12 DISTRACTIONS
ALEC WELCOMED THE rhythmic splash of the oars churning through the water. Seated at the bow of the rowboat, looking forward at where Moy’s tower house jutted against a blue sky, he tried not to think about the situation he’d willingly tangled himself up in—or the woman who’d hired him to kill her husband.
The siren who’d asked him to bed her the night before.
Careful, lad, he warned himself . Don’t let her distract ye.
He’d never tumbled a woman like Liza before—a clan-chief’s daughter … a laird’s wife. It wasn’t just their difference in rank that made their coupling so explosive though, but her response to him. He’d been intent on giving her a night to remember. However, in the end, it was he who’d never forget it.
Irritation spiked through his chest then, and he shoved Liza from his thoughts. Enough of this nonsense . Aye, thinking about the woman who’d hired him, allowing memories of the night before to muddle his mind, was a recipe for disaster.
It was a sure way to get himself killed.
Leod Maclean was a hardened warrior and not a man to be taken down easily. Alec would have to strike fast. He’d need to remember why he was doing this.
For bag loads of coin from the chieftain’s strongroom.
The boat reached the shallows then, and Alec’s men leaped down and towed the craft to shore. Stepping onto the strand, pebbles crunching underfoot, Alec looked up at the high walls of Moy Castle towering above him.
The fortress cast a long shadow.
His gaze narrowed then. He’d never been this close to the castle before and hadn’t realized it was in such a poor state of repair. The walls were crumbling in places, and tufts of grass were growing in between the stones. Moy had an unloved look.
Maybe Maclean’s strongroom isn’t crammed with coin, after all.
The worry wreathed up, but he dismissed it. Liza wouldn’t have lied to him.
She might have. Ye don’t know the woman at all.
Clenching his jaw, Alec dismissed the nagging voice in his head once more and focused on the castle before him.
It was nearing noon. He’d taken Liza’s advice and arrived while the laird was likely to be at home. Smoke from the cookfires rose lazily into the sky, and the aroma of roasting mutton drifted out from the keep.
“Smells like we’re just in time for the noon meal,” Gunn quipped from behind him.
Alec harrumphed. “Always thinking of yer belly.”
“Ye’ll be able to fill it after we take the castle,” Cory reminded the second mate.
“Aye … we all shall,” Alec murmured. His gaze had shifted now, traveling left to the thatched and sod roofs of Lochbuie village. The shrill voice of a woman, likely telling off her bairns, reached them then, and the clang of iron told him a smith was hard at work.
“A bit shabby, isn’t it?” One of the men grumbled.
“Aye,” Alec replied, deliberately not looking his way. “Maclean is a miser, by all accounts.”
“Better for us then,” Cory replied.
Alec certainly hoped so. He glanced over his shoulder, surveying the five pirates he’d brought with him. “See that top window?” He paused, waiting for ‘ayes’ to follow. “That’s the laird’s solar. When Maclean’s dead, I’ll wave this” —he patted the sash of red cloth he’d tied around his waist— “to let ye know it’s time.” He glanced right then at the oakwood that hugged the water’s edge. “The others will be here shortly.”
“We’ll all be waiting, Captain,” Cory assured him, his keen gaze glinting.
Alec nodded. “Good … strike fast. Don’t give them time to close the gates.”
He knew he could count on his first mate. He wasn’t so sure about the other four though, or the five men who were currently making their way, in stealth, toward them along the eastern shore of the loch. Aye, they were impressed by his ruthlessness the night before—and had welcomed his change of plans—but how long would that last? At least the promise of considerable loot would keep them loyal, for the time being.
Turning, Alec picked his way across the swathe of stones to the path leading up to the gates, where warriors, their chainmail vests glinting in the sun, watched him. Aye, their arrival had been noted.
“What brings ye to Moy, Rankin?”
Standing in the castle’s barmkin, Alec’s gaze rested upon the big man who stood before him on the steps leading into the tower house. Leod Maclean’s stone-hewn face was even harder than he remembered it, and his dark gaze wasn’t friendly.
“I have news for ye, Maclean,” Alec replied, flashing the laird an easy grin.
All the while, he was aware of stares boring into him from all directions. Nonetheless, they could see he’d left his men behind on the shore and was unarmed.
Four guards at the open gates. Ten on the walls. And another three standing nearby in the barmkin. Aye, he’d counted them all.
There’d be others too, of course, but he and his crew would deal with them. Those who didn’t kneel before the new laird of Moy Castle and swear fealty to her would die.
Don’t be hasty , Alec cautioned himself then. First, ye must cut off the head of the snake.
His words hadn’t softened Maclean’s grim face. Instead, he folded muscular arms across his broad chest, his mouth puckering as if he’d just tasted vinegar. “Let’s hear it then.”
“It’s about the MacDonalds of Sleat,” Alec replied smoothly. He then cast a glance around him, a smile still lingering on his lips. “However, the information I bring is … sensitive. Best we speak of it in private.”
Leod Maclean’s black brows crashed together, a heavy silence dropping in the barmkin.
Meanwhile, a fowl pecked at the dirt nearby, helping itself to the last of the barley a lass had been scattering when Alec entered. Moy Castle wasn’t in a good state inside the walls either. Food scraps and animal dung littered the barmkin, and the air reeked of horse piss.
Watching the chieftain’s face, Alec hoped the information Liza had given him, on the recent skirmish between the MacDonalds of Sleat and the Macleans of Moy, would be enough to sway him. It was the best excuse they’d been able to come up with.
“Has Aonghas MacDonald been stirring up trouble again?” Maclean finally growled.
“Not the clan-chief but his son, Callum. He and I shared an ale or two in Oban yesterday,” Alec replied. “He said a few things ye might be interested in.”
Maclean’s eyes gleamed at that, and Alec knew he had him. “Oh, aye?”
Alec nodded yet said nothing else. The laird would have to invite him upstairs, to his solar, to hear the rest.
Moments passed, and then Maclean huffed an irritated sigh. Stepping back, he jerked his chin toward the door behind him. “Come on then, Rankin. Ye’d better not be about to waste my time.”
Swallowing a smile, Alec followed him.
They entered the tower house, stepping into a square smoky hall. To the right-hand side, stone steps led upstairs.
Servants bustled about, placing trenchers on long trestle tables, and readying the hall for the noon meal. A huge hearth burned at the far end, and before it, playing with what looked like a wooden horse, was a lad of around five winters.
One look at him, and Alec knew this was Craeg, Liza’s son.
He didn’t favor his father at all. Instead, he had his mother’s dark hair with its red highlights, and her sun-kissed skin and large night-brown eyes. Glancing up as the laird and his guest entered, the lad’s fingers clutched nervously around his toy, as if expecting a reprimand. He wasn’t disappointed.
“What are ye doing down here?” Maclean snarled, not breaking his stride. “Rolling on the floor like one of the dogs.” The lad blanched, his throat convulsing as the laird continued, “Get upstairs before I put my boot up yer arse!”
Maclean took the steps two at a time, impatience bristling off him.
Alec easily kept pace with him, following him to the third floor.
As Liza had told him, the laird’s solar faced south. Alec stepped into a comfortable space, where deerskins covered scrubbed wooden floorboards and a magnificent stag’s head hung over the hearth. Axes and shields decorated the stone walls, and two highbacked wooden chairs flanked the fireplace, where a lump of peat gently glowed. It was the only part of the castle he’d seen so far that didn’t look neglected.
Maclean didn’t take a seat, and he didn’t suggest his guest took one either. Nor did he offer him a cup of wine as Alec had hoped.
Inhospitable turd . It was customary to always offer one’s guest a drink, and Alec had been planning to strike the moment the laird’s back was turned.
Now, he’d have to come up with another distraction.
The laird was making him earn his coin.
“Talk,” Maclean demanded, folding his arms over his chest once more.
Alec mirrored his stance. “What did ye do to vex Aonghus MacDonald so?”
The laird’s lip curled. “His men deliberately provoked mine at a gathering last year.” His gaze narrowed then. “Didn’t his son tell ye that?”
“He did,” Alec replied. “But I thought there might be more to his story … considering what Callum is planning.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’d better start at the beginning, Maclean … Callum picked up yer wife from a rock at sea on his way to Oban, around two days ago.”
Leod Maclean’s eyes snapped wide, his big frame going rigid. A heavy silence followed before he asked, “Dead?”
Alec gave a low laugh. “No, very much alive … and saying that her husband abandoned her there.”
A nerve ticked in Maclean’s cheek, yet he didn’t reply.
“It seems Callum MacDonald is the gallant sort. Yer wife has convinced him that ye are a fiend … and he’s on his way to cut yer throat to avenge her.”
Another silence followed, and Maclean’s arms dropped to his sides, his meaty hands clenching into fists. “Meddling whoreson,” he ground out. “How dare he?”
“MacDonald feels he has righteousness on his side … that and he’s besotted. Word is that yer wife seduced him.”
Maclean snorted at this, his face screwing up. “That useless bitch couldn’t seduce a wet-behind-the-ears lad desperate to hump his first woman.”
Heat flared in Alec’s gut. Ye shall regret speaking of her like that . This was personal now. He was going to enjoy spilling Maclean’s blood. Masking his reaction, he gave an indolent shrug. “Be that as it may, he’s coming for ye … a birlinn, sixty warriors strong, would have left Oban shortly after we did this morning.” Alec flashed him a hard smile then. “Fear not though … if ye are willing to part with some coin, me and my crew will join yer men and defend this castle.”