The way Tavish lifted his head, dislodging her place on his shoulder and staring incredulously at her, told her he didn’t believe her words.
With a small shrug and a rueful smile, she rolled up on one elbow and nodded. “I have nae need to be the mother of the next King of Scotland and would never wish that stress and danger upon my only child. Truthfully, I am glad Alex is no’ legitimate.”
Blowing out a breath, Tavish shook his head and mirrored her pose. “Truly, Isabel MacLeod, ye manage to amaze me at every turn.”
Isabel MacLeod. Was that really who she was now? Her lips parted in amazement, trying out the new name. She was married. She was married to a handsome and brave man, who cared about her pleasure and her wellbeing.
Remarkable.
His free hand had settled on her hip as they lay facing one another, and he was tracing small circles on her skin again. The feeling made her shiver, not with need, but with delight. She wondered if he was even aware of the action, and how much comfort he gave her with it.
“Ye ken…” His gaze dropped to her shoulder as if he were embarrassed. “Ye said yer only child, but now that we are married, ye have Dane. And there’s a possibility of another…”
Her eyes widened, and she resisted the urge to drop her hand to her stomach. They were married now, and presumably, would be finding pleasure in each other’s arms again. Unless he’d only made love to her now in order to confirm their marriage vows, there’d be more chances for him to plant his seed in her womb.
Another bairn.
Another chance to feel life growing inside her, another chance to hold a wee precious gift from God.
“Would…would that please ye?” he asked in a whisper, almost hesitant.
And she offered him a smile, hoping it showed just how verra much it did. “I would like that, Tavish.”
He cleared his throat with a firm nod and reached for her, pressing her against his chest once more. She wondered if he did it because he didn’t want her to see his expression.
She smiled.
“Dane is thrilled at the idea of Alex being his little brother. If—that is, if ye planned on us living with ye. I dinnae ken what ye were thinking past saving Alex.”
His hesitance was heartwarming. Isabel wrapped her arm around his middle, pressing her palm against his back. “ ’Tis time for Alex to return to Carrick. I would be blessed to have ye and Dane at his—at our side—teaching him how to be a good earl.”
Tavish was silent for a long moment, long enough for Isabel’s eyes to grow heavy.
Finally, he murmured, “We would like that verra much, lass.” He shifted, pulling her into a more comfortable position. “And we will do all in our power to ensure he grows into a fine man.”
She grinned sleepily, imagining Alex’s reaction to the news he now had an older brother. A stepbrother, aye, but Dane was a good lad, and he’d be a wonderful role model for her son.
And mayhap, one day, there’d be other brothers, or mayhap wee sisters, for them both.
But for now…
“First, we have to—” A yawn caught her mid-sentence, and he chuckled under her.
“First, we have to sleep. Ye havenae been resting well these last nights, no’ that I blame ye, but we still have a few days. Aye, we’ll get Alex back, I vow it. We can discuss the plan in the morning. After we rest.”
Humming contentedly, she snuggled closer to him. “Do ye have a plan?”
“Me? Ye’re in charge of this mission. Do ye have a plan?”
Even now they were married, now she’d given herself to him, he was still willing to share power with her. Tavish MacLeod—her husband—was a remarkable man.
“I might.” She yawned again, thinking of the shadow of an idea which had been forming in her mind all day. “But tomorrow morning is soon enough to discuss it.”
“Aye, love.” His arm tightened around her momentarily, before she felt him relax. “For now…rest.”
And, as she was coming to learn, sleep came easily when she was safe in his arms.
Chapter 10
The day after his wedding, Tavish MacLeod called a council-of-war.
Granted, it wasn’t a very big council—him, his new wife, an eleven-year-old lad, a royal princess, and a motley crew of ex-pirates—but it was all they needed.
“Aright, lads, listen up. My cousin, the laird of Dunvegan, has given us leave to use his solar this morning, but I doubt he’s going to like being cut out of this meeting, so we have to work quickly.” As his eyes moved around the room, Tav held each man’s gaze, ensuring they were with him. “He’s also offered to guard Princess Margaret, although we’ve no’ told him who she really is. Robert, ye and Wee Robbie and Rabb are going to stay here to ensure he doesnae get too curious. We’re trusting the future of Scotland in yer hands, lads, so dinnae fook it up, aye?”
Amid chuckles, the three chosen men stood straighter and nodded proudly.
Tav nodded in return, confident his crewmen understood how important this mission was, and that they’d give their own lives to save the wee princess. Now, for the rest of the plan.
“As ye ken, Isabel was granted three days before she must return to Barra and rescue her son.”
His new wife stepped up beside him and took a deep breath. “Aye, but I think we ought to cut that deadline down by a bit.”
When his brow inched up in surprise, she flushed, but didn’t drop her gaze. “That is, if ye dinnae mind some suggestions.”
“Suggestions?” He grinned. “Lady Isabel, this is yer mission, and we all ken it. I’d be delighted to turn the briefing over to ye, if ye have a plan.”
She hesitated a moment more, and he knew he had to bolster her confidence. Reaching out, he snagged her hand and brought it to his lips. The way she sucked in a sharp breath told him she hadn’t expected his show of affection in the daylight, but she didn’t pull away.
And the taste of her skin—even the back of her hand—reminded him of how perfect it had been to hold her last night, and the wicked things they’d done again that morning.
“We’re all ears, love,” he murmured.
When he stepped back, she straightened her shoulders and nodded once. Clearing her throat, she looked around the room, and he could tell she was pleased by how his men seemed ready to listen to her and follow her plan.
“MacNeil gave me until tomorrow evening—the third day. However, I think if we were to leave here immediately, we could reach Barra sooner. Is that right?”
When she glanced at him for confirmation, he nodded. “We could be there by dark, if it suits ye.”
“I dinnae—” She bit her lip and considered her words before starting again. “MacNeil’s demand was that I marry him in return for Alex’s safety. Since that is no’ an option now—”
“Thanks to yer marriage to our Tav!” Robert called out, and the rest burst into cheers and laughter. Tosh cuffed Robert, but that only caused more laughter.
And Isabel, bless her, grinned in response.
“Aye, I cannae marry MacNeil because I’m married to my Tavish,” she corrected primly, which caused another round of gleeful hoots.
And Tav had to admit he very much liked the idea of being hers.
“But since I cannae marry MacNeil, I see nae reason to conform to his other demands. I could waltz into Kisimul Castle and demand he return my son, but for certes such an action will result in harm coming to Alex.”
Tav was glad she understood that. “He’s unlikely to throw up his hands and give up his greatest bargaining chip.”
She nodded. “So my thought was to send in a small group, a team. If we’re able to arrive tonight, that would grant us the cover of darkness. I ken ye said the castle was impenetrable, but mayhap I could get in alone, even swim there. And—”
“Are ye mad? Ye think I’d let my wife swim up to Kisimul Castle?”
It wasn’t until he’d blurted out the objection that he realized how it would sound. One or two of his men grunted in approval, but fr
om the way she paled, he knew he shouldn’t have said something so domineering.
She sucked in a slow breath. “I thought ye said ye would listen to my plan?”
Hearing the hurt in her voice, he winced, then took Isabel’s hand. “Love, we are listening. I’m sorry. I’ll never forbid ye from doing aught, as long as I ken ye’ve thought it through. But sneaking alone into Kisimul to save yer son…” He shook his head. “ ’Tis folly. And what am I supposed to be doing, while ye’re risking yer life like that?”
Her tongue darted out to swipe across her lips, reminding him of her taste. He had to look away, lest he tent his kilt there among his men and the bairns.
“I rather thought ye and yer crew could be making a diversion.”
“Diversion?” he barked, his gaze darting back to her. “What kind?”
He was still holding her hand, so her shrug didn’t look entirely natural. “Ye have a boat and a dozen men. Surely ye could think of some kind of diversion?”
Aye.
Aye, he could.
As soon as she’d said it, Tav saw it all so clearly.
He and his men could attack Barra, draw MacNeil and his men away from Kisimul. Leave Alex undefended enough so only a small team could sneak in and free the lad.
Tav looked across the room, meeting Tosh’s eyes. The big man nodded once, confirming he understood his captain’s question.
Aye, they could do it. But it would mean revealing his secret to Isabel.
Only yesterday, the woman had told him he was a good man, noble and honorable. He’d fooled himself into thinking he could be that way for her.
But now, in order to secure her future, and that of her son, he had to confess the truth of his past. And pray it wouldn’t crush whatever was just starting to bloom between them.
This love he was only now realizing meant the world to him.
“Tavish?” she all but whispered.
Giving himself a mental shake, he shot her what was supposed to be a cocky grin. When she frowned thoughtfully at him, he knew he’d failed, but he squeezed her hand.
“Aye, love. Ye’ll have yer diversion. I’ll explain it once we’re on the birlinn, but aye, we can draw MacNeil’s men out of the castle and leave it open for ye to fetch Alex.” The thought of her in danger still soured his stomach, but he couldn’t deny she’d been sent by Charlotte for just this reason. And if Dane were the one in trouble, and someone told Tav he wasn’t allowed to be the one to go after his lad…? Well, he understood exactly how she felt.
“Will ye…” She shifted her grip, so her fingers twined through his. “Will ye need to be with the birlinn? Or can ye go with me?”
He was the Black Banner. Once the black sail was unfurled, and the black kilt donned, he had to stay with his ship. Especially if they were attacking Barra.
But…
He’d gladly give up the chance to go a-reiving again if it meant being by Isabel’s side.
“Da has to stay with the birlinn, but I’ll go with ye.”
At Dane’s declaration, both Tav and Isabel swung to face him. ‘Twas clear the lad had figured out Tav’s thoughts on the diversion, and he straightened his skinny shoulders and glared mulishly at his father, as if daring him to change his mind.
“ ’Tis true, is it no’?” he challenged. “Ye’ll be with the men. But I can row a skiff, and I’ll take Isabel to Kisimul. We can be the ones to fetch Alex.”
Before Tav could object, Isabel dropped his hand and stepped toward the lad. “Ye, Dane?” she asked gently.
“Alex is my wee brother now, is he no’?” the boy argued. “And big brothers look after their wee brothers. I can do this. I can help save him.”
Boy? Nay. Nay, the lad was almost a young man now, and Tav had never been prouder.
Isabel glanced his way, as if seeking permission, and Tav shrugged.
“I dinnae like the thought of Dane in danger any more than I like the thought of ye risking yer neck. But…I cannae deny he’s right. He could do this, and the two of ye stand a better chance of getting into Kisimul on yer own.” Whereas a large force would just draw attention.
Her shoulders seemed to sag with relief, although he doubted anyone else noticed but him. “Well then,” she whispered, “let us hie off to Barra.”
“And save Alex,” Dane offered.
“Aye.” Tav nodded firmly, reaching once more for his wife. “To save our family.”
* * *
“Tosh tells me Barra is almost on the horizon, husband. Do ye think now might be the time to tell me whatever secret ye’ve been dancing around since this morning?”
Tavish was wrapping rope—he called it line—around another rope, which looked rather important, but he shot her a rueful grin. “I cannae hide aught from ye, can I, love?”
Determined not to be swayed by his handsome face, or the memory of how those strong hands of his could make her feel, Isabel folded her arms across her chest and gave him “the look.” It often worked on Alex when she knew he was hiding something, and apparently, it worked on Tavish as well.
He flushed and glanced around at his crew, all of whom seemed to be working hard now that they were three men short.
“They’ll no’ help ye, Tavish MacLeod. They’ll no’ help me either; Tosh just says I have to wait for ye to tell me. So…here I am.”
“Aye, here ye are,” he murmured, finishing his task and straightening. “And I’ll tell ye. I’ve just been…trying to work out how.”
In exasperation, she threw her hands up and then settled them on her hips. “Just out with it. I’m assuming it has something to do with the diversion I requested?”
“I cannae fool ye, huh?”
“Ye have nae need to, husband. Remember, ye are honorable.”
Something harsh and painful flashed across his face, but he winced and dropped his head. “Ye’ll no’ think that for long, I’ll wager,” he muttered.
Frustrated now, she stepped up beside him and lowered her voice. “I’ll never doubt ye, Tavish. I am yer wife now.”
And he was her husband. Her first husband. The man who’d cared enough about her and her son’s future to risk his own.
No man had ever done that for her, and she didn’t care what secret he was about to reveal; it wouldn’t wipe away such a deed.
She did her best to put those thoughts into her expression, and mayhap it worked, because his chuckle was short, but he gestured for her to follow him.
As they crossed the deck, Dane fell in beside her.
“Moral support,” he murmured when she glanced at him.
Her brow rose. “Is it likely to be as bad as all that?”
He only shrugged, which wasn’t encouraging.
Near the back of the boat—the stern, Tavish called it—he reached under a bench and pulled out a chest. ‘Twas large and heavy looking, and he made short work of unlocking it. Before he opened it, however, he took a deep breath and glanced at her.
“Ye’re certain?”
“Tavish!” burst out of her in exasperation. “Just show me. By His Wounds! I cannae stand—”
He flipped open the lid of the trunk, and the black wool which lay there so innocuously made her forget whatever she’d been about to say. Since Tavish was standing there, looking so hesitant, she knew this pile of dyed wool was important, but she didn’t know why.
“What is it?” she finally asked.
She saw father and son exchange a glance.
“Milady,” Dane began cautiously, “ye remember when ye asked about spare sets of sails on the birlinn? And I said we had three? This is our third…our special sail.”
Frowning, she glanced between the trunk and the lad. “Black sails?”
“Aye…” Dane squirmed under her gaze. “Can ye think of nae one who flies black sails when he raids?”
Beware the Black!
Isabel’s eyes widened as she sucked in a breath between her teeth. Alex and Margaret had been playing raiders in the garden the afternoon they
were taken.
“The Black Banner,” she whispered. Wide-eyed, she shook her head at Dane. “Ye’re the Black Banner?”
“Och, nay,” the lad answered, and she had just enough time for a spike of relief to jolt through her, when he jerked his head to his father. “Da is.”
When she turned incredulously to him, Tavish winced. “Thank ye, Dane. Do ye no’ have something else to see to? Line to coil or something?”
The lad snorted, although she didn’t see his expression.
“Good luck, Da,” he called, as he scampered off.
“Tavish MacLeod—husband—are ye telling me ye’re the Black Banner? The notorious pirate who has been the scourge of the Western Isles for generations? The legend mothers tell their children to get them to behave?”
This time, his wince was offset by a look of faint pride in his eyes. “Och, well, I’m no’ the original Black Banner, ye ken. ‘Tis a sort of inherited title, passed on through the generations.”
“Father to son, sort of thing?” She stepped closer. “What was all that about wanting Dane to have a stable home, trees to climb, and whatnot, when ye’re just planning on making him a pirate?”
“Nay!” He held up his hands to stop her questioning, but then reached out and grabbed her arms. “Isabel, nay. I’ll no’ be passing the black kilt on to Dane.” He blew out a breath, and without looking, kicked the lid of the trunk closed. “Here, sit with me.”
When she’d done as he’d commanded, still in shock, he gathered one of her hands in both of his. “Love, my Uncle Rory was the Black Banner before me. And before him, ‘twas a MacKinnon. ‘Twas always a man from the Isles, ye understand, but Rory explained to me that ‘twas the legend, the fear, which was passed on and made our work easier.”
“I see,” she said stiffly. “And ye liked this? This fear?”
He blew out a breath and released her hand to scrub at his face. “Isabel, I tried to tell ye I wasnae a good man. I was a pirate. For many years, ye understand. I stole, I crippled ships, I took cargo.”
“Did ye kill anyone?”
He winced a third time, then sighed. “I’ll no’ lie to ye, aye. No’ often, and no’ on purpose, but men died.”
The Pirate’s Angel Page 11
