Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
H ow can I face Maxwell, when I ken he must hate me now?
Maxwell followed the guard into the room, his face like thunder as he caught sight of her seated at the table. He turned to his brother. “What is she doing here? Ye said ye would place her in the pit.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Everard’s features. “Ye begged me tae spare her. I decided tae bring her here rather than place her in the pit. Where she went next depended on what I heard when I questioned her.”
Aileen’s heart skipped at Everard’s words. Maxwell had saved her from the dungeon. Mayhap she could hope he had feelings for her.
“Come in and sit, braither.” Everard gestured toward another seat at the table. “I asked the lass if she cared fer ye. I thought it wise fer ye tae be present tae hear her answer.”
Both men turned to Aileen.
She shook her head. “I’ll nae answer yer question, milord.” As she glanced from brother to brother, she saw Maxwell’s anguish written in his eyes. The sight of him struck her a blow to the heart. “Ye’ve nay right tae ask it of me. Me answer is only fer Maxwell’s ears.”
Everard turned to Maxwell. “Yer lady speaks well. Her story has the ring of truth.” He offered a wry smile. “I believe she was prepared tae sacrifice herself – foolishly, but courageously – in an attempt tae divert Sutherland from his path of vengeance toward the MacNeils.”
He rose to his feet. “Ye two have me blessings.” With that, he pivoted and walked to the door, leaving Aileen and Maxwell alone.
Aileen held her breath under Maxwell’s impenetrable gaze. Could she speak of the way she’d come to care for him as they journeyed together? Could she tell him how she’d feared for him at the hands of Sutherland? Could she tell him that he was everything to her?
Could she speak of love?
She wanted nothing more than to be enfolded in his arms, to feel his warmth against her and the beating of his heart in time with hers. She wished for his breath in her hair, the musky, whisky scent of him.
But he sat, gravely watching, his pale-blue eyes cold.
She offered a tentative smile hoping for one in return. “It seems yer braither believes I spoke the truth.”
He huffed, shifting in his chair, folding his arms. “That may be. But I wish tae hear yer story. Why were ye intent on going tae Sutherland. What is he tae ye?”
It was only then she understood. He was jealous. He’d believed she’d tried to return to Sutherland as his mistress. She had to speak up and make him understand that would never be so.
“Andrew Sutherland is naught tae me but a cruel torment. I wished tae find him on the Small Isle, but I thought only of ye, Maxwell. I have nay wish tae ever set eyes on that ugly snake calling himself a laird. Sutherland is beneath me contempt. ‘Tis true that I was sailing fer Canna, but that was only so I could try and dispel any idea he might have of laying siege tae Castle Kiessimul. I thought, nay, I hoped , that if I sacrificed myself, I could persuade him tae spare the MacNeils.”
Maxwell straightened, his eyes on her seeming warmer than before.
“Ye wished tae persuade him against any attack?”
“Aye. I thought he might be satisfied with punishing me and leave the rest of ye alone.”
“Why didnae ye say anything tae me? Ye preferred tae go behind me back Aileen… We were supposed tae trust each other, tae be… a team . I - I was so confused that I thought ye wished tae return tae his bed.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Never.” She gave a short, sharp laugh. Even now, Maxwell didnae understand that he was her lover and it was only his bed she wished to share.
She captured his blue gaze in hers, praying he could see the truth of her words reflected in her eyes. “As a man, he is naught beside ye. He is arrogant and cruel where ye are humble and gentle. Ye are stronger, truer, fairer, better in all way. I could never love a man such as he. There is only one man whose bed I shall ever wish tae lie in.”
“Only one man’s bed. And why is that?”
“There is only one man whose caresses can blot out the world.”
She glimpsed a hint of a smile quirking his lips. “And what kind of a man could ye love?”
“The very same kind of man as ye.”
The quirk widened into a smile that met his eyes and she felt her love for him blossoming in her heart.
“’Tis ye, Maxwell. Ye are the only one I could ever love. ‘Tis yer bed I wish tae lie in.”
He reached his big calloused hand across to take hers. “Could ye find it in yer heart tae come tae love me one day?”
A tiny laugh issued from her lips. “Why, ye foolish lad, I’ll nae come tae love ye one day . I’ve loved ye long and strong ever since I first took ye on board me birlinn as me prize. Ye won me heart at the tavern when I first felt yer lips in a kiss.”
Heart flooding with joy, she stood and took a pace toward him, leaning in, winding her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers in his hair breathing in the salt tang of his hair. He reached up, his strong arms encircling her waist, and lifted her onto his lap so that she straddled him. He held her tight, layering her cheeks with gentle kisses that sang with pleasure
“Yer words are a salve tae me wounded heart.” He kissed her some more. “I was afeared ye belonged tae that piece of slime. When Dunbar came and told me ye’d set sail, it was as if me heart had been ripped from me body.”
She lifted her mouth, closing the space between them, seeking his lips, silencing him with a deep, luxurious, kiss that spoke of their love far more persuasively than any words could ever hope to.
His hands found her thighs and pressed them, so that she held him tight. Entwined together she savored their passion. The night before she’d feared his kisses were lost forever and she would never again feel his lips and tongue and the pressure of his arms as they held her tight, lighting a fire in her body that would never die.
When they broke apart for want of breath, Aileen gave herself a moment to gather her thoughts and steady her ragged breathing. The words she spoke were like acid on her tongue.
“There is still the matter of Laird Andrew Sutherland and his quest fer revenge.”
He tightened his grip on her, offering a grim smile. “Mind this, Aileen MacAlpin. There’ll never be a time when ye will go tae him and implore peace. That was an ill-judged, reckless, scheme of yours. Surely ye ken the man well enough tae see he’d never give up his quest? I ken little about him, yet I’ve learned he is nae only powerful, but implacable.”
She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, feeling the familiar rough weave of his tabard and his soft breath in her hair.
“Ye are right. Yet I am fearful of ye meeting him in battle. He has more men, more ships, and more rage than ye and yer braither.”
“Mayhap ye are right. Yet a man defending his own is as strong or even stronger than his attacker. Our men have purpose. They will defend their homes and the ones they love tae the last drop of blood inn their veins. Whereas Sutherland’s men are paid mercenaries, their families held hostage fer their loyalty.”
“Those are wise words.” She let this settle in her mind, recalling her crew’s loyalty. It was not to Sutherland, it was to her. “I cannae imagine me crew fighting fer Sutherland against me.”
Reluctantly, he lifted her from the affinity of his lap, deposited her on her feet and stood beside her. He was smiling encouragement as he reached for her hand.
“Come, we must speak with Everard. He’ll be waiting tae hear the outcome of what passed between us.”
Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her out of the room and along the passage leading to the solar, taking comfort from the leashed power in the calloused fingers holding hers so lightly. Entering, they found Everard beside the fire with Raven and Arne.
She turned to Everard and curtseyed. “Milord.” She dipped her head before turning to Raven and Arne. “And good morrow tae ye both.”
Leaving her chair, Raven walked over to them, dropped a soft kiss on Aileen’s cheek and a squeeze to her arm. “We’re happy tae see ye unharmed.”
Everard glanced at Aileen and Maxwell’s entwined hands and raised a questioning eyebrow. “It seems ye have found a way tae reconcile.”
“Aye, braither.” Maxwell grinned and snaked an arm around her waist. “I understand. She intended nay harm tae us.”
Arne scrambled to his feet, offering his seat to Aileen while Maxwell sought two oak chairs from beside the table and brought them to join the others by the fire.
Once they were all seated, Arne spoke. “Me messenger has brought word that there is a contingent of MacLeod men and several ships are already being assembled at Dunvegan. They will sail within a matter of days.”
Maxwell grunted, getting to his feet. He faced them, his back to the fire. “Good news, indeed, Arne. Yet it will take them at least two further days tae sail here. We can expect nay real relief or support within a week.” He glanced at the others’ upturned faces, grimacing. “Me guess is that Sutherland will be expecting us tae find assistance from Skye and his spies will be watching Dunvegan. If he is alerted to these preparations, then I daresay he willnae sit quietly, twirling his thumbs. He’ll attack the castle before our support arrives, hoping tae take us by surprise.”
A gasp escaped Aileen’s lips and she nodded her agreement blinking twice to dislodge the image of Sutherland’s cruel features surging into her mind.
Striding toward the door, Maxwell gestured to Arne and Everard. “We should make ready in case we find ourselves under siege before the MacLeod’s arrive.” He bowed to Raven and Aileen as the others joined him. “Pardon us, ladies. It’s time we saw that our own plans are in earnest.”
“They’ll be sending someone tae the village so they will make ready. The folk and their children will move inland as far as they are able, carrying their foodstuffs and goods and warm clothing. The shepherds and cattle minders will take their flocks into the hills and put as much distance between themselves and the bay as time will permit.”
Aileen’s heart was pounding. The news sat heavily. The belief that she was responsible for landing this trouble on the heads of Maxwell, Arne and Everard clung to her with tenacious claws.
“What of the fishermen and their families along the shore?”
“The fisherfolk will be our patrol, keeping an eye out fer any movement of ships.” Raven smiled reassuringly. “They will warn us of any strangers approaching. They will abide with us here in the castle and their families too, if they are prepared tae weather a siege wi’ us.”
Aileen gave a despairing sigh.
“Dinnae look so glum, Aileen. Ye spoil yer pretty face wi’ that sad, turned-down mouth. This wee castle is a fortress. We’ve been besieged more than once. Once the invaders feel the boiling fat cascade upon their heads, they quickly realize the castle’s meagre fortune is nay worthy of their assault.”
“I would like tae believe that would be true of Andrew Sutherland. ‘Tis me belief that he cares naught fer any booty the castle might bring, and little fer the suffering of his men. His only concern is his asserting his will and punishing those who set themselves against him.”
Getting to her feet, Raven smoothed her kirtle and tucked a strand of dark hair under her lace cap before heading to the door. “I must consult with Mildred and our cooks and advise them we may be under siege. They will need to make preparation tae feed many more mouths than usual.”
She turned to Aileen, who had followed her to the door. “Methinks ye should rest awhile, Aileen. Last night must have taken a toll on yer strength. I cannae spare water fer bathing, but if ye splash yer face and hands and comb out yer hair I’m certain ye’ll feel a little better.”
“Of course. Ye’re right.” Aileen glanced at her crumpled britches and worn boots, brushing back the hair in tangles around her face.
After returning to her bedchamber, she wasted no time in washing and drying her hands and face, donning a fresh linen kirtle hanging by the garderobe and tidying her hair. Then, as Raven had predicted, with the grit washed off her face and the knots combed out of her long red locks some of the tightness in her chest eased and the fingers she’d been curling into fists straightened out. She took a seat in a comfortable chair by the fire, easing herself in the cushioned seat, attempting to bring some order to her tumultuous thoughts.
If only she could share Raven’s quiet confidence that the castle could withstand any siege.
She closed her eyes and then came the haunting images of burning ships silhouetted against a black sky, the screams of slaughtered men and the smashing and splintering of the battering-ram against the castle gates. Eventually, exhaustion claimed her and, resting her head on the cushion, she fell into a fitful sleep.
She was awakened to a heavy fist pounding on her door. Her heart leaped as her brain tried to make sense of what was happening.
“Aileen,” came Maxwell’s urgent voice.
Oh God. Sutherland is already at the gate!
She jumped up from the chair and raced across to open the door, almost tripping over her slippers in her haste. Her shaking fingers fumbled on the latch but at last she lifted it free. It was not Maxwell’s face that greeted her when she finally hauled the heavy oak door wide, but the sun-browned, beaming features of her dearest friend, Finn MacDougal, and the rugged face of her long-term watchdog, Séamus O’Rourke.
Chuckling, Maxwell stepped from the shadows beside the doorway.