Page 72 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

The assembled men nodded.

She regained her seat as Maxwell rose. “Aye. We have nae time to waste. Once Haldor MacLeod’s men are with us we shall be ready.”

Aileen managed a smile. “And I pray that willnae be too late, milord.”

Everard turned to her. “Now, milady, I thank ye fer yer knowledgeable words, but as we are tae discuss our strategies and tactics fer this coming war, I would prefer if ye were nay present tae hear our plans.”

Maxwell opened his mouth as if to protest but Everard raised a hand to silence him.

All too clearly, she registered the mistrust in the laird’s eyes. Her cheeks were burning as she got to her feet, curtseyed, swiveled and walked to the door without another word.

Who can blame Everard fer nae finding me worthy of his trust?

She made her way to the courtyard. From there she walked with a heavy tread up the stairs to gaze out over the battlements once again. Scudding clouds blocked the sun as, her heart in her mouth, she scanned the wide horizon for any sign of the yellow and red banners that would indicate one of Sutherland’s ships. All was clear.

But fer how long?

All she had heard discussed by Maxwell and Everard and their men had brought her to one conclusion. If she was to make an attempt to dissuade Sutherland from his path toward war, she must leave tonight for the Isle of Canna.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

In search of Raven, Aileen returned to the solar. As she entered the room, Muriel was walking out with the little boy. Aileen was developing a liking for the little lad. Thorsten was a roly-poly, cheerful little boy, with plump cheeks and sparkling blue eyes like his father’s. Aileen smiled at him and he smiled back as they passed.

Raven was her seated by the fire, her embroidery hoop lying untouched on her knees. When Aileen walked in, she looked up. In her eyes was the glint of tears.

“I am so pleased tae see ye, Arne and the other men are still in the study wi’ Everard. Wi’ every passing minute me fears grow stronger.”

“Hush, Raven.” Aileen hurried over and knelt before her chair. taking Raven’s hands in hers. “Dinnae fash. We’ve brave men tae protect us. All will be well.” She bit her lip at the falsehoods. She doubted if Raven’s worries went as deep and wide as her own.Yet it was clear Raven needed comfort and she would do her best to keep her calm.

“Yer husband has summoned the MacLeods fer assistance. They are Sutherland’s enemies and I dinnae believe he could withstand the combined forces of the MacNeils and the MacLeods.

Raven gave her a grateful smile. “Are ye sure of that?”

Aileen nodded, keeping her fingers crossed out of sight behind her skirt. It might well be true, but she had grave doubts that help would be in time. If Sutherland suspected the MacLeods were coming to Everard’s and Maxwell’s aid, he would attack at once, even if his own forces were still assembling.

There was nothing for it. She must go to Sutherland and beg him to leave the MacNeils to live in peace. After a supper when neither Raven nor Aileen could manage to eat more than a few mouthfuls, she pleaded tiredness, and took her leave.

“Of course,” Raven was gracious. “It will take a while fer ye tae regain yer strength after such an arduous journey, it is such a long way tae travel from Dunrobin.”

Aileen left her gazing again into the fire, lost in her own fearful thoughts. Given that Raven was carrying a wean and would not able to fight as she had been able to in previous times, Aileen’s heart went out to her.

Once she’d returned to her bedchamber, she assembled a small bundle of clothing. Her old britches, shirt, tabard and boots had been washed and sponged and she rolled the clothes into a small bundle and hid them beneath the small table near the door. She planned to wait until Maxwell was sleeping soundly and then she would creep from the bed, snatch up the bundle and flee.

She donned her night shift and clambered under the covers of the large bed. Her heart was pounding and her head was filled with endless possibilities of what could go wrong. She prayed that Andrew was still at the Small Island, and that, at least, he would be prepared to give her an audience. Beyond that she did not dare to go. Her thoughts swum in her mind. Her father. Did he still live? Finn and Séamus? Were they part of Sutherland’s troops?

Many hours passed before Maxwell tiptoed into the chamber. Feigning sleep – although she’d not slept a wink – she lay quietly, keeping her breathing steady. She heard him strip off his clothes and then softly drew back the covers and slide in beside her. Her heart almost broke when she heard his soft whisper, “Sleep well, me love.”

Every fiber of her body was screaming at her to roll over and embrace him, to feel his strong arms surrounding her and the touch of his lips on hers. Tomorrow she would be gone and, mayhap, she would never see him again. A sob rose in her chest and she swallowed hard to keep it from escaping.

In a short time, Maxwell’s breath slowed and deepened into a steady rhythm as sleep overtook him. Once she was certain hewas unlikely to wake, she slowly slid the covers aside and made her way to the door. She collected her bundle from its hiding place and opened the door. It creaked once and she hitched a breath, frozen. But there was no movement from the bed and she continued on.

Once she was in the darkened passageway, she pulled on her britches and tucking in her night- shirt, she drew on the knee-length tabard and belted it at her waist. Once her boots were laced, she headed along the corridor pulling her cloak around her, covering her long braid with the hood.

There were few servants still going about their business but she was able to leave the keep with only a nod to the four guards flanking the entrance.

At the boat-landing, she grunted to the men-at-arms standing by and marched confidently toward the tiny sailboat she and Maxwell had left at the mooring.

She was fumbling with the rope when Ranald Dunbar hastened up to her. Her heart sank, without question he’d forbid her from leaving.

---