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Barclay took the seat nearest the fire. “’Tis true that I kent yer faither. He was a hard man who drove a ruthless bargain but we reached an agreement that none of the pirates from the Isle of Canna would plunder the MacNeils’ waters again. And that agreement held, even after his death. We were nae friends andhe didnae have a good heart, if ye ask me, at least when it came to his enemies.”

“And when it came tae his family, when his interests were his priority,” added Everard, a grim expression on his face as he remembered how his sister had been married off to a cruel man and his brother had been sent away for many years.

Barclay looked somewhat surprised, but then continued where he had broken off. “But he kept his word, and we respected each other, so I kept mine.”

Aileen looked up. “Ye told me about this, Da.”

Her father continued. “What I’ve never discussed with anyone else was that Laird Brendan…” he nodded briefly to Maxwell and Everard, “…yer faither, was petitioning the king on me behalf tae grant me a privateer’s license.” His eyes clouded for a moment, as if he recalled a distant, painful, memory. “That was greatly tae his benefit, as I pledged tae allot a certain amount of our booty tae him, tae add tae his coffers. But it was a good thing fer us all. It meant I could never be hunted by our own country’s ships, and could plunder and intercept any foreign vessels. Of course, some duty would have had tae be paid tae our regent, but we’d have been safe under his protection.”

“What happened? ‘Twas a good plan,” Aileen shook her head. This would have meant her life would have taken a far different path. “It would have kept ye out of Sutherland’s clutches.”

“Aye.” Barclay nodded solemnly. “But before the plan could come tae fruition, Laird Brendan died and we became prisoners of that black-hearted devil.”

Aileen’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “If only that plan had come to pass.”

Everard offered a kindly smile. “It is what I am proposing now. If ye wish it, Aileen, I can petition the king on yer behalf fer the license.”

She shook her head. “I thank ye, milord. But I wish the ship tae belong tae me two loyal friends. If ye can petition on their behalf…” She took in Seamus’s and Finn’s smiling faces. “…that would make me heart glad. I would be full of thanks fer such a kindness.”

Everard nodded his agreement. “Once the papers are in order, I shall go ahead with the petition then. I am certain he will agree. Finn and Seamus, can ye attend me here fer a while longer so that I may ken yer details fer the petition?”

Aileen got to her feet and curtseyed to Everard. “Thank ye from the bottom of me heart.”

Maxwell rose and took her arm. “Come, Aileen, let us walk in the garden while these arrangements are made formal.” She nodded and followed him out to the garden.

“It has been a long week since that terrible night on the Isle of Canna.”

“Aye. I’ve had little time wi’ ye. I’ve missed yer company greatly, but I have been tending tae me faither.”

“And he’s all the better fer it. His cheeks are blooming, and he’s regaining his strength.”

They strolled along the passageway, down the stairs and continued through the courtyard, to the garden. Aileen couldn’t help noticing that once or twice Maxwell twitched his shoulders, and not once but three times adjusted the buckle on his kilt. He loosened the tie at his throat and breathed in deeply, exhaling noisily.

“Daes something ail ye, Maxwell?” Aileen looked at him with concern. She was not used to seeing this big man anything but composed. Even when he had been facing a horde of hostile soldiers in Sutherland’s camp Maxwell had been calm, alert and focused only on the job at hand. Yet today he seemed jumpy. If she didn’t know him better, she might suspect he was nervous.

He shook his head, guiding her by the elbow along the path into the walled garden. “Nay lass.” His voice sounded a tad croaky and he cleared his throat. And there was that twitch again.

She led him to the same pretty bower she’d occupied with Raven all those days ago and they sat together on the old bench. A tiny robin red breast alighted on a branch only a few feet away and she watched it with delight.

Turning to Maxwell she whispered, “D’ye see that wee fellow?”

But Maxwell was too busy fiddling with his neckerchief and straightening his kilt shawl on his shoulder to take notice of the tiny bird.

There was definitely something on his mind.

“What is it? I’ve never seen ye in such a state.”

He huffed and thumped his fist on the timber arm of the bench. Aileen looked at him in alarm.

“Are ye in pain?”

“Aye.” He groaned loudly. “I am in pain. ‘I cannae think straight.”

Aileen jumped to her feet and smoothed down the pale-blue linen of her skirt. “We must seek the healer. Is it yer head that aches?”

“Nay, lass.” Springing to his feet beside her he was shaking his head. “Naught is wrong wi’ me head, me belly, me limbs, my arse or me manhood.”

She giggled a little at that. “Then what is it pray? What part of ye is suffering?”