17 LET THIS BE
“WE’VE GOT VISITORS.”
Liza turned from where she’d been instructing the cook—a belligerent man who’d been giving her more trouble than usual of late—her brow furrowing as her gaze settled upon Captain Rankin.
“Who?”
“From the looks of the banners, it’s the Maclean clan-chief. A party is riding in from the north. They’ll be here soon.”
Liza’s belly flipped over.
The clan-chief.
Rankin didn’t look happy about this development either. Instead, his handsome face was almost stern. “Aye … news travels fast, it seems.”
Liza’s lips compressed. Indeed, she’d wager that Mal and his friends had taken off at a run after she dismissed them, heading straight for Duart.
Loch had come to deal with her personally.
Liza’s mouth went dry, her pulse fluttering. If only the clan-chief had given her more time. She’d spent the past week dealing with rebellious servants and sullen guards. She wasn’t ready to receive the Maclean.
Mastering her nerves, and the thoughts of impending doom that accompanied them, she cut her gaze back to the cook, who was watching her, dark brows knitted together. “Ye and I will continue this discussion later, Murdo,” she said firmly.
Murdo merely curled his lip in an expression that made her want to slap his face. She and the cook had often clashed in the past, but since her return to Moy, his disdain had been thinly veiled. Liza wouldn’t let him intimidate her though, and as such had taken to visiting the dour bastard every morning.
Turning her back on Murdo, Liza left the kitchen and stepped out into the barmkin. After a spell of sunny weather, a blanket of grey cloud had descended. The air this morning was damp and heavy, and she sucked it deep into her lungs to steady herself.
Glancing up at the walls, she spied some new faces. Rankin had surprised her by recruiting twelve lads from the village. They were all green and unskilled with a blade, but he’d started training them. Nonetheless, Rankin could only do so much with limited time. Any day now, he and his crewmates would pack up and set sail, and when they did, she’d truly be put to the test. She’d see then what those who served her really thought of their new laird, and whether they’d follow a woman.
Her stomach twisted, for she was beginning to fear they wouldn’t.
Glancing over at where Rankin had stepped up to her shoulder—while the thunder of approaching hoofbeats warned that the clan-chief was just moments from bursting into the barmkin—she met his eye.
“Courage, Liza,” he murmured. “Loch is a fair man.”
Her pulse jolted. Curse Rankin, somehow, he’d sensed her rising panic. The man paid too much attention to her. “Aye,” she managed roughly. “But Lord knows what Mal and the others told him.”
Rankin’s gaze never wavered, even if she marked the shadow in it. “And ye will put him straight. Nothing happened between us, remember? Loch’s spared ye a trip to Duart … for ye intended to speak to him anyway.”
“I know, but—”
Their conversation was cut short then, by the sight of a powerful bay courser entering the barmkin. A broad-shouldered man with long dark hair and a beard trimmed close to his jaw rode it, a clan-sash—the red Maclean plaid—across the front of his padded gambeson.
Loch Maclean led his escort into the fortress. The clan-chief was a striking man; Liza could see why he’d turned his wife, Mairi’s, head, but right now, his brow was marred by a deep scowl.
Her breathing grew rapid and shallow.
Hell’s teeth, this wasn’t going to end well for her.
A company of men clattered into the barmkin after the clan-chief and drew their horses up either side of him. Liza recognized one of them, a lean man with sharp features and mussed light-brown hair: Finn MacDonald, Captain of the Duart Guard. Like his clan-chief’s, MacDonald’s expression was grim this morning.
Meanwhile, Loch’s gaze narrowed further as his attention settled on Liza. A heartbeat later, he shifted his focus to Rankin, and his mouth pursed. “What’s this, Alec? Ye’ve taken to murdering my chieftains?”
Liza’s stomach clenched. How typical. She was the laird here, and yet the clan-chief addressed the pirate first. A crowd gathered in the barmkin now as servants stopped work to get a look at the clan-chief. She could feel their gazes upon her, eagerly awaiting her humiliation.
Hot, prickling embarrassment swept over Liza, as she anticipated giving them another spectacle to gossip over, before something gave way inside her. She forgot her fear then, indignation rising in her breast. The past week had been a trial. She was tired of being sneered at and undermined.
“Go back to work.” Her voice rang against stone as she swept her gaze over the gathering servants, daring them to defy her. A strained silence followed before they reluctantly obeyed, drifting away and leaving Liza and Alec to face the clan-chief alone.
Pulse thumping in her ears, she focused on Loch once more. She had his attention now, at least. He was staring at her, his dark brows knitted together. “He did it on my orders,” she said, her voice louder than she’d intended. “We made an agreement … and he honored it.”
Silence followed these words before the clan-chief swung down from the back of his courser. He then moved forward, stopping when they were only a couple of feet apart. He was a big man, looming over her. “Aye,” he growled. “I’ve heard all about the arrangement ye made with Rankin.”
Standing before the hearth in the laird’s solar, Liza eyed the three men who’d accompanied her upstairs.
She’d surprised herself again outdoors by raising her chin—even as her heart slammed against her ribs—and holding Loch’s eye. “This isn’t the place to talk about such things, Maclean,” she’d replied, relieved that her nerve held. “I shall wait for ye upstairs.”
Then, before Loch could reply, she’d turned on her heel and stalked back into the tower house. Her own audacity had astounded her, yet here they were, a short while later—alone. Although she’d sent the guards, servants, and stable lads back to work earlier, she still didn’t want to have this conversation out in the barmkin where they risked being overheard.
Unfortunately, though, Loch Maclean didn’t look any happier than before. His brow furrowed as he leaned against the window ledge and regarded her.
Folding her arms across her chest, she held his eye. “Ye know what Leod did to me, I assume?” Loch’s expression tightened at this, his dark-brown eyes shadowing as she continued, “He tied me up and left me to die on that rock.”
“Ye should have come to me,” he shot back. “I’d have dealt out justice.”
Liza’s pulse fluttered. Swallowing hard, she tilted her chin higher. She wouldn’t look away. “I didn’t think ye would,” she replied, her voice catching. “I thought ye’d take yer chieftain’s word over mine … that he’d tell ye I was a madwoman, and ye’d believe him.”
A muscle feathered in his jaw.
“Deny it,” she said roughly. “Men always stick together, don’t they?”
A few feet from the clan-chief, MacDonald murmured an oath under his breath.
Eventually, Loch answered. “Ye have been ill-treated … I see that.”
Liza didn’t respond, even as her throat grew tight, and her eyes began to burn. No, she wouldn’t humiliate herself by weeping. She needed to stay strong. For her people. For her son. Upon re-entering the tower house, she’d bidden Nettie to take Craeg into the lady’s solar and play with him for a while, for she didn’t want her son to overhear this conversation. “I took my revenge on a man who wronged me,” she pushed on, clenching her hands at her sides. “Will ye punish me for it?”
There wasn’t any point in avoiding this subject. She had to know.
Rankin had told her to set the clan-chief straight about the fact he hadn’t coerced her into lying with him, but something inside her quailed at telling Loch so. Instead, she focused on the real issue: the fact she’d had her husband murdered and taken his place as laird.
Loch continued to stare at her for a moment longer before muttering a curse. “Ye deserve punishment, Liza. I can’t have pirates storming my castles and putting my chieftains to the sword … or forcing women into their beds.” His attention snapped to where Rankin stood by the closed door to the solar. “What’s wrong, Alec … have ye lost yer tongue?”
The pirate captain’s mouth curved into a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No … I was letting the lady speak for herself,” he replied. “But since she hasn’t enlightened ye, I shall.” He paused then, his gaze narrowing, while Liza’s pulse took off at a canter. Lord, here we go . “The rumors that reached ye were wrong. I didn’t coerce Lady Maclean into lying with me. It was nothing but a ruse.”
Loch’s dark eyes glinted. “Ye expect me to believe this?”
“It’s the truth.” The words rushed out of Liza. “As soon as we were alone together, Rankin assured me he wouldn’t touch me.”
“I’ve been having trouble with my crew,” the pirate added. “Ever since I allied myself with ye.” He paused then, grimacing. “Pirates are fickle bastards … I needed to do something to get them back on side.”
Loch’s mouth pursed once more, an expression he seemed to make whenever something vexed him. His hard gaze, still fixed upon Rankin, made it clear he wasn’t impressed. “Whether or not ye forced Lady Maclean into yer bed, the fact remains that ye have ruined her reputation,” he growled.
Liza couldn’t help it, she snorted. Her reaction made Loch’s attention snap her way, but she didn’t let his withering glare cow her. “I’ve just had my husband murdered,” she pointed out. “Whether or not everyone on this isle thinks I’m a pirate’s wench matters not now, does it?”
A surprised silence followed these words.
Rankin broke it, his mouth curving into a rueful smile. “I did ye a favor in getting rid of Leod Maclean.” He nodded to Liza then. “We both know his wife will make a far better laird.”
“That’s not yer decision to make,” Loch shot back, his temper fraying. “Ye took advantage of a desperate woman.”
Rankin shrugged, even as his sea-blue eyes narrowed. Suddenly, the air inside the solar turned charged, as if a storm were just about to break overhead. “The lady offered me a job, and I took it.”
Loch pushed himself up off the window ledge. His hand then strayed to the hilt of his dirk, and he took a menacing step toward the pirate captain. “Aye, so ye could line yer own pockets.” Violence sparked in his eyes. “Now, ye shall pay.”
Rankin moved forward to face him, as he reached for his own weapon.
Without thinking, Liza stepped in between them. She raised her hand then, placing it upon Loch’s chest. “Stop,” she gasped. “This was entirely my choice, Loch … he wanted to take me to ye, but I refused.”
Loch’s gaze jerked to her. “Christ’s blood, woman. Ye’d defend him?”
Liza’s pulse beat a tattoo against her breastbone. “I don’t want any more blood spilled because of me,” she whispered while she kept her palm pressed against his chest. “ Please , Loch. Let this be.”
Moments slid by, and then Loch’s face twisted in disgust, and he stepped back. Liza’s hand fell away, and she moved aside. She could feel Rankin’s gaze boring into her, yet she refused to meet his eye.
“Ye are a fool to have lingered here.” Loch turned his attention to the pirate captain once more. “Ye should have taken yer blood-soaked coin and sailed off.”
“Lady Maclean couldn’t hold this castle without help,” Rankin replied, his tone wintry now. “I promised her I'd stay until she found her feet.”
Liza did glance his way then. There was a coiled tension in his body. His hand still rested upon the grip of his dirk. “Rankin has helped me,” she admitted, focusing on Loch again. “He’s recruited men to my Guard and has started training them. His pirates stand watch over Moy’s walls at night.”
Loch’s glower didn’t soften at these words, and Liza’s pulse fluttered. “Aye, yer chieftain is dead … but I’m to blame,” she pushed on, a little shakily now as she clung to her courage. “And what’s more, I’m not sorry. Leod tried to kill me, and I paid him back.”
“Ye took justice into yer own hands, woman,” Loch ground out. “I should string ye up by yer neck from the walls as a warning to others.”
Liza’s bowels cramped at this threat, her bravery crumbling. Loch Maclean’s wrath was terrifying to behold.
Another silence fell in the solar, and she clenched her fists by her sides, waiting for the clan-chief to sentence her.
I’m sorry, Craeg . She started to sweat as she imagined her son’s stricken face at the sight of his mother’s corpse hanging from the castle walls. I’ve failed ye.
“Leod Maclean was a secretive bastard,” Rankin spoke up then. His tone was veiled, yet reassuringly calm. He’d been angry earlier, but Loch’s threats didn’t appear to have scared him as they had Liza. “Ye didn’t know him as well as ye think … and his widow has some news regarding his affairs that might interest ye.”
Loch folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, aye?”