The bump of the launch against the side of the ship knocked her forward. Dair looked up at the looming hull. The rope ladder hung over the side, twisting in the wind.
Her eyes had found his as they put the noose around her neck. Her bruised lips had moved, but he couldn’t hear . . .
Her ghost rose over him now, gripped the rope ladder. “Climb.”
Dair rose to his feet, felt the familiar sway of a boat beneath him, breathed in the smell of the tar that coated the hull. He swung his feet onto the ladder. His leg ached, and the task he’d once done so easily was painful now, but at last he threw himself over the rail and dropped onto the deck.
It was like coming home. He felt the ship bucking against the swells. He widened his stance, compensated, his balance instant, his body remembering. The sails were tied tight, but the furled edges of the cloth chattered eagerly in the breeze, welcoming him. He heard the creak of the timbers as they flexed, an old song, never forgotten. The salt wind blew in his face, cleared his vision and his mind.
He turned as Jeannie climbed over the rail behind him, her skirts hitched, her leg long, strong, and hairy. Her feet weren’t clad in slippers but in hobnailed brogues. Dair slid his gaze over Jeannie’s gown, her shawl, her face. But the body under the ill-fitting garments wasn’t hers. It was tall, muscular, and male, and Dair understood at last.
“Logan.”
There was hatred in Logan’s eyes when he looked at Dair, the dirk clutched in his white-knuckled grip. Logan hated ships, was green already, stood uneasily, fighting the roll of the ship beneath him. “So you’re not entirely mad, then. I was starting to think you truly believed in ghosts, cousin—are you that mad?Doesmy sister haunt you?”
“Aye, she haunts me,” Dair muttered. “Where’s Fia?”
Logan gave a harsh laugh. “Dead—or as good as. Father Alphonse is taking her confession even now. Then the clan will burn her as a witch.”
Dair’s heart contracted. “She’s not a witch, Logan. She’s as innocent as Jeannie—” But Logan brandished the dirk, waved his protest away.
“I have to know, Dair—what did you give them to let you live? Did you bribe them, promise them gold? They killed Jeannie and every other man on that ship, but not you. What did you do, Dair?”
Dair felt the familiar bitterness of guilt fill him. He shook his head. “Nothing. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could offer that would have saved them. I would have promised anything, done anything, to save her.” Dair took a step toward his cousin but stopped when Logan pointed the dirk at his heart. “They didn’t want that. They kept me alive—barely. I was to be the warning, you see—to the Sinclairs, to Scotland.”
“It should have been you,” Logan insisted. “You didn’t even have the decency to die once you came home, and thenshecame—your virgin, your whore,the witch.” He sobbed and shook his head. “I can’t allow you to dishonor Jeannie’s memory with another woman. You must pay for your sins, for failing Jeannie and your clan.”
As he had every day since they’d taken his ship, Dair wracked his brain again, searching for something, anything that would have allowed Jeannie and his men to live. There was still nothing. They’d taken the ship, the cargo, the coin in his purse. It hadn’t been enough. The men who had lain in wait had their orders. They had been bent on evil, filled with hatred. It was not his fault, only his burden to bear. That had been what they did to him, a living death. That was the price he’d paid.
“Forgive them.” He heard the words now, carried on the wind over time and distance. That was what Jeannie had whispered to him from the gallows. “Forgive them.”
Dair felt a weight lift from his heart, his mind, his soul. He looked at Logan, his face, his eyes so similar to Jeannie’s. But Logan’s eyes were clouded with hatred, ambition, and madness.
“Do you love Fia MacLeod?” Logan asked.
Dair met his cousin’s hot gaze.Yes,he thought.Yes, I love her. She is my salvation, my hope for the future.He said nothing.
His silence made Logan’s mouth twist with disgust. “The little cripple has bewitched you. She brought a curse upon this clan.Youcursed us by surviving, instead of dying like you were supposed to. All of this ill fortune is your fault. You went against God, and still Padraig chose you to be chief after him.”
The tide was coming in, bringing the storm. Dair felt the ship lift beneath him and sniff the wind hopefully. The vessel was like an extension of his own body. He glanced up at the clouds, read them, watched them advancing on the moon, surrounding it. Lightning lit the sky behind Logan.
“I’m Padraig’s son, Logan. I’ve always been his heir.”
Logan gnashed his teeth. “You are not fit to be chief! You’re mad, Dair, a monster.”
Dair shook his head, his mind clear. “I’m not mad, cousin.” Fia had saved him. Now he had to save her. “I’m your chief.” He straightened, waited for Logan to recognize his authority.
Instead Logan screamed and stamped his foot. “Iam the chief—or I will be. For Jeannie’s sake, I will be the next chief of the Sinclairs.”
Dair raised his fists. “Fight me, Logan. Punch me if you wish, but I will fight back. Jeannie is dead, and I will regret that as long as I live, mourn her forever, but I will fight you for Fia, and as the rightful chief of the Sinclairs. I will not allow you to take my place.”
Logan hesitated. His dead sister’s muslin skirts blew around his legs, and he wrestled with them and looked anxiously at the sky, only now noticing the weather. Thunder rumbled, and he flinched, his eyes widening with terror.
Logan looked truly mad now, and afraid, his eyes wide, his face white. The dirk shook in his hand.
“There’s a storm coming. The moorings could break,” Dair said.
Logan retched, his eyes rolling.
