“Noah?” Ian’s brow creased with concern. Being only a short sail from each other and with Rhiannon and Douglass wanting to get together often, they had only just returned from Caithness a few days ago. Douglass had gone into labor, and Rhiannon had wanted to be there, aiding her cousin in delivering a healthy son.
But the signal was as ominous as it sounded.
Ian charged from the great hall with Rhiannon in his wake, to see the dark smoke curling into the air across the sea. Thick black clouds visible even from hear meant massive flames. Was that the signal? Signal for what? An attack?
“Fok,” Ian growled.
“What is it?” Rhiannon’s voice shook with fear as she gripped onto Ian’s arm and stared in the direction of the dark smoke signal across the water. Douglass… the infant…. She crossed herself and murmured a prayer.
“War.” The declaration dripped from Ian’s mouth in one angry syllable.
Rhiannon glanced up at her husband, her blood running cold. Ian’s mouth was pinched, his muscles tense. The warrior she’d seen before come to the surface.
“Thank ye, Mac.”
When he looked back down at her now, his face was stricken. “I need to go to Buanaiche. Now. That smoke, it means they’re under attack.”
“Attack…” The word name came out slowly, softly. “Will you be able to make it in time?”
“I dinna know. That signal means a siege has already begun.” Ian let out a low curse.
“I’m going with you.”
“What? Nay. Ye must remain behind. For your safety.”
“Nay, Ian. I’m not going to remain safe here on an isle when you are not safe.”
“That is the way of things. I canna risk ye being injured. Or worse.”
Rhiannon’s heart stuttered in her chest, panic rising. “Douglass, her infant, they will need me.”
“I will have no way to get ye into the castle without opening the gate and letting the enemy in as well. Ye’ll put them in more danger than helping.”
Rhiannon started to tremble. Ian going to war. Noah going to war. Douglass and her sweet, innocent babe, in the midst of it. She could hardly breathe with the fear of it.
“Who are they fighting?” For a moment, she feared it was her brother’s army coming back for him. “Could they be here for Adam?”
“I dinna know. But I need to leave immediately.”
Ian barked orders for the ship to be ready, for his men to prepare for battle. For Adam to be shackled and loaded onto the ship.
Within a quarter hour, his army was marching up the gangway of the ship, and Ian was at the base. Adam’s cursing could be heard even from here, though he was in the bowels of the vessel. There was only one way to resolve the issue if that was their purpose, and killing him wasn’t an option.
Rhiannon threw herself into her husband’s arms, staring back at Balla Dorcha, the castle they’d made their home, and worried she might never experience the joy she had these last few months.
“Dinna fash, my love,” Ian said. “I will return, hale and hearty, and continue your training. Continue everything.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then tipped her chin, kissing her lips.
“I’m scared. And I hate that feeling.”
“I will prevail. I always do.”
“But what—”
“Nay, lass, dinna think anything but.”
She nodded, forcing her mind to repeat over and over that he would prevail. That he would return to her in one piece, and they would return together to their life on the isle. That when he did, perhaps they would conceive a child, which had yet to occur despite their vigorous attempts.
“Sinclairs are victorious,” she said and hugged him tight, not wanting to let go.
