by Amanda Scott
Catriona ceased her flailing, and her eyes rounded in disbelief that soon altered to trepidation.
“Ah, ye begin tae see your peril, do ye? I warrant we’ll soon hear ye tryin’ tae apologize. Before ye do, however, tell me this. Did Claud no tell ye he’d suffer punishment that would grow fiercer, the more time he spent in your company?”
Catriona hesitated only for a moment before nodding.
“How wise ye are no tae lie tae me,” Maggie said gently. “Ye’ll find a way off that pole in time, but ye’ll find, too, that your powers ha’ diminished. Since ye’d rather persuade someone else tae do your work for ye, ye can ha’ little use for them, but I’d urge ye to take special care lest ye lose them altogether.”
Catriona’s mouth was agape. She had not looked at Claud, and he doubted that she knew he was watching. She had not taken her eyes from Maggie.
“Ye o’ the Highland lot tend tae forget that the Circle has the power tae call ye tae account for yourself,” Maggie said. “Ye’d best think, before we do that, how ye can atone for your wickedness. We’ll want tae hear that ye’ve learned a lesson. Until then, the sound o’ your voice will burden nae one. Come along, Claud.”
He had believed that she was as unaware of him as Catriona was, but clearly, even though she had not looked at him, Maggie knew he was awake and alert. He wanted to tell her that he could not move a muscle, but he had sense enough to try first and found, to his astonishment, that his pain and weakness had disappeared. If he stumbled getting to his feet, it was no more than usual.
He said nothing until they were well away from Catriona, but at last, curiosity overcame his determination to remain silent.
“I didna go tae her, Mam,” he said. “She found me there.”
“Nae matter,” Maggie said. “I wouldna ha’ lifted my spell from ye so soon, Claud, for ye deserve still tae bear it. But circumstance be altered now, and ye must go wi’ the Maid.”
“Go! Whither?”
“She goes tae Stirling Castle tae seek the King’s protection,” Maggie said. “I would ha’ gone wi’ her myself, but now I must look after the Laird o’ Kintail in that silly strumpet’s place. I just hope ye’ve learned your lesson, my laddie.”
“I have and all,” Claud said firmly. “Still, ye should stay wi’ the Maid, should ye not? What if I make another mistake, and all goes amiss?”
“She’ll be safe wi’ the King,” Maggie said. “Moreover, having stripped Catriona of her powers, I be responsible now for her laird as well as for our Maid, and he faces invasion if the Macdonalds seek vengeance for their chief’s death.”
“Did their chief die?” Claud asked, astonished.
“Ye were there, dolthead, when she shot him wi’ the arrow. Ye saw him.”
“That man were their chief?”
“Aye, did ye no ken that?”
“Nay,” Claud said thoughtfully. “I had had all I could do tae guide her arrows, what wi’ the pain ye gave me when I used me powers.”
He could tell her more about that incident, but he was uncertain how she would receive the news, so he decided to wait until he could prove to her that he could protect the Maid. She would see. Indeed, the whole Circle would see that their Claud was a cannier lad than they knew.
“Wake up, Molly. The storm has blown over, and it is time to go.”
She opened her eyes to find Kintail leaning over her. It was still dark, but he had lighted one of the candles on the wall, and its flickering orange-gold glow behind him gave him an eerie, ghostly look.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily.
“Not yet four,” he said. “I want to get you away as soon as possible, before Sleat’s people have had time to gather themselves. We don’t know who will take command, but we do know there is bound to be turmoil at first, because the only obvious successor is his son, and the lad is too young to command Sleat’s men. They’d not heed him if he tried.”
She tried to blink sleep from her eyes, to collect her thoughts. Once again, someone was uprooting her and it seemed that she had no say in the matter.
“I do not want to leave,” she said, sitting up. Though she had said it before, she tried again. “I am your wife, sir, and this is my home. My place is here.”
“Your place as my wife is wherever I say it must be,” he said. Then, more gently, he added, “We’ll not fratch over this, sweetheart. I want you safe. I am sending you by sea to Dunbarton, and from there to Stirling, to Jamie.”
“So you will not even take me there yourself,” she said, allowing some of the bitterness she felt to color her tone. “You will send me there like a parcel.” She knew she sounded childish, but she did not care. She was tired of being a pawn in this game of power that men insisted on playing only with each other.
“Sweetheart,” Fin said, coaxingly now, “I’m sending you to Jamie because it is my duty, both as your guardian and your husband, to see to your safety. And I send you rather than escort you for two reasons. First, my place is here with my people. With Ian Dubh gone, I must sort out some things, and I need Patrick with me, because I mean to make him my new constable here. I’ll be sending Tam Matheson and Thomas MacMorran with you and Doreen, to look after you.”
“Only those two?”
“Nay, lass. You’ll have sixteen oarsmen besides, all stout men-at-arms, but ’tis Tam and Thomas who will see to your safety, and they who will hire riders in my stead to protect you on the road from Dunbarton to Stirling. And, too, they will remain with you at Stirling to see to your needs until I can fetch you home again.”
“You said two,” she reminded him. “Two reasons that you do not go.”
“Aye,” he said with a straight look. “The second is that my presence would make your journey more dangerous, because Sleat’s men would likely recognize me if they should intercept the birlinn. Moreover, I dare not leave Eilean Donan undefended again, because now that they have made one attempt, they are bound to try again, if only to prove that they can take the castle.”
“I should not be amazed, I suppose, to learn that you care more about your castle than you do your wife,” she said.
Yanking back the covers, he pulled her from the bed, holding her with her feet off the floor as he had that day at Dunakin and giving her a shake.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” he snapped.
A shiver shot up her spine but she told herself that he did not frighten her. It was merely that she was still naked.
“Put me down, Fin,” she said, striving to sound calmer than she felt.
He held her there for a moment, and then did as she asked, but he shifted both hands to her shoulders, gripping them tightly so she could not turn away.
Her feet were bare, and the floor was cold. She was cold. She wriggled her toes and crossed her arms over her chest, seeking warmth.
Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “You are my wife, Molly. I cannot send the castle away, nor can I send my tenants, but I can send you. Moreover, I believe that if Thomas and Tam can get you beyond Kylerhea and the east coast of Sleat before daylight, you can be safe before Sleat’s lads are awake and alert.”
Alarmed, she forgot her cold toes and her fears. She said, “Is there no way to avoid Sleat’s coast?”
“Not without sailing all the way around the north end of Skye and passing Dunvegan,” he said. “Not only would that route nearly double the length of your journey, but we cannot count on MacLeod’s friendship. All hangs on the choice of Sleat’s successor. The likelihood is that his death put an end to the Macdonald claim to the Lordship of the Isles, but his people will seek vengeance. I want you away before they can find their feet—and their new leader. As it is, you’ll not pass beyond the Point of Sleat before daybreak, but we usually enjoy a morning mist these days, so you should be safe enough. I’ll miss you, lass.”
Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “Will you be safe?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Aye, sweetheart, you’ve only to ask
Patrick and to remember that I’ve the MacRaes as my shirt of mail and the luck of the Mackenzies to protect me.”
“The luck of the Mackenzies did your father no good,” she said as a tear spilled over and down one cheek. She made no move to brush it away, wanting only to gaze at him while she still could.
He reached out and wiped the tearstain away with the back of a finger, then bent and kissed her cheek. Then the finger tilted her chin up so that he could kiss her lips. “I am not my father, Molly. Do you remember what they call me?”
“Aye,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “Wild Fin Mackenzie.”
“Remember that,” he said as he used his shirtsleeve to dry her tears. “Mauri would tell you no to fash yourself over the laird, for he’s a wicked one and there be none tae best him.”
A watery chuckle escaped her, for aside from his voice being much deeper than Mauri’s, he sounded just like her.
“That’s better,” he said. The door opened, and he added, “Here is Doreen now. She has already packed such clothing as you can take with you, but I’ll give you a letter for Jamie before you leave. He’ll see that you have means to acquire any new clothing you need at court.”
Doreen looked surprised to find her mistress standing nude beside the fully dressed laird, but she snatched up a robe and, with a smile, draped it over Molly, saying cheerfully, “We be going to see the King, mistress.”
“Aye,” Molly replied unenthusiastically.
Fin shot her a quizzical look, but he said only, “I’ll leave you to dress now, lass, but do not tarry. The boat is ready to leave.”
She did not want to go, but he was leaving her no choice, for although her tears had moved him, it was not enough to make him let her stay. To rail at him or Doreen would avail her nothing, nor could she spoil Doreen’s excitement. Therefore, she would put a good face on it and do what she must. Visiting the King’s court began to seem more intriguing then, for it occurred to her that she might meet someone there who had known one or both of her parents. To learn more about either one of them would make the journey worthwhile.
“Farewell, lass,” Fin said as he helped Molly into the sixteen-oared birlinn and guided her toward the bow. Then, bending near so no one else would hear him, he added as she took her seat beside Doreen, “You’re to obey Thomas and Tam as you would me.”
Molly looked at him through a new batch of tears that she had been fighting ever since they had stepped outside together to walk down to the boat. She wished she could see him more clearly, but the man holding the only torch Fin had allowed was standing on the shore some distance away.
Fin’s order surprised her, for Tam and Thomas were but common soldiers.
As if he had read her mind, he said, “They serve you, but if you meet with a crisis, I have told them you will not question their commands. Is that clear?”
“Aye,” she said, drying her tears with a handful of her cloak, grateful that the others had not seen them. “I’m not a fool, sir, but do not leave me long at Stirling.”
“I’ll come for you myself, sweetheart, as quickly as I can,” he said. “Once we see what Sleat’s men mean to do, I’ll need only time enough to set things in train here and see that everyone understands that Patrick is my new constable.”
She nodded, and he put a finger under her chin, making her look at him.
“Will you trust me to see things right, Molly?”
“Aye,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Will you trust me?”
“You carry my name, my reputation, and quite possibly my heir in your care,” he said with a teasing smile as he kissed her lightly. “I must trust you.”
He returned to the shore then, and she watched as he moved to stand with the other men. He dominated them all with his size alone, but there was more to his presence than mere size. He dwarfed the other men in personality, too.
He was still watching her, and when she raised a hand in farewell, he responded. It was too dark to see if he smiled. Her heart ached to stay with him, but she would not cry again.
The air grew chillier as the birlinn moved away from the castle into open water. She and Doreen huddled together in their heavy cloaks, and she watched until dark mist swallowed the castle.
The oarsmen did not speak, and rags muffled the sounds of the oars in the rowlocks. At the tiller, Tam murmured from time to time, giving commands, until they approached the opening of the narrow strait between Skye and the southern part of Kintail. After that, he made barely discernible hand signals when he wanted the oarsmen to pull harder on one side or the other.
The eastern sky grew steadily lighter as they made their way through the strait. Thomas put up the sail for a time, because the wind blew from the northwest and was strong enough to aid the rowers. Beyond the mouth of Loch Hourn, the sail came down again. They had entered the Sound of Sleat, and ahead to the west lay the Sleat coast. The birlinn hugged the opposite shore. No one spoke a word.
The sky was growing lighter, for at that time of year dawn came earlier each day. Without the sail, it would take longer to cover the nearly ten miles they must travel before they would be safely beyond view of Sleat, and Molly knew that although Dunsgaith, Donald’s castle, sat on the far side of that peninsula, his men patrolled the shoreline along the Sound of Sleat.
Their birlinn flew no banner, which might in itself be enough to draw notice, but perhaps with all the unrest Donald had caused, wary travelers often failed to identify their boats. One could hope so, at least.
The wind picked up, and since it still blew from the northwest, they had little worry now that any of Sleat’s people could hear them. The oarsmen removed the rags from their rowlocks to make the rowing easier, but Thomas and Tam agreed that the sail should stay down a while longer.
The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon when they neared the opening of Loch Nevis and approached Mallaig Head. The Sound of Sleat was nearly five miles across at this point, and Thomas moved at last to put up the sail.
Doreen sighed. “I vow, I have been holding my breath since we left Loch Duich in fear that someone would hear or see us.”
“Don’t stop holding it yet,” Molly advised. “Look yonder to the west.”
On the far horizon, two low white clouds seemed to roll across the water toward them. Presently, just as Molly feared, it became apparent that they were clouds of spray. Rising out of each was a single square sail.
Even as he rapidly hauled up their own sail, Thomas shouted at the oarsmen to pick up their pace. “Put your backs into it, lads. They be nae friends o’ ours!”
Despite their efforts, the other galleys drew inexorably nearer. Until the pair had closed half the distance, Molly glimpsed their hulls only occasionally amidst the spume set up by the banks of long oars on each side. With their sails’ aid, they drove the slender, low-set galleys at a scarcely believable speed.
“Thomas, they’ll soon be upon us!” she cried, pointing.
He had already recognized the danger. “We canna outrun them, lads,” he said. “They’ll be Sleat’s boats. We must yield and hope they dinna ken who we be. If they ask, we be loyal followers o’ Mackinnon.”
“An we each take two o’ the bastards, mayhap we can win free, Tam,” one of the oarsmen shouted.
“Ye’d ha’ to take more each than two,” Tam shouted back. “Do as you’re bid lads. If they ram us, we’re for a swim, so pull nearer to shore. Mayhap someone can win free if need be.”
Molly saw Thomas lean closer to Tam, saw the other man shake his head, then seem to argue some point or other. Thomas patted Tam’s shoulder, then hunched low and began to ease his way between the oarsmen toward the bow. Crouching some distance away, he slipped off his tartan mantle and tossed it to Molly.
“They be Mackinnon colors, mistress. If ye wear it over yours, mayhap it will lend credence to our tale.”
“What is Tam doing?” she asked, noting that the younger man was standing now. He had cast aside his cloak and was pulling off the pr
ecious boots that Sir Patrick had given him.
“I’ve told him he must go over the side as we turn,” Thomas said. “He doesna swim as well as I do, but he still runs like a running gilly, and whatever comes o’ this, we’ll want a man free to report back, if need be, to the master.”
“Without his boots?”
“Sakes, mistress,” Tam said, “I never had boots afore these. Me feet be tough as whitleather.”
She smiled, but to Thomas she said, “They mean to harm us, do they not?”
“We dinna ken that yet.” He smiled reassuringly at her as he signed to two of the nearest oarsmen to make space for Tam Matheson.
The younger man stripped to his short kilt but retained his dirk. When he moved up beside Thomas, Molly heard him say, “I dinna think I dare take my sword, man. I’m no so good a swimmer as it is.”
“Leave it, then,” Thomas said. “Ye’ll make the shore easily, because you can swim with the current here, and we’ll use the birlinn to shield you from Sleat’s galleys. Slip overboard now, and quickly.”
Without another word, Tam eased over the side, and they watched him make for shore. They were close, within twenty-five yards of the headland, and Molly watched tensely, looking from the swimmer to the oncoming boats and back again.
“Heel to port now, and turn sharp about, lads,” Thomas shouted. “We’ll make them keep their eyes on us, and pray that they dinna see our Tam.”
“Yield to them when we draw near, Thomas,” Molly said, striving to sound calm and still watching Tam. “It would be useless to defy them, especially since I’ll wager they want nothing more than to learn who we are.”
“Aye, mistress, likely ye’re right, but face toward the front now,” Thomas said. “Ye men, look to your oars and heed my commands. I dinna want to see a single man glancing toward shore.”
The oncoming ships came fast, so fast that it was easy to see why men called such galleys the greyhounds of the sea. They had a certain grace, even beauty, but just then, Molly thought of them as anything but beautiful. She could see Sleat’s banner flying from each one.
