Chapter Three
Gazing through the narrow window of the council chamber, Jamie studied the sea stretching out to the horizon.
It was dotted with small fishing vessels along with a couple of Jamie’s larger ships on patrol.
Had it really come to this? Wasting time and resources guarding his fishing fleet so it wasn’t attacked within his own waters?
It was galling.
His gaze fell to the scroll which Phillip had left on the table.
With a growl of annoyance, he scooped it up.
None too gently, he rolled it onto the table and pinned it down with his empty cup.
The words carefully written on the page spoke of doom.
His doom. They spoke of shackling himself to a future he didn’t want, of condemning himself to a life just like that of his parents’: empty of love, passion, warmth.
There had only ever been one woman who had stirred his blood, even though he’d only known her for a short time.
That woman was sister to Rose MacFinnan, Lady of Barra, and he’d met her when he’d attended Rose MacFinnan’s wedding to Cailean, his friend and vassal.
Elise MacFinnan, Rose’s sister.
She’d been like gunpowder exploding into his life.
She was confident, bold, and not in the least cowed by his rank, and he’d spent the evening verbally sparring with her and found her company and conversation refreshing in the extreme.
Since that evening he’d found himself thinking about her all the time and had even sent word to Barra to discover where she might be.
The message he’d received back saying she’d gone home and was no longer on the island had been like a punch to the gut.
Elise MacFinnan. Even thinking her name sent a shiver right through him.
With an effort, he dragged his thoughts back and focused on the words written on the scroll. They were plain and simple: setting out his obligations as part of the marriage contract along with the obligations of the king of Scotland.
It was a business transaction. He doubted Lady Margaret had even been consulted. As with all noblewomen, she would have little say in her marriage, and it would be decided for her by her male relatives. Such was the way of things.
If he did marry her, would she grow to like him? Perhaps even love him? He doubted it. His mother’s feelings for his father had never softened beyond open hostility. It had not made for a happy household or a happy childhood.
His grip tightened, scrunching the parchment in his hand. No. He could not do it. Not to his people. Not to himself.
Tossing the parchment across the table, he hunched forward and clasped his hands together. He wasn’t normally one for praying, but he had few options left.
“Help us,” he whispered. “Help me keep my people safe. I beg of ye.”
He didn’t know who he was praying to, nor did he expect an answer.
So he jumped in startlement when a sudden wind whipped through the room as if the window had been thrown wide open.
The wind carried the smell of the sea and the sound of crashing waves as it tossed the parchment onto the floor and whipped Jamie’s hair around his face.
Then it was gone.
Jamie looked up to find a woman standing before him. Tall, slender, with long hair past her waist, she wore an opalescent gown that reminded Jamie of the inside of a seashell.
His hand flew to his dagger, and he bolted from his chair, sending it toppling over backwards. “What in Heaven’s name?”
The woman cocked her head as she regarded him. Her eyes, he saw, were orbs of purest silver with no iris or pupil to speak of. A tremor of fear slid down his spine.
“Heaven’s name?” she said lightly, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Hardly. I come in my own name.”
“Who…who are ye?” he stammered. “Where did ye come from?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I would have thought that was obvious, seeing as how ye just called me.”
Jamie blinked. His brain seemed to be struggling to work. Had this woman truly appeared from nowhere? “Called ye? I didnae call ye!”
The eyebrow rose further. “Did ye not? I could have sworn I heard ye asking for help to save yer people.”
Jamie froze. Slowly, he released his grip on his dagger and let out a long, slow breath.
He studied the woman. The opalescent gown.
The long, wet hair, the silver eyes. He’d heard tell of a being just like that over on Barra and Skye, a being who was said to appear when things were at their most dire.
He’d only half believed the tales, and yet here he was, confronted by such a one. Those tales had whispered a name.
“Lir,” he breathed. “Ye are the goddess Lir.”
A pleased expression softened her features, and she smiled. “Ah, so ye havnae completely forgotten the old ways? Aye, I am Lir. And I’ve come in answer to yer call.”
Jamie felt a faint stirring of something like hope deep in his gut. “Ye have? Ye can help us? Ye will drive the pirates away?” Sudden excitement warmed his blood. “Ye could stir the sea to destroy their ships! Or call up a storm to blow them back to whatever hell they came from, or—”
But Lir was shaking her head. “That isnae how these things work. I canna interfere in worldly events. Not directly.”
He blinked in confusion. “What? But ye are a goddess! Ye can do whatever ye wish.”
A faint, ironic smile curled her lips. “Do ye think so? It might seem that way to mortal kind, but it isnae the truth.” She held up a hand to forestall any further protest. “My kind are bound by rules, and one of those rules states that we canna interfere directly with the human world. Can ye imagine the chaos if we did? No, instead we can only act indirectly: a word here, a nudge there. And by bringing people together who might help each other.”
Jamie eyed her dubiously. “And who is it that could help me?”
Lir’s mouth quirked in a small smile, such an oddly human gesture on her inhuman face. “That is for ye to discover, my laird. To find yer answer, ye must return to where it all began.”
Suddenly, the wind whipped up again, so strongly that Jamie had to shield his eyes with his arm.
When it faded, Lir was gone. He was alone in the room with nothing to indicate that the goddess had ever been there.
Had he dreamt the whole thing? But no, the room was still in disarray from the unnatural wind, and the back of his neck still tingled from the oddness of the encounter.
He strode to the window and looked out, not quite sure what he was expecting to see. The sea stretched to the horizon, the sounds of the keep echoing up from below. There was nothing to indicate he’d just had a conversation with a goddess.
He stooped and picked up the marriage contract from where it had fallen to the floor.
A word here, a nudge there. And by bringing people together who might help each other.
It was an infuriating hint. Why couldn’t she have just said what she meant?
To find yer answer, ye must go back to where it all began.
What was that supposed to mean? Where what began? Did she mean the pirate attacks?
Leaving the marriage contract unsigned on the table, he strode from the room. Checking his weapons were secure, he broke into an urgent jog.
Two hours later, Jamie pulled his horse to an abrupt halt, the beast’s big hooves sending up showers of mud. Around him, his men also reined in. In silence they slipped from their mounts, eased their weapons from scabbards, and proceeded on foot.
With quick hand signals, Jamie sent some of his men to the left, some to the right, to circle round to the beach from both directions. He walked straight on, flanked by his honor guard.
He glanced at the faces around him. They were all grim, determined.
After all, they had done this kind of thing countless times before.
Too many times, if truth be told. He wondered if there would ever be a time when his people were not caught in constant struggle, a time when he might be able to think of other things.
A wife. A family. Was that too much to ask for?
He scowled, pushing away such thoughts. Now was not the time for them.
Slowly, he and his men wove their way through the scrubby brush that bracketed the beach, placing their feet carefully so as not to tread on any sticks or dead branches and give away their position.
Eventually the scrub receded and they came out onto the wind-scoured dunes, crouching to avoid being seen.
Ahead of them, the dunes descended to a wide, horseshoe beach.
The tide was out, exposing the rock pools and kelp beds that would be under water later, and giving access to the huge shelf of rock that rose straight up out of the water at high tide.
This shelf of rock had once been a headland jutting out from the coastline but time and weather had eroded it so completely that part of it had collapsed, making it inaccessible from land except for now, at low tide.
It was riddled with caves. A perfect place for pirates to hide.
He squinted against the biting wind, trying to ignore the sand that blew into his face. Everything looked quiet, with nothing to suggest anything was amiss. There were no ships in the water, no marks in the sand that would indicate where a ship had been hauled up, no footprints of armed men.
Oh aye, it looked peaceful all right, but Jamie wasn’t about to be fooled by that.
Return to where it all started, Lir had told him, and that’s exactly what he’d done. This beach, and that spur of cave-riddled rock, was where all his troubles had begun.
It was from here that the pirates had first begun launching their attacks.
“What are yer orders, my laird?” Albie said. “Perhaps we should signal the attack, come at them from both sides.”
“No,” Jamie replied. “We dinna know what’s here yet.” He chewed his lip, eyes narrowing. “I’ll go take a look. Hold yer positions until I give the signal.”
Albie’s scowl told Jamie exactly what he thought of that order. “Not a chance. Ye canna go down there alone.”
“I can and I will,” Jamie growled. “I’ll not risk lives unless I have to. Wait here. Come only on my signal. Understood?”
Albie glared at him but then reluctantly nodded. “Aye, my laird.”
Jamie rose silently and then jogged down the far side of the sand dune and onto the beach. The wind whipped at him, sending his hair swirling around his head and the salt-tang burned his lips, but he squinted into the wind all the same, eyes fixed on the spur of rock.
As he approached, he found his grip tightening on his two-handed claymore.
Lir had sent him here, and while all the reports he’d heard of her suggested she was a friend to the Kingdom of the Isles, he wasn’t na?ve enough to think that gods and goddesses could be wholly trusted.
He’d seen too much, experienced too much, for that.
So, as he padded towards the dark maw that gave entrance to the honeycombed interior of the rock spur, he called upon the icy calm that he slipped into before battle.
Whatever he might find in there, he’d be prepared.