Chapter 22
Frae the top of the brae, Kathryn had her first real look at the Caithness settlement—a place she ne’er actually wanted to go again—and now her son was there, her firstborn, and if anyone was worth putting her fears aside for, it was Rory.
She tried to hide frae her memories of the last time—memories of dark nights, leaping flames, and ravens circling above a ring of stones. She blinked hard, cleared the blur, and when the vision disappeared, she could breathe again and it was daylight.
“Gavyn, d’ye see there by the beach, two burnt out wrecks, the Irish got here afore us.”
Gavyn’s grey mount sidled closer to her bay. He reached out and took her hands, reins an’ all. “He’s bound to be safe still. There are few can beat him in a fight, ye know that. But I’ll tell ye for naught, if the Irish were at Caithness, they’ve gone again.”
Kathryn felt Gavyn’s knee brush hers while their horses stood side-by-side, keeping them close, connected. Gavyn’s big hand still surrounded hers as their companions joined them at the crest of the brae, four in all—her half-brother Nhaimeth, Rob McArthur, Jamie Ruthven and Dhugal Robertson. When her sister Astrid married Euan McArthur all yon years ago and became his third wife to die because of the curse laid on Euan, she couldnae have imagined ever being part of a big close-knit group of family and friends. What bothered her was the eagerness they had all displayed to meet the Irish in a fight.
Gavyn turned his head, taking each of them in with his piercing gaze. Gavyn had been a mercenary, which made him more experienced than almost any man in Scotland—in the Highlands for certain. “Ride in single file,” he told them. “Do naught to appear a threat. The Irish have definitely been here, but I’ve seen a few women walking around the settlement, and there is smoke coming from a chimney as well as the fire pit at the longhouse, so it would seem they’ve gone again, but best not take that for granted.”
Gavyn led the way with Kathryn behind him, his thinking that they wouldnae consider a woman dangerous. Kathryn knew better; she had heard of the shield-maidens, Norsewomen.
They rode past the stone ring, but nae ravens flew o’er head, though she heard Rob chide Nhaimeth for holding him up as he slowed to look. They had both been in there that night, the one when Lhilidh died in Rob’s arms after both she and Kathryn had been shut in a broch that Harald set alight. Slowly, they rode as far as the longhouse. The door was open wide and some bairns came running—curious—while others began to cry. Finally, a tall flaxen-haired man strode out to where they waited. Well armed with both sword and knife, he had an air of confidence about him that Kathryn liked and made her pleased when Gavyn spoke first. “I’m Gavyn Farquhar. Chieftain of the Comlyn clan and I’ve come to Caithness looking for my son.”
“Hah,” not a laugh more a bark of amazement. “I should have recognised ye. Rory looks much like ye, and then there was Ghillie. The lad told me I should expect ye. I’m Finn Olafsen.” He looked inside the Great Hall and waved out a few tired looking Norsemen. They will tend to yer horses while ye come inside to see my grandfather.”
“He’s still alive then?” Gavyn dismounted, saying, “It’s been a while since your grandfather and I last met, and I was somewhat reluctant to ask.” He then turned to lift Kathryn out of the saddle. That’s when their difference in stature became obvious. Although there had always been a disparity in height betwixt them, it was one that made her feel cared for, cherished.
Unable to quell her anxiety, with a quick glance o’er her shoulder at Nhaimeth, she demanded, “Where are our three lads?”
Finn’s fair brows gave a wee lift, as if she had breached convention. “I understand ye werenae o’er pleased that they deliberately disobeyed yer husband’s wishes. The lads knew that and came anyway. Some things are meant to be, and nae, I’m not just saying that through associating with Ghillie. Calder is in the Hall, and frae what Ghillie says of ye my Lady, he could do with yer help.”
Help for Calder but nae mention of her son and, though she struggled with the futility of the question, she asked, “And Rory? Where is he?”
“Rory has gone, and Ghillie and my sister with him … but my grandfather will accuse me of being inhospitable. Come away in, all of ye. Olaf will be pleased explain all that has happened here since Rory, Calder and Ghillie arrived.”
She wanted to hear everything, yet she worried about Calder. The lad had been born into a Comlyn Sept—tall, strong and of an age with Rory. She shouldnae have been surprised when Gavyn had brought the lad back with him to foster at Dun Bhuird. He’d been like a brother to Rory ever since. All of which meant she couldnae sit around listening to what Olaf had to say. “Finn, why not take me to see Calder and explain what happened while the others hear it frae Olaf.” And he did.
The air wasnae only cooling the farther they travelled frae Caithness; it had become fraught with tension betwixt her and Rory. Ainsel was well aware she had nae one but herself to blame for the situation. The hurt feelings werenae likely to be easily soothed.
She looked up. The sails were raised, bellying out as round and red as the sunset lying to the left of the boat as they approached the headland at the top of the Ness. Rounding it would take them into open sea, and they had made guid time betwixt the wind and the men, backs bent above the oars. Aye, open sea. At least she could be certain of that if naught else. She felt as it her life was balanced on a dagger’s edge and nae matter what befell, either way she would still be hurt.
Why couldnae Rory simply let her do what must be done?
The way she had with Axel. She had left him with her grandfather, rubbed her palm across his fine dark hair, soft the way a bairn’s should be, then kissed his sweet wide brow and left him with Olaf. There was nae way she could put her heart through the leaving of him a second time.
What with all the upset, the battle, Gilda’s sacrifice, her milk had already begun to dry up. Just as well, some might say, yet she would miss yon moments of closeness with her son. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to hold back the tears and gripped the hilt of her sword fiercely, as if she would gladly snap the hilt frae its blade if it prevented her knuckles rubbing her eyes.
Ainsel gritted her teeth.
Thor’s hammer , she wanted to pound her fists at something, someone … Rory.
She could see Rory and Ghillie, heads together, coming up with another plan.
Hers was much simpler. She would simply offer herself in Gilda’s place and then the others could all go back to Caithness. Gilda would have the life Ainsel might long for, but knew would ne’er come to pass, nae matter how many plans Rory put together.
Night arrived softly, merging frae dark blue to black like a breathless hush that all the men on the ship welcomed. The stars were out, huge, like holes torn in the sky, ones that helped the man on the steering oar to set his course, knowing which one to follow, while at the same time he had the ability to keep them frae the mercy of the tides and currents.
Ghillie was asleep in the bow, shoulders fitting into the wedge shape with the carved dragon’s head pushing into the darkness ahead of them like a sigil for his wee cousin’s dreams.
Though his own dreams had been shattered, Rory didnae envy Ghillie. If Gavyn had taught his son aught, it had been how to pick up the pieces and fit them back together in a pattern that would work, as he was intent on right now. They had only come together a few days ago—enough time, though, for him to be able to read the signals that Ainsel’s body sent him, like the one that said she was only pretending to sleep—mayhap because he had found it impossible to keep his gaze off her.
Working against the rise and fall of the bow, Rory gradually made his way to the wooden bench Ainsel had claimed for her own. She hunched o’er her sword as if it was all that kept her frae falling o’er and landing in the belly of the boat. Ainsel kept up the pretence of sleeping, even as he sat on the bench, his spine resting against hers. Not a word slipped frae her lips, yet he knew she was well aware of his presence—knew frae the way her spine tensed.
He drew a long breath through his nostrils and let it out in a noisy sigh. “I know what yer thinking, and I agree: the responsibility is mine to bear.”
Her shoulder blades flexed, brushed across his back, and he was hard put not to respond to the sensation shooting through him at the slightest touch. “I accept the blame,” he muttered. “Ye must agree that it was a sad day when Calder and I rode into Caithness, and for that I’m sorry, for both ye and Axel.” He took another breath and let his back relax against hers. “I know Calder was desperate to get back here to Gilda, but I could have put a stop to such nonsense, except that I too wanted back here—desperately.”
Rory knew he had caught her attention when she turned slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
In yon moments betwixt breaths, his ears were filled with the noise of waves breaking on the bow and the slap of the wind in the sails until he said, “There was a lass—” Suddenly they were shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh connected by warmth, heat. “Let me finish afore ye take a swipe at me with that sword in yer hand. Listen to my story.
“It happened last solstice. I was watching the bonfire, standing alone in the dark when this young lass came up, wrapped her arms round me frae behind. What can I say? I was easily persuaded to go with her. For a whole year I dreamt of her. How she felt in my arms, her scent, the way my heart raced when we kissed, and I ne’er saw her face, ne’er knew her name. I came back to Caithness hoping to find her and instead I found Ainsel, discovered the bonniest lass I’d e’er seen in my life. My heart races when we kiss. Holding ye in my arms is like being born anew. I’ve nae explanation, since ye dinnae smell of honey or thyme, yet for some reason I find the scent of the mother goddess far more alluring than all others. My father forbade me to come back here. Ghillie countered by saying I had to, made out it was necessary, and while I looked northward frae the top of the Cairngorms, he packed for me, fetched Calder, and the pair of them saddled three horses and said it was time to leave.”
When he got nae response, he huffed a long breath out through his nostrils. “I did say I was easily persuaded, but it was more than that. Although he says he’s not as guid as his mother, Ghillie has the sight, and even my father will understand why he had a rebel on his hands. And when he sees ye, Ainsel, he’ll understand, for I did the moment I saw ye.”
“And how will he see me? I’ll be in Ireland.”
“Nae, I willnae let MacLoughlin have ye.” He held up a hand when she began to protest. “Nor will he have Gilda. As for my father, he’ll see ye when I take ye to Dun Bhuird.”
“That will ne’er come to pass, even if ye were able save me—save us. I cannae leave my grandfather…”
“But isnae that exactly what ye will do if I dinnae rescue ye frae the Irishman?” he demanded, his voice roughened, not with anger but exasperation. Rory wasnae a fool. He’d known many a lass in his day, made most of them happy, but he had ne’er loved any. Aye, he knew the difference betwixt release and rapture.
“Grandfather’s getting auld, but at least he would have Axel, would be able to see the future in him.” Ainsel’s eyes glimmered in the starlight through a film of tears. He recognised hope mainly through suffering it himself. “He’s going to be a big strong lad. Caithness will need the likes of him if it’s to survive.”
“Like his father is he?”
“Exactly like him.”
“Is that so?” He leaned forward, twisting at the waist making it easier to bring up his left hand and cup her face, fingertips curled around the edge of her jaw to hold her still, and under them her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth. “And did yer husband make ye feel like this when he covered yer mouth with his?”
He suited his action to his words and kissed her, felt her indrawn breath capture his taste and her lips soften under his. Rory moved, slanting his mouth o’er hers, deepening the kiss by sweeping into the hot cave where her tongue danced against his.
His hand slipped lower, smoothed the leather short coat covering her breasts and wished they were bare. Neither of them could afford to give into their desires while surrounded by others, whether they appeared to sleep or not. The blood in his veins felt thick and slow, his breath shallow as he lifted his mouth and gazed into her eyes. Even in the starlight he could see the pale blue of her eyes had darkened and her lips were full, glistening frae shared passion, and her hand was in his lap fondling his prick through his plaid.
He rubbed a thumb across the plump curve of her bottom lip and when he had done lifted his thumb and sucked the taste of her back into his mouth. “Can ye really shove this—shove me—away as if these feelings betwixt us didnae exist?”
“Ye make it sound easy. For me this isnae about what I want. It’s about need, what needs to be done to keep my son and my family safe. If I could see the future like Ghillie, I’d ne’er have married Nils, then none of this would have happened, but I was that foolish and it did happen. Now I need to make it right.”
“I have nae quarrel with that. For now, all I ask is that ye let me help ye. Alone, MacLoughlin will look to take advantage of ye. Together, he’ll think twice, especially with Ghillie and his bird by our side. He may be young but with that bird on his shoulder men are wary of him, suspect him of being a sorcerer.”
When he thought on it, Rory realised it should ne’er have come to this. “We should have faced him in the Great Hall, by Olaf’s side. Instead, we left it to an auld man to face him alone, to be threatened with nae one behind him, most of us were on the beach when they arrived o’er land. When we believed we had dealt with them on the Ness. Our plan worked then, let’s make another plan, an even better one. We can take Gilda home to Calder.” He took a moment and trusted the jut of his jaw to tell its own tale as he ground out the words. “We will assure MacLoughlin that you’re already taken by the future Comlyn chieftain. He’ll have heard of us. I’d lay my life on that, but I willnae leave your life in the hands of a man whau couldnae take care of his last wife.”