“You’re correct. I am English. But I… I’m not a spy,” she managed. “I’m travelling to the Isle of Raasay, to meet with the Lady Elsie, my sister. She is married to Halvard MacLeod, Laird of Raasay. We carried a message from him to you, Laird MacDonald, but?—”
Kenneth listened to her words and nodded. “Where is this message ye speak of?”
She shook her head. As far as she could recall it was Jake MacLeod who had carried her brother-in-law’s sealed message. “I don’t know where it is. Mayhap if you search?—”
Kenneth interrupted her, turning to his advisor. “Tell the men tae search fer evidence that will prove ae me this lass is who she claims tae be.”
Selene glanced down – and immediately wished she had not done so.
Bodies. Too many. Strewn across the planks like broken dolls were all that remained of Halvard’s loyal soldiers. She shuddered catching sight of Jake MacLeod’s prone form among them. Hot tears sprang into her eyes. These were men she had travelled beside for weeks, shared meals with, spoken and laughed with, grown fond of, despite the hardships of their journey.
A nauseating wave of grief washed through her and she bowed her head.
Several MacDonald warriors searched the bodies scattered across the deck, roughly turning each one. Then one man paused and held something up to the torchlight. It was a torn fragment of parchment, still bearing its wax seal stamped with Halvard’s crest. Selene felt a rush of despair. The note was gone.
Murmurs rippled through the watching men and she heard the word “Raasay” uttered more than once.
“See. I speak the truth,” she cried urgently. “You must believe me. I am no spy. That is a scrap of the legal parchment that was to be delivered. We were bound to Duntulm Castle to present it to you, sir.” She glanced at Kenneth, her eyes silently imploring him to believe her tale.
Her voice was drowned out by a terrible groan from the hull as a massive wave struck the ship broadside. The entire vessel shuddered violently, pitching men against masts and railings. Ropes whipped through the air. Shouts rose anew as theMacDonald warriors scrambled to secure their lines and prepare for transfer back to their own birlinn.
Selene flung out her arms in a bid to maintain her balance as the birlinn tipped alarmingly.
“Come,” Kenneth said, reaching for her arm as gently as the storm allowed. “You cannae stay aboard. Our birlinn rides steadier. I’ll see ye safe.”
She let him guide her, stepping over coils of rope and slippery planks as his men hastened to throw a boarding plank between the two ships. The wind screamed through the rigging. Rain hammered against her hood.
Just a few paces more.
Heart in her mouth, shaking all over, she went to step across the plank. At that very moment a monstrous wave caught the birlinn, raising it and slamming it down.
A violent, wrenching motion tore through the deck. The plank rolled into the deep. Selene’s foot slipped and her hand flew out clutching at the railing. To her horror the timber splintered beneath her grasp, causing her to lose her balance entirely.
Pitching forward, her feet went from under her and she uttered a desperate cry which was swallowed instantly by the storm. She flew forward, over the shattered rail and into the furious, churning sea below.
When she struck the water, it felt as if she was plunging into a wall of ice.
Cold seized her lungs. Her cloak dragged her under almost at once. The world above vanished into a blur of grey as the brutal, unforgiving current seized her, wrapping around her like cruel hands, drawing her inexorably into the depths.
Selene tried to kick upward, but the weight of her sodden clothing pulled her deeper still.
The storm’s roar dulled beneath the surface, replaced by a low, muffled boom that vibrated through her bones.
She struggled, bringing all her strength to bear, her hands reaching hopelessly for the surface – straining for air, for light, for anything. As the blackness claimed her, she became dimly aware of her face being pressed against rough fabric, and strong hands on her waist.
Then she knew nothing else as the dark, icy Sea of the Hebrides swallowed her whole.
CHAPTER TWO
When the blackness finally peeled away, Selene woke to the glow of a fire.
It was not gentle warmth, but fierce heat around her, beneath her, above her, bringing life back to her almost frozen form. A deep, rhythmic rocking travelled through her body, as though she were being carried upon some steady current.
She blinked, making out very little through her hazy vision. Overhead, wooden beams flickered in and out of focus. The low groan of a hull shifting in the storm reached her ears. She was no longer in the water. She was on another ship, no longer on the birlinn that had been her refuge.
She was somewhere else.
Someone murmured nearby. A calm, deep voice she remembered – low and steady but, unmistakably in command.
