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That resolution only lasted until the following morning, when she spied him working beside Sea and several other men repairing the mast. Their shirts were off, despite the chill in the air, and his head was down, his arms bulging with the strain of working the mast. The sight of his broad back, bent over the task and the contours of his arms displaying his strength made the other men, all of them burly lads, seem small beside that giant of a man.

Her eyes traced the outlines of the ink-marks that crisscrossed his body. She wondered at the meaning of the strange markings along one of his biceps she recognized as magic Norse sigils. Was he a pagan?

The wind caught his hair, which he’d tied with a thin strip of leather at his nape, and he looked up, catching sight of her as she stood watching. He did not smile, but continued for a moment too long to gaze at her with his ice-blue eyes. She turned away, shaken by the feelings coursing through her body. Fire and ice dancing together with an irresistible pull that had her drawn to him one second and distancing the next.

She turned and walked back along the deck, determined to expel every scrap of Maxwell MacNeil from her thoughts. At least for today. Yet soon she would be forced to face the reality of the cruel fate awaiting him at Sutherland’s barbarous hands.

Back in the cabin she placed a handful of coals in the small iron brazier and lit a selection of dried twigs and leaves. In no time the little fire was blazing merrily and she warmed her hands at last.

The door opened and Sea entered amid a blustery gust from outside. He leaned over the brazier, rubbing red, raw hands.

Aileen filled a pot with water, barley, carrots, nettles and dandelions and set it to heat on the brazier.

“Yer lad is a good worker.”

This was grudging praise from Sea, from whom any word of approval was always hard-won.

She grinned at him. “The MacNeil must be an extraordinary worker fer ye tae heap such praise upon him.

“I saw ye watching him, Captain.” He paused, his eyes on her face. She felt her cheeks growing hot – and not from the heat from the brazier. “It wouldnae dae fer ye tae become too attached tae the lad. Dinnae forget that ye’re taking him as a prisoner tae Laird Sutherland. That man has nay love fer the MacNeils. They’re the only one of the Island clans that havenae bent tae his will, and he is determined tae humble them.”

Aileen nodded, her expression glum, her gaze on the flickering flames in the brazier.

“I ken, Sea. I dinnae need ye tae bring it home tae me.”

“Ye have nay choice.”

Her head shot up at that and she glared at Sea. Could she stand back and allow Sutherland to murder Maxwell MacNeil in cold blood, as he’d done with her brother Gregory?

Her heart was torn, but as long as she kept her distance from MacNeil, mayhap it was possible for her to consider the situation coolly. Although, recalling the unfamiliar sensations she felt when MacNeil was close, she was beginning to fear that remaining cool was beyond her capability.

“Have ye thought the lad might make his escape while we’re at anchor.”

She shook her head. “Nay. He gave me his word when we went ashore yesterday that he’d nae make a bolt fer it.”

Sea shook his head, casting her a doubtful look. “Ye didnae believe him, surely? Captain, ye must be bewitched by the devil.”

“He promised”, she protested, “And I consider him tae be a man of his word.”

“Lass, I never figured yer head would be turned by a pretty face. I’ll grant ye the lad is as handsome as an angel.”

She huffed loudly. “Me head has nae been turned.”

“The lad promised ye he’d make nae attempt tae escapewhen ye went ashore.”

“Oh nay. I get yer meaning. Just because he promised then, it doesnae mean he won’t try something when the tide is low this night.” She groaned. “The rocks will be dry and it will be tempting fer him tae lower himself over the side and be off wi’ nary a sound tae alert us.”

“Och. That’s it entirely. D’ye wish me tae keep him chained?”

After giving this some thought, she shook her head. “I’ve another idea. I’ll keep him close and watch him meself.”

Once Sea had left her with an amused look, she pulled on her cloak and boots and set out to look for Maxwell. She knew what she would do.

He was hunkered down with several of the oarsmen, nicely sheltered between the sail and the birlinn’s hull. The men had a brazier similar to Aileen’s and were frying some fish they had caught in a pan over the fire.

She watched from a distance. Maxwell appeared at first glance to be no more than a member of the group. But as she watched she became aware of his subtle moves, his quiet directives to the men and the way they followed. Mayhap it had been his idea to try their hands at fishing, with the result that, at least for that night, the men were dining better than she was.

Stepping out of the shadows she made her presence felt. When Maxwell glanced her way she raised a hand, indicating with her head, that she wished him to join her.