16 OUT OF HER DEPTH
STANDING IN THE BARMKIN, a salt-laced breeze tugging at her loosely braided hair, Liza viewed the ten warriors the pirates had dragged from the dungeon pit and brought before her.
They were a bloodied lot—they hadn’t given up without a fight, it seemed—and most of them glowered at her. She knew she must present quite a sight, standing before them, her husband’s dirk buckled around her hips.
She wouldn’t go anywhere without it now.
The dagger bolstered her confidence. No one would know how fast her heart was beating, or that sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Her skin prickled under such hostile glares, although she did her best to ignore them. She hadn’t expected this to be easy. Of course, it didn’t help that the pirates had hauled the captive guards out here, or that Alec Rankin stood a few feet behind her now. Her new bodyguard.
Squaring her shoulders, she decided it was best to get to the point.
“I don’t expect any of ye to be happy about this,” she began, her gaze sweeping over their faces. “But it was necessary.”
The man nearest muttered a curse under his breath and spat on the ground.
Liza ignored him, even as her pulse started to hammer in her ears. His aggressive manner reminded her of Leod.
Hold fast, Liza , she counseled herself. Pretend ye are a woman to be reckoned with … like Makenna . Indeed, her younger sister would face down any man, with a gimlet stare. And if a glare didn’t do the trick, she wasn’t averse to a bit of violence. However, Liza wasn’t like her sister, and although she’d stood up for herself over the years, there was a part of her that feared men.
“What would ye do, if yer spouse trussed ye up like a Yuletide goose and left ye to die on a rock at sea?” she asked, grateful her voice remained steady. “If they stole yer son from ye?”
Silence followed these questions, although a few of the guards looked uncomfortable now. One or two stared down at their boots, their jaws tightening.
“Aye, ye know what Leod Maclean did … but none of ye stopped him.” Heat kindled in her belly as she remembered how she’d screamed, pleaded, for help on that fateful day. They’d all turned their backs on her. “Aye, he was a vicious bastard,” she continued, her voice catching. “I wasn’t the only one he bullied.” She drew in a deep breath then before letting it out slowly. “And that is why I shall spare yer lives.”
The guards exchanged wary glances. Some of them were sweating now as if they expected her to play a cruel trick on them.
But she wasn’t Leod. Liza’s father had brought her up to be firm but fair and to speak plainly. All the same, she could have done with her father’s solid, reassuring, presence by her side at present. “I offer ye a choice. Kneel before me now and swear yer fealty to the new laird of Moy … if not, ye are free to go.” She paused then, her heart lurching as some of the men’s gazes narrowed, before forcing herself to continue. “However, ye will no longer be welcome on my lands.”
“ Yer lands,” the warrior who’d spat—a hatched-faced man named Mal, whom she’d never liked—growled. “Listen to ye.” His hazel eyes glittered. “I’ll not take orders from a pirate’s whore .”
The men around Mal shifted uncomfortably. One or two even stepped back, as if distancing themselves from his words.
Mal glanced around him. “It’s true. I heard one of the pirates boasting last night,” he told his audience. “Rankin made bedding her part of the deal.”
Cold washed over Liza in an icy tide. Mother Mary, no .
She should have realized the pirates wouldn’t keep their mouths shut. Of course, Rankin likely hadn’t told them to. How would she be able to command respect here now?
Sensing her panic, Mal’s mouth twisted. “Aye, everyone knows what a slut ye are now.”
Behind her, she heard the rasp of steel against leather as Rankin drew his dirk. “Insult the lady again, and I’ll kill ye,” he said softly.
The chill drilled into Liza’s bones, panic cleaving her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She didn’t know how to respond, how to drag herself out of the hole Mal had just thrown her into. By the saints, she was out of her depth.
The warrior glared back at Rankin, a nerve flickering in his cheek.
Liza deliberately didn’t look the pirate captain’s way. She felt sick to her stomach, and as the coldness ebbed away, hot shame kindled deep in her chest. She noted that Rankin didn’t put them right; not that anyone here would believe him anyway. Of course, he couldn’t reveal his ruse before his crew, or he’d likely have a mutiny on his hands when he returned to The Blood Reiver .
When she didn’t speak, Rankin moved forward, his boots scuffing on cobbles. “Elizabetta Maclean is laird of Moy now … and if ye aren’t happy with that, ye can leave.” He paused then, his voice hardening as he continued. “Make yer choice … the offer won’t be repeated.”
Another silence followed before Rankin cleared his throat. “What do ye wish us to do, Lady Maclean?”
Steeling herself, Liza turned her head and met his eye. The steadiness of his gaze calmed her racing heart, and she swallowed. “Order yer men to untie their wrists.”
The captain shifted his focus to the pirates encircling the prisoners. “Do as she says.”
Casting her sidelong glances, as if they weren’t sure what game she was playing, the men complied. Moments later, the ropes were removed.
“Those who swear to follow the new laird of Moy shall now kneel,” Rankin announced. Liza’s belly clenched. She should be saying these things, yet her mind had suddenly gone blank. “And those who don’t can leave.”
A heavy silence fell in the barmkin, the wind sending dust devils dancing across the cobbles. A crowd had gathered around them, pale-faced kitchen assistants, servants, and maids emerging from the bakehouse and tower house to watch the scene unfold.
Liza couldn’t meet any of their gazes. All she could think about was that everyone knew she’d spent the night with Captain Rankin. They all thought she’d bartered her body for his help. The fire in her chest expanded then, heat climbing up her neck to her face.
The devil take her, all of Mull would know soon enough—including the Maclean clan-chief.
Moments passed, and like everyone else in the barmkin, she waited, watching as five of the guards slowly lowered themselves to one knee and bowed their heads. However, the remaining five—Mal among them—did not.
Instead, the warrior’s face twisted, and he spat on the cobbles between them once more. He minded his tongue this time though, his gaze flicking to Rankin. The pirate hadn’t yet sheathed his dirk.
Wordlessly, those who hadn’t knelt shifted back toward the gates. Their faces were taut, and they glanced around as if expecting the gathered pirates, who watched them hungrily, to pounce.
But Rankin’s crew let them leave unmolested.
And when they’d departed, Liza surreptitiously wiped her damp palms on her surcote. Heart still pounding, she turned back to Rankin. He was watching her expectantly.
“Give them back their dirks,” she ordered, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky.
The captain raised a tawny eyebrow. “Are ye sure?”
She nodded, even as her mouth went dry. She wasn’t certain at all, but she had to do something or the servants and guards looking on would think a lackwit had taken over this castle.
Rankin glanced over at his men. “Ye heard the lady. Do as she bids.”
The pirates obeyed, handing the warriors their dirk belts.
Liza waited while, still kneeling in front of her, they strapped them around their hips, before speaking once more. “Draw yer dirks.”
The scrape of steel rang across the barmkin as they complied.
“Raise yer gazes.”
They did, and Liza’s skin prickled under their stares. As a bairn, she’d seen men sink to their knees and swear oaths to the MacGregor clan-chief. She’d never forgotten how proud she’d felt to have such a strong, powerful father. Now, she desperately grasped for some of his gravitas. “Do ye swear by yer own blades, to give me yer fealty and pledge yer loyalty to the new laird of Moy?” she asked huskily. “Do ye swear that, if yer hand shall ever be raised against me in rebellion, the steel ye carry shall pierce yer heart?”
A heartbeat of silence followed before a gruff chorus of ‘ayes’ answered her.
Liza cleared her throat, forcing herself to finish. “And I, Liza Maclean, laird of Moy, accept yer oath.”
“How are ye bearing up?”
Liza glanced up from where she was sitting at the window in the chieftain’s solar, a heavy ledger on her knee. The noon meal had just ended, and she’d settled herself here while Craeg played with wooden blocks by the fire.
But Alec Rankin’s arrival shattered her peace.
Stiffening, she cut him a frown. “Don’t ye know how to knock, Rankin?”
He responded with a shrug. “The door was open … I thought ye were accepting visitors.”
Meanwhile, Craeg had put down his blocks and was regarding the pirate curiously.
Liza pursed her lips, waiting for Rankin to remember his manners and leave. But as the moments passed, he didn’t.
Instead, his sea-green eyes fixed upon her. “I’m sorry about earlier … my crew have big mouths.”
Her jaw tightened. “I thought ye might tell them to keep their tongues leashed.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t without making them doubt me.”
Anger ignited in her belly, followed by the urge to lash out at him. After all, if he hadn’t been trying to fool his men into believing he’d coerced her into being bedded, she wouldn’t have ended up humiliated this morning.
But nor would she have had the most revealing, wild night of her life.
Cease this, immediately . She swiftly slapped away the traitorous thoughts that made her lower belly clench.
“Aye, well … thanks to them spreading gossip like fishwives, I’ve lost the respect of everyone in this castle … not to mention the nearby village.” A heavy weight settled across her shoulders at this admission. Suddenly, the task she’d set herself seemed overwhelming.
He snorted at this. “Ye don’t know that.” His gaze narrowed then. “Respect is earned, Liza … show them what a strong laird ye are.”
Liza swallowed hard. “I’m not doing a grand job of it so far. Lord knows what would have happened if ye hadn’t stepped in earlier”—she broke off as the humiliating scene revisited her— “and with a Guard of just five men, I can’t even protect my own castle.”
Rankin’s brow furrowed. His gaze slid to the ledger upon her knee then. “Any luck discovering where all that coin came from?”
She shook her head, grateful for the change of subject. “No … just the inventory I’d expect.” She motioned to the desk in the corner, where a stack of leather-bound volumes sat. “I’ve still got a few to work my way through.”
“Of course, Leod might not keep a ledger detailing secrets out in the open,” Alec pointed out. “Ye may want to try his bedchamber.”
Liza considered this. Curse him, he had a point. “I’ll have a look,” she replied, snapping the ledger shut. “Did yer visit this afternoon have a purpose?”
His mouth curved, letting her know that her blunt tone didn’t bother him. “Aye … I wanted to let ye know I’ve sent some of my men back, with the coin, to The Reiver . However, six of us will remain for the time being.”
She nodded, even as anxiety clutched at her chest.
“As ye pointed out, five guards aren’t enough,” he continued smoothly. “Ye will need to hire more. Shall I ask around in the village for ye?”
Liza stilled. Part of her wished to tell him that she would take care of the defenses of this castle. Nonetheless, today had knocked the confidence out of her. She was new to being laird, new to commanding men. She could learn much from Rankin before he departed and would be wise to do so. “Aye, I’d appreciate that,” she replied grudgingly.
“Nettie says ye are the captain of a pirate cog,” Craeg spoke up then. “Is that true?”
Rankin glanced over at the lad, who still crouched by the fire, staring up at him.
Discomfort shifted in Liza’s stomach. She didn’t like the awe upon her son’s face. Like most lads his age, he was looking for a hero—but he wouldn’t find one in Rankin.
“Aye, lad,” the captain replied with a smile. “She’s called The Blood Reiver.”
Craeg’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Is she fast?”
“Aye, she’s outrun many a clan-chief’s birlinn.”
Liza ground her teeth. Braggart.
“What color is her sail?”
“Emerald. Would ye like to see her?”
Craeg leaped up, wooden blocks scattering. “Aye!”
Liza set the ledger aside and pushed herself off the window seat. “Rankin,” she said sharply. “I don’t think—”
It was too late though, for the pirate had just swept her son into his arms. Then, balancing him on a hip, he carried him to the window. She noted he was no longer limping; the injury he’d sustained to his knee appeared to be on the mend. “There she is.”
Craeg gasped, his eager gaze seizing upon where the cog floated, bathed by bright sunlight. Her green sail was currently furled, but the bloody flag fluttered in a stiff breeze. “Where do ye travel?”
“Wherever the mood takes me.”
“To England?”
“Sometimes … I sailed the coast of northern France a few years ago.”
“And have ye been in many battles?”
Rankin laughed. “A few.”
“Come, Craeg.” Liza moved forward and took her son. However, she had to pry him off the captain, for Craeg clung to him like a barnacle. “Captain Rankin is very busy … we mustn’t hold him up.”
She marked his wince as he handed Craeg back to her. Aye, she’d need to dress his forearm later as she’d promised.
“I always have time for ye, Liza,” Rankin replied, his cheek dimpling then as he grinned.
Liza shot him a warning look. She didn’t want this man talking to her son or influencing him in any way. A pirate could fill a bairn’s head with nonsense.
“All the same, we shall let ye get on with yer day,” she said, her tone cooling. “Ye have men to recruit on my behalf, have ye not?”