6 BURY YER SOFT HEART
“I SHALL GO in first.”
Rankin’s announcement made Liza glance up from where she’d finished drawing upon the tabletop with a stick of charcoal. A rough plan of Moy Castle lay before them, showing the defensive wall, the gate leading into the barmkin, and the position of Lochbuie village to the west of the tower house.
“Alone?” Despite that her mouth felt sour and her hands were shaky this afternoon, she had to concentrate. She had to keep her fear and disgust leashed.
The pirate captain nodded before sharing looks with the four men who’d joined them: the first and second mates he’d introduced as Cory and Gunn, and two more pirates, Egan and Athol, who stood just inside the doorway. The latter—a lanky young pirate—kept favoring her with hungry looks.
Liza’s gut clenched.
God’s troth, what if Rankin decided to share her with his crew after he plowed her? She hadn’t considered that when she’d agreed to his terms, yet now, ice slithered through her veins at the thought. In bargaining with the pirate, she’d made a deal with the devil.
“Yer husband knows the clan-chief treats with me,” Rankin replied, glancing her way once more. “So, I might as well use that relationship to my advantage … before I make an enemy out of Loch.” He leaned forward then and tapped his finger upon the line she’d drawn to show the outline of the shore. “Five of my crew will be waiting for me here.” His finger slid east. “They will be joined by another five we’ll drop off farther up the loch shore. They will make their way on foot and ensure they aren’t seen. I don’t want our numbers to make the Watch at Moy suspicious.” He paused then, “And after I’ve killed the laird, they’ll all enter the castle and deal with the Guard.”
Liza swallowed, still struggling to focus—especially when her pulse thumped in her ears and dizziness assailed her. “The Moy Guard outnumber ye, three to one … will ten be enough?”
“Eleven,” he corrected her. “Including me.”
“This isn’t a battle, but an ambush,” Cory—the wiry pirate with a sparse pointy beard upon a sharp chin, and ferrety eyes—pointed out. “What matters isn’t how many men ye have … but how fast ye move and how violently ye strike.”
“Aye, we don’t intend to kill the entire Moy Guard,” Rankin added. “Ye’ll need warriors to serve ye after yer husband’s dead, after all.”
Liza’s queasiness intensified. This discussion was making the situation all too real. Indeed, she was hiring these pirates to kill her husband and take Moy Castle.
I’ll be laird.
She thought then of the fortress that had been her home over the last six years—of its neglected walls and refuse-strewn barmkin. The first thing she’d do would be to clean up the mess and hire stonemasons to repair the walls. When she’d once suggested Leod take more pride in his castle, he’d snarled at her. But when Moy was hers, she could make all the changes she wanted.
Don’t get ahead of yerself. Her breathing quickened, anxiety blooming again. Would those of the Guard who survived the attack follow her?
One thing at a time, Liza . Just get through today first . She started to sweat then. Good Lord, what a tangle she’d woven. How would she weather the night ahead?
“I shall need ye to remain at Moy a day or two afterward,” she said, meeting Rankin’s eye. If she was going to let herself be mauled by the pirate captain tonight, she would make use of him and his crew after the attack. “Just to ensure I have the loyalty of those ye leave alive.”
He favored her with a thin smile. “Very well … we wouldn’t want to throw ye to the wolves.”
She cut her gaze from his then, pulse hammering now, and stared down at the tabletop. Too late .
“What time of day is best?”
She looked up to find the huge pirate with a bald head and muscles that gleamed in the light of the lantern burning on the table watching her. Gunn’s deep-set eyes were unnervingly sharp and calculating.
“The morning,” she replied without hesitation. “After the noon meal, Leod often takes his dogs out for a hunt. If ye want to ensure he’s at home when ye come, late morn is when ye should strike.”
“So be it,” Rankin said.
Liza’s gaze settled upon him once more, noting the shrewd look upon his handsome face. He wasn’t looking at her, but studying the map she’d drawn, clearly deep in thought.
“My husband is a warrior of renown,” she said after a pause. “Can ye bring him down on yer own?”
“As Cory said … this won’t be a fair fight,” he replied, glancing up. “We aren’t going to be facing off with dirks on the field. When the time comes, Leod Maclean won’t have a chance to draw his blade.”
A shiver skated down Liza’s spine.
Her discomfort must have shown because Rankin inclined his head. “Ye hired me to kill him … have ye lost the stomach for it?”
Her fingers tightened around the nub of charcoal she still gripped. “No,” she whispered.
Rankin placed the flat of his hands on the table and leaned in, his gaze capturing hers. “So, ye still hunger for revenge?”
“Aye.”
His sensual mouth tugged into a rueful smile. “Well, this is the reality of it. Yer husband left ye trussed up on a rock out at sea to die. He showed ye no mercy. If ye want to ensure yer son is safe, and to take Moy Castle as yer own, ye must bury yer soft heart.”
Liza scowled, even as her pulse fluttered. “What makes ye think I have one?”
He huffed a laugh, while the other pirates smirked. “Of course, ye do … ye’re a woman,” Rankin replied with a mocking shake of his head. “And unsuited to tasks such as these.”
“Aye,” Gunn replied gruffly. “Why do ye think men rule? Women lack the stomach for brutality … and to lead requires it.”
Heat rose like a swift tide then, washing over Liza. Her grip on the charcoal tightened, crushing it to dust against her palm.
She wished her younger sister, Makenna, were here right now, with a fighting knife in each hand. She’d show these pirates that only a fool dismissed women as lightly as they did.
Gunn was right about one thing though, it was a man’s world, and if she wanted to win, she needed to play their game.
Swallowing her simmering rage, she stood up, brushing the charcoal dust off her hands. “Just do the job I hired ye for,” she replied coldly, “And let me worry about my conscience.”
Liza chewed a mouthful of dried plum and cheese and forced herself to swallow.
She, Rankin, and his first and second mates were all having supper together. A spread of bread, cheese, dried fruit, and salted pork lay before them, which they washed down with fruity red wine.
She had little stomach for the meal, although she drank more heavily than she usually did. She needed something to blunt her nerves and lessen the dread that gnawed like a rat at her innards.
And she couldn’t stop thinking about Craeg either. He’d have finished his supper by this hour, and—in his mother’s absence—Liza’s handmaid, Nettie, would be playing with him before bed.
God’s bones, she longed to know how he was faring.
Ye will see him again soon , she reminded herself.
Indeed, the rest of the day had passed swiftly. Too swiftly. For although Liza was impatient to return to Moy—to be able to sweep Craeg up into her arms once more—the coming of dusk heralded the first payment she’d have to make Alec Rankin.
Aye, she’d struck a bargain with this wretch, yet she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.
Lifting the cup to her lips, she took another large gulp of wine. Ye must.
“The wine is to yer liking?”
Rankin reclined at the end of the table, watching her under hooded lids as he skewered a piece of cheese on his eating knife.
“Aye,” she replied coldly.
“It was one I was saving for a special occasion.”
Cory smirked at this, while Gunn huffed a laugh.
Liza’s stomach lurched, and suddenly, the wine tasted like vinegar. “No doubt the fruit of one of yer plunders,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound as if she were being strangled.
“It was … a cog transporting wine and spice … around five years ago now. Me and the lads drank well for a while … this is the last cask.”
“A pity.” Cory held his cup aloft. “Looks like we’ll have to find ourselves another Castilian merchant to plunder.”
Liza glanced down at the wine. “Castile,” she murmured. “That’s where my grandfather was from.” Her chest tightened as she recalled his rare visits to Scotland, quite a journey from the Iberian Peninsula. “He used to bring us wine that tasted like this.”
“That’s quite a match … an Iberian merchant’s daughter and a Scottish clan-chief,” Rankin replied, and Liza’s chin jerked up. Curse it, she hadn’t even realized she’d voiced her thoughts aloud.
“Aye,” she said, pushing her trencher of food away. “It caused quite a scandal at the time.”
She was aware of all three men watching her intently. Cory’s knowing smile was starting to vex her, while Gunn’s penetrating stare made her skin prickle in warning. And then there was Rankin. His lips were curved slightly as if he was enjoying a jest at her expense.
“Don’t ye all get tired of this life?” she asked after a lengthy pause.
Gunn snorted. “Never.”
“No one is freer than a pirate,” Cory added. “We have no master but the sea.”
Rankin added nothing to these replies, merely watching Liza over the rim of his cup.
“Maybe … but ye will leave no legacy behind ye.” She took a deep draft of wine. “Nothing permanent to be remembered by.”
This comment wiped the smirk off Cory’s face and made Gunn frown, while Rankin’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Nothing lasts, Lady Maclean,” he eventually drawled. “And when ye die, the world moves on … whether ye were a king or a pauper.”
Their gazes fused and held for a long moment before Liza heaved a deep breath and set her cup of wine down. She’d drunk enough. Any more and her head would start to spin. Although she wanted to calm her pitching belly, she didn’t want to dull her wits. Not around these men.
“Thank ye for supper, Rankin,” she said stiffly. “But I’m tired … and wish to retire.”
Cory snorted at this, while Gunn gave a grating laugh, one that vibrated against the wood paneling surrounding them.
Meanwhile, a lazy smile tugged at Rankin’s mouth. “Keen for a tumble, are ye?”
Her heart started to pound. “No.” The word came out in a panicked wheeze.
Rankin set his own cup down, his gaze capturing hers once more. “Oh, but I am.”
“Our captain enjoys the lasses,” Cory quipped with a grin. “I doubt ye’ll get much rest tonight.”
“Aye, ye’ll be walking bow-legged by morning,” Gunn added with a leer.
Liza made a strangled noise, her fingers grabbing the edge of the table. “Ye are all pigs,” she gasped, the blood thundering in her ears.