“The mother is remarrying a Norse trader, and the daughter doesnae like it.” Liam shrugged, unwilling to admit how witnessing the exchange unnerved him. He wasn’t sure if it was the conversation itself or the alluring blonde woman, but he was certain he wouldn’t forget it. “It’s none of ma business. We’re here to represent ma grandfather.”
Dermot glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze to Liam. He said nothing, but he doubted his friend would merely forget the young woman. He’d watched Liam and the Orcadian woman stare at one another, and he’d known Liam only half paid attention while he spoke to Dermot and Alfred, the other ship captain. They entered the mead hall, the warm air easing the chill they’d faced during their days at sea. It was summer, but a strong Atlantic breeze always buffeted the Northern Isles, and the waters had been choppy during their passage.
“Liam Mackay!” A bass voice boomed across the hall as a mountainous man with red hair and a fur cloak approached. If ever anyone doubted Orkney’s connection to the Norse raiders of yore, this man put that doubt to rest. Androw Eunson resembled his Viking forebearers. He greeted Liam with a loose embrace as the men clapped one another on the back.
“Androw, how are you?” Liam asked in Norn, any hint of his Gaelic or Scots accent unnoticeable.
“Keeping well.” The chieftain rubbed his barrel belly with a hearty chuckle. “It’s been years since you visited Skaill. You’re usually in Kirkwall with your family.” Androw looked beyond Liam’s shoulder, expecting to see Laird Liam Sinclair, the younger man’s grandfather and namesake.
“Grandfather sent me as his representative.”
“Ah. Wee Liam is not so wee anymore.”
“Aye, well, I believe I shall bear that moniker for years to come. My grandfather is still as strong as a bear and looks more like my uncles than my grandfather.”
“True, true. Come. Sit. Join us for the midday meal. You’ve arrived just in time.” Androw elbowed Liam’s belly in jest. “Someone has fed you well. You’ve filled out since the last time I saw you.”
“That was nearly five years ago.” Liam waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “I was a lad then. Now I’m a man.”
“Is that so?” Androw returned Liam’s grin. The man was closer in age to Liam’s father, Laird Tristan Mackay, than Liam’s grandfather, the Earl of Sinclair and Orkney. Androw had teased Liam throughout his childhood visits to the archipelago that he resembled a herring while his male relatives were sharks. “Been swinging that sword, have you?”
Liam playfully scowled, but his grin was irrepressible. “Something like that.” Liam accepted a mug of ale from a curvaceous woman who offered him a welcoming smile. He nodded and handed her a coin but kept his attention on Androw as Dermot joined the rest of the Mackay men at a table below the dais. While the woman was attractive, he hadn’t traveled to Orkney to tup barmaids. Despite that resolve, an image of the angry blonde he’d watched only minutes earlier flashed to mind.
As Liam accepted the seat to which Androw gestured, he unclasped his own cloak and let it drape over his chair. The air was brisk but not unbearable. Hisbreacan feile, or great plaid, was more than enough now that he no longer faced the bracing sea air. He accepted a trencher with his favorite Orcadian patties, a mixture of mincemeat, tatties, onions, and spices rolled together and fried. Its distinct flavor and texture, from the combination of the beef and potatoes, was something no one in his area of the Highlands ever replicated, despite how his mother and aunts tried. The Orcadians swore it was their cattle. Liam accepted a bere bannock made from beremeal, an ancient form of barley, and happily began his meal.
He’d taken three bites when the mead hall door opened, and the blonde woman from the well entered. Elene scanned the crowd before turning her attention to the dais. Liam registered her surprise when she saw him seated beside Androw, a trencher already before him. He knew all traders were the chieftain’s guests, so Liam hoped her surprise was more personal. It certainly was for him. The woman approached the dais and dipped her head to her chieftain.
“Elene,” Androw greeted. “Have you met our guest, Liam Mackay?”
“Hello.” Elene’s tone was softer than it had been when she argued with her mother, and it had a near-melodic tone as she turned her sapphire gaze toward Liam. In poor Gaelic, she offered, “Welcome.”
“Thank you.” Elene’s eyebrows shot to her hairline when Liam responded in Norn. Her cheeks flushed red as she realized that, as she’d feared, he had understood the entire conversation he’d overheard. Her gaze hardened, the accusation clear. Liam’s cheeks heated, and he offered her a guilty smile.
“Have you met?” Androw asked, looking between the pair.
“I overheard a conversation I wasn’t meant to understand,” Liam confessed in Norn.
“You mean Elene’s argument with her mother?” Androw rolled his eyes. “The entire village heard.”
Elene’s jaw set, and Liam wondered if her teeth might crack from how tightly he saw them clenched. “Forgive me for interrupting. I will seek you later, Androw.”
Liam wondered for a moment what Elene meant. Something passed between the older man and younger woman, and Liam felt a stab of emotion that he realized was jealousy. He shifted his attention to his patties, preferring to eat than watch what he assumed were lovers exchanging glances. He looked out from under his eyelashes as Elene turned away. There was something about the way Elene carried herself—with confidence and grace—that appealed to Liam. Even when she’d argued in public, she hadn’t raised her voice. She’d remained collected; it was her mother who sounded like a harpy.
“So you already met my mother’s cousin’s granddaughter,” Androw surmised in Norn.
“We didn’t really meet. We—encountered one another.”
“You witnessed the argument, you mean.”
“I don’t think she appreciated that I understood it.”
“I doubt it. We’re used to it, especially her family, but I doubt she liked a handsome outsider watching and listening.”
“It seemed—contentious.” Liam chose his words carefully as he spoke to the Skaill chieftain. He trusted Androw, had known him most of his life, but he was there to conduct business, not gossip.
“Elene is a good woman, and she’s dedicated to her family. Her younger brother and sister adore her, and rightfully so. But her mother is a self-centered woman and has been since we were children. When her husband died, she turned to the drink. Now she intends to remarry a Norse trader and move her family back to Norway. Since Elene is unwed, she has no choice but to join her mother and soon-to-be stepfather. There is little I can do, and she knows it, but I’m certain she was here to seek my help again.”
“Has she not reached her majority?”
