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“And will ye tell me what it is ye wish fer?”

Laughing, she looked up. “I ken the man I wish fer must have many ink drawings on his body.”

He sounded surprised. “What kind of drawings?”

“He must have the white-tailed eagle,lolaire suile na greínspread across his shoulders, and the feathers at his throat. He must be taller, broader, stronger and braver than all other men I have ever met. He must be handsome above all others, with dark hair and blue eyes, and he must make love like the godFreyr.”

He kissed her softly on the lips. “Is that all ye wish fer?”

“That is all I will tell ye this day, MacNeil.”

“Then I shall ask ye the same as ye asked of me. If such a man exists, where is he? Surely ye would wish him tae be always by yer side?”

She laughed, tangling her hands in his hair. “He is by me side, MacNeil, and I dae wish him to be always there.”

He hugged her close. “I wish fer my lass tae be with me, as she is now.”

A moment before they lost themselves in a kiss, Maxwell touched the earth long enough to say, “We’ll sail for the Isle of Barra, nay the Isle of Canna.”

Aileen favored him with the sweetest of smiles and leaned in. “The Isle of Barra it shall be.”

They waited until dusk before they took their little craft across the sand and slid it silently into the waves. They leapt on board, Maxwell settling with the oar and Aileen unfurling the sail.

“I can guide us as far as Canna,” Aileen admitted. “But beyond that ye’ll need to take us tae the Isle of Barra.”

“So ye’ve nae visited Barra? Nae even in yer young piratical days?”

In the soft starlight he saw her doleful face.

“The MacAlpins never bothered the MacNeils. I cannae be certain, but I think yer faither and mine had some sort of an agreement. When I last saw Da, he hinted that they were never friends but that there was something of long standing between them.”

They sailed on, the wind strong so there was no need of the oars.

Maxwell saw Aileen’s head drooping. “Sleep fer a while lass. While ye can.”

She curled herself into her cloak and lay down on the small space on the deck. In a trice she was asleep.

While Aileen slept, he kept the course he knew so well, heading for his island. These were the waters he’d sailed in as a lad. That was when his mother was still with them, before he’d left Barra for the MacAulay Castle and his long apprenticeship as a squire. After that, he’d had no wish to return to his home. Both his mother and his father were dead, his sister was married away and his brother Everard was the laird. It seemed to him there was no place for him and no one, save for his brother, to care whether he lived or died or ever set foot on the isle again.

With the sail full and a stiff breeze behind them, the little boat made good speed, skipping lightly across the waves. He felt the wind in his hair and caught the scent of peat and salt in his nostrils. It took him back to his childhood days, when he’d sailed his little skiff, a tiny boat very like the one he was returning in.

He and Everard had sailed, as had all his friends. They were bold lads and good sailors, yet he’ never ventured as far as the Isle of Skye. However, he’d sailed to the Isle of Canna many times, even though he’d been warned by his father and the elders never to set foot on that nest of pirates.

He laughed to himself, mayhap he’d glimpsed a barefoot, fiery-haired urchin among the youngsters that had plagued them for pennies whenever they’d gone ashore. No. That wasn’t her way.Aileen would have held herself aloof, never diving or scrambling for coins the way the others did. She had her sights set on far seas and bounty beyond the others’ ken.

And now he was taking her with him to Barra. He wondered if the Laird Everard would approve of the Pirate Queen residing on MacNeil lands. Everard had always been one for keeping to the rules and Maxwell supposed that it had been because the weight of his future as clan chief had always sat heavily on his shoulders.

After the years of fighting in France, Maxwell had at last returned home. And, as all he knew was war, it made sense for Everard to appoint him as Clan War Chief. It was a role he was fit for and he claimed it as an honor to serve his clan. There were enough skirmishes and troubles among the clans and not the least of these with the pirates from the Isle of Canna. Yet the biggest thorn in their side was the Laird Andrew Sutherland, a man who owned a fleet of birlinns to do his bidding and plagued the islands and every ship that sailed in Scots waters and beyond.

He was all too familiar with the likes of Andrew Sutherland, the powerful laird who wished for more power and would never be satisfied until he ruled all the clans. His reach went beyond Scotland. His name was spoken with fear even as far as the Baltic Sea.

With Everard’s help, Maxwell was determined they would make Sutherland pay dearly for his captivity and for the man’s audacity in wishing to abduct the Laird of the MacNeils.

He was still unsure why Sutherland was so determined to make Everard his prisoner. But he knew enough by now to understand that such a proud and evil man would never wish them well.

The night wore on and the wind whipped the water, the waves growing higher. He kept his course for Barra, but it was becoming more difficult to hold steady. It was time to wake Aileen.

“Aileen.” Still keeping one hand on his steering oar and holding steady in his westerly direction, he bent and captured a lock of her hair that had come free of her braid and was blowing in the wind. He held it to his lips for just a moment, breathing in her sweet scent of wildflowers and honey and the salt sea air.