Page 49 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

She huffed quietly. “These are boats fer weans. Three of them could fit on me birlinn.”

“Aye,” he gave a wry chuckle. “Dinnae forget we’re nay pirates now, Aileen. But soon to be two wee fisherfolk needing to cross the sea to the islands. These craft are sturdy enough and the two of us can manage. A light sail, an oar to steer. One such tiny boat gives us a chance to be out of here without being seen.”

“I’ll give the fisherman nay more than a single gold coin for such a vessel.”

Maxwell laughed to himself. They were not in any position to haggle and he expected the fishermen would see that clear enough. They’d drive a hard bargain.

They approached the group of fishermen hopeful that they’d find agreement and be on their way before long.

Despite the lure of gold, the man held fast. Not one of the four were interested in selling their craft. They all voiced exactly the same concerns. Without their boat, their livelihood would be gone.

One of the men, who told them his name was Raso Mackenzie, made it clear when Aileen offered up the contents of her purse.

“Lass, I cannae eat yer gold. If I dinnae catch fish fer me and me children, we’ll have naught in our bellies.”

Maxwell nodded. “Och lad, I understand. Yet we’re in sore need of a wee boat tae take us back tae the small islands. Is there a body among the fisherfolk who has nay need of his boat? A grey-beard, whose sailing days are done?”

Jacob, one of the other men nodded. “There’s old Davie. He’s nae sailing now. Mayhap he’d welcome some coin.”

Raso addressed Maxwell and Aileen. “We’ll be out fishing again today so we’ll nae be here tae guide ye. Just ask anyone ye see fer Auld Davie’s cottage and they’ll tell ye. He bides wi’ his daughter and her husband and weans.”

By now the sky was streaked with the light of the coming dawn, so they thanked the fishermen and set off along the shore in search of Auld Davie. Before long they arrived at a tiny cottage where a young fair-haired woman was out front with a tub, sleeves rolled up, washing. She had two youngsters beside her, one of them little more than a babe.

She nodded when they asked her about the old fisherman and pointed further along the track. “Mayhap a mile or so along ye’ll see another path. Follow the right fork. Auld Davie lives along that way, not far. Ye’ll pass two cottages before ye get to his.” She aimed a cheerful smile at Maxwell. “Since ye’re here and ye look like a strong lad. Can ye gi’ me a hand wi’ this?” She hauled a thick wool coat out of the washing tub. “Me man’s been minding cattle and his coat’s fair soiled, needing a good soak in the tub.”

Maxwell took the coat and twisted it to wring out the water. “Where d’ye wish me tae put it now?”

She directed him to a sturdy shrub by the front of the cottage that was, by now, catching the first of the sun’s rays. He draped the coat across the branches.

“Thank ye,” She wiped her hands on her pinny and picked up the smallest of her two weans. “If ye tell Davie that Jeannie sent ye, he’ll look on ye kindly.”

They trudged on along the path, Maxwell grumbling. “By all that’s holy, I thought we’d be gone by now.” He ran fingers of frustration through his long hair. “I was counting on us beingwell ahead of any pursuers. This is putting paid tae that faint hope.”

Aileen shook her head. “It is what it is, Maxwell. Ye cannae make the world turn the way ye wish it.”

He gave a wry laugh. “And there I was believing things would go my way, just by wishing.”

She grew serious for a moment. “Dinnae fash. Even if Sutherland’s wee sailors are chasing us, we’ll give them a run fer it. They’ll be hard pressed tae catch us in one of those wee sail boats. They’ll be like a slow-moving draught horse trying to catch a wee wasp buzzing around its head.”

Taking her hand in his, he held it to his lips. “Aye, me pirate queen. With ye in charge of sailing, they’ll have the devil’s job tae catch us.”

No one was visible at the first two cottages they passed and they assumed the occupants must have been busy elsewhere. Mayhap the men were at sea and the women and weans were out foraging fer wild greens for their soup, or a rabbit fer the pot.

Their hopes rose as they spied the smoke spiraling from the peat roof of the third cottage along the track. They had even further reason to hope when they caught sight of an elderly man enjoying the morning sun, puffing on his clay pipe, seated on a bench outside the cottage.

He looked up as they approached and addressed a greeting to Maxwell. “Good-day t’ye lad. Ye’re addressing Davie Munro.”

Maxwell toyed briefly with the notion of introducing them as the Turnbulls, English merchants but dropped that idea on the basis that it was too ridiculous to contemplate. Both of them were more than bedraggled after so many days and nights on the road. And besides, what on earth would an Englishman be doing in this remote place where all English were looked on with distrust, if not open hostility?”

“Good-day Grandfather. ‘Tis a fine sunny morning. I trust ye are well. Me name is Maxwell MacNeil and this lass is Aileen McAlpin. We were directed here by a lass named Jennie.”

The old man took another puff, narrowing his eyes as he looked the pair up and down.

“Are ye one of the MacNeil’s from Barra?”

Maxwell nodded. Having said his name, the old man could readily identify Maxwell’s clan and where they resided. He hitched a breath while the old man squinted at Aileen.

“And ye, lass. Are ye one of the family of rogues that still live on the Small Isle, Canna?”

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