Chapter Six #2
Elise closed her eyes. Well, that was the end of that plan.
There was no way she was going to put Rose and Jenna in danger just because she felt out of her depth.
No, Jamie was right. She was the one Lir had brought here.
She was the one needed for this job. She only wished she had the first clue where to start.
Jamie cleared his throat and then spoke haltingly. “Listen. I willnae hold ye to any bargain ye made with the goddess, regardless of what she sent ye here to do. These attacks…they have been beyond any of us.”
The words were obviously meant to be comforting, but they had the opposite effect.
Elise turned to glare at him. The attacks were too much for any of them, were they?
Meaning quite clearly that Jamie thought that they were also too much for her.
That famous MacFinnan stubbornness welled up.
Who did he think he was? How dare he suggest she wasn’t up to this?
All right, she suspected she wasn’t up to this, but that didn’t mean she was going to put up with such sentiments from anyone else!
She scowled at him. “I’ll need as much information as you can give me on where these attacks are happening.
A list of dates and times, if you have them.
Inventories of what was stolen. Details of significant events that coincided with any of the attacks.
Even the smallest detail might prove important. ”
Jamie blinked. “Why? What do ye hope to discover? I dinna see how any of that would help.”
Elise pressed her lips into a tight, flat line. “Do I tell you how to go about being a laird? No, I don’t. So please don’t try to tell me how to go about being a MacFinnan spellweaver. Can you get me that information or not?”
She was winging it. In all honesty, she had no idea what she was even looking for. But she had to start somewhere. Perhaps she’d find something hidden in that information that would give her a clue.
Jamie held up his hands. “My apologies, lass. Aye, I can get ye that information. Or Phillip can, anyway. Ask him. He’ll give ye whatever ye need.”
Elise nodded tightly. “All right. I will.”
Jamie studied her for a moment, his eyes locked on hers.
She felt a flush go down her neck. Damn him.
Did he have to look at her like that? She cleared her throat and stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust from the skirt of her dress.
“Right. Well. I’d better get to it. MacFinnan spellweaving waits for no woman. ”
Jamie rose as well. “Whatever ye need, it is yers,” he said softly. “All ye need do is ask.”
Really? she thought. Even if what I need is a certain laird?
She nodded tightly, then without another word, turned and strode away.
*
“Tell me everything,” Jamie said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Before him, his ship captains shifted uneasily. They glanced at each other, unsettled by Jamie’s mood and what they’d seen today. He could hardly blame them.
Beyond where they sat on barrels by the quayside, Islay’s harbor stretched like a piece of polished glass, its smoothness belying the violence that had been done on the waters just beyond. How could it look so peaceful when so much blood had been spilled?
He forced his attention back to the men seated around him. After speaking to Elise, Jamie had come down to the harbor to consult with his captains personally. He’d hoped they might have information that had been missing from the report.
So far, he’d turned up nothing. His captains were as weary and frustrated as he was.
They had been run ragged trying to patrol Islay’s coast, trying to guard against attacks on villages and keep their shipments from becoming targets.
There were no better sailors than those of the Isles.
Every child grew up on the sea as much as on land.
Jamie himself could sail a boat almost before he could walk, and the captains of his fleet were the best the Isles had to offer.
And yet it made no difference. Despite their skill, despite their renowned seamanship, the pirates still ran rings around them. It made no sense. How did the pirates always know where Jamie’s cargo ships were going to be? And how were they able to disappear so completely after they’d attacked?
“It was the same as it always is,” Roger Beaufort growled in his rough, half-Scottish, half-French brogue.
Around Jamie’s age, and one of the best captains Islay had ever produced, Jamie could hear the simmering fury in the man’s voice.
“They surrounded the Sea Star, launched an attack without warning, seized all the goods and everyone aboard, then disappeared like a puff of smoke.”
“And ye’ve been out to the Sea Star?” Jamie demanded. “Ye’ve seen the wreckage?”
“Aye. She’s listing badly but was still afloat when we went to investigate.”
Jamie chewed this over. He didn’t like feeling helpless. He had to do something. He fixed his gaze on Roger. “Could she be salvaged?”
The man blinked in surprise. “Maybe. But it would take at least three ships for the task, and that would mean three fewer ships patrolling Islay’s defenses. All to salvage what might turn out to be nothing more than a heap of firewood.”
The rational, logical part of Jamie knew that Roger was right.
When weighing up the risks and benefits, salvaging the Sea Star was a bad idea.
Yet the irrational part of him was consumed by the need to do something.
Rage and helplessness boiled beneath his skin. If he didn’t act, he would go insane.
“Ready the ships,” he ordered his captains. “We sail at first light on the morning tide.”