Page 52 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

Aileen rubbed her arms. The tiny sail was full and Maxwell’s oars set them on a course that took them due south. It was not long before they saw the dark shape looming and, as the man had told them, they were rapidly approaching the southern shore of the loch where dark cliffs loomed above. Once they’d approached the shore they sailed on until they found a section of the shoreline where the steep cliffs gave way and they could go ashore.

They hauled their boat up over the pebbly beach to a small area covered in bracken and sparse bushes. Fortunately, there was enough bracken for them to hide the small craft. Then, confident they would not be visible to any passing sea patrols, they curled again into their cloaks and drifted back to sleep.

It was bright daylight when Aileen awoke and there was no sign of Maxwell. A cold stone plunged in her gut as she looked around, trying to clear her head and get her bearings. Where was the pesky lad?

She peered out across the loch and was able to make out the place where they’d caroused last night with the wedding party. If Maxwell’s guide was correct – and there was no reason to think otherwise – once darkness fell, it would take little time to sail through the loch and into the sea. From there they would sail south until they were close enough to Canna. After she’d gone ashore there and farewelled Maxwell, he would sail the short distance further on to his home on the Isle of Barra.

The thought of their parting brought a sudden pang of loss. She felt it in her heart, like a sharp blade slicing through her. For all their time together, she’d never allowed her thoughts to stray to the moment when they would part. It did not sit well with her.

She turned away with a sigh. No doubt Maxwell would be desperate to return to his kinfolk and be rid of her for once and all.

As the time moved on and there was still no Maxwell, Aileen decided to go and search for him and not wait any longer. Shefound a rough track leading up from the beach and followed it, guessing he would have gone this way. She walked on, keeping a close watch for him through the scrubby headland. It was not until she reached the very top of the cliff that she saw him.

He was lying flat behind a large rock. From where he lay, he would have a clear view of the western side of the loch and as far as the place where it met the open sea. He must have heard her, despite her stealth, for he swiveled as she came closer and signaled with his hand to get down. She crouched and semi-crawled over to where he lay.

“What have ye observed?”

“I’ve kept an eye on all the comings and goings about the loch. The fishermen’s skiffs are easy to identify, there are several larger craft that mayhap are ferrying goods or people across to Skye or the other islands.

“Nay sign of Sutherland’s men?”

He pointed low toward the point where the loch joined with the sea. A large birlinn came into view, crossing diagonally over the water. It was a big vessel with more than twenty rowers by the looks of it.

“Is it…?” He pressed a finger to her lips.

“Hush lass. We dinnae ken how voices carry in this place or who may be close enough to catch our words.”

She watched as the birlinn made a slow, wide, turn and progressed back in the direction it had come from. It sprang across as the wind filled its capacious sails and the oarsmen rested their backs.

“I’ve been watching it since I came here. It’s been repeating its passage back and forth fer the past hours.”

Her heart sank. “Sutherland’s birlinn?” She kept her voice at a whisper.

“I can only guess, but I’d say it is prowling these waters, looking out fer us should we attempt to sail through. I assume he has another ship waiting further down the coast at Loch Kyle.

Aileen peered down to the small cove nearer to where the birlinn was sailing. She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth to silence her cry. “Look!” She pointed to a small dark speck at the foot of the cliff.

Maxwell peered closely to the spot she was pointing at. “Well,I’ll be the chicken’s uncle,” he proclaimed. “From here it looks like a wee boat resembling the one we’re sailing in.” He focused his gaze. “Yet, I count at least eight men there. Too many to sail on board such a vessel.”

“Puzzling.” She thought on this for a few moments. “I think I can figure this. The birlinn is likely Sutherland’s, as is the fisherman’s dory. He’s prepared fer us tae be coming this way. The light, fast, boat can hunt us and, if we’re captured, he hasmen onshore ready to keep us from escaping until we are loaded onboard the birlinn to sail back to Dunrobin.”

“Och.” Maxwell exclaimed with a hint of admiration in his tone. “That’s a good plan. One I’d use meself if I was in Sutherland’s shoes.”

“And you can be certain he has another birlinn and another skiff waiting further south.”

“Hmm.” Maxwell pondered on this. “If I was setting a trap, I’d have another ship posted around Kyle of Lochalsh. He’d ken we’re nae prepared to sail the long route around Skye, but we’d likely make a dash through the narrow passage. Once we pass Kyle his birlinn couldnae catch us.

“But the smaller boat could move with the same speed as we can.”

He shrugged. “Can ye sail those treacherous waters? I’m nay navigator when it comes tae the inlets and coves and rocky shoals. I’d rather sail on the open sea any day.”

She gave a short laugh. “I ken these waters about the islands and every inch of the shore and coastline. Nay pirate would survive long without knowledge of every possible hiding place, MacNeil. D’ye have a plan fer how we might make our way from here?”

“If we leave in the night, we’ll have a better chance of making it through. Once we’re sailing, we can watch the birlinn. When it’s at its furthest, before it turns back, we make a run fer it.”

“What of the smaller craft? Will it nay be watching fer us too?”

“If they see us, it will be a case of outrunning it. We’ll be depending on yer knowledge of these waters.”

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