacking in a southerly direction.

“Ha.” Raven exclaimed. “Those were Sutherland’s ships fer sure “They’re much too cowardly to face two birlinns.”

Once their two ships had entered the bay, Raven hurried downstairs and along the jetty to meet them. There was already great excitement among the assembled sailors, fisher-folk and castle servants.

Ranald Dunbar was waiting at the dock when they arrived, hardly able to contain his excitement. “

“’Tis our Laird’s birlinn. ‘Tis here.”

Both birlinns had entered the bay and were lowering their sails, leaving it to the oarsmen to bring them alongside. A mighty cheer went up as they reached the dock. Within moments their anchors were lowered and their ropes attached to their moorings.

Raven, holding Thorsten in her arms was waving, her eyes alight with joy. “I cannae believe it. There’s me braither Everard, safe and sound.”

After having disembarked, Aileen looked on, gripped by conflicting emotions. On one hand she was overjoyed that Maxwell and Raven’s beloved brother had evaded Sutherland and, of course, she was greatly relieved there had been no skirmish between the MacNeils’ boats and the pursuing birlinns. But, on the other hand, it was now clear that Sutherland’s ships were prowling, ready to pursue or attack.

As Everard and Maxwell embraced each other, Aileen smiled. The men were so similar in their height, the breadth of their shoulders, their shoulder-length soot-dark hair, it was no wonder she’d made her mistake in tracking the wrong brother.

Yet, alike as the brothers were, there was something more imposing about Maxwell. Was it the lift of his chin, his confident stride, or the inked feathers coiling at his throat? No matter. Of the two men, it was Maxwell who had captured her, heart and soul.

As they made their way through the throng, Maxwell sought out Aileen.

“We’re tae meet in the Laird’s study. There is much tae discuss and I wish ye tae attend wi’ us. The talk will be of Sutherland and war, and yer knowledge will be welcomed.”

She nodded, her heart sinking at the very mention of war.

When she entered the study just a few minutes later, Everard was seated at a large table, flanked on his right and left hands by Maxwell and Arne. Several other men she did not recognize were also seated alongside.

The men stood as she walked in and Maxwell crossed over to take her by the arm. “This is Aileen MacAlpin.” He slid a small smile her way. “She… er… escorted me tae Dunrobin Castle and, shall we say, introduced me tae Laird Andrew Sutherland. He is, by the way, somewhat lacking in the good manners of hospitality.”

A rumbling chuckle greeted this comment and Aileen took a seat beside Maxwell.

As he’d said, the talk was of war.

First, they heard from Everard, who spoke of evading Sutherland’s men.

“We sailed in pursuit of the birlinn that had taken me braither. But we were fortunate. We received word he’d escaped and we turned back. I give thanks that me braither escaped the clutches of that pesky knave. And now, we will prepare tae end his audacity once and fer all.”

Arne then spoke briefly about messages sent to Dunvegan. “Me braither, the Laird Haldor, is assembling what men and boats he can spare to assist the MacNeils should Sutherland attack.”

Maxwell shifted uneasily in his chair, shaking his head. “I’ve nae doubt Sutherland plans an attack. The only question remaining is when will it come?’”

It was at this point that Everard turned to Aileen. “What say ye, lass? Daes yer knowledge of Sutherland help tae throw light on what his plans may be?”

Aileen stood, straightening her spine, striving for an authority she was far from feeling.

“I believe milord Maxwell is correct. Sutherland will never accept defiance. And our defiance is tripled now that he has escaped his clutches. He will ne’er tolerate this. He will storm the bay and the castle.”

“And when will this attack come?” Everard’s voice was steady as he coolly appraised Aileen.

“He will take nay risks. He isnae prepared tae lose. The attack will only come when he has assembled his fleet and his army and he is certain of victory. Yer spies will soon tell ye when he is ready.”

The assembled men nodded.

She regained her seat as Maxwell rose. “Aye. We have nae time to waste. Once Haldor MacLeod’s men are with us we shall be ready.”

Aileen managed a smile. “And I pray that willnae be too late, milord.”

Everard turned to her. “Now, milady, I thank ye fer yer knowledgeable words, but as we are tae discuss our strategies and tactics fer this coming war, I would prefer if ye were nay present tae hear our plans.”

Maxwell opened his mouth as if to protest but Everard raised a hand to silence him.

All too clearly, she registered the mistrust in the laird’s eyes. Her cheeks were burning as she got to her feet, curtseyed, swiveled and walked to the door without another word.

Who can blame Everard fer nae finding me worthy of his trust?

She made her way to the courtyard. From there she walked with a heavy tread up the stairs to gaze out over the battlements once again. Scudding clouds blocked the sun as, her heart in her mouth, she scanned the wide horizon for any sign of the yellow and red banners that would indicate one of Sutherland’s ships. All was clear.

But fer how long?

All she had heard discussed by Maxwell and Everard and their men had brought her to one conclusion. If she was to make an attempt to dissuade Sutherland from his path toward war, she must leave tonight for the Isle of Canna.