CHAPTER1
Liam Mackay gazed at the bustling Orcadian village of Skaill, on the isle of Rousay. He thought of how it reminded him of his clan’s village, outside the walls of Castle Varrich in the Scottish Highlands. As he crossed the dock, he noticed the massive longboats that Norse traders sailed to conduct trade on the island. With his father’s jet-black hair and emerald eyes, few would believe Liam had Nordic heritage, but it had connected his family to Orkney for ten generations. He swept his eyes over the crofts nearest the marina of sorts. He watched as a tall blonde woman stormed out of a house and slammed the door shut. The fury on the woman’s face made him think of his mother when she was angry with Liam and his younger brothers and sister. But the woman before him, statuesque and voluptuous, couldn’t resemble his petite brunette mother any less. Her tall stature belied her curves until she leaned forward to fill a bucket at the well.
“Elene, come back here. We are not through speaking,” an older woman called from the doorway to the croft Elene Isbister left. The younger woman continued to fill the bucket as though no one spoke to her, but Liam watched her face grow red, and it wasn’t from exertion. His path carried him toward the well, but he could have continued past to reach his destination. Instead, intrigued by the stunning blonde and the scene playing out before him, he stopped at the well as the woman finished raising the bucket. She poured the contents in her own pail before letting it drop back into the cavernous pit. Unaware of Liam, she jumped when he stepped forward and grasped the crank.
Liam’s emerald eyes met deep sapphire, the shade of the Highland sky in autumn. Liam observed the surprise, then wariness, in her gaze as she stepped away. He drew the full bucket to the ledge and dipped the community ladle into the cool water. As he sipped, Elene took two steps back before turning away, disconcerted by the handsome stranger. However, her feet grew roots as the older woman stormed toward her. Liam kept his head down as he lowered the bucket, chiding himself for his nosiness but unwilling to move away. The older woman glanced at him dismissively before settling her attention on Elene.
In Norn, the language of Orkney, the woman continued her chastisement. “I didn’t tell you that you could leave. We were in the middle of talking.”
“No, Mother. You were in the middle of talking, and I was in the middle of not wanting to hear any more. I cannot believe you’re considering marrying him.”
“Not considering. I’ve already decided. When Gunter returns in a sennight, we will wed. Then we will all move home with him.”
“Home?” Elene scoffed. “Norway hasn’t been our people’s home in ten generations. And you are a fool if you believe he will allow me to remain.”
“You’re old enough to marry.”
“Getting married is a far sight different from being sold!” Elene made to step around her mother, but the older woman was just as quick.
“You exaggerate.”
“And you believe a slave trader over your own daughter.”
“Gunter is not a slave trader. You would smear his name because you aren’t getting what you want, you selfish child.”
Clearly not a child, Elene stood to her full height as she gazed at her mother, who was at least two inches shorter than her daughter. “Selfish,” she repeated her mother. “I hadn’t realized Katryne and Johan raised themselves.”
“I am their mother.”
“But I raised my brother and sister. I lost my chance to marry while you lost yourself in barrels of mead.” Elene swung her glare at Liam, who’d remained near the arguing women while he spoke to his two ship captains. Despite speaking Gaelic, Liam sensed Elene knew he understood her conversation with her mother. It explained her accusatory glare.
“That was my grief.”
Elene released a dismissive puff of air. “That was your habit. You haven’t missed Father in years. You welcomed Petyre into our home almost every night, and Father hadn’t been dead two moons.”
“We need a man to provide for us,” the older woman sniffed defensively.
Elene gawked at her mother before she laughed. “We do not need a man to provide for us. You might need one because you can’t stand to be alone for more than a day. But I work our fields and hunt out supper. Petyre, and now Gunter, come into our home and eat the food I provide. I should have accepted Duncan’s offer before he grew fed up with waiting.”
“You didn’t love him.”
“You mean like you love Gunter?”
“I do love him,” Elene’s mother insisted.
“More fool are you,” Elene muttered.
“Come inside. You’re causing a scene.”
“I’m not the one yelling. And I can’t. I must bring Bess this water, feed the chickens, muck out the stalls, then milk Bess. I haven’t time to argue when I know you refuse to believe me.”
“He is not going to sell you!”
“He will. Or he’ll force me to bed him. He will not feed and clothe another adult without getting something in return. He told me.”
“Liar,” the older woman hissed. Elene stared at her mother, not recognizing the woman she’d become in the six years since Elene’s father died. She nodded before turning toward the village barn. Liam watched her walk away before he continued to the mead hall in search of the village’s chieftain.
“What was that all aboot?” Dermot asked as he came to walk beside Liam. He was the son of Clan Mackay’s senior-most warrior and the clan’s tánaiste before Liam rose to the position. Dermot was the best sailor in the clan and captain of the Mackays’ largest ship. He was also Liam’s friend since they were both in the cradle.
