Chapter 24
Fortunes were made on luck and perseverance, and Dougal MacDonald had both.
The sun had all but disappeared beyond the western horizon. Night was falling fast, and with it came the gray veil of mist that would aid Dougal in his plan tonight, preventing those on shore from seeing what was happening at sea. He smiled. Again, luck.
There was just enough light left to make out the activities taking place on the rocky shore below him.
From his vantage point hidden in the trees that lined the southern point of the inlet, he watched Margaret Mackinnon and her clansmen climb into the waiting birlinn and prepare to push back from shore.
Ironic, he thought. Their ship was going out, yet his had just come in.
By sending the Mackinnon chit away with the messenger, Alex MacLeod had unwittingly given Dougal the means to salvage a nearly disastrous situation.
The king’s men had been increasingly impatient with his inability to provide them with any useful information. The MacLeods had kept him so well contained, he couldn’t even direct the Fife Adventurers to the rebel encampment.
Dougal hadn’t expected Alex and Neil MacLeod to discover his perfidy so fast. The first time, their false information had successfully prevented him from arranging their capture, making him look like an idiot before the king’s men.
The second time, he’d been sent on a fool’s errand while Alex intercepted a shipment of supplies.
It was then that Dougal knew he’d been discovered.
He should have taken MacLeod out at court when he had the chance. But Dougal had been in a precarious position. He couldn’t do so without betraying himself, limiting his usefulness on Lewis. Now that he knew the MacLeods were on to him, it was no longer a concern.
Alex had forced him to choose sides. And Dougal had done so. The rewards offered by the king were too hard to refuse.
Knowing he would not get any information from the MacLeods, Dougal had realized he’d have to find it on his own. So he’d focused his efforts on intercepting their messengers. Who would have guessed that the next messenger would also bring Meg Mackinnon?
Now he would have them both—Alex and the Mackinnon chit.
The bitch had refused him. Even three weeks later, he still couldn’t believe it.
And now with the knowledge of his perfidy surely spread throughout the Highlands, he doubted that she could ever be persuaded to accept his offer of marriage.
Which was why he’d been doubly lucky today.
Once he had her in his possession, her acceptance was immaterial.
She must fancy herself in love with the bastard. Her rejection of his offer had only made Dougal more determined to get rid of Alex. And Meg Mackinnon would be just the means he needed to bring Alex MacLeod to his knees.
Impatient, he turned and vaulted onto the powerful stallion waiting beside him. He enjoyed breaking spirited animals, just as he would enjoy breaking Alex MacLeod.
He’d done so before; unfortunately, he’d not finished the job.
Now it was only a matter of time. And Dougal could be a patient man, a very patient man. The reward would be well worth the wait. He’d serve his chief by helping the Fife Adventurers defeat the MacLeods, and he’d finally have the means to take care of an annoying loose end from his own past.
He galloped toward the birlinn of armed MacDonald clansmen who waited just on the other side of the small inlet, sniffing deeply of the morning air. There was nothing like the promise of a good hunt to stir a man’s blood.
I will not fall apart, Meg vowed. Even though she felt as though her heart were being wrenched out of her body and torn to bits.
The birlinn pulled farther away from shore, and the tall man standing immovable at the water’s edge melded into the shadows of the falling night.
Not willing to let him go, Meg kept her eyes locked on the place where he stood, wanting to hold on to him for as long as possible.
Her chest squeezed with longing. She understood why he was sending her away, but it did not make their parting any easier.
She straightened her spine, refusing the urge to curl into a ball and give way to the desolation ripping her apart.
She would be strong, a worthy mate to the courageous, honorable man who’d won her heart.
Every bone in her body resisted leaving Alex, but she would do her duty, just as Alex must do his.
She was proud of him, and she would not shame him by doubting him.
“He’ll be fine, mistress.”
Meg turned to Robbie, who sat protectively to her left, Jamie on her right.
She’d tried to argue against the need for Robbie and the other warriors accompanying them, but Alex had been adamant.
It made her feel all the worse for coming to Lewis.
She was only too aware that she had left Alex even more undermanned.
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “Indeed he will be, Robbie.”
Meg believed in Alex, completely and without reservation.
He was the fiercest, most skilled warrior she’d ever seen.
If Alex and Neil MacLeod could block the supplies and reinforcements from reaching the castle and create a diversion, victory would be theirs.
And Alex would come home to her. They would begin their life together.
It was that knowledge that held her together.
She pulled her arisaidh more firmly around her shoulders.
The mist had descended like quicksand, swallowing everything in its ethereal hold.
The salty wind was cold and damp as it blew across her nose and cheeks.
At least it would help speed their journey.
Now that they’d parted, Meg was anxious to return home.
The sooner she was home, the sooner Alex would come to her.
After some time, Jamie broke the silence. “Are you all right?”
No. There was a dull, empty space in her chest that would not be gone until Alex returned to Skye. But Jamie did not need to hear that. “I’ll be fine,” she said instead.
Jamie took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I would have done the same thing as Alex, Meg. It’s not safe for you to stay on Lewis.”
She managed a wobbly smile. “I know.”
They were quiet for a few more minutes before Jamie spoke again, this time to Robbie. “Look over there,” he said, pointing behind them.
She could tell by the agitation in his voice that something was wrong. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that a birlinn had suddenly appeared out of the mist and was rapidly closing the distance between them. A much larger, faster, more heavily manned birlinn.
Immediately, she understood the reason for Jamie’s concern.
Something about the way the boat pursued them set her already frayed nerves on edge.
That reaction was exacerbated in the next few minutes as her clansmen made an initial attempt to evade the other boat, shifting directions—only to find that their pursuers had done likewise.
No matter how fast they rowed, the other birlinn moved at a purposeful, almost menacing clip directly toward them.
A smattering of dark spots appeared out of the mist. In horror, Meg watched as dozens of arrows began to land with horrible precision in the water around them.
There could be no doubt. They were being hunted. But by whom? Had the king’s men found them out? Would her father’s men be imprisoned? Dear God, what would happen to Robbie? If it was discovered that he was a MacGregor, he would be hanged. Meg’s heart stalled. They couldn’t be caught.
Another spray of arrows headed for them. Jamie’s hands on her shoulders forced her down. “For God’s sake, Meg—get your head down!”
Her heart pounded, but she didn’t have time to panic.
In the sudden commotion of a shared purpose, every effort was put into trying to evade their pursuers.
The endless blue vistas of shimmering sea suddenly seemed the enemy.
There was nowhere to go. They could not outrow the other boat, and they were cut off from retreat back to Lewis.
Her men gave it a valiant effort, but in the end escape proved futile. They were simply outmanned. When an arrow landed with a thud in the back of one of her clansmen, Meg knew she had to put an end to it.
“Stop. There’s nothing we can do.”
Jamie turned to her. “We can try—”
“They’ll kill us all,” she said, shaking her head. At least this way we have a chance. Maybe they’ve made a mistake.”
He nodded and repeated her order for the men to hold their oars.
It seemed to take an eternity for the other boat to reach them. They waited in seeming unison of tense apprehension as it neared.
A grappling hook was tossed over the side of their birlinn, and slowly their boat was pulled alongside their attackers.
Close enough to make out the occupants. Meg let out an audible sigh of relief.
Not the king’s men. These men wore plaids.
They were Highlanders. Perhaps it was only a terrible mistake.
Her relief, however, was short-lived. A chill ran down the back of her spine that turned her blood cold. She recognized one of the men.
No. There was no mistake. They had indeed been hunted.
At that moment, she almost wished for the king’s men.
Because the man who’d captured them was none other than Dougal MacDonald.
He stood at the helm with his arms crossed, a smug smile twisting his handsome features.
The expression terrified her; she knew well what he was capable of.
He noticed Jamie, and his smugness quickly turned to anger. “What are you doing here, Campbell?”
“I would ask the same of you,” Jamie said, rising to stand. With the waves tossing their small boat around, he had to spread his feet to keep his balance. “My cousin will not be pleased to hear of your impertinence.”