Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The birlinn slipped away from Raasay on a rising tide, her sail catching the wind with a low, hollow snap that was like music to Kenneth’s heart. He stood near the rail beside Selene, the deck moving beneath his boots.
The open water of the Sound of Raasay was rough and with the birlinn riding low in the water, the sturdy craft was ploughing and wallowing rather than flying lightly over the waves.
Elsie made a strange gurgling sound. She was beside Selene, gripping the rail, her face growing whiter by the second.
“My dear sister, I find that this sailing is not agreeing with me at all,” she whispered, grimacing. “I was a good sailor when I journeyed here with Halvard, but today me stomach is heaving and I am gripped by seasickness.”
“Oh, goodness. Let us take you back to the little cabin where you can rest.” Selene glanced up at Kenneth who was regarding Elsie with concern.
“Come lass.” He proffered his arm. “We’ll take ye. The ship’s roll makes it hard tae walk on board and I dinnae wish ye tae fall.”
Together Selene and Kenneth escorted Elsie back to the small space near the prow and helped her to lie down on the thin straw mattress there.
“I’m sorry lass that our bedding will nae provide ye with luxury.”
Selene drew up a fur coverlet, placing it gently over Elsie’s prone form. “It may not be what you’re used to at the castle, but it is practical and warm and ye may rest here until you feel better.”
Kenneth supplied a small wooden bucket and placed it nearby. “In case ye need it,” he said grimly.
Elsie reached out a quivering hand. “Please leave, me dear sister. I wish tae lie here and quietly die.” She closed her eyes.
“Are you certain I can’t help?”
Elsie, eyes still closed, could only manage a faint moan.
Selene slid quietly outside to join Kenneth at the railing. He tucked an arm around her, bringing her close. “Are ye all right lass? Nae seasickness fer ye?”
Selene nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I am well enough.” She turned her gaze to the surging waves, clinging tightly to the rail with her free hand. “Thank you for your kindness to my sister.”
Keeping Selene in his embrace, Kenneth breathed in the scent of flowers in her hair.
“I am happy tae care fer yer sister. She is yer kin and is dear tae me also.” He gave a low chuckle, recalling Elsie’s determination to journey with them. “And she is more match for the Savage Laird than I’d ever imagined.”
Serene nestled close, her warmth joining with his against the biting chill of the wind. “Why do you call him the Savage Laird?”
He chuckled again. “He earned the name, just as I am kenned as the Brute of Sleat.”
Selene pressed closer. “And that, my darling Kenneth, is a mis-naming if ever there was.”
“There would be many who would argue that it is so.”
He leaned down to plant soft kisses in her hair and brush wind-tossed curls behind her ear.
“All that matters tae me is that ye dinnae think of me that way.”
She looked up and met his gaze, her cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, her eyes sparkling. He found it impossible to resist placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
But she reached up boldly and pressed his head down, closing her eyes, her soft ruby lips parting invitingly. She was altogether irresistible.
Leaning against the rail to steady them, he wound his arms around her, and took her lips with his. His kiss was flooded with the exhilaration and elation of the homecoming that was soon to be theirs. And the wedding that was to follow.
His heart thrilled as she returned his kiss with a fervor that matched his own, her lips lush and seeking beneath his, her body soft against him.
She tasted of salt and smelled of sweet flowers as he lost himself in her, oblivious to the wind-tossed sea and the deck that tipped and swayed beneath their feet.
Slowly they drew themselves apart, catching their breath, breathing their fill of the salt air, Selene resting her head on his chest, his arm spread protectively across her shoulders.
Once they were across the wild, open stretch of the sound, the water quietened and the ship steadied, and they continued their northerly course.
Elsie appeared at the entrance to the cabin, color returning to her wan cheeks. “I am well again,” she said, as Selene stepped forward.
At the helm Kenneth kept them close to the shoreline of Skye as they headed north at an uninterrupted pace.
The land rose sharp and wild from the sea, its edges gnawed and shaped by centuries of weather.
Great slabs of dark rock thrust upward, while narrow inlets like the one where they’d found shelter on the voyage out, cut into the coast like deep scars.
Here and there, small villages clung to what shelter they could find – a scattering of low stone cottages, smoke curling from chimneys, fishing boats drawn up onto shingle beaches.
Selene watched the land that from now on would be her home.
The birlinn labored under its burden. With cattle penned in the prow and extra men on board, she rode low in the water, her belly sluggish in the swell. Each larger wave caused her timbers to complain loudly at the load she carried.
As Kenneth steered them into the familiar cove below Duntulm, Selene appeared beside him, nestling close as he folded her into his embrace. The castle rose above them, dark stone etched against a winter sky, banners snapping briskly in the cold wind.
“We’re home,” she said simply, her words lightly touching his soul. Moments later, Elsie was with them, smiling as she gazed up at the magnificent spectacle of Castle Duntulm.
He had barely nudged the birlinn into the shallows before the trouble began.
The cattle, scenting land and freedom, shifted restlessly, pushing toward the side of the ship, their lowing turning deeper and more desperate. The deck lurched under the sudden movement, timbers groaning in protest as hooves stamped and the ropes holding them strained.
“Easy!” Kenneth barked, already moving. “Easy, damn ye!”
One of the younger beasts reared, eyes rolling white, and for a breath it seemed she might break the rope holding her. Water slopped over the gunwale as the birlinn wallowed, sending a cold wash across the deck.
A lad watching from the shore took one look and bolted uphill, legs pumping as he sprinted for the village.
“Get Donnachaidh!” Kenneth shouted after him. “Tell him we’ve need of him now.”
Kenneth was already among the beasts, shoulder to flank, his hand on the young beast’s head, keeping his voice low and steady against the impending chaos. “That’s it. Stand. |Hold steady.”
Callum appeared beside him without a word, the two of them bracing together as another wave struck. The cattle settled, shuddering, their breath steaming in the cold air.
“Too many bodies, too little patience,” Callum muttered.
“Aye,” Kenneth replied grimly. “In that they’re just like men.”
By the time Donnachaidh, the chief herdsman, arrived – red-faced, breathless, his boots half-laced – the worst of it had passed, the cattle had settled uneasily but the slightest thing could set them off again.
Planks were laid from the birlinn to the landing, the ropes holding the cattle were loosened with care, and one by one the cattle were guided down to firmer ground, hooves slipping on wet stone, men shouting warnings and encouragement in equal measure. This time they needed no urging.
Kenneth stayed close, his hands never idle, hauling, steadying, lifting where needed. When at last the final beast was offloaded, the tension broke like a snapped cord.
A cheer rose from the gathered villagers.
Kenneth’s focus narrowed. There would be time later for reunion and warmth and Selene’s smile. Now there were cattle to be safely penned, men to direct, and a village watching to see what sort of laird had returned to them.
Callum joined him at once, already rolling his shoulders.
Kenneth did not linger. “Tae the pens,” he said at once. “Before they remember they’re stronger than we are.”
He led Arkan by the reins as they set off for the village, refusing the saddle despite Callum’s raised brow.
“I’ll mount later,” Kenneth said. “Today I walk with me people.”
The path wound upward between rough stone walls and frost-stiff grass, the village coming into clearer view with every step. Smoke curled from chimneys, the air rich with peat smoke and damp earth. Children ran alongside them, laughing, darting away when a cow tossed her head in their direction.
Kenneth enjoyed this connection to the village, and the knowledge that he was holding fast to the commitment he’d made to them. A part of him blamed himself for Aidan’s attack, although he knew this was nonsense. Yet, were it not for him, Aidan would never have sworn to avenge his lost love.
Arkan’s massive presence at his shoulder drew respectful glances, but Kenneth kept a loose hand on the reins, staying level with his people.
This is what a laird is, nae above his people, but among them.
He worked alongside them in the pens, boots sinking into churned mud, his hands half frozen. He made sure of the posts and rails of the fencing himself, examining the recent repairs with a critical eye. There must be no possibility of those cattle breaking free.
“Strengthen that,” he told one man, tapping a rail that was threatening to come loose. “And brace the corner.”
The man grinned, tugging his forelock. “Aye, Laird Kenneth.”
Even as he worked, his gaze never stilled. He scanned across the open field, white now with frost and scattered snow. He studied the ridgelines, watching for any movement among the trees, searching for footprints in the fresh snow along the distant bends in the path.
Aidan would not announce himself with horns and banners. He would come silently, on stealthy feet.
But the fences held. The pens were solid. The cattle settled, huddling close, lowing softly now, the panic fading as they felt the solid earth beneath their feet and a pile of hay to chew on.
Kenneth released a long, slow breath.
When it was done and the last gate was secured, Donnachaidh nodded his approval.
His hat clutched in his two hands before him, the older man dipped his head in acknowledgment of his laird.
“These are fine beasts tae grow our herd again. I thank ye fer helpin’ tae rebuild our pride after the loss of so much.”
Kenneth nodded, finally stepping back, wiping his grimy hands on his cloak, a grin spreading across his cheeks.
“Well done lads,” he said simply.
His words were met with a cheer from the assembled villagers, each face turned up to him with gratitude in their eyes.
He mounted Arkan at last, the destrier snorting softly beneath him while Callum swung into his own saddle.
“A good day’s work?” Callum asked as they turned toward the castle road.
“I’m satisfied. Fer now,” Kenneth replied, his thoughts snagged by the reminder of Aidan’s unholy ability to wreak havoc. “But make sure the patrols circle the village morning and night.”
They rode uphill at an easy pace, the castle rising above them once more, a part of the rocks and the headland, dark against the winter sky. Kenneth’s body ached fiercely, yet his heart was fuller than it been for as long as he could remember.
Selene would be waiting.
The thought sent a lick of flame through him, spreading warmth beneath the cold air and his own steely vigilance. Whatever dangers or troubles lay ahead – Aidan, the harshness of winter – this, this life, was worth defending.
He urged Arkan forward, eager now, no longer merely the laird returning home, but a lad riding toward his future and the lass he loved.