Chieftain's Rebel

by Frances Housden

  If she had thought Rory had stopped listening to her, he proved her wrong with a shout, “Nae!” It was all she could do to ignore his impassioned protest.

  Hurting Rory wasnae part of her plan, merely an inescapable consequence that she refused to acknowledge. She met Rory’s eyes and flashed him a warning glance. “Grandfather has promised me a boat and some of the men to sail it. If we leave soon they willnae be so far ahead we cannae catch up with them afore they leave Orkney. Grandfather says they’re sure to go there on the way home, seeing as how they’re all friends, or mayhap conspirators.” She rushed on afore the others could interrupt, “The blame is mine. We welcomed Nils and folk frae Orkney like brothers and, like him, they turned on us. Envy is a dread taskmaster.”

  “If that’s the case, bonny lass, I’ll gang with ye. Mayhap we can sneak her away without losing ye in her stead.” Calder went to stand and finished up doubled o’er coughing.

  Rory thrust himself betwixt her and the tub, legs astride and chest out as if to prove a barrier betwixt her and Calder in the tub while all she noticed was the way his thighs filled the trous her brother had lent him. “I agree something needs to be done,” he said, “and quickly, but there’s nae way ye can go with her, Calder. Yer but half-alive yerself. What ye said about sneaking Gilda away has merit though.”

  At last Finn spoke up. He’d done naught so far but shake his head at her notion. “Ye can count on me. I should stand in for my grandfather.”

  “Nae.” She and Rory spoke together, of like minds, but she let Rory go first. “That’s the very reason ye shouldnae go. If aught happens to ye, Finn, whau will take yer place? Axel?”

  “He’s right, Finn.” She felt driven to agree with Rory. “Yer place is here. Mayhap we didnae lose as many as yon raiders whau came in the boats, but we lost more than we could easily spare. If aught happens to me, Axel will need a younger man than Grandfather to guide him and my latest efforts are nae what ye would call safe.”

  “That’s why ye can count on me, Ainsel.” Rory laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. How could he be so nice to her when she dare not let herself give in to the kind of persuasion she knew he could exert? Such as the way he said, “I’ll be there to keep ye safe, but we shouldnae go after him like a storm, expecting to sweep away everything in our path. We need to approach them like a sneaky wee draught on the back of yer neck at night—annoying.”

  Beside them, Calder groaned, “I want to join ye but yer both right: I’m not able,” and even that wee effort started him coughing again.

  If she didnae do aught to make certain Calder survived his night in the water, even when they brought Gilda home, her friend would hate her. “Finn, go find a healer for Calder while Rory and I fetch more hot water. What Calder needs is some of the aulder women to fuss round him, and we had better leave soon,” the tone of her voice as she finished making it clear there was nae room for concession.

  Ainsel could do nae other.

  Aye she had avoided telling Rory that even if his latest plan worked, they would ne’er be together. She’d wracked her brain since the day Rory and Calder arrived, and still she could see nae way she and Rory could share a life. As a shield-maiden, she could face a man with a sword in her hand, defend herself; but as a mother, she feared to tell Rory he had a son, since not even she could come up with a defence against that terrible a lie.

  Nae one had ever said Rory was stupid. Ainsel was like a different woman. The loving lass he had held in his arms had evaporated in the heat of battle. He might not approve of her decision to go and switch with Gilda, but she had to realise that MacLoughlin wouldnae look on such a notion with any favour.

  He had thought Ainsel would at least be keen to cuddle Axel afore she left, but nae, she marched straight outside frae the kitchen, leaving him calling after her, “Even if Finn cannae go with us, Ghillie can. I’ll fetch him frae the Hall on my way out.”

  Ghillie was in a place that had become a habit, sitting on the raised step afore Olaf’s chair. Rory had discovered his wee cousin enjoyed listening to Olaf’s tales of Caithness in the past, tales of the Jarl’s ancestors and theirs. In return, Ghillie related the stories Nhaimeth and Rowena had told him. Olaf sat with one hand on the big stick he’d heard the auld man had shaken at MacLoughlin, and the other hand round the bairn on his lap. Axel gazed at his great-grandfather intently, as if taking in everything that was said.

  “Ghillie,” he caught the lad’s attention. “We’re going with Ainsel.”

  His cousin nodded, “I thought we might. Everything I need is here,” he said as he stood.

  Olaf awkwardly stretched out the arm Axel leant against and Rory took his hand. The Jarl’s grip was firm as ever as he said, “I ne’er expected aught less frae ye, Rory. Ye are Gavyn Farquhar’s son, after all. I know Ainsel can be headstrong, but not always at the right time. She was spoiled as a bairn, and her marriage wasnae one her parents would have agreed to.” Olaf smiled, “But the gods have a way of solving our daft mistakes. I have nae doubt she’ll be at yer side when ye return,” he finished, after hoisting a boatload of responsibility onto Rory’s shoulders.

  Since it fitted in with his own plans, Rory simply nodded and retrieved his hand, but Axel appeared to recognise him and batted at his hand with his wee fist. “He takes after his mother.”

  Straightening, he gave Ghillie a nod and made to leave. He had taken a couple of paces, Ghillie at his side, when he imagined he heard Olaf say, “Aye, and his father an’ all.” Then he decided he had to have misheard, since Nils was the last man Olaf would want the bairn to be like.

  Outside, he noticed Ainsel waiting for them. Every single time he laid eyes on her a warm feeling spread out frae the middle of his chest, made his heart squeeze. It was a feeling he had nae desire to go without, even if he died in making certain of it.

  As the reached her, Ainsel’s full red lips pouted, and he’d have given anything to cover her mouth with his own and slake his thirst for her taste. That said, Ainsel’s plan was to rescue Gilda, and she wouldnae thank him for delaying her, but at the back of his mind was the knowing they would be together all the way frae the Ness to Orkney and mayhap Ireland, though Rory hoped the gods wouldnae be so cruel.

  Chapter 22

  Frae the top of the brae, Kathryn had her first real look at the Caithness settlement—a place she ne’er actually wanted to go again—and now her son was there, her firstborn, and if anyone was worth putting her fears aside for, it was Rory.

  She tried to hide frae her memories of the last time—memories of dark nights, leaping flames, and ravens circling above a ring of stones. She blinked hard, cleared the blur, and when the vision disappeared, she could breathe again and it was daylight.

  “Gavyn, d’ye see there by the beach, two burnt out wrecks, the Irish got here afore us.”

  Gavyn’s grey mount sidled closer to her bay. He reached out and took her hands, reins an’ all. “He’s bound to be safe still. There are few can beat him in a fight, ye know that. But I’ll tell ye for naught, if the Irish were at Caithness, they’ve gone again.”

  Kathryn felt Gavyn’s knee brush hers while their horses stood side-by-side, keeping them close, connected. Gavyn’s big hand still surrounded hers as their companions joined them at the crest of the brae, four in all—her half-brother Nhaimeth, Rob McArthur, Jamie Ruthven and Dhugal Robertson. When her sister Astrid married Euan McArthur all yon years ago and became his third wife to die because of the curse laid on Euan, she couldnae have imagined ever being part of a big close-knit group of family and friends. What bothered her was the eagerness they had all displayed to meet the Irish in a fight.

  Gavyn turned his head, taking each of them in with his piercing gaze. Gavyn had been a mercenary, which made him more experienced than almost any man in Scotland—in the Highlands for certain. “Ride in single file,” he told them. “Do naught to appear a threat. The Irish have definitely been here, but I’ve seen a few women walking around the settlement
, and there is smoke coming from a chimney as well as the fire pit at the longhouse, so it would seem they’ve gone again, but best not take that for granted.”

  Gavyn led the way with Kathryn behind him, his thinking that they wouldnae consider a woman dangerous. Kathryn knew better; she had heard of the shield-maidens, Norsewomen.

  They rode past the stone ring, but nae ravens flew o’er head, though she heard Rob chide Nhaimeth for holding him up as he slowed to look. They had both been in there that night, the one when Lhilidh died in Rob’s arms after both she and Kathryn had been shut in a broch that Harald set alight. Slowly, they rode as far as the longhouse. The door was open wide and some bairns came running—curious—while others began to cry. Finally, a tall flaxen-haired man strode out to where they waited. Well armed with both sword and knife, he had an air of confidence about him that Kathryn liked and made her pleased when Gavyn spoke first. “I’m Gavyn Farquhar. Chieftain of the Comlyn clan and I’ve come to Caithness looking for my son.”

  “Hah,” not a laugh more a bark of amazement. “I should have recognised ye. Rory looks much like ye, and then there was Ghillie. The lad told me I should expect ye. I’m Finn Olafsen.” He looked inside the Great Hall and waved out a few tired looking Norsemen. They will tend to yer horses while ye come inside to see my grandfather.”

  “He’s still alive then?” Gavyn dismounted, saying, “It’s been a while since your grandfather and I last met, and I was somewhat reluctant to ask.” He then turned to lift Kathryn out of the saddle. That’s when their difference in stature became obvious. Although there had always been a disparity in height betwixt them, it was one that made her feel cared for, cherished.

  Unable to quell her anxiety, with a quick glance o’er her shoulder at Nhaimeth, she demanded, “Where are our three lads?”

  Finn’s fair brows gave a wee lift, as if she had breached convention. “I understand ye werenae o’er pleased that they deliberately disobeyed yer husband’s wishes. The lads knew that and came anyway. Some things are meant to be, and nae, I’m not just saying that through associating with Ghillie. Calder is in the Hall, and frae what Ghillie says of ye my Lady, he could do with yer help.”

  Help for Calder but nae mention of her son and, though she struggled with the futility of the question, she asked, “And Rory? Where is he?”

  “Rory has gone, and Ghillie and my sister with him … but my grandfather will accuse me of being inhospitable. Come away in, all of ye. Olaf will be pleased explain all that has happened here since Rory, Calder and Ghillie arrived.”

  She wanted to hear everything, yet she worried about Calder. The lad had been born into a Comlyn Sept—tall, strong and of an age with Rory. She shouldnae have been surprised when Gavyn had brought the lad back with him to foster at Dun Bhuird. He’d been like a brother to Rory ever since. All of which meant she couldnae sit around listening to what Olaf had to say. “Finn, why not take me to see Calder and explain what happened while the others hear it frae Olaf.” And he did.

  The air wasnae only cooling the farther they travelled frae Caithness; it had become fraught with tension betwixt her and Rory. Ainsel was well aware she had nae one but herself to blame for the situation. The hurt feelings werenae likely to be easily soothed.

  She looked up. The sails were raised, bellying out as round and red as the sunset lying to the left of the boat as they approached the headland at the top of the Ness. Rounding it would take them into open sea, and they had made guid time betwixt the wind and the men, backs bent above the oars. Aye, open sea. At least she could be certain of that if naught else. She felt as it her life was balanced on a dagger’s edge and nae matter what befell, either way she would still be hurt.

  Why couldnae Rory simply let her do what must be done?

  The way she had with Axel. She had left him with her grandfather, rubbed her palm across his fine dark hair, soft the way a bairn’s should be, then kissed his sweet wide brow and left him with Olaf. There was nae way she could put her heart through the leaving of him a second time.

  What with all the upset, the battle, Gilda’s sacrifice, her milk had already begun to dry up. Just as well, some might say, yet she would miss yon moments of closeness with her son. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to hold back the tears and gripped the hilt of her sword fiercely, as if she would gladly snap the hilt frae its blade if it prevented her knuckles rubbing her eyes.

  Ainsel gritted her teeth.

  Thor’s hammer, she wanted to pound her fists at something, someone … Rory.

  She could see Rory and Ghillie, heads together, coming up with another plan.

  Hers was much simpler. She would simply offer herself in Gilda’s place and then the others could all go back to Caithness. Gilda would have the life Ainsel might long for, but knew would ne’er come to pass, nae matter how many plans Rory put together.

  Night arrived softly, merging frae dark blue to black like a breathless hush that all the men on the ship welcomed. The stars were out, huge, like holes torn in the sky, ones that helped the man on the steering oar to set his course, knowing which one to follow, while at the same time he had the ability to keep them frae the mercy of the tides and currents.

  Ghillie was asleep in the bow, shoulders fitting into the wedge shape with the carved dragon’s head pushing into the darkness ahead of them like a sigil for his wee cousin’s dreams.

  Though his own dreams had been shattered, Rory didnae envy Ghillie. If Gavyn had taught his son aught, it had been how to pick up the pieces and fit them back together in a pattern that would work, as he was intent on right now. They had only come together a few days ago—enough time, though, for him to be able to read the signals that Ainsel’s body sent him, like the one that said she was only pretending to sleep—mayhap because he had found it impossible to keep his gaze off her.

  Working against the rise and fall of the bow, Rory gradually made his way to the wooden bench Ainsel had claimed for her own. She hunched o’er her sword as if it was all that kept her frae falling o’er and landing in the belly of the boat. Ainsel kept up the pretence of sleeping, even as he sat on the bench, his spine resting against hers. Not a word slipped frae her lips, yet he knew she was well aware of his presence—knew frae the way her spine tensed.

  He drew a long breath through his nostrils and let it out in a noisy sigh. “I know what yer thinking, and I agree: the responsibility is mine to bear.”

  Her shoulder blades flexed, brushed across his back, and he was hard put not to respond to the sensation shooting through him at the slightest touch. “I accept the blame,” he muttered. “Ye must agree that it was a sad day when Calder and I rode into Caithness, and for that I’m sorry, for both ye and Axel.” He took another breath and let his back relax against hers. “I know Calder was desperate to get back here to Gilda, but I could have put a stop to such nonsense, except that I too wanted back here—desperately.”

  Rory knew he had caught her attention when she turned slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  In yon moments betwixt breaths, his ears were filled with the noise of waves breaking on the bow and the slap of the wind in the sails until he said, “There was a lass—” Suddenly they were shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh connected by warmth, heat. “Let me finish afore ye take a swipe at me with that sword in yer hand. Listen to my story.

  “It happened last solstice. I was watching the bonfire, standing alone in the dark when this young lass came up, wrapped her arms round me frae behind. What can I say? I was easily persuaded to go with her. For a whole year I dreamt of her. How she felt in my arms, her scent, the way my heart raced when we kissed, and I ne’er saw her face, ne’er knew her name. I came back to Caithness hoping to find her and instead I found Ainsel, discovered the bonniest lass I’d e’er seen in my life. My heart races when we kiss. Holding ye in my arms is like being born anew. I’ve nae explanation, since ye dinnae smell of honey or thyme, yet for some reason I find the scent of the mother goddess f
ar more alluring than all others. My father forbade me to come back here. Ghillie countered by saying I had to, made out it was necessary, and while I looked northward frae the top of the Cairngorms, he packed for me, fetched Calder, and the pair of them saddled three horses and said it was time to leave.”

  When he got nae response, he huffed a long breath out through his nostrils. “I did say I was easily persuaded, but it was more than that. Although he says he’s not as guid as his mother, Ghillie has the sight, and even my father will understand why he had a rebel on his hands. And when he sees ye, Ainsel, he’ll understand, for I did the moment I saw ye.”

  “And how will he see me? I’ll be in Ireland.”

  “Nae, I willnae let MacLoughlin have ye.” He held up a hand when she began to protest. “Nor will he have Gilda. As for my father, he’ll see ye when I take ye to Dun Bhuird.”

  “That will ne’er come to pass, even if ye were able save me—save us. I cannae leave my grandfather…”

  “But isnae that exactly what ye will do if I dinnae rescue ye frae the Irishman?” he demanded, his voice roughened, not with anger but exasperation. Rory wasnae a fool. He’d known many a lass in his day, made most of them happy, but he had ne’er loved any. Aye, he knew the difference betwixt release and rapture.

  “Grandfather’s getting auld, but at least he would have Axel, would be able to see the future in him.” Ainsel’s eyes glimmered in the starlight through a film of tears. He recognised hope mainly through suffering it himself. “He’s going to be a big strong lad. Caithness will need the likes of him if it’s to survive.”

  “Like his father is he?”

  “Exactly like him.”

  “Is that so?” He leaned forward, twisting at the waist making it easier to bring up his left hand and cup her face, fingertips curled around the edge of her jaw to hold her still, and under them her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth. “And did yer husband make ye feel like this when he covered yer mouth with his?”