He rose quietly, doing his best not to disturb Selene, and fed the fire with more logs until it caught again with a low crackle, then he retrieved one of the heavy fur coverlets from the bed. Kneeling, he draped it over her with great care. She was as precious as the most delicate glass from Venice, and to look on her as she slept so peacefully did his heart great good.
She stirred anyway.
“Mmm,” she murmured, blinking up at him, eyes unfocused, hair ruffled into wild disarray. Sleep had softened her features, making her look younger somehow – and unbearably beautiful.
“You look like you’re sneaking away,” she said drowsily, watching as he fastened his kilt.
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, quick and warm. “I have work to do,” he murmured. “If I wish tae catch the tide I’ve nay time tae dawdle. There’s cattle tae load and men tae make ready.” He gazed at her for one more stolen moment. “Try tae sleep a little longer.”
“I can’t sleep more, or I’ll be walking in my shift back to my room for all to see.” She caught his wrist before he could rise. “Be careful.”
“I am always careful.”
She snorted softly. “Liar.”
He laughed under his breath, gently disentangling himself, and pulled on his boots before slipping from the chamber. The warmth he left behind clung to him like a true blessing.
In the stables Arkan was saddled and waiting with the young stable hand Kenneth had instructed the previous day. He gave the lad a coin for his trouble and, grinning at his good fortune, the lad led the big destrier out to the courtyard for Kenneth to mount,
He waited for the portcullis to rise and set off on the short ride to the western shore where his birlinn was berthed.
The sky was no more than a bruised indigo by the time he reached the landing with only the faintest sliver of pale gray displayed on the horizon. A good breeze was blowing, yet the sea was calm, a dark, restless shimmer moving against the rocks below. If the weather held, they’d make good time back to Duntulm.
The birlinn loomed beside the jetty, her hull creaking softly as if waking from sleep, and beyond her the cattle waited, penned tight, watchful and uneasy at this unaccustomed place.
When he went near them, Kenneth paused a moment, hands on his hips, surveying the small herd of cattle waiting in the pen beside the landing place.
They were good beasts – broad-backed, healthy, their rough, shaggy coats keeping out the worst of the cold. They were few, not enough to rebuild his herd, but sufficient to restore some heart to his people.
He cursed Aidan under his breath, recalling his last raid and the mayhem he’d caused. But he took heart from the beasts he’d purchased. Without cattle, there would be suffering, making a harsh winter even harder to bear. Worse still, the glimpse of a scant future would hang heavy on all the farms. These animals would mean a great deal to his people, he reminded himself sharply.Every one of these beasts matters.
Now it was on his head to transport them safely back to Sleat.
Callum was already there, sleeves rolled, voice carrying easily over the lowing and stamping of the beasts. “Easy now. Easy. No one’s intending ye harm.”
One of the younger herdsmen huffed. “D’ye think they’ll believe that when ye put them on board yer ship?”
Kenneth stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on the nearest beast’s flank, murmuring nonsense sounds meant to soothe her. The heifer’s hide was warm beneath his palm, her muscles quivering with fear.
“She’s nae wrong tae fear,” he said quietly. “She’s being taken away from all she’s ever kent.”
Callum snorted. “You’ve a fine way with offering encouragement. Try convincing her she’s naught tae fear instead.”
The little heifer balked hard when she reached the plank from the dock across to the swaying birlinn, hooves skidding, eyes rolling white. Her loud lowing echoed across the divide, causing the others to move restlessly.
Standing on the deck, Kenneth stepped into her line of sight. “Look at me,” he said firmly, as though she were a skittish child. “Aye, ye.” He tried flattery. “Ye’re a bonnie wee coo and ye’ve crossed worse ground than this.”
Clearly, she did not believe him.
Two men pushed her from behind, another tugged the rope attached to her horns, and Kenneth braced his shoulder against her side, muscles straining. His boots slid, his breath came sharp, and for a moment she seemed to consider crushing him out of sheer spite.
“Move,” he growled, more to the wind than to the animal.
With a final bellow, she surged forward, hooves clattering onto the deck.
A cheer went up.
Kenneth allowed himself one tight smile.One down.
