Chieftain's Rebel

by Frances Housden

  He suited his action to his words and kissed her, felt her indrawn breath capture his taste and her lips soften under his. Rory moved, slanting his mouth o’er hers, deepening the kiss by sweeping into the hot cave where her tongue danced against his.

  His hand slipped lower, smoothed the leather short coat covering her breasts and wished they were bare. Neither of them could afford to give into their desires while surrounded by others, whether they appeared to sleep or not. The blood in his veins felt thick and slow, his breath shallow as he lifted his mouth and gazed into her eyes. Even in the starlight he could see the pale blue of her eyes had darkened and her lips were full, glistening frae shared passion, and her hand was in his lap fondling his prick through his plaid.

  He rubbed a thumb across the plump curve of her bottom lip and when he had done lifted his thumb and sucked the taste of her back into his mouth. “Can ye really shove this—shove me—away as if these feelings betwixt us didnae exist?”

  “Ye make it sound easy. For me this isnae about what I want. It’s about need, what needs to be done to keep my son and my family safe. If I could see the future like Ghillie, I’d ne’er have married Nils, then none of this would have happened, but I was that foolish and it did happen. Now I need to make it right.”

  “I have nae quarrel with that. For now, all I ask is that ye let me help ye. Alone, MacLoughlin will look to take advantage of ye. Together, he’ll think twice, especially with Ghillie and his bird by our side. He may be young but with that bird on his shoulder men are wary of him, suspect him of being a sorcerer.”

  When he thought on it, Rory realised it should ne’er have come to this. “We should have faced him in the Great Hall, by Olaf’s side. Instead, we left it to an auld man to face him alone, to be threatened with nae one behind him, most of us were on the beach when they arrived o’er land. When we believed we had dealt with them on the Ness. Our plan worked then, let’s make another plan, an even better one. We can take Gilda home to Calder.” He took a moment and trusted the jut of his jaw to tell its own tale as he ground out the words. “We will assure MacLoughlin that you’re already taken by the future Comlyn chieftain. He’ll have heard of us. I’d lay my life on that, but I willnae leave your life in the hands of a man whau couldnae take care of his last wife.”

  Chapter 23

  “We’ll need to borrow one of yer boats.” Kathryn listened to Gavyn and knew he believed the whole disagreement had been badly handled, otherwise he might just have said ‘please’.

  Frae the shadowy depths of his carved chair the auld Jarl appeared whey-faced, nor did he look to be in a mood to disagree, but then few men did with a man of Gavyn Farquhar’s stature and reputation. “There are but two boats left, but yer welcome to take one, as yer son did. “Yer very much alike, the two of ye, Gavyn and Rory—men well aware of yer own worth and capabilities, a quality not to be sneezed at, for that’s how Rory saved us frae the worst of the attack.”

  Olaf’s aged fingers worried at the knobbly head of the stick he used for support, but it surprised her when he banged the tip on the floor of the wooden dais that gave him and his large chair more prominence. But he wasnae eyeing her when he demanded, “Were ye aware he’s intent on taking my granddaughter to Dun Bhuird when he leaves?” A wry smile twisted his lips. “If Ghillie were still here, he would confirm it, since it was he whau told me. I’ve nae doubt Calder’s well aware of Rory’s intentions.”

  He turned to face her. Kathryn saw nae sign of anger in his expression, only sadness at his impending loss, and it was to her he said, “She has a son, Axel. I’ll expect him to be treated right. He comes of guid bloodlines.”

  Kathryn reached out and covered his bony hand with hers. “I know that, I have a lot of the same blood in my veins, but it’s early days to talk about him going to Dun Bhuird. That can wait until they all return safely to Caithness.” She kept rubbing her palm across his knuckles, soothing the anguish she sensed was troubling him. “Gavyn needs to go after them afore they get too far ahead, but he’ll need a few of yer men to help steer and row the boat. I know ye have lost men.” She glanced up at her husband. His expression was grim, but she knew neither she nor Olaf was responsible and carried on. “I’m sure Gavyn intends leaving some of our housecarls with ye. I can assure ye they are well trained.”

  Olaf snorted. “Ye forget I’ve been to Dun Bhuird. I have seen yer husband train his men.” He turned to Gavyn and with a nod said, “Finn will make sure ye have the best of those men still fit and make sure ye have another well able to navigate our waters. Rory intended first to anchor at Orkney. Our Norse cousins were kind enough to offer MacLoughlin help against their own.”

  Olaf allowed himself a satisfied laugh. “Not that it was to their benefit.”

  Kathryn stood, leaving them to their business. “I’ll go back to Calder, though I’m sure the willow bark I gave him will have begun to reduce his fever.” She rolled her eyes. “Although nae doubt he’ll insist it was the Norse version of Uisge beatha that did it.”

  She pointed her nose in the direction of the kitchen and went through the leather curtain closing the doorway. Inside, she was certain the Calder she had left in the kitchen would be either sweating or shivering. The kitchen was the best place for him. In there they had both hot fires and cool water. She let the curtain fall back into place behind her without looking back.

  The last time she watched Gavyn leave her had been a few days after their marriage. She had never done so again—had stayed away frae the ramparts while he rode away—but she was always there to welcome back the man she still loved with everything in her. Her lips curved in a gentle smile as she remembered that first, ne’er repeated occasion when she greeted him with an arrow frae her bow. A shot, which thankfully missed its mark. She wouldnae have had Rory and all her bonnie bairns otherwise.

  The wind and tide had been with them, as if the gods had blessed their purpose and brought them to their destination. The Caithness dragon-boat lay anchored in the bay with the bow almost scraping the sand. Ainsel watched Rory standing in the bow to one side of the dragonhead and Ghillie on the other with Heimdall’s big black raven wings raised as if ready to pounce. It was a bold move—part of Rory’s plan.

  They needed to be bold he said, as if they didnae expect to be gainsaid.

  As if they wouldnae take nae for an answer.

  Rory’s plaid lifted in the breeze and floated out behind him. The big sword that hung frae his belt had done wicked work against the men jumping onto the sand frae the attacking boats into the line of men and shield maidens awaiting them. His shield, white with its black raven sigil—the same his father had used as a mercenary—glinted in the afternoon sun like a warning.

  To the right of them, a boat without the Norse dragonhead floated, its oars foolishly shipped—o’er confident. The Caithness men wouldnae commit such a grave error of judgment.

  “Ready, Ainsel?” She lifted the lower edge of her blue shield in assent, and the metal bosses and rim glinted in the light, as pleasing to her as a gold collar resting at the base of her throat. Rory had insisted she wear a helm, though he didnae himself. Her helm was small, silver and gold—a gift frae her grandfather to match her breast armour.

  She wore her hair loose and floating about her shoulders like a Valkyrie. “There’s power in that,” Rory had told her, much as he had asked Ghillie to make sure Heimdall sat on his shoulder.

  Only the three of them left the dragon-boat. Three to show they felt nae fear.

  Rory—tall as the Norse god she had first compared him to—walked in the middle with Ghillie and her on either side as they strode shoulder-to-shoulder frae the beach to the longhouse.

  Lars Thorsen, the Jarl, stood beside MacLoughlin in front of the open doors, and the dark tunnel of the interior yawned behind them. The whole settlement looked run down in comparison to Caithness. Gone were the days when Thorfinn ruled. They stood, feet apart, hands fisted on their hips and sneers on their faces. Ainsel moved he
r shield and let the sunlight bounce off the silver bosses into their faces. She wanted to smile when trying to dodge the harmless reflections spoiled their pose.

  Lars spoke. She remembered him frae a while ago, when they had all been friends. “Whau are ye, and what do ye want here in Orkney.”

  “I am Rory Farquharson of Dun Bhuird, heir to Gavyn Farquhar, and we are here to collect what is ours. This is Ghillie Comlyn son of Rowena the seer.” The raven stretched its wing and let out a bloodcurdling screech, as if it knew exactly what was wanted of him. “And this is Ainsel Olafsen, shield-maiden and granddaughter of the Jarl of Caithness.”

  “Liar,” roared MacLoughlin, “I have Ainsel Olafsen here.”

  Rory ignored him, “As I was saying, granddaughter of the Jarl of Caithness and widow of Nils Larsen of Orkney.” Now he looked at MacLoughlin. “He would be the man ye accused of stealing yer wife.”

  “Aye, he did that. The bonniest wee colleen ye ever saw. That’s why I took his widow, the Jarl’s granddaughter, in exchange,” he rumbled, and Ainsel knew then she would rather die than give herself to that monster. It would seem that Gilda had more courage than she did.

  “And ye think to take her back with only three of ye?” MacLoughlin’s shoulders rose as he sneered, pushing out his chest as if boasting of his prowess in war when in truth he was naught but a trickster. He had come o’er land to the settlement and left Thorsen’s men to do the dying.

  Ainsel glanced sideways to see how Rory was taking the slur on his fighting skills. She had ne’er seen that fierce expression on his face afore, his eyes narrowed, cauld and dull as granite, and his nostrils flared as if he might breath flames and melt MacLoughlin where he stood. “I’m nae auld man for ye to surround with yer men and scare into doing what ye want, as Thorsen would know if he had e’er left Orkney. Olaf Olafsen would ne’er have given up his granddaughter, and he didnae.”

  Rory shifted his stance slightly and stared Thorsen down. His voice when he spoke had a lethal edge certain to lift the hairs on an enemy’s neck afore he sliced them off. “Did MacLoughlin tell ye how he has a habit of losing wives? Mayhap he told ye the tale of how when he was young, though just as stupid, he robbed Olaf of his wife, Ainsel’s grandmother. Olaf went after her and claimed her back, leaving MacLoughlin with another in her place: Brodwyn Comlyn, my mother’s cousin—a wicked, scheming woman. He lost her as well, even without a man’s help. She escaped by boat to England.” Rory’s chin lifted as his gaze surveyed MacLoughlin frae head to foot. “Now that’s what I call careless.”

  Lars’s eyes narrowed, almost disappeared into a sea of wrinkles as he fronted up to MacLoughlin, almost bumping chests like the red deer did during the rut, as he demanded of his so called ally, “Were ye the one that stole my cousin, Frieda? My father arranged that marriage. It was meant to form and alliance betwixt Caithness and Orkney.” He drew back his elbow, fist clenched, then he shook his head, “Yer nae worth it. The lassie he brought with him is in the longhouse.” He waved at one of the audience of females and called, “Go fetch yon lassie out here.”

  Ainsel found her voice. “Gilda, her name’s Gilda,” she shouted after the lass.

  The longhouse looked bigger with Gavyn and the others gone, was quiet with so many men away to call yon Irish beast to account. Kathryn remembered Brodwyn speaking of him during the long nights when she couldnae sleep frae the pain in her leg that Henry La Mont had near sliced through as she protected his grandson from him. Brodwyn had been with child, La Mont’s child, but he had a hatred for the Scots that the thought of another half-Scots bairn couldnae diminish.

  Aye, she had told Kathryn how she fled to England on a ship laden with bales of wool and, though Brodwyn had been wicked, plotting with their cousin Harald to abduct Kathryn and take Dun Bhuird away frae her and Gavyn, she had proved she wasnae all wicked by saving Ralf’s life.

  At Brodwyn’s death she had promised her cousin to bring up her daughter, Merida, as one of her own and, in her cousin’s daughter, Kathryn had found the perfect pupil to work with her in her stillroom, preparing healing infusions and powders such as the ones she had used on Calder. She had always imagined Merida and Calder might marry, for they got on so well, but it now seemed that wasnae to be.

  Calder was in love and fretting for his love, Gilda, in a way that seemed foreign to the big friendly creature whau had lived under Dun Bhuird’s roof since he was naught but a lad.

  She was about to reassure herself that Calder’s lungs hadnae fallen into another coughing fit when Olaf came through frae the shadowy recesses of the Great Hall carrying a bairn. She knew fine that Olaf had been a stallion in his day, but she saw naught of that youthful energy when she looked at him now.

  He walked toward her, stick tapping the floor for balance—a sound she had become used to in the days since she had arrived at the Ness. “Well now, cousin Kathryn,” he said cradling the bairn in his other arm, “I dinnae think ye have met Axel yet. He’s been fussing for his mother, and until now only the wet nurse could keep him happy; however, he’s known me since the day he was born and consented to let me bring him out to the Hall and sit with him on my knee.”

  For the only time she could remember, Kathryn lost her voice. She looked at the bairn and was thrown back through the years to when Rory was wee and he and Gavyn were the only ones whau could make her smile as she mourned for Lhilidh, her maid and friend—the one whau had died at Caithness after Harald shut them both in a broch and set it alight. Only Kathryn had survived, which made her think of Rob McArthur, whau had loved the lass and killed Harald for what he had done. And now they were all back in this place together again.

  She hadnae thought of how Rob must have felt coming back to Caithness. Though he had a wife now, Melinda, and twin lads, Harry and Ralf, they did say first love is the sweetest of them all, ne’er to be forgotten.

  “He’s a bonnie bairn. Whau is his mother?” she asked reaching out to ruffle the wee lad’s dark curls. She received a gummy smile for her efforts when she tickled him behind his left ear and found what she had expected frae the moment she laid eyes on the bairn, a wee heart-shaped birthmark. “How auld is he?”

  “Ach, here’s me taking it for granted ye would know. This is Axel, my granddaughter Ainsel’s bairn. He’s but three months auld, though ye wouldnae think it since he’s so big for his age.”

  With her heart turning o’er in her chest, she said, “He’s a grand lad.” Then found the courage to ask Olaf, “May I hold him?”

  “That ye may. Come o’er and sit in this chair by mine and dinnae worry; he’s newly fed and his swaddling cloths changed.” She did as Olaf asked, sat, though her hands were shaking and her mind a whirl wondering what her discovery would mean to them all. Kathryn could see how much the auld Jarl loved him as he bussed him on the cheek afore settling him in Kathryn’s arms.

  She sighed deeply, now that the bairn was there, positive she was holding the next Comlyn heir. For a while she was content simply to sit there cradling Axel, dreaming of how grand it would be, until at last Kathryn thought to ask Olaf, “Ye said Axel, is missing his mother, where is she?”

  “I thought ye knew. She’s gone off with Rory and Ghillie to get her friend Gilda back frae that Irish boor MacLoughlin. He would ne’er have had the chance to take her if I had been the man I once was. MacLoughlin wanted Ainsel in retribution for the loss of his wife since it was Ainsel’s husband Nils, whau stole his woman away. I cannae get o’er how some men cannae hold onto the their wives.”

  Trying to swallow the rock that had formed in her throat she asked another question of the auld Jarl, “And what of Ainsel’s husband?”

  “Ach, he drowned, and MacLoughlin’s wife with him.” Olaf glanced at her and the bairn, and for some reason she was certain she caught a sly gleam in his eye. “Ach aye, my Ainsel’s a widow.”

  Kathryn’s brain wanted to make plans, wanted to anticipate where the future could lie. She had to warn herself to stop scheming.

>   Had Rory known of the bairn and thought Ainsel was married, but then he heard her husband was dead and naught could keep him from travelling north to find her? She thought and thought, her brain going round in circles while the bairn slept in her arms and Olaf dozed in his chair. She would have to wait till everyone returned afore aught could be done.

  There was only one thing she knew for sure and that was when she returned to Dun Bhuird, Axel would be coming with her.

  Chapter 24

  It was worth all they had been through to see the smile on Ainsel’s face when Gilda appeared and flung herself at Ainsel. They clung together, tears streaming down their faces, all signs of the shield-maidens he had seen fighting off these same folk disappeared.

  After they had calmed down, Gilda took Ainsel by the top of her arms, above the leather arm shields she wore and complained, “How could ye do this, come after me, and with only three of ye. It will ne’er work.”

  “Calm down, Gilda, it already has. Look at MacLoughlin and Thorsen, they’re near daggers drawn, but yon auld bears are nae important. Calder is alive.”

  Rory thought Gilda’s knees might buckle, sliding her down at Ainsel’s feet. He left MacLoughlin and Thorsen arguing and caught her afore she fell. “It’s true, Gilda. He went into the Ness but managed to grab hold of the mast as it toppled. He was fortunate to survive, for he floated most of the night afore washing up on the beach.”

  Gilda’s breath left her lungs in long shudders, pressing a fist against her breastbone as she tried to come to terms with the news. On any other day, a woman would be laughing, delighted to learn her man wasnae dead, as she had believed. However this wasnae a day like any other and, after all they had been through, Gilda had felt her love lost. While Rory ached for Calder, Ainsel did for Gilda—for their friendship. It wasnae likely either of them would e’er experience another day to match it. When she could finally speak, Gilda looked frae Rory to Ainsel and ventured a question, “Where is he now?”