Page 70 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

Aileen took her seat by the fire, rubbing her hands to warm them. She gave Raven a grateful look. “It is news that makes me fearful. I ken the Laird Sutherland. He shows nay mercy tae those he believes have defied him.”

Raven reached over and took Aileen’s cold hand in hers and shook her head. “Maxwell and Arne will find a way tae defeat him.”

Aileen shrugged. “I wish I could believe that tae be true.”

“Come.” Raven put down her embroidery hoop. “While Thorsten sleeps, let us walk in the garden.” She took up her woolen cloak from a hook beside the door and the two women left the solar.

Like the castle itself, the garden was of small proportions, the walls covered in ivy providing the only greenery. In the center were three fruit trees, all of which were bare of leaves. Along the wall where the sun brightened the path were rows of sweet-smelling herbs.

They came to a little bench protected from the wind and sat, the sun streaming on their upturned faces.

“’Tis a bonny place.” Aileen’s voice was wistful.

“Aye. There is a great deal of charm about this wee castle. In spring, the garden will be bright with flowers.” She pointed to several rose bushes on the other side. “The roses will bloom and the garden will smell sweet.”

Despite the warmth of the sun, Aileen shivered. It caused her a great deal of pain to imagine this place overrun with Sutherland’s ruthless soldiers, smashing and tearing everything to pieces and putting to the sword the faithful servants. She hauled in a long slow breath, and observed the misty cloud of her breath as she exhaled.

She would do all she could to prevent such a thing from happening.

A maid appeared with a small tray bearing a mug and a small jug which she left beside the bench. “Thank ye, Mairi.” Raven turned to Aileen. “This is yer tisane. When ye drink, it will lift yer spirits.”

Aileen took the warm, pungent, tisane and sipped. She smiled at Raven. “Thank ye. I feel better already.”

As the afternoon wore on, they chatted merrily about their childhood days. Raven had been raised on Barra, where she had been happy despite her cruel father who had then married her off for his own interest to an even crueler man, and Aileen told on the Isle of Canna. Both of them avoiding any talk of the time when each of them left their homes and the unhappiness that had befallen them both.

“Our lives have taken a similar path, Aileen.” Raven said. “I have found me joy and happiness with me husband Arne. I pray that ye will find the same wi’ me braither.”

Aileen shook her head. “He is a good man. Mayhap too good fer me.”

“I’ve seen his eyes when he gazes at ye, Aileen. He loves ye.”

Aileen had no reply. The words, welcome though they were, struck a blade of remorse through her heart.

The shadows were lengthening and there was a fresh chill in the air. They were about to return to the castle when Arne appeared with Thorsten in his arms, Muriel close behind. He hastened over, his eyes alight.

“Come quick.” He reached a hand and helped Raven to her feet as Muriel took Thorsten by the hand. “’Tis yer braither’s birlinn.”

Together the hastened up the tower stairs to the parapet above. Maxwell was waiting there already, his eyes glued beyond the bay to wide ocean.

There, he pointed to a speck on the horizon. “According tae the fishermen, that is a birlinn flying the yellow and white colors of the Clan.” He turned to them, his eyes aglow, a smile spreading across his face. “There’s nay other birlinn that would be sailing with our colors. It must be Everard.”

“I pray ye are right, and it is our braither who sails, nae one of Sutherland’s men hell-bent on deceiving us.”

“Nay. Look closer.” Maxwell shielded his eyes, squinting into the distance. “There are two other, smaller, boats in its wake. If that is the Laid MacNeil, there are two birlinns in pursuit of him.”

They watched, hearts in their mouths as the larger of the three ships moved swiftly through the waves. As it came nearer, they could see its two sails were full, its oarsmen straining as the lead between it and the pursuing birlinns lengthened.

Ranald Dunbar appeared at the top of the staircase. “We’ve yer second birlinn ready tae sail.”

Maxwell turned to Arne. “Are ye with us? We’re sailing tae meet the ship whether it be one of ours or nay.”

Arne, who like Maxwell had his longsword buckled at his belt, nodded. Raven paled as he bid her farewell. He bent to place a soft kiss on his son’s cheek and the wean smiled up at his father.

“I will come with ye,” Aileen insisted before Maxwell could say another word. “I have spent me life on board and if things go wrong I can help.”

“Say a prayer for us,” was all he could add, looking at his sister.

Raven clutched Aileen’s hand. “Dinnae fear. I ken all will be well.”

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