18 TURNING THE TABLES
A DEEP SILENCE settled in the chieftain’s solar while Loch Maclean sat at the desk and went through the ledger. Finn MacDonald stood at his shoulder, reading, his brow furrowed. Liza and Rankin waited together by the hearth.
Liza’s belly churned.
Indeed, as Rankin had suggested, she’d searched her dead husband’s bedchamber and discovered a ledger under his bed. And within, a list of income that had nothing to do with the wool he sold or the taxes he collected.
“He’s taken care not to label the source of these takings,” Loch said eventually, as he turned the final page of inventory. Liza was relieved to note that the anger had cooled in his voice. He hadn’t spoken again about executing her either.
“Aye,” MacDonald muttered. “He’s just used a series of initials … they could mean anything.”
“There’s a pattern to them though,” Rankin replied. “Most of them are in late spring and autumn … with a break during winter and high summer.”
Loch nodded. “And they started three years ago … a couple of months after our victory over the Mackinnons.”
“Leod wasn’t happy about how that all ended,” the pirate pointed out then. “Do ye recall?”
The clan-chief frowned, pushing himself up from the desk and striding over to the open window. “Aye … but I doubt this has any connection.”
“No?” A challenge crept into Rankin’s voice then. “The chieftain of Moy was vexed that ye spared Bran Mackinnon’s life … angry enough to conduct secret business and fill his strongroom full of coin he never shared with ye, if ye ask me.”
The words were blunt, and Loch’s spine stiffened.
Meanwhile, Liza’s pulse quickened. The last thing she wanted was for Rankin to vex the clan-chief again.
“Alec has a point,” MacDonald replied. He bent over the ledger then, his gaze narrowing as he leafed back through the entries. “How was he getting his hands on so much coin?”
Loch scowled. “Smuggling?”
“Perhaps.” MacDonald shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “But what?”
“I haven’t seen any goods being transported here,” Liza said. She cast her mind back over the past three years, trying to pick out a variation in her husband’s routine, something that might give them a clue. “However, over the past two years at least, he’s had a regular visitor.”
The clan-chief’s gaze fastened on her. “Who?”
“That’s the strange thing,” she murmured, recalling the rare occasions she’d glimpsed the man. “Usually, Leod hosted guests in his hall, and I’d pour wine for them … but not with this one. He met with him in here … and I was never invited to join them. I never heard his name.”
Loch’s jaw flexed. “Did ye get a look at him?”
Liza nodded. “A big man with wild dark hair, a beard, and heavy features. He dressed in worn leathers.”
MacDonald cursed. “That could describe half the men on this isle.”
Liza grimaced. “That’s all I remember, sorry.”
“Aye, well … I shall investigate this,” Loch replied, lowering himself onto the window seat. “In the meantime, I need to decide what to do about Moy Castle’s future … and ye, Liza.”
Dizziness swept over her. “Will ye hang me?” she asked huskily.
Loch huffed a sigh before sharing a look with his captain. A heavy pause followed, and then he swore under his breath. “I should.”
Her belly started to churn, and her mouth went dry. However, she held her tongue. Ye knew there was a risk of this , she reminded herself, even as her legs began to tremble. But ye didn’t care .
No, she hadn’t. All that had mattered was avenging herself on Leod and returning home to her son. She’d brushed worries of any consequences aside. But now, here they were, staring her in the face.
Fool , she railed at herself. Leod taught ye how men in power behave.
The silence swelled before Loch dragged a hand through his hair. “But I won’t.”
Liza’s breath whooshed out of her. She reached out then, steadying herself against the mantelpiece, for her legs had gone as weak as a newborn foal’s. She couldn’t believe it—maybe Loch wasn’t like her husband, after all. “In that case, I wish to remain here as laird.”
The clan-chief stared back at her, his dark eyes widening at her audacity.
Liza didn’t blame him. She’d shocked herself as well. The man had just spared her life, and here she was already making demands on him. However, the words slipped from her tongue before she could stop them. “I know lady lairds aren’t common … but I shall serve ye well, if ye put yer trust in me.”
His lip curled. “I’m not sure ye are worthy of my trust.”
“I am ,” she gasped, panic bubbling up once more. “Give me six months, Loch. Let me prove to ye I’m fit to rule Moy.”
His expression didn’t soften as he stared back at her. “And how do I benefit from such an arrangement?”
Liza dragged in a deep breath. “Leod has no brothers or cousins … there’s only his son to inherit. And as soon as Craeg comes of age, I am happy to step aside.”
“Aye … but that’s years away. I could easily find someone to act as steward until yer son is old enough.”
“Ye could … but the people here know me.” She didn’t admit that most of them viewed her with a jaundiced eye these days. “And I have plans to use some of that coin Leod hoarded to make Moy and Lochbuie thrive once more.” She paused then, aware that she was sweating heavily now. So much depended on this. “Ye have seen the poor state of the castle walls, the neglected crofts in the village. I swear to ye, I will see it all repaired.”
A crease etched between his eyebrows, although she marked the gleam of interest in his eyes. “And what of yer Guard, Liza? Even with yer recruits from the village, it’s sparse.”
“It will grow. I have sent word to nearby villages. More men will come. By summer’s end, we’ll have a full Guard once more.”
“But do ye have the stomach to lead them?” Loch countered, his voice hardening. “To rule requires difficult choices. Could ye order a man to be flogged or hanged, if necessary?”
Liza held his eye, even as her pulse went wild. “I paid a pirate to kill my husband. What do ye think?”
To her surprise, Loch Maclean snorted a humorless laugh. “God’s bones, woman.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Ye have a sharp tongue on ye.”
Liza frowned. She wasn’t sure whether the clan-chief was mocking her or not, and now braced herself for his scorn.
“Ye are no fazart, I’ll give ye that,” Loch continued then. “But ye’re still vulnerable here.” His chin jerked in Rankin’s direction. “He’ll be gone soon. Most men don’t like the idea of being ruled by a woman. Ye can’t trust yer local recruits not to turn on ye the moment the pirates raise anchor.”
“Ye could send someone ye trust?” she asked, her breathing growing shallow. Loch was considering letting her stay on, but she could feel him wavering. “Someone to ensure my men stay loyal.”
Loch weighed up her request then, his brow furrowing. “Very well,” he said finally. “But I will give ye just four months to prove yer worth.” Four months? Liza’s heart kicked against her ribcage at this announcement. How the devil would she achieve anything in that time? However, Loch plowed on. “And in the meantime, I will—”
“There’s no need to send anyone,” Rankin cut Loch off, his tone brusque. “I’ll do it.”
All gazes turned to him, and Alec gave himself a swift kick.
What have ye done?
Couldn’t he have kept his gob shut? Liza was doing an excellent job of negotiating her position with the clan-chief. All he had to do was let her secure the help she needed from Loch. He’d be off the hook then, free to sail away from Moy Castle without a backward glance.
But instead, he’d offered up his own services.
Loch’s piercing gaze bored into him. “Ye’ll do what , exactly?”
Alec stared him down. “I’ll stay at Moy Castle. I will captain the Guard … for as long as Lady Maclean needs me.”
His attention shifted to Liza then. She was staring at him, stunned.
“Why?” she whispered.
Alec’s heart started to pound. The devil’s turds, he’d just dug a great hole for himself. In truth, he wasn’t sure what had made him blurt the words out—only that he’d started to feel personally responsible for Liza Maclean. He couldn’t admit such a thing though. “Ye gave up much to take this castle,” he replied, wishing his voice wasn’t so rough. “Including yer reputation. I shall help ye regain it.”
Loch snorted.
Heat washed over Alec. He couldn’t blame Loch for deriding him. In his place, he’d have done the same.
“Christ’s teeth,” MacDonald murmured. “I do believe yer conscience is bothering ye, Rankin.”
Alec made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, not looking Finn’s way. “The reason doesn’t matter … it’s the offer that does.” He met Loch’s eye once more. “See this as my way of mending our relationship.” It struck him then that despite the animosity that had sparked between them during this meeting, Loch Maclean’s good opinion still mattered to him.
However, Loch pulled a face, making it clear that Alec would have to do better than that to regain his trust or respect.
“What about The Blood Reiver?” Finn pointed out then.
Alec’s stomach clenched. “She’ll set sail without me.”
“Ye would walk away from yer crew?” A deep groove had etched itself between Liza’s finely shaped brows. Her lovely brown eyes were still clouded with confusion. “I don’t understand ye, Rankin.”
He shrugged, wishing she’d change the subject. “They’ll survive just fine without me.”
Liza’s words back on The Reiver revisited him then. Ye will leave no legacy behind ye … nothing permanent to be remembered by. His gut hardened. He’d scoffed at the time—for his name as a notorious spùinneadair-mara would surely survive after him—yet something about her words had needled him ever since. And in the past week, the restlessness he’d been suffering for a while now had intensified. He felt strange, as if he’d just drawn in a deep breath and was still waiting to exhale. He was about to walk a different path, and it rattled him slightly.
But Liza was right. Maybe he did want to be remembered for something good—something besides piracy.
Loch cleared his throat. “Aye, well, ye could stand in for a while, I suppose,” he replied, his tone grudging. “The Ghost Raiders hit Craignure a few days ago … and I need all my men at present.”
Alec stiffened at this news. Craignure was a busy port village, a stone’s throw from Duart Castle. It was a bold target. “And are they demons aboard a phantom ship, as folk say?”
“I wasn’t there to witness the attack,” Loch replied frowning. “It took place on a foggy eve, so no one saw the cog approach. Its crew were all garbed in black hooded cloaks, horned sheep’s skulls covering their faces. However, demons or not, they ransacked the village … and carried off all the coin they got their hands on.”
“Since when do demons need earthly riches?” Alec asked.
“Exactly.”
“Even so, they killed the men who tried to stop them,” Finn added. “The villagers are still frightened … and the fishermen are refusing to go out.”
The clan-chief’s features tightened at his. Aye, it seemed that Loch did have his hands full. He glanced Liza’s way then. She stood there, still and pale, a muscle working in her clenched jaw.
“If ye wish to keep Rankin on to captain yer Guard for the time being, I’ll permit it,” Loch said then. “But the choice is yers.”
Silence fell once more in the solar. However, this time, the attention wasn’t upon Alec but on Liza.
To Alec’s surprise, he realized he was sweating.
Cods. He couldn’t help but think he’d just made a gesture that would merely end in his humiliation. He didn’t like how swiftly the tables had turned. Until now, he’d enjoyed a position of power, knowing that Liza relied upon his assistance.
Now though, she could throw it back in his face.
He couldn’t get angry at her for that though—he was the idiot who’d made the offer. As such, he braced himself to be spurned.
Liza favored Loch with a stiff nod before her gaze settled upon Alec.
He started to sweat under the hard look she was giving him. “Very well, Rankin,” she murmured finally. “Ye can stay on.”