As if she had forgotten Rowen altogether once she had made up her mind, Gaira turned away from the tub and hastened to the door.
“No, wait for me!” Rowen rose again from the water only for Gaira to whirl around with a stern look upon her face.
“Sit down and finish your bath, you must stay here if you dinna want tae draw attention tae what we’re about. You will know soon enough if I’ve managed tae leave the castle when you dinna see me any longer. I have only tae fetch my hooded cloak first tae cover my head?—”
“Take mine, too, so you’ll be good and warm—och, Gaira! I will never forgive myself if something happens tae you.”
“It willna if you pray as hard for me as you did for Laird Mackay. Your happiness means everything tae me, sweeting, so I canna fail.”
Gaira said no more, but hurried from the room and closed the door quietly behind her as tears blurred Rowen’s eyes.
The hard lump in her throat wasn’t for Alec this time, but for her courageous and devoted lady’s maid who had been more a loving mother to her for longer than she could remember.
Rowen’s fingers shaking, she reached for the sudsy cloth to do what Gaira had bade her, only to spy the fur-trimmed garment that Alec had tossed earlier onto a chair.
“Och, no…you forgot my cloak.”
Shivering in the water growing cooler, Rowen thought for an instant to dress and hasten after her—but Gaira was right. Her presence would only threaten any chance for their desperate plan to succeed.
Sighing plaintively, Rowen sank back against the tub and began to pray, hard.
For commotion still so great that Gaira would flee unnoticed…and for Alec, that Errol or any of their clansmen weren’t lying in wait at the fishing village to finish what they had already started—ah, God, please no!
* * *
“Orkney raiders,Laird Mackay! Come tae wreak havoc before the winter seas grow too rough for them tae sail!”
Alec nodded at the somber-faced villager who spoke up for the rest of the men that had come out of the darkness to meet him, some of them clearly wounded and bloodied in the orange glow cast by the towering flames.
Not Clan Sutherland attacking his kinsmen, but ruthless raiders who had plagued the northern coast of Scotland since the Norsemen had claimed the Orkney Islands centuries ago.
“How many ships?” Alec grated, tightly clutching the reins as his restless mount, a massive roan gelding, snorted at the hissing sparks falling like snow around him and his warriors.
“Three birlinns with twenty-six oars each and a larger one with thirty oars that remained in deeper water—och, they struck with no warning while we ate supper with our families. So many of the bastards, too, more than those of us who could wield a weapon, Laird! We’ve counted five men dead so far, and others wounded, as you can see. Our wives and bairns ran from the village while we fought until we were forced tae flee as well tae save ourselves, but not all escaped…God help them, not all.”
Alec felt his gut clench at the distressed look upon the villagers’ ashen faces, and it was all he could do to utter, “How many were taken?”
“Seven…five unmarried lasses and two young wives. One of the wounded men lay upon the ground, feigning death, and heard the raiders laughing as they carried the women, screaming and weeping, down tae their ships. They took some sheep and pigs, too, and chickens and whatever else they could carry, aye, even barrels of salted fish.”
“Stores for the winter, damn them tae hell,” spat another villager, an older man with a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. “They set fire tae our homes as they left and now look, Laird! Where are we tae go?”
Grimly, Alec followed their gazes to their burning village, nothing left standing but charred stone walls…while a young man pushed his way through his fellow fishermen to approach Alec.
His face blackened with soot from trying in vain to fight the flames, his eyes stricken and tracks of tears evident through the grime.
“Laird, I saw their leader on the ship that wasna beached upon the shore. He stood in the light of two torches at the prow, a big man with strange markings on his shaven head, aye, and he was roaring with laughter. He had his arm around a lass who stood no higher than his shoulder, but all I could see was long flaxen hair from beneath her hooded cloak, and he called her Tira?—”
“Tira?” echoed Alec, glancing out at the moonlit sea that now held no sign of any raiding ships.
“Aye, she wept, too, until he jerked up her chin and forced her tae look upon the burning houses—and then he grabbed her and kissed her, Laird, though she beat at him with her fists. That only made the man laugh all the louder—damn them, they are fiends! What are we tae do? One of the women they took with them was tae be my bride!”
Alec didn’t answer as Rowen’s vehement outcry reverberated in his head.
You’re a fiend after all—just as I feared!Was he no better than the brutal Orkney raider that he now knew held Rowen’s abducted kinswoman? Alec had spoken to her so callously, so cruelly—och, he could not think about Rowen now!
“Bury your dead, and bring your families tae the castle until you can rebuild your homes. As for the rest”—Alec turned his grim gaze upon the young man—“we have no birlinns tae go after the raiders and your fishing boats canna withstand the rough seas between us and Orkney. Mayhap they are heading tae other villages tae attack tonight as well. You two”—Alec pointed to several of his warriors—“ride tae the north and warn everyone you can, and you two, head tae the south. I will send a messenger tae my father that we need more men—now go!”
The four warriors veered their horses away from the throng of villagers and galloped off, leaving only nine now with Alec, the rest of them left behind to guard the castle.
