Page 50 of A Kilted Marriage of Convenience

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Ciara instinctively threw her elbow into her assailant’s torso with a cry. The ship swayed again at that moment, throwing her attacker off balance. She made to run away and saw that her dress was stuck, so she tugged on it hard, ripping it in the process.

The MacDonald soldiers didn’t seem to notice that she had joined the fight. They were all overwhelmed and fighting desperately for their lives, so she ran. It occurred to her that her options were very limited on a crowded desk in the middle of the sea, but she felt the urge to keep moving regardless.

A group of soldiers in MacNeil colors ran toward her. Ciara felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she saw them making for her, and she made her mind up in that moment. She ran for the railing and was almost over the side when a strong arm pulled her back from behind and she was tossed backward onto the deck, slamming into the wooden floor, the air rushing out of her lungs.

Ciara let out a piercing cry of pain and her eyes watered when someone crouched before her. She couldn’t make out the face through her blurred vision, and the pain in her side was all she could think about.

“Och, Ciara...” the man spoke with an amused voice. “Ye headed somewhere, are ye? Would ye like me to deliver ye safely to yer destination?”

Ciara’s mind tried to work through the pain. That voice, she knew that voice.

Alfie!

If Alfie was here, then her father would be close by as well. She closed her eyes. It was all over. There was nowhere left to run. Alfie grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her into a sitting position, and she growled as she glared at him. He replied with a wicked smile, looking her up and down contemptuously, pulling her forward, bringing her ear to his lips.

“Ye listen now, and ye listen well,” he spoke with a grinding voice. “Dinnae test me. I ken that Laird Morrison wouldnae mind it if I returned ye to him with a few bruises and broken bones. I reckon he might even like it and reward me for it. So dinnae ye go trying to dae something stupid. Dae ye hear me, lass?”

Ciara remained silent. Alfie pulled on her hair sharply, making her wince in pain. “I said, dae ye hear me, lass?” he repeated.

“Aye!” she said with a gasp, a thousand needles of pain shooting through her scalp. Alfie grinned and tossed her back onto the deck. He stood up and rolled his shoulders, looking across the battle-worn deck. He nodded to himself, clearly satisfied, and then sheathed his sword, calling one of his soldiers over.

“Tie her up,” Alfie said, “then run up and tell the laird that we have her now. Tell him the ship is secure, and that we are about done here.”

The soldier scrambled to obey, tying a tight knot around her wrists, and slipping it securely through the ship’s rail before running off.

Alfie turned back to her and crouched on the deck beside her. “Why cannae ye just stop making trouble, eh? Why nae come with us quietly now? Yer father said that yer men would be spared if ye followed quietly. They have fought bravely, and hard. Dae more really need to die over yer own foolish pride and stubbornness?”

Ciara looked away from him toward the water. Alfie was right. It shamed her to admit that he was. Most of the MacDonald soldiers aboard the ship had been rounded up near the stern. Their leader looked battered and hurt, but he was still alive. Ciara couldn’t see the oar master anywhere.

A group of men boarded the ship near the bow, and in front of them was her father. He walked with a spring in his step, obviously pleased with the destruction around him. She remembered again just how cruel of a man Keir MacNeil really was.

“Father,” Ciara said as Keir stood in front of her, arms crossed across his chest.

“Hello, daughter,” Keir replied with a snicker. “Looks like ye have gotten yerself into a bit of a fix, eh? How did ye hope to escape me again? How did ye plan to outsmart me? Ye are of my seed, lass. Ye are my own flesh. How could a drop compare to an ocean of power? Behold the fruits of yer foolishness.”

Keir swept his hands in a wide arc, emphasizing the ruin that was the ship: pools of blood with men lying motionless in them, the mast barely standing, the railings all but smashed. The damage was heartbreaking. Keir looked back at his daughter, leaning toward her.

“This! All of this death and destruction rests on yer head.” He stood up straight and turned to look at the remaining MacDonald sailors and soldiers. “Och, Ciara, how wonderful ye are to get yer enemies to fight for ye against yer father!”

Ciara looked up to see the leader of Aidan’s guard step in front of the other captives, who spat on the deck and growled at Keir.

“We fight for our laird, swine,” the leader said, biting the words as he spoke them. “Every man here to the last will die before ye take the lady with ye!”

Keir bellowed a terrible laugh, and his men joined him in his amusement, creating a cacophony across the sea. He looked toward Alfie, who grinned and unsheathed his sword. Several of the MacNeil soldiers did the same, preparing to grant the leader and his clansmen the death he had secured for them all in their eyes.

“Nay!” Ciara shouted as her father’s men. “Nay! Father! Have ye nae had enough? Is yer thirst nae quenched? Has yer appetite for carnage nae been sated? What more can ye want? Ye have me! Please, just take me and leave these men alone. Take me and dae with me as is yer will. Give them one chance to survive. Please, father!”

Ciara wept freely, her voice dry as she shouted.

“Fine,” he finally responded. He turned to face the leader. “Yer lives have been spoken for. Turn and jump into the sea. Only get back on this deck after we have departed, if ye can. Any one of ye who remains on this ship now declares his life forfeit. Go.”

The sailors were the first to scramble for the sea. They went overboard without looking back. The soldiers, however, left more slowly, looking at Ciara as if desperate to try and save her. But they were done, and they knew it.

Alfie undid the rope around Ciara’s wrist and walked her toward her father’s ship. Ciara looked to see that the ship she was in, filling with water because of the damage done to the hull. It would need to be boarded up quickly if the men in the water were to have a chance at saving it and sailing to safety.

Ciara crossed the gangplank onto her father’s deck with Alfie towing her roughly ahead. He grabbed and pushed her toward the ladder. She was taken below deck and kept in the lowest level of the hold, where it smelled dank and moldy like stale water. Alfie settled her on the wet floor and chained her behind a support beam, before leaving her in the dark without a torch. Thus, she was a captive anew.