“Luck. The king sent us to scout Arran for the attack, but when we tried to return we found our route cut off by a blockade of English galleys. We took refuge at the village near Dunaverty Castle to wait for the sea-ways to clear and spoke with our friend at the castle. When he told me how you’d arrived, I figured you must be close. Edward mentioned that he’d scouted from this island when you made your escape from Dunaverty last time, so I took a chance.” He gave him a hard look. “What the hell did you do to piss off de Monthermer?”
Erik had already relayed the circumstances of his meeting with the McQuillans—including being forced to take Ellie—and the subsequent confrontation with the English ships. “Pricked his pride, that’s all.”
Boyd shook his head. “I don’t think so. Our friend at the castle said de Monthermer was there a few days ago on a rampage, questioning the servants about some ghost.”
Erik frowned and relayed the unexpected encounter with the boy in the granary, of course leaving out the part where he got knifed.
If de Monthermer was at Dunaverty, he was close. How had the Englishman made the connection? Erik had an uneasy feeling. Perhaps it was a good thing they were leaving.
“Did you have any trouble on Arran?” Erik asked.
“Nay. The English stopped on the island last week but didn’t search very closely.” Probably around the same time they’d stopped here, Erik realized. “But they’re stationed all around the waterways. We were forced to come overland and catch a boat at Dunaverty. You are going to have a hell of a time getting one boat through, let alone an entire fleet.”
Erik wasn’t worried. He’d think of something. Even if he had to lead the English away himself, Bruce would get to Arran.
They talked some more and decided that Edward and Boyd should return to Arran, rather than risk a trip through the English gauntlet, and prepare for the arrival of the army. Since Erik would be leaving tomorrow night to meet the Irish and lead them to Rathlin, he would take word back to Bruce of what Boyd and Edward had found.
“You’re cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” Boyd asked. “Bringing the Irish to Rathlin at the last minute?”
“The king decided it would be more risky to attempt to hide hundreds of men on a small island.” Erik smiled. “And he knows I won’t let him down.”
“What if you can’t get through?”
“I’ll get through,” Erik said with a laugh. “We’ll travel at night; they won’t even know we’re there. Besides, they’re only English.”
Boyd grinned. Of all the Highland Guard, Boyd had cause to hate the English the most. He hailed from the borders, which had borne the brunt of English injustice for years. “I can see your confidence hasn’t suffered any. You’re still a cocky bastard.”
“And you’re still bitter over the lass in Scone. You can hardly blame her for choosing beauty and charm over brute strength.”
Boyd shook his head. Erik knew he didn’t care about the pretty barmaid. “Sod off, Hawk. She only wanted you because Arrow wasn’t there.”
Erik grinned. Boyd was probably right. When Gregor MacGregor stepped into the room, the lasses tended to forget about anyone else. The famed archer hated the attention. A damned waste, to Erik’s mind.
“I hear you’ve been keeping yourself occupied,” Edward Bruce interjected, approaching with Randolph. “Only you, Hawk, could manage to get yourself marooned on an island with your own captive.”
Erik shot a glance to Randolph, wondering what tales he’d been carrying to Edward Bruce. The lad wasn’t going to last long if he didn’t learn to keep his mouth shut. Erik’s sisters used to tattle when they were young, but at least they’d outgrown it by the time they turned ten.
“She’s not my captive,” Erik said with a hint of a warning in his tone. He didn’t want to talk about Ellie.
Edward didn’t take the hint. “Randolph here says you’ve taken a real liking to the lass. She must be a beauty, eh?”
Erik felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders begin to knot.
Unaware of Erik’s reaction, Edward continued, “Soft and sweet, with big, juicy tits?” He made a squeezing motion with his hands. “When you’re done fucking her, maybe I’ll—”
Erik saw black. He was filled with a dark, mindless rage unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He had his hand around Edward’s neck and pinned him against the wall before he could finish.
Blood roared in his ears. His heart was hammering so fast, all he wanted to do was squeeze. “Don’t say it,” Erik warned in a deadly voice.
Edward clutched at Erik’s hand and started making gasping noises. But it was futile; Erik’s arm was as rigid and unbending as steel. “Let go of me,” he wheezed, “you bloody barbarian.”
Erik squeezed a little tighter and Edward’s eyes started to bulge.
“Let him go, Hawk.”
Boyd’s calm voice broke through the haze. Slowly, Erik’s mind cleared and, realizing he was about to strangle the king’s brother, he released his hold on Edward’s neck.
Edward bent over at the waist, with his hands around his neck, gasping for air. “What the hell do you think you were doing?” he accused, red-faced and spitting angry. “How dare you put your hands on me. My brother will hear about this.”
