Chapter Two
Jamie Donald leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out under the table.
As Albie’s deep voice droned on, he reached for his pewter goblet, only to find it empty.
Gods! How long was the man going to drone on for?
He’d heard this argument already. Several times.
He peered longingly into the bottom of the empty cup before setting it back on the table and plastering a look of rapt attention onto his face.
Finally, Albie fell silent. With a start, Jamie realized that the eyes of his advisors and captains had turned to him, expecting a response. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
“I hear ye, my friend,” he said, trying to keep the impatience and frustration from his voice. “But we’ve been through this already. We have no proof that these pirates are based in Ulster, and I willnae launch an attack without such proof. To do so would invite war and only worsen our problems.”
“Not when we win it willnae!” Albie boomed.
He was a giant of a man who’d been one of Islay’s fiercest warriors in his youth.
But Albie’s youth was long gone, and now most of his muscle had turned to fat, although that didn’t stop him shouting for vengeance and clamoring for battle at just about every council meeting he attended.
“We will wipe this pirate scum off the face of the earth! We’ll teach them the folly of trying to blockade us and cut off our trade!
And we’ll teach them to fear the warriors of Islay! ”
Jamie leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, clasped together to try and stifle his irritation. He fixed Albie with a hard stare. “And if we’re wrong?” he asked. “If we start a war with the Ulster kings and the pirate base isnae there after all? We will face conflict on two fronts.”
Albie waved a dismissive hand. “Pah! It isnae anything the Kingdom of the Isles canna handle!”
Jamie would love for that to be true. He was Lord of the Isles, chieftain over Islay and liege lord to Skye and Barra and a handful of smaller islands.
His ancestors had fought fiercely to keep their independence from both the Scottish and Ulster crowns, but he was under no illusion that he and his people were the force Albie thought they were.
Only the continual strife between Scotland and Ulster had kept the two powers from Jamie’s door so far and, although he possessed a formidable fleet of ships and the sailors to man them, he could not afford to make a mistake that might turn their gazes his way.
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, someone else cleared their throat. Phillip MacClelland climbed to his feet. Older than Jamie, he had been a close friend of his father’s and Jamie’s trusted counselor since he’d come into his title.
“There is another option,” he announced into the silence of the council room. “One that we’ve put off discussing.” He turned his watery gaze on Jamie, the burns that marred one side of his face pulling tight as he gave a wry smile. “But one that canna be put off any longer.”
Jamie stifled a groan. Lord help him, not this again.
Philip reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a rolled vellum scroll.
“I have the marriage agreement here, ready to sign. It only needs my lord’s approval.
It could be signed and dispatched within the week, and soon there would be enough fighters pouring into Islay to break any blockade and destroy these pirate bastards once and for all. ”
“Aye, and trade away our freedom into the bargain!” Albie growled. “And have some French lass as Lady of the Isles!”
“Lady Margaret is the king’s kin!” Phillip protested, looking around the gathered council members. “It would be a great honor for my lord to marry into that line.”
“James of Scotland isnae our king!” someone shouted.
“We’ll bow to no mainland upstart!” said another.
Jamie ran a hand across his face and let their arguments wash over him.
The same arguments. The same wrangling. Over and over.
It had been this way since the pirate attacks had begun over a year ago and only worsened since they had begun blockading the routes into Islay’s harbor and cutting off their trade.
His people were beginning to suffer, and his advisors reflected the feelings in the wider island.
They couldn’t go on this way for much longer.
They had to find a solution soon, but everything he’d tried so far had failed.
Whenever he sent his fleet after the pirates, they seemed to melt away like mist under the morning sun.
Whenever he changed the shipping routes to bring in cargo, they seemed to know ahead of time and prey on those ships like wolves on sheep.
There were only two solutions on the table. Albie wanted war. Phillip wanted marriage. His marriage to be exact. He eyed the scroll that Phillip held tightly in one hand. It had arrived a month ago, bearing the royal seal of King James in Edinburgh.
It contained a proposal, one that on the surface seemed the answer to all their prayers. He would marry Lady Margaret of Concressault, great-niece of King James, and in return James would send ships and warriors to help defend Islay.
Oh aye, it sounded too good to be true all right, and that’s because that’s exactly what it was.
Jamie was under no illusion that should he agree, he would be giving away the hard-won autonomy of the Kingdom of the Isles and become no more than a vassal of the Scottish throne.
In time his lands would be annexed into union with the mainland.
Phillip knew that too, of course, but argued it was a small price to pay for the safety of their people.
And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was more important—freedom or safety?
It seemed that they couldn’t have both. War with Ireland or marriage to Scotland.
Were these really the only two choices left open to him?
He wanted neither. War would be disastrous, and he loathed the idea of marriage to a woman he’d never even met.
He was not na?ve enough to think he would be allowed to marry for love, yet so far he’d resisted all efforts to sell him off for political advantage.
He’d seen what a loveless marriage did to those involved by watching his own parents.
Cold, distant, hostile most of the time, his parents had loathed each other.
How they’d managed to spend enough time in each other’s company to conceive him was a mystery.
No, he didn’t want that. Perhaps it was selfish, but he would exhaust every last avenue, pursue every last option, before he resorted to that.
He waved a dismissive hand at Phillip. “I’ll think about it.”
Phillip’s mouth tightened, his burn scars stretching. “My lord, ye have been ‘thinking’ about it for a month now.”
“And I’ll think about it for another month if needed!” Jamie snapped. “And I will consider yer proposal too, Albie.”
“But, my lord—” Albie began.
“Ye both have yer answers!” he snarled, slamming his fist onto the table and making his empty cup jump. “Now, if there is no more business for today?” He glared around at his advisors. When nobody spoke, he nodded. “Good. Then I bid ye good day.”
His men recognized a dismissal when they heard one. They climbed to their feet and filed out, but not without a good deal of grumbling and muttering under their breath—especially from Albie. On his way out, Phillip paused and placed the scroll on the table.
“I’ll leave that with ye, my lord,” he said. “So ye can give it some more…thought.”
Jamie looked up at his counselor and forced himself to smile. “I’ll do that. My thanks, Phillip.”
The man nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Jamie was left alone in the council chamber, only his turbulent thoughts keeping him company.
There had to be a way out of this. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one.
*
“My help?” Elise said, scrambling to her feet and backing away. She looked around but saw nobody else. Where had this woman come from? Had she just appeared out of thin air?
That was entirely possible if what Elise suspected was true. As soon as the woman had introduced herself, a shiver of recognition had gone through Elise. Lir. Someone whom both Rose and Jenna had met before. Someone who wasn’t human.
“My help?” she said again. “Why would you need my help? You’re…you’re a goddess, aren’t you?”
The woman regarded her with those disconcerting silver eyes. “Aye. The sea is my domain.”
Elise glanced around at the rolling hills marching off in all directions. “So what are you doing here? We’re nowhere near the sea!”
Lir shrugged, then pointed into the distance. Elise squinted in that direction and spotted a stream winding its way through the scrubby plateau before pouring over the cliff in a silvery cascade. A stream that would, in time, lead to the sea.
“I am far from my element and at the limits of my power,” Lir said. “And I wouldnae have risked it had my need not been pressing. But my need is pressing. Or rather, the need of Islay is pressing.”
“Islay? What’s that?”
“It is part of the Kingdom of the Isles in western Scotland.”
Elise’s eyes narrowed. She’d heard that title before. Both Barra and Skye, the places where Rose and Jenna now lived, formed part of that kingdom. A suspicion began to form in the back of Elise’s mind. One she didn’t like at all.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, wagging a finger at Lir and backing off. “I’m not falling for that! You might have tricked my sister and niece into your schemes, but I’m not stupid. Let me guess: I agree to go with you and then I find myself back in the Dark Ages. Is that right?”
“The Dark Ages?”
Elise waved her hands. “You know. The past. Before they had running water or the internet.” She shuddered at the thought.
Lir raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I was led to believe that those kinds of things wouldnae bother ye. That ye were the brave and adventurous one of the family.”
“Who told you that?”
“Yer sister and niece.”
They did? Is that how Rose and Jenna saw her? Brave and adventurous, rather than irresponsible and reckless? Really?
Lir let out a long sigh. “But it seems they were wrong, and I’ve had a wasted journey.” She began to turn away.
“Hang on,” Elise said quickly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come, did I? I just need a little more…information. What exactly am I going to be doing? And who is it that needs my help?”
Elise thought she saw a glimmer of satisfaction in the goddess’s silver eyes. “That’s more like the Elise MacFinnan I’ve heard about. The people of Islay face a threat that only a MacFinnan spellweaver can meet. And the person who needs yer help more than any other is someone ye know.”
Elise frowned. “Oh?”
“Ye have met him before. His name is Jamie Donald, Chieftain of Islay and Lord of the Isles.”
Elise felt her jaw drop. Jamie Donald? Seriously?
Oh yes, she’d met him. A while back, when she’d traveled back in time to attend Rose’s wedding on the island of Barra, Jamie Donald had been in attendance too.
He’d caught her eye immediately, and she’d spent most of the evening talking and flirting with him.
She’d enjoyed his company more than she liked to admit, and since then she’d found him creeping into her thoughts more often than was healthy, despite her best efforts to stop it. Now Jamie Donald needed her help?
She glanced at Lir. Was it coincidence? Unlikely. Where gods and goddesses were concerned, Elise had learned there was no such thing as coincidences.
“Well?” Lir asked. “Will ye come?”
Elise knew she ought to refuse. She most definitely did not want to be stuck in a time without hot running water, gin and tonic, or hair dryers. And yet, something about Lir’s request pulled at her. She was a MacFinnan spellweaver, wasn’t she? Wasn’t it her duty to use her powers to help others?
And, she had to admit, the chance to see Jamie Donald again was more than a little appealing.
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Why not? If nothing else, it will be an adventure.”
Lir grinned. “That’s the spirit! Come then. Let’s go.”
“What? Right now? I’m in my climbing gear and I don’t have any supplies. I’ll need to go home and get kitted out. I’ll need my phone and solar charger. And hair straighteners. And make-up, hairbrush, moisturizer, and—”
“Ye will find everything ye need when ye get there,” Lir said.
Elise clamped her mouth shut and scowled. “Fine.” She glanced around, expecting to see some kind of portal or shimmering gateway, but there was only the empty expanse of the plateau stretching all around them. “How does this work, then?”
Lir smiled and took Elise’s hand. “This way.”
Elise allowed Lir to lead her slightly north, following the cliff edge until they reached the waterfall that went thundering over the edge.
Carefully, Elise edged forward and looked over, making sure to spread her weight and keep her feet firmly rooted.
The water went plunging over the lip of the cliff with a roar, but the bottom was obscured by the mist that rose from the churning water.
Elise swallowed thickly. It was a long way down.
Lir stepped into the stream. She almost seemed to glide as she made her way along it to where it plunged over the cliff. Here, right on the edge, she halted and turned to look at Elise. She held out her hand.
“We must jump. The waterfall will take us to where we need to go.”
Elise gaped at her. Then she gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I think I misheard you. It sounded like you just said we have to jump off a cliff!”
“That’s right. Take my hand. Ye will come to no harm. Ye have my word.”
No harm? Was this woman completely crazy? Elise knew she could be a little reckless at times, but even she knew that jumping off a waterfall was not a good idea.
Oh hell. She was already beginning to regret agreeing to this. Yet pride wouldn’t allow her to admit that she was frightened. It was only fear, an emotion she’d met and mastered a long time ago. As a MacFinnan spellweaver with a wild, erratic power, she’d had no choice.
So, despite the hammering of her pulse and the unsteadiness of her knees, she stepped down into the water, turned to face the cliff edge, and took hold of Lir’s hand.
The goddess’s grip was surprisingly warm, and there was a strength in it that reassured Elise a little.
But only a little. As she turned to look out over the expanse of the landscape below, her heart jumped into her mouth.
“Ready?” Lir asked.
No, Elise thought. I’ll never be ready.
But she only managed a tight nod.
Then Lir gave a tug, and the two of them launched themselves into the air.