Page 15 of Chieftain’s Rebel (Chieftain #6)

With Axel fed and settled, Ainsel lay down on her bed, holding him in her arms while he slept. Last night it had been Rory whau had slept with her in his arms, though sleep had been the least of his needs. She couldnae remember how many times he had come o’er her in the night, hands wringing tender emotions frae her heart. She ne’er once thought of refusing him.

Loki, the trickster god, was indeed paying her back. The gods had sent her a wonderful bairn, made certain it didnae share a drop of blood with that monster Nils, and she had denied the truth frae both Rory and her son. Too late now to make all right betwixt them, Rory would hate her and more than likely remove Axel frae her care. And whau could blame him?

She was a coward and a liar. That’s what her brutal life with Nils had done to her, turned her into a replica of Nils—except for one thing, she would ne’er do aught to hurt Axel.

There was the lie.

She was hurting her son by refusing to reveal his existence to his father. Her head spun, circle after circle of thought going naewhere. Clasping Axel to her breast for comfort she cried, salty tears that dripped onto his dark, downy curls.

The wonder of it was that she had got away with the lie this long. When folk looked at Axel, couldnae they see the likeness—see Rory’s features, softened but exact, on her sons bonnie wee face. It was a wonder Gilda hadnae guessed. Aye, her friend had looked at Axel with envy, wanting a bairn of her own but with Calder.

Truth, huh, if it truly existed in Ainsel’s world, it was that the roles were reversed. Gilda would go with Calder to Dun Bhuird and together they would make a family. In honesty, Ainsel felt jealous of Gilda, knowing she would have everything Ainsel’s fear had prevented her from having—a man whau wasnae afraid to love her and eager to take her home with him and make a family:

Rory and Ainsel, living together—mother, father and their son Axel.

Ghillie’s arms ached frae carrying his share of the pine-tar. Its scent was pungent, a stronger version of the pine trees surrounding the inlet. Why they didnae just add a few extra branches to the pyre he had nae notion, but then that wasnae his ambition in life, or, rather, wasnae the purpose the gods had set for him.

When he finally reached manhood, naebody would be able to accuse him of being useless; he knew how to defend himself in a fight, either in aid of himself or his clans, for though he was a Comlyn, his father had brought him up as part of the McArthur family.

He chuckled to himself as he walked, holding the barrel against his belly since its weight made it inclined to slide lower the longer he held it. It was true, what the others had been thinking on: plans like the ones Rory had devised were beyond his ken. He could look at grand structures like Cragenlaw and Dun Bhuird and admire the beauty he saw in them, but he would ne’er be a builder of anything but dreams, sent so he could help others take the right path in life in order that the big plan guiding them all could be accomplished.

His mother had told him about the plan, and nae one other than he and his father were aware of its existence. One day when the twins were fully grown he would help them bring their part in it to fruition. That’s why Rowena, his mother, had been in agreement with Rob McArthur and his father that he learn to defend and protect himself. They all knew he was as large a part of the auld gods’ plan as the rest of them, Ralf, Harry and his other cousin Merida—the generation meant to take the plan on to another portion of time

Ghillie was well aware that he and his cousins would be long dead afore the final goal was reached. It didnae matter to him that his part would have been played centuries afore. It was prophesised one of their descendants would perform a deed that Scots folk would ne’er forget.

Truth to tell, at the moment what scared him most was knowing that one day he would be as lovesick as Rory and Calder. How else would he father an heir—male or female—to take his place in the ultimate plan?

Word had been sent throughout the settlement for every inhabitant to attend a meeting in the Great Hall of the Longhouse. The whole place hummed with voices, some curious, others strident enough to scrape the soot off the rafters above them. Rory, along with Finn, Ghillie and Calder, stood either side of Olaf’s huge carved chair, and he mused that in itself was enough to cause a stir since only Finn could claim to be Norse. He and Ghillie had enough blood connection to call Finn and Olaf cousin, but he knew from experience there was some whau would be ill disposed to taking advice frae them, which left the speaking up to Olaf and Finn.

Finally, when the Great Hall was filled near to bursting, Olaf raised both hands in a manner that demanded silence, and for those whau kept complaining, the warriors under Finn’s command put to an end any likely to give insult to the Jarl. Rory had a glimpse of Ainsel and her bairn close to the front and, like all the other bairns—lads and lassies of the settlement—none had been left behind.

At last Olaf rose shakily to his feet, fist wrapped about the grip of the stick the auld man went naewhere without. “Apart frae the men on watch, every single man woman and child is here today, and I’m sure only the youngest of ye are unaware of the threat that awaits us through the arrogance of one I had thought to call family. Aye, I speak of Nils, once married to my granddaughter Ainsel and father of my great-grandson. His death has done naught to appease those he offended. The pity of it is that he didnae die at my or Finn’s hands, and it’s to be hoped that the Valkyries wreak a terrible punishment on the man whau has put all our lives in danger.

“Alongside me ye might recognise Rory and Calder, whau visited the Ness last solstice and made lots of friends. To some of ye, they’re the men whau helped hone a few more skills with sword and shield yesterday. Both have agreed to stay and help us in our fight with the Irish. With Finn’s help, they have come up with a plan…”

Rory’s eyes scanned the Hall as a few unhappy murmurs interrupted Olaf. The auld Jarl simply waved them down. “I hear some of ye wonder why we need turn to strangers for help? To me they are family, distant members but family none the less. The aulder ones here might remember when Rory’s mother, Kathryn was brought to Caithness under duress. It was a bad time for us, since Irish raiders had just abducted my dear wife—a circumstance that gave me a guid insight into how Rory’s father felt, and none for Harald Comlyn whau was killed because of his many crimes. But think on, that was the last time the settlement came under attack. We might have paid them back by raiding the Irish in return and brought back my wife, but all that happened many years ago. Rory here hadnae even been born and Finn was still in swaddling cloths.”

Hands shaking, Olaf halted the flow of his rhetoric. He appeared to be failing; yet when Finn stepped forward to offer him assistance his grandfather refused, shaking off his hand. A moment later everyone, including Rory, jumped, startled by the noise of Olaf hammering on the floor with a stick he supposedly needed for support. It made Rory’s heart swell to see how sheer determination and pride kept the Jarl upright and his voice steady as went on, “We’ve become o’er complacent. A fine truth that might just lead to the death of many of ye in the Hall, and for that reason, I need ye all to do as I ask. Soon we’ll begin our celebration of the summer solstice—the perfect moment for the Irish to attack. They’re not daft, but then neither are we, so if ye value yer life, dinnae get drunk. Dance about the bonfire as we do each gathering, but go armed, keep yer shields nearby and stay on the side of the fire closest to the water. Take the young folk with ye; make it appear everyone is by the bonfire, for in the dark they willnae be able to tell the difference. Some men will join the few shield-maidens we still have, while the rest keep out of sight in the heather behind the dunes, the strongest will lie down aboard the dragon-boats ready to man the oars if need be.”

Olaf had done well but the Jarl had his limits, and Finn was there to steady him as he sat back in his carved chair. Gradually the noise in the Great Hall grew until Finn yelled, “Enough! If passing up on a drink doesnae suit yer face, then obviously ye nae longer want to live in Caithness. If that’s the case, leave now afore ye endanger yer neighbours.”

Most looked shamefaced and one or two of the rowdy ones kept mumbling under their breaths, until Finn told them to meet him outside to discover what he required of them.

Although Rory had been asked to come up with a plan, he was a Scot. The Olafsen family were the ones the Norsemen looked up to, even though this summer solstice looked to be turning into the worst in living memory. They had decided to keep the plan secret, since secrets had a way of getting out, nae matter how much ye believed in yer friends. He reached out to Olaf and squeezed his shoulder to show how much he admired his stance. “We’ll do whate’er is needed, Olaf. I hope ye know that.”

“I trust ye, Rory.” The man he looked on as an uncle reached out to catch hold of Rory’s hand. “Our families have been friends since that time I talked of. And because I trust ye, I have a favour to ask. Should this fight go wrong, I want ye to take Ainsel and the bairn back to Dun Bhuird with ye.”

The first thought that leapt to mind was that Ainsel had told him they were lovers, but it took only a moment to realise he was wrong as Olaf said, “If the Irish win, it’s Ainsel whau will bear the brunt of everyone’s ire because of Nils and the hate he has brought down upon us. And Axel, my great-grandson, the light of my life, his father is a traitor and a murderer, but he is dead and it’s his son that will have to live with the shame, for they will ne’er let him forget, so please for the sake of our friendship, save my grandson. Ainsel can defend herself but … he’s a wee bairn.”

“Ye have my promise. Here’s my hand on it,” Rory said, suiting his action to the words. Rory turned and strode toward the wide double doors that stood open. Finn’s back was to him as he spoke to his people, and Rory knew his attention should have been on the questions coming thick and fast at his friend, question he could help to answer if his mind wasnae caught in a whirlwind spinning him into the future. A future he had ne’er anticipated. God’s teeth, he had nae time to think on them now when the world as he remembered it was about to come down on all their heads.

Rory was last to come through the doors. Ainsel had been listening to her brother with only half an ear while she waited for her lover to appear. ‘Her lover’: it wasnae a name she had used for him before, but after last night how else could she think of him.

Her brother was giving orders to all the folk crowding round him. “Calder, I want ye on one of the dragon-boats—”

Gilda raised her hand. “Can I go with him?”

“Aye lass, ye can go with yer man.”

Finally Finn turned to her. “Ainsel, I want you to be part of the fighters watching above the beach. Grandfather will see that Axel is taken care of, but we’ll probably need yer skills in the first wave should they come through the water to reach the shore. I noticed yesterday during the practice bouts that ye have lost few of them. There’s a chance ye might end up in the water and get wet, so wear clothes that willnae drag ye down.” Finn paused, his voice a shade gruffer as squinted at her through a frown. “I need ye to remember that this will be real. Nae quarter will be given. They willnae see ye as a lassie; yer just another warrior to them and, like them, yer purpose is to kill enemies.

Ainsel blinked as she nodded her understanding, frightened he might see the fear in her eyes—not for herself—but for the whole settlement. Fear for her son. Their safe world was on a line of collision with the gods.

When she lifted her gaze, it was Rory her eyes fixed upon. The heated intensity she saw there struck her such a blow she almost cried out, and though the punch was mental not physical, she could already feel a scar forming that would stay with her as long as she lived.

What if she were killed.

Dead and ne’er told Rory he was a father.

“That’s it,” Finn told them. “Go to yer homes, find yer shields and sharpen yer swords. I want everyone armed. If ye have nae weapons, use pitchforks—aught sharp that can hurt, otherwise come to the Hall and we’ll see that yer not left defenceless.”

As the crowd thinned, scattering in an array of directions, Ainsel approached the Great Hall. Axel’s safety was her first priority. The past had shown her Olaf was the only man she could trust.

She hugged Axel close, sniffing the back of his neck as if to imprint his scent in her memory. She knew that fighting was an art she excelled at, unlike picking a man to love. If Nils had taught her aught it was that. Rory? Their situation confused her. Had she fallen in love with him, or was it her initial discovery at Axel’s birth that had affected her emotions, realising that Nils couldnae possibly be her son’s father, and that left only Rory.

Unlike Nils, in the three years of their marriage she had been unfaithful only that once. At first she had believed that revenge had driven her to seduce Rory, though in truth, as she had watched Nils slip away frae the bonfire with another lass, her emotions had been disappointment, disgust that he thought so little of her he hadnae tried to hide the tryst. Worse, he had picked someone she knew, though didnae claim as a friend. Even so, she had felt humiliation stab her like a knife to the heart.

She would ne’er know what drew her to Rory.

Mayhap his sense of isolation—a man apart frae the madness conjured by the flames, the frenzy, moments of hysteria. She had looked at him and thought they were the only two sane folk in the settlement, in all of Caithness. The plaid he wore immediately set him at a distance frae the rest. She’d heard through Nils that there were visitors in Caithness—Scots. Her husband had been at his scathing best, which assured her they must be handsome or at least striking. In the flame-light Rory had been more than either, glowing like a god.

Afterwards she had concluded the gods had recognised the sorrow flooding her heart, the sensation that she faced a future where naught would ever change and had sent her a gift to lift her spirits. And it had been a gift of love—Axel.

In a haze of internal meandering, she didnae notice Rory until he reached for her shoulder, halting her in the doorway. She lifted her eyes to his afore glancing into the dimness of the Hall. Her grandfather lifted a hand acknowledging her presence. She smiled, quickly, nervously. “I have a lot to do…” She dragged down air. This was Rory, and he didnae deserve the decision she was about to make. Aye, she was scared, but to confess the truth now—that moment—could turn the course of the battle, for if Rory left through her idiocy, the whole settlement would pay.

At that moment in time, they needed him more than she did.

“I willnae hold up yer preparations. I merely wanted ye to know when all this is o’er, I’ll find ye. What can I say except I’ve discovered I have feelings for ye that I cannae dismiss, and I’m left with nae time to study them. Ask Calder, he’ll tell ye I’ve ne’er been impulsive; my father wouldnae stand for it. Yet, I disobeyed him to return to Caithness, and now I find the lass I was searching for doesnae exist—and ye do.”

He ruffled Alex’s curls with a big hand she could picture covering her breast. “I made a promise to yer grandfather, should aught go wrong. I expect he’ll explain.” Rory dropped his hand to her elbow and hers stretched to cup his, as if the action was confirmation of a vow. She looked at his face, trying to read his expression, and again he surprised her with the heat in his eyes. Afore she could say aught he pulled her closer, Axel pressed against his chest and hers as Rory took her mouth in a swift bittersweet kiss. Short hard, teeth and tongue, then Rory was gone leaving her wondering if they would really meet again.