Page 16 of Chieftain’s Rebel (Chieftain #6)

God’s blood, he wished he knew more about boats—dragon-boats in particular. Rory strode in the direction of the river. Behind him the bonfire had been lit. It had gone up with a whoosh and a roar—pine-tar—while the least able of the settlement, both young and auld, danced in front of the huge pile of wood that had been gathered for another purpose completely. Even now he would swear he felt the heat, the flames licking at the back of his neck. Fire was a terrible weapon, difficult to control yet, given its head, would feast as voraciously on flesh as it did on wood. Rory intended to let it loose to gorge upon the Irish like a hound frae hell and let it do its worst. This year’s solstice promised to be as different frae the last, as summer was frae winter.

As he was different.

Unafraid of what was to come, but with a new awareness—knowledge—of the responsibilities that his father had taken on frae the moment he accepted Malcolm Canmore’s decision to make him Chieftain of the Comlyn clan.

Accountable: that’s what he’d become since the moment he had come up with the plan.

Part of him wished he were in the front line of fighters hiding in the heather waiting to pounce. The cut and thrust of hand-to-hand combat was more his style than the need to consider currents and tides. As for Ainsel, he was already cogitating how long it would take him to get back to her side. He had nae doubt she could defend herself, she had shown him how well the day afore. Rory felt himself harden at the memory of the dance she had led him on—sinuous yet lethal, a contest betwixt male and female. When a young lad, he had seen his cousin Rob and his friends do a dance o’er crossed swords—a challenge, warrior to warrior—but with the same intensity he had felt training with Ainsel. Training… A harsh ironic groan slipped o’er his lips.

Why then did he feel this urge to protect her as a man protects his woman?

God’s blood, what was he about? Protect her? He wanted to ravish her and let her ravish him as they had done in her bed until the early dawn’s light warned it was time to stand up and be the kind of man his father expected. He had slaked his desire for Ainsel and he still wanted, needed her. She was in his blood and would live with him ever after. And she was more, more than the woman he had come to Caithness seeking. Ainsel had a face he could bring to mind swifter than was guid for him. She had a name he had cried out as he thrust inside her, heart pounding, seed spilling, and wanted to shout to the world. Ainsel was nae a dark shadow, a ghostly figure that had lurked in his dreams all year without a skerrick of recognition beyond the scent of honey and thyme.

Ainsel was real. She had a bairn and was the granddaughter of a Jarl, and he had nae earthly notion what he intended to do about her.

For a moment, he bit down on the inside of his cheek, as if the pain were needed to waken him to where he was, and what was expected of him. Shrugging off the urge to examine his motives further, he quickened his pace. Finn was there afore him; at least one of them was knowledgeable about the watery forces required to drive the burning dragon-boat into the Irish vessels.

Now that there were at least three of them to see the dragon-boat on its way, Ghillie began to relax at last. The sight of his cousin striding toward him was enough to allow him a heartfelt sigh, though what the scowl on Rory’s face boded wasnae his to see. It was all very well knowing in yer bones that all would go to plan, so to speak. Occasionally he came up against a sliver of doubt sown by the other side of his heritage. Nhaimeth, his father’s bloodline, was one that he shared with Rory, yet his cousin ne’er seemed to experience aught but faith in his endeavours. As a first cousin to Harry and Ralf, Rob McArthur’s twins, through both his father and mother, Ghillie sometimes questioned why the twins hadnae been burdened by the same gift that the auld gods had laid upon his own shoulders.

Rory’s scowl remained in place as he informed them, “All’s set. Let’s send up a prayer that the tides are on our side. The bonfire is immense enough to keep it burning all night long. At least that’s nae problem.”

Though Rory’s statements were directed straight at Finn, when he turned in Ghillie’s direction, his eyes narrowed, lines fanned out frae the corners shaded by his lashes while his dark brows met in the middle, making him look aulder, unswerving in his ambition to win.

Gavyn, Rory’s father, had been much the same and, except for the scar on Gavyn’s face, Rory would have been his spitting image.

When Ghillie was younger, Nhaimeth had enjoyed telling him stories of his early days at Cragenlaw: of the day his half-brother, Alexander, had been murdered by Kalem the Moor and how the same man had abducted a much younger Rob. How on that day, Gavyn and the McArthur set out after Rob together, slaughtered Kalem then brought the lad home. His father had spoken of Gavyn with pride, how he hadnae even been aware that Rob was part of his family. Nae, he had done it because it was the right thing to do; and that’s what Ghillie saw in Rory’s expression now—the need to do what was honourable, nae matter that the upcoming battle wasnae truly his to win.

Moving closer, Finn told them, “To accompany yer prayers, Grandfather has asked the sorcerer living in a cave on the far side of these trees to make a sacrifice in obeisance to Odin. I hope the gods were listening. All of us here are more than aware how much depends on the time when they sail up the Ness. The Irishmen will be well aware of the importance of the tides. To our advantage, the wind at least is nae with them. If, as we hope, their plans are to enter the Ness and sail up toward the settlement with the high-tide, the moment we loose this dragon-boat on the turning tide, it should sail right into them.”

Finn slammed a fist into his palm to demonstrate the Jarl’s dragon-boat careering into the Irish boats then fixed Ghillie with a cauld hard gaze. “So, wee cousin, what do ye say to that? Will we succeed?”

Ghillie closed his eyes, as the air locked in his throat. Flames leapt behind his eyelids, followed by screams battering his ears until they were overtaken by a pounding surf, tricking him into believing he could breathe once more—duped by the dark shadow spilling out of the hills to cover the settlement. He shuddered and drew in another gulp of air afore he spoke, “I see the fire boat is destined to work, that we could win, but that we shouldnae take aught for granted. We need to take great care.”

Finn grinned, seemingly satisfied. “When do we do aught else?”

Turning, Finn looked o’er his shoulder. “Come time to let the bowline go, when we do that, Grandfather’s boat will swing around, dragon head facing the river. That way it will float into the current when Rory slices the remaining line. I’ve an axe here for ye to use. … Rory, that is.”

Nae surprise there. Ghillie was naturally shorter than the other two men and years younger besides. For some reason, folk mistakenly thought wisdom came with age, thus they merely believed him to have stopped growing.

As with a lot of other matters time would prove him correct.

Less than a day’s ride frae Caithness

Kathryn growled at her husband, “I told ye we should have left earlier. We’ll be o’er late.”

She knew it wasnae really his fault but couldnae hold herself back frae sniping at him; she was a mother and her son was in danger. Frustration was but one of the things making her tense; the other was fear—a truth she would admit to nae one. The last time she had ridden in this direction, Rory hadnae even been born and she had been unable to see a skerrick of her surrounding because of the plaid covering her head.

The warmth of Gavyn’s hand grasping her own helped calm her down. It always did. “Ach, lass, ye should have stayed at home. Look around ye: I’m hardly on my own, it’s like the whole family are intent on making certain the lads are safe.”

“I know they want to help, but they did delay us. We might have been in Caithness by now if we hadnae waited for them to reach Dun Bhuird.” Kathryn turned to look at the others—Rob McArthur and Nhaimeth, her half-brother, though because of their father’s sins he was more brother to Rob than to her. Jamie Ruthven had been the biggest surprise … but then again, nae. The only surprise was that he had been at Cragenlaw when they sent word to Nhaimeth. It was years since he married Eve Buchan and settled down with her, ending the feud betwixt the Ruthven and Buchan clans.

“We’ll all be on our way again—refreshed—within a few moments, my love.”

She threw Gavyn a weak smile, watered down by the memories of the last time they were all in Caithness together. That’s when it came to her, mayhap that’s what was needed—all of them back here together—not merely for Rory and Calder’s sakes, but for her need to make an end to the dread that simply thinking of the place wrought in her. Only a threat to her son could have made her return to that place again.

Only a lovesick fool hiding amongst the heather from an approaching enemy with sword and shield at the ready could be caught up in her memories of lying there a year ago with Rory, the first time they came together. Gilda used to say love is blind—until she met her handsome Calder. For Ainsel it had been blind—a crashing surrender in the dark blue of night that had changed her life. And nae matter what happened when the sun rose on the morrow, she had belonged to Rory—had given her body to him again—at least she’d had that.

Through the silhouettes of rough, scratchy stalks of heather, she had a view of the bonfire, the flames leaping high, folk dancing or pretending to, but not on this side. Not where she could see, but like her, everybody was playing their parts, pretending to enjoy themselves to give the invaders the notion that they were ill prepared. The worst of it all, to her mind, was that the Norsemen frae Orkney were said to be joining them. Wasnae it enough that Nils had come to the Ness frae Orkney and ruined her life? Now the rest of them were intent on putting an end to the whole settlement.

Mayhap they were jealous of the richer more productive lands. Nils had been jealous—of her grandfather, of her brother. All she had been was a fool.

“Pssst,” the sound came frae the warrior on her right. “They’re coming. Pass it on.” She did as she was told. Nervous energy tingling through her body, she gripped the hilt of her sword, her palm damp. Ainsel bit down hard on her bottom lip, the need for silence was paramount. That she knew. That didnae mean that at her heart she didnae want to be standing proud banging her sword against the flat of her shield, forming a wall with the others in the way she had been taught. She had it in her to be fierce, powerful—a side of her she should have shown Nils instead of bowing down to the monster in him, the monster that had occasionally revealed itself and made her fear for her grandfather, for Finn.

Aye, she was glad he was dead, not for herself but for Axel.

Nils had been well aware she was with child when he left—smirking.

All chance of him using Axel for his own ends had disappeared with his death. Instead of using her son to mould his heinous ambitions, he was leaving it to others just like him to do the work he had started. Aye, she was glad he was dead and hadnae come back to find his son, since frae the moment he laid eyes on Axel, he would have realised he was nae son of his.