Dermot’s comments assuaged Liam’s guilt, but it did little to make him feel better about leaving Elene behind. He’d barely slept, only in part because he was attentive to his surroundings, vigilant against Gunter leaving the croft or any of his people sneaking up on Liam. But he struggled to settle his mind because of his unease about Elene’s safety. He feared he would return in three days, and she would be halfway to Norway. He searched for her once he saddled Urram. He looked for her in the village before he wandered toward her croft and looked at the fields where he thought she might toil. When he found her in neither place, he stepped into the mead hall. Gunter and his fellow Norse sailors crowded the gathering hall. Inburgh draped herself over him, possessive in her brief moments of lucidity. Liam easily recognized the mockery in the Norse eyes as they watched their leader’s betrothed.
However, he didn’t spy Elene. He glanced at Androw and Janet, who watched him. They both shook their heads. He searched among the crowd for Katryne and Johan, but he didn’t see them either. He wondered if Elene took them away to avoid Inburgh and Gunter. He tried to set aside his disappointment, telling himself that Elene caring for her siblings far exceeded the importance of seeing her before he rode out. As he considered the situation, he acknowledged he respected Elene for her dedication and duty to her family. They were qualities that formed the basis of his own values and character.
With regret, he mounted Urram and guided his mount through the gate. He scanned the surrounding area, looking toward the coast, then the meadow, in a last attempt to find Elene. But no one moved beyond the village wall. As the village faded into the background, Liam turned his attention to leading his men as they pushed their horses to cover more ground. He rode at the front of the entourage. Dermot brought up the rear with men surrounding the wagon as it jostled over the rough path that was little more than a deer track rather than a road.
“We deliver this grain seed, then we meet with Dillon and Henry.” Liam looked over his shoulder. “They’ll bring the curraghs south. From there, we row across to Mainland.”
“What of the wagon?” Cadence, a younger Sinclair warrior, asked.
“We should be able to leave it in the village. We will sail back for it. It’s not ideal, but we can’t double back. We need to make up for the lost time.” Liam wasn’t fond of leaving anything in the safekeeping of villagers he wasn’t sure would welcome him. But it made little sense to ride across Rousay to only ride back, then sail south to the strip of Mainland Orkney where they would trade next.
Rousay was barely four miles long, so it took little time to travel to the village they’d missed during their last tour. It was the farthest from Skaill, so they’d abandoned their intended stop, knowing it wouldn’t take long to finish their rounds once the weather settled. They entered Traversöe Tuick, and Liam scanned the crowded space where villagers moved from building to building. It was easy to spy the chieftain as he approached. Liam dismounted and held out his hand as a man close to his age greeted him. It was the first warm welcome he received besides greeting Androw. Liam wondered if their similar age bespoke the man’s willingness to acknowledge Liam as a leader.
“Good day.” Njál Spence grasped Liam’s extended forearm in a warrior handshake. “We expected you sooner.”
“We planned to be here sooner, but the rutted roads threatened to knock the wheels off our wagon.”
Njál frowned but nodded. “It’s been a wee damp.” Liam wondered if the man possessed a dry humor or merely accepted Orcadian weather for what it was: wet and cold all year. “Come inside. Your men arrived only five minutes ago with your curraghs. They’re already in the mead hall warming themselves.”
Liam gratefully accepted his host’s invitation and followed the man toward the village’s meeting hall. But before he entered, he recalled his father sent a cask of whisky specifically for Njál. The chieftain’s father and Tristan had been close, and the former chieftain had passed away only two months ago. It was both a gift of condolence and congratulations. Liam gestured his men to continue inside before he turned back to the wagon.
As Liam approached, the tarp shifted on the wagon. He drew his sword and inched closer, wondering if was man or beast that lurked beneath the tarpaulin. He positioned himself at the foot of the wagon on the left side and grasped the end of the covering. Sword poised in his right hand, prepared to drive it through any threat, he reached across with his left and whisked the material back. Shock, then anger burst forth as his green eyes met Elene’s blue ones.
“Get down now,” Liam snapped. His gaze darted around them before he grasped Elene’s arm and steered them toward the village stables.
The uneven road had jarred Elene with each rumbling roll of the wagon wheels. She’d wedged herself between barrels and sacks, gripping a sack and pressing her feet against a barrel to keep from being tossed from side to side. She’d breathed a silent sigh when they came to a stop. She listened to Liam greet the man she knew was the chieftain. She’d remained as still as a corpse until she heard the men’s voices drift away. She peeked out of the corner, relieved she was close to the shore. If she could slide free of the wagon, she would dash to the rowboats.
She knew the crew had loaded empty barrels onto the curraghs the night before, intending to receive ale from Mainland in exchange for the sacks of barley and wheat seeds she’d hid beside. She’d heard that the filled whisky barrels on the wagon would remain here with Njál. She just needed to make it to an empty one and fit herself inside before anyone noticed.
Elene shifted, freeing herself from the tight confines of her hiding place, tucked back where she hoped no one would spy her if they looked under the tarp. She cursed as her shoulder bumped the cover and caused a ripple. She pushed herself forward on her belly, prepared to look out again to ensure no one was nearby. Instead, she froze as someone suddenly ripped the tarpaulin back, and the end of a sword pointed at her nose. Her eyes traveled along the length of the sword, then the sword wielder’s arm until it met a furious glare. She’d already suspected who she would greet, but she hadn’t expected the reaction her appearance caused. When Liam barked an order, she scrambled to comply, shocked when he grasped her arm and dragged her to the stables.
“Liam—”
“Hush.” The hissed word barely reached her as she looked over her shoulder to find Liam’s back to her as he scanned their surroundings before they ducked into the stables. He hurried them to the farthest stall before whirling Elene around.
“Why are you so angry?” Elene’s whisper seemed to echo in the silent building. There were only a couple horses munching on hay, so most of the building was empty. Liam assumed the animals were in the fields with the farmers.
“Angry? I’m bluidy furious.”
Elene’s eyes narrowed as she pulled her arm away, her own temper boiling over. “Forget you saw me. I’ll be on my way.” She shifted to step past Liam, but his massive frame remained like a stone monolith. “Move.”
Liam laughed, but it was mirthless. “Where are you going to go? This bluidy island is four miles long. Njál will march you right back home.”
“I didn’t intend for Njál—or anyone else,” Elene tacked on the last part of her comment when her gaze met Liam’s, “to find me.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “The empty barrels.”
Elene’s head dipped forward, shocked that Liam deduced her plan within moments. She cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Yes.”
Liam sheathed his sword and took a step closer, further caging Elene between him and the stable wall. “Do you have any idea why I’m livid?”
“Frankly, no. I’ll figure things out on my own now that you smuggling me is out of the question.”
“Me smuggling? You’d be a bluidy stowaway. On a bluidy curragh!” Liam inhaled, his left hand curling into a fist. “Imagine it was a villager who found you? Someone either sent to get something from the wagon or spotted you trying to get in the barrel. The entire village would already know you’re here. You’re a free woman, no one’s serf, but you’re also unmarried and traveling with a group of men. It would destroy your reputation before you could take a breath. I’d be honor-bound to return you to Skaill, where they would force me to turn you over to your mother, which means Gunter. What would he do to you if he faced the humiliation of knowing you ran from him? What the hell were you going to do once you got to Mainland? Did you assume that when I found you, which I would since I’d be opening each barrel, that you would just walk away?”
Liam drilled Elene with one question after another, not giving her the chance to answer one before he fired the next one. Her frustration and fear, added to her agitation that someone would find them in the stable, made her anger match Liam’s.
“As you pointed out, I am unmarried. That means you’re not my husband. I’m also not a serf, so you are not my laird. Move.” Elene once more made to move past Liam, but his hand shot out and pressed against the wall by her shoulder. She glared at him.
