After he’d left her, she leaned on the railing, her mind travelling ahead to her reunion with her sister. It had been many months since they’d been together and now Elsie was a married woman, in charge of her own Scottish castle.
Despite Jake’s warning, the squall took her by surprise. Before she could hasten to the shelter, the sudden rush of wind and rain had tossed away her hood and plastered her hair to her head. In a flash, rivulets of rain went pouring down her cheeks. The coastline was no longer visible behind the sheeting rain.
She looked around, hoping for someone to escort her from the prow as the ship was rolling and she could hardly take a steady step.
Buffeted by the sudden storm, some of the men were frantically hauling on the sails while others heaved at their oars, endeavoring to guide the ship as the waves rose. Selene clutched the railing, clinging on with all her might as the vessel was hit by a giant wave across the prow and she was deluged with salt water.
A bolt of lightning across the deck followed almost at once by an ear-splitting roll of thunder overhead jolted her heart and robbed her of breath. Then came another, and another. It was as if the heavens were assailing them with hellfire and cannons. Trembling, but determined not to show her fear, Selene pressed her hands to her ears and stumbled toward the shelter in the stern as the ship was enclosed in a white curtain of mist and rain.
With rain stinging her cheeks, Selene squinted into the shifting grey ahead. The storm had swallowed the horizon, yet through the dense veil of mist she became aware that a long, narrow shape was forming. Another ship, hardly more than a ghostly presence emerging from the gloom, was cutting fast across the darkened water.
She blinked.
Are the waves playing tricks on me?
But, no, therewasanother ship, dangerously close. The strange ship surged forward with uncanny speed, its bow rising and falling like some great beast stalking its prey.
What unsettled her most was its starkness. It bore no clan colors. No banners were snapping from its mast in the wind. There was nothing to proclaim its allegiance or its intent. It was a mysterious vessel in waters where every Highland sailor was born with a clan to his name and every ship proclaimed its clan ownership.
A chill that had nothing to do with the icy rain coiled through her belly.
What is this about?
Sudden thoughts of pirates and privateers flashed with terrifying clarity through her mind. Her breath was high in her chest, almost catching in her throat as she forced her shaking hands to unclench from the railing she’d been clinging to. She willed her breathing to steady, but then the other ship turned.
Not away, but towards them.
She glanced around. A shudder seemed to ripple through Halvard’s men as the dangerous reality of their situation dawned, far too late. Anxious, concerned voices rose. The air thickened with panic. Someone shouted an order that was drowned instantly by a peal of thunder.
Too close now, the stranger’s bow cut across their path, and in a burst of violent motion, heavy iron hooks arced through the rain and slammed onto the birlinn’s side with a sickening scrape.
Before Selene could even cry out, men were swarming over the rail, their boots thudding onto the deck, each of them armed with long blades that glinted pale and wicked beneath the storm’s fractured light.
Chaos erupted around her.
Her guards surged forward, trying desperately to form a shield between her and the raiders, but the attackers came in a relentless tide and she was forced to stand, watching the tumult and the carnage. The clashing of steel – sharp, ringing, fierce and terrible – along with the heartrending cries of the wounded and dying, were carried away by the howling wind. Rain sprayed across the deck in blinding sheets. Men slipped, grappled and fell. She saw Jake wielding his sword, his flintlock pistol still in his belt for he’d had no chance to draw and fire it. He fought bravely but numbers overcame him and he went down under a shocking surge of at least four men. One by one, Halvard’s loyal crew were cut down or driven to their knees and slaughtered.
This cannot be happening.
The birlinn lurched sharply under the sudden weight of the alarming number of bodies and the fury of the waves. Selene staggered, reaching out blindly. But before she could grasp the nearest rope to steady herself, a rough hand seized her arm in aniron grip. A raider – tall and broad, his face half-hidden in the deluge – yanked her toward the mast.
“Let me go!” she gasped, struggling to wrench her arm free. He gave her a mocking laugh, his hold on her arm tightening cruelly.
The storm roared in her ears. The deck spun beneath her feet.
Then – another horn blast split the fog. Deeper. Stronger. Terrifyingly close.
Through the writhing mist, a second vessel broke into view, scarcely visible through the gloom, flying a flag of black slashed with deep red.
The man dragging Selene hesitated for the barest moment as the impact from the other ship jolted against the side of the birlinn.
It was enough. Selene’s fierce instinct gave her courage. She twisted sharply beneath the man’s grip, kicking out, catching a glancing blow to his shin. Desperate to free herself, she wrenched her arm away from his grasp. As he reached for her again, she managed only to stumble backward, buying a breath’s worth of distance before he lunged again. This time he lifted his blade.
She cried out.
“Keep away from me, you brute.” Her scream rang out loud and long, penetrating the sounds of the onslaught. She lookedaround, frantically seeking another foothold, somewhere she could escape the huge man’s reach. But alone she couldn’t do anything. Was there no one to come to her aid?
“Help me!” she shouted into the mêlée.
