Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
O nce they’d boarded the birlinn, Maxwell took his place on the bench with the oarsmen, ignoring their ribald comments about his lingering scent of rosewater. “Are ye certain ye’re a man?” Bran said cheekily.
Maxwell could only laugh.
Once the men heaved up the sail, they moved out of the tiny, sheltering cove, into the choppy water of the North Sea. Aileen took her place with Séamus at the rudder while Finn, whose task it was to ensure everything on board was in good order, was nowhere to be seen.
In the heavy seas, the task of the oarsmen was more onerous than it had been. The blisters Maxwell had received on his hands on the first day of rowing had healed, but the additional effort required in the battle with the harsher conditions today, soon opened up the damaged skin on his palms. The calluses of long standing from his own ventures into sailing and from long years of wielding his claymore were no protection from this fresh assault on his hands.
By the time they took brief refuge in a quite naust some miles down the coast, they’d been rowing for hours and the crew was grateful for a rest.
Maxwell sought out Finn, finding her winding rope with Ewen in the stern.
“If ye please. I’m needing some cloth to bind my hands.” He raised one of his hands, dripping blood, where the blisters had ruptured.
She glanced at his wounds. “Come with me, I’ll find ye some tincture for that, and some binding rags.”
He followed her to the cabin, sitting as she gestured to the chair. She reached into the cabinet and brought down a basket containing rolls of clean cloth. She ripped two lengths and set about dabbing his hands with a dark green liquid. He sucked a breath between his clenched teeth.
“Is that damned evil liquid made out of stinging nettles?” he muttered.
Her eyes registered surprise. “Nae. ‘Tis a soothing tincture made from willow bark. It’s meant to calm the pain, not make it worse.” She bent over his hand, binding it well with the strip of cloth. “This will help ye to keep your hands on the oars. There’ll be pain, of course, but it won’t grow worse wi’ yer effort.”
She was taking his other hand in hers when the door opened and Aileen walked in.
At once Finn scrambled to her feet, gesturing to Maxwell. “If ye dinnae mind, ye can tend to this one, while I get back to helping Ewen.” Without waiting for Aileen to agree, she swiveled and hastened out the door.
“Oh?” Aileen glanced at Maxwell’s unbandaged hand, one eyebrow shooting up. “Ye’ve done yerself some damage, MacNeil. Did ye nae think to mind yerself before things took such a bad turn.” She surveyed the ruined palm. “And d’ye intend tae keep at yer oar with this?”
“Dinnae make a fuss of it, lass. I’ve dealt with much worse many a time and I’ve got the scars to prove it. Never fear, I’ll keep at the oar.”
She dabbed the tincture on his palm, ignoring his sharply indrawn breath. Her touch was far gentler than Finn’s no-nonsense tending.
“This will have ye better in nay time.” She skillfully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tying it off with a tidy knot.
He kept his eyes on her bent head, wishing he could run his fingers through her shining hair. He glanced at his bandaged hands. Mayhap another time. He was close enough to register her musky, rose-scented aroma, and her nearness fired his blood.
He wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted any lass. Last night had been a dream. He’d held her tenderly, her softness spooned against him throughout the night, but now her nearness was making him wild. All he wanted was to feel her against him, to hold her with a fierceness he’d restrained last night, and to consume her with his kiss.
Glancing up, she caught him looking at her. Her sloping cat’s eyes flickered as she met his ice-blue gaze. “What is it, Maxwell,” she said in that husky voice.
“’Tis ye, lass. Being so close tae ye unsettles me.”
“What dae ye mean?”
“I mean I want tae kiss ye. I want me arms around ye and I want tae feel the silk and satin of yer skin.”
She laughed, although her cheeks were flushing pink at his words. “Ye’re in nae shape tae be touching anything but a splintery oaken oar, MacNeil.”
“Mayhap I dinnae need me hands fer yer lips. Mine are free of injury and quite ready fer the job of kissing ye.”
“A job? Kissing me is a job?”
Now it was his turn to laugh, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs. He traced his lower lip with his tongue. “Well, Captain, is kissing ye a job ye wish me tae carry out? I’m ready tae put myself tae the task.”
Without further thought he stood and swooped her into his arms, holding her in a strong embrace. She melted against him, her lips opening to his. With a moan, he lowered his head and took her with his passion.
Her arms curled around him, her hands rifling in his hair, pulling it free of the leather strand at his nape. She whispered into his mouth. “I want ye too, Maxwell. But we cannae…”
He groaned and loosened his grasp, releasing her and they moved a little apart. Her eyes were like dark emeralds shining into his, her lips red from the kiss, her cheeks flushing pink.
He gathered his breath. “Ye’re mine, Aileen MacAlpin. Dinnae forget that when we are in Dunrobin Castle and yer Laird Sutherland tries tae claim ye as his.”
With a toss of her hair, she rounded on him, pushing the silky, golden, coppery strands from her brow. “I’m nay man’s, Maxwell.”
He shook his head, a smile quirking his lips. “Nay, lass. Yer heart and soul belong tae me. Ye may nae ken it yet, but I have been prepared tae wait fer ye tae come tae that understanding since the first moment I saw ye in that tavern.”
She sighed loudly. “I’m nae wishing to ever reach Dunrobin. But I’ve crew tae care about and Finn and Séamus tae keep from harm. If I had me way, I’d sail me ship far beyond Dunrobin. But Sutherland would never see the end of it. He’d pursue me tae the ends of the earth if I tried tae flee.”
“Daes the man love ye then?”
She gave a harsh laugh. “Nay. Sutherland loves naebody but himself. But he’ll never let go of what he sees as his. With me faither his prisoner all these years, threatened with death, Sutherland’s been able tae take me as his possession.” Her breath caught in a sob and she turned away. “I cannae say more of this now.”
He nodded as she stepped away. “Dinnae leave me arms empty fer long, Aileen.” He turned and strode out of the cabin, making his way back to the oars, deep in thought. He’d suspected Sutherland had a hold on Aileen that she found too painful to discuss. Mayhap before they reached the castle there’s be another opportunity for them to talk further.
After Maxwell slipped back to his place at the oar, setting his rhythm with the other oarsmen the ship moved from its calm mooring into the open sea once again. The sun had disappeared behind a wall of grey clouds and the white-caps were turning to galloping horses on the sea. Along with the weather, he sensed a change in the sailors’ mood.
Where there had been jovial camaraderie, a bleak shadow had fallen over the crew. Their jaws were set and they rowed on, in what looked to him like quiet despair.
“Dinnae ye wish to return tae yer home in Dunrobin?” he said quietly to Bran.
The man shook his head. “I dinnae care where I am. I’ve nay family tae come home tae. As long as I have enough tae eat and somewhere warm tae lay me head at night, I’m happy enough.” He glanced over his shoulder as if afraid someone was listening. “But there are men here with wives and children who are treated little better than slaves. Sutherland’s a hard and brutal man. The price of disobedience is a swift fall overboard, or a drop from the castle walls. Nay one there is happy and none of these men wish tae return. They will only dae so fer the sake of the kinfolk.”
Maxwell returned his full attention to straining mightily at the oar. The sea was rough and it was heavy going. His hand ached but he shrugged the pain aside. His thoughts were busy with what he’d heard from Aileen and Bran. It was clear that Laird Andrew Sutherland would be unlikely to pay him the courtesy expected from any Highland laird. The man was his enemy. He must keep his wits about him if he was to defeat whatever the man’s plans were for both himself and his brother, the Laird of the MacNeils.
The day wore on. Every so often they were drenched with squalling rain, which came and went as if only to frustrate and bedevil them and add to the pall of misery that had descended over the birlinn.
Through the long hours of pulling on the oars, Maxwell watched for Aileen. He wished to talk with her before they reached Dunrobin, but he did not catch so much as a glimpse of her. He assumed she was with Ewen at the rudder, both of them working with all their strength to keep the birlinn on it’s true course south. They sailed close to the shore and all along the coast there were shoals of rocks and hazards from shallow water. Yet sailing deeper into the turbulent sea brought its own risks.
Darkness had already fallen when a scattering of lights along the shore signaled their impending arrival at the place where they would disembark. The sail was furled and the oars were gentled as Aileen guided the birlinn into the landing.
As they stepped ashore Maxwell found Aileen waiting for him. “A quick word, Maxwell, before we make our way up the hill tae the castle.”
He left the company of the other oarsmen and moved to her side.
“Listen tae what I have to say. Be careful when ye reply. I cannae be certain that our conversation will nay be relayed tae Sutherland.”
He glanced around but it was too dark for him to see if anyone was lingering and listening to them.
They found the narrow path leading up a steep rise to the castle and the crew members set off, leaving Finn, Séamus, Aileen and Maxwell to follow. Ewen remained on board seeing to the ship.
“Sutherland will nae wish ye well.” Aileen kept her voice low.
Maxwell gave a sharp laugh. “He’s kidnapped me, Aileen. That’s nay surprise.”
“The man will play a cat-and-mouse game wi’ ye. At first, he will treat ye hospitably as befits a man of his status. Highland hospitality is valued highly by many but I dinnae include Sutherland in that number.” She took Maxwell’s arm. “Ye mustnae be fooled. It is his game to lull ye into believing he is nay threat. He may treat ye tae a fine meal accompanied by his finest wines, provide ye wi’ one of his best rooms, the comfort of a feather bed.”
“And then, when this son-of-a-whore has made me think him benign and jovial, and the perfect host, what then?”
He could barely make out her features but he saw her grimace.
“As ye settle into yer warm bed, his men will come fer ye. They will fling ye in chains into his dungeon tae shiver in yer nightshirt.”
“And he daes this fer amusement?”
She huffed. “His amusement is like nay other’s.”
“And once he has me incarcerated in his dankest cell, what then?”
“Then he will starve ye, and set about ye with his instruments of torture.” She shuddered. “I’ve seen it many times. He has forced me to watch the destruction of more than one poor soul who has fallen into his trap.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “And, when ye’ve succumbed tae his torture and ye cannae resist further, he will tire of his game and put ye tae the sword.”
He nodded slowly. Although there was horror in her words, they did not come wholly as a shock. From what he’d heard of Laird Andrew Sutherland, such cruelty was not unexpected. The question bedeviling him now, was what to do about it.
“I ken what I was tasked tae do, Maxwell. But ye can turn and flee now, and rob the laird of his prize. I dinnae care anymore.”
“Nay lass. I’ll nae dae that fer it would leave ye tae yer fate.”
She sighed. “There’ll be punishment in store once he kens ‘tis Everard MacNeil’s braither I’ve brought him.”
“I’ll nae leave ye, lass.” He took her hand. “If I flee this night will ye come wi’ me?”
She was silent for a long moment. “I cannae say. I cannae leave me faither tae the laird’s whims.”
“Would yer Da nae wish ye tae escape?”
“Och. I’ll think on this. Mayhap I’ll speak wi’ ye later this evening. Now, hasten back tae be with the crew.”
He landed a soft kiss in her hair before turning away and dashing up the hill to join the other men. Reaching them, he fell into step beside Bran.
“Where did ye get tae lad?”
Maxwell managed a short laugh. “When the urge comes tae take a piss, a lad needs to obey.”
Bran chuckled. “Well mind ye stay wi’ the crew, the laird’s men dinnae take kindly tae strangers wandering about in the darkness.”
They had not gone far before Sutherland’s guardsmen emerged from the darkness and accosted them.