A slow smile spread across her lips. The missing words from moments ago were magically back in her head. She hurried to the offered seat.
“Milord, I’m here for several reasons. Ta share yer grief over Laird Magnus’s untimely death and give aid where I can to Maria. Of course, I also bring greetings from yer Gilmar relatives. Tis the last item that pains me. I must report an English raid on Gilmar. Five of our relations were lost, including Lyall. Th’ fire damaged all th’ buildings. They are beyond repair. I’m here to ask ye ta honor yer promise ta protect Gilmar and help us ta rebuild.”
Other than Laird Ewan’s smile fading, he gave no sign of his feelings.
“Do ye think th’ English are still searching for us?” Ross asked.
Gareth and Ross were alone on the path that entered the town outside the Dundhragon Castle gates.
“How I wish I could have seen Bridgeton’s face when he realized we vanished.” Gareth laughed.
“It was a pretty sight, indeed.”
Gareth and Ross spun on their heels, hearing the voice behind them. Ross pulled out his dirk, ready to attack. Gareth held him back.
“He’s on our side.” Gareth turned to the intruder. “Ross meet—”
“Martin, a shipmate of th’ great pirate, Gareth. I see ye got here a day earlier than planned,” Martin said as he slapped Gareth on the back.
“Is the Fair Wind here?” Gareth asked.
“Bridgeton isn’t about ta sail into th’ lion’s den.” Martin gave him a smirk. “We’re anchored in a small inlet near Oban. Ye were right about him. The man is for himself, without loyalty, plundering Scots and English ships and villages alike. He sacks and burns villages, then brags about it, using yer name. Ye, my friend, are no’ on his good side.”
“Bridgeton has it in his head he can tell anyone anything and they will believe it, even that I’m MacAlpin. It is his intention to bring my head to King Henry and claim the reward,” Gareth said.
“Won’t he be surprised when Henry tells him ye’re no’ MacAlpin. The king once met th’ man himself. Nor will th’ king be happy that Bridgeton’s murdered one of his finest, pirate captains. Another Bridgeton careless mistake. He’d most likely make it ta Tower Hill rather than th’ Tower of London. I would go ashore just ta witness the spectacle,” Martin said.
“Enough about the scoundrel. What about the others and the Fair Wind?” Gareth asked.
“Th’ men are well. Bridgeton had us on th’ oars, but called on us when he met up wi’ th’ real pirate ships. Th’ coward had us turn tail at th’ sight of ten ships bearing down on him. Neither he nor his captain knew how to sail th’ Fair Wind,” Martin said.
“Now I understand. He needed your skill.”
“Skill? How hard could it be? Ye sailed her by yerself,” Martin teased. “How th’ man got this far is beyond me. Ye will no’ believe how he boasts. Wi’ Magnus gone, so is th’ peace. I foresee challenges for th’ area. We are coming on hard times. Bridgeton is th’ first, but he won’t be th’ last. As for the Fair Wind, he batters her without mercy. There would be justice if the ship could somehow bring about his end.” The pirate didn’t hide his contempt.
“Bridgeton was ruthless when he attacked Lyall, our chieftain’s man-at-arms,” Ross said. “Th’ bastard was intent on getting information out of him, but Lyall said nothing. That’s when he killed him, and went to th’ manor after our chieftain.”
Gareth remembered what was left of Lyall, what the man’s family was forced to witness when Bridgeton was finished. That alone was reason to kill him.
“Before I return to th’ Fair Wind, there are things ye need to know. Bridgeton and de Montfort are waiting for reinforcements ta arrive. He says ten ships, but I doona think de Montfort is able to muster that many. Bridgeton also speaks of a spy among th’ MacDougalls. I havena identified th’ traitor. Lastly, he is telling his men that th’ MacDougall chieftain of Gilmar holds information about a secret weapon. He’s determined to git it, and use it to establish himself not only as King of the Isles, but all Scotland.”
As much as he trusted Martin, Gareth gave nothing away. The fewer people who knew what the Pir carried, the better.
“Ye and yer friend go on,” Martin said. “I’m heading back to th’ ship. Watch yer back, Gareth. Bridgeton is on a campaign to convince everyone ye are th’ villain. He has some people convinced ye’re MacAlpin. So, my king, be careful. Th’ man is driven to kill ye.”
Martin chuckled as he walked into the forest and disappeared.
“That was…” Ross merely stared after Martin.
“A pirate friend.” Gareth walked on.
Ross didn’t move.
“Are you coming?” Gareth asked.
Ross hurried to catch up. “How did ye become a pirate?”
“My father’s younger brother was out to destroy my family for the title and lands. He nearly succeeded. I fled for my life and went to sea. I served my king as a private citizen with his letter of marque,” Gareth said. “I pillaged and plundered his enemy’s ships without mercy. Each sailor had my uncle’s face. I didn’t think I was a pirate, after all, my actions were in the name of my king. Call it what you will, for the king made me the same as a pirate, but with England’s blessing.
“I found that many who had letters of marque didn’t discriminate who they attacked, Spanish or English ships were both targets. That wasn’t to my liking. I left the king’s service. Joining the pirate king was easy. It’s a brotherhood that never dies, one which you can always count on, land or sea. We’re not all evil like Bridgeton would like you to believe. Come, we’ll make our way across the beach to the harbor,” Gareth said as they traipsed along the path toward the water.
“Moira, I am aware of my obligation to ye and my Gilmar clan.” Laird Ewan stood by the window and looked down on the bay. “Ye will bring everyone here to th’ castle. We will be cramped, but we will manage.”
“My people dinna want to leave their homes. For many, tis the only home they—”
“Are ye questioning me?” He turned and faced her. His tone made her freeze. Now was not the time to retreat. On the contrary, she had to show her strength.
“No, milord. I’m no’ questioning ye. I, too, am trying ta do what is best for our clan. Tis been only days since th’ English, under th’ guise of a pirate, raided and killed our people. I refuse ta let anyone believe that we are weak and will withdraw from what is rightfully ours.”
With a tilt of his head, Laird Ewan’s stare turned into a smile that reached his eyes.
“Yer words put me in my place.”
She commanded her body not to react.
“Yer father and I planned ta move th’ clan ta th’ castle. Yer cemetery is filled wi’ th’ bodies of those killed defending th’ indefensible. I doona want ye ta come here again ta tell me of people killed by marauders. Or worse, one of yer councilors inform me ye joined yer father in the ground. I want th’ people of Gilmar ta be safe.”
She closed her eyes, waiting for what she knew he’d say—a refusal to send help as he’d promised he would do.
“We are still negotiating wi’ Norway in order ta keep our sovereignty. England keeps nipping at our heels. I await reinforcements today, then my ships leave for Norway. Yes, I swore I would protect my Gilmar clan, but th’ only way I can do that effectively is ta bring them ta a place where they can thrive and be safe, Dundhragon.”
“I understand.” He had no intention of providing any protection at Gilmar. “I will bring yer answer back to Gilmar.”
The air was heavy with doubt.
“How soon can ye bring th’ clan to th’ castle?” he asked.
How soon? Did he have any idea what they’d been through? What they had lost? The last thing they needed was to be forced off their land.
“I will deliver yer message.”
He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I hear yer father’s words when ye speak.”
“Th’ feelings are the sa
me. I will tell my clan th’ situation as well as th’ choices we have. I will listen ta them,” she said. “Then we will decide our fate.”
“Yer words,” he said, “sting as bad as the black spines of a weever fish.” Laird Ewan touched her shoulder as and they walked to the door. “I did no’ mean ta criticize ye. Yer father was a good chieftain, someone I held in high regard. He dinna always view things my way, but I always came away from our meetings wi’ him more aware of th’ issues.”
“My father believed he could count on ye.”
“Yer compassion for yer clan is admirable, but a chieftain must do what is best for them, even if they do no’ see it that way. Ye know what is at stake. I know ye will make a decision that is best for our people.”
She left the throne room, Laird Ewan’s words weighed as heavy as an anchor around her neck.
“Milady?” Fergus asked at the anteroom door. She glanced as his hopeful expression faded.
“Go to th’ ship and reload th’ barrels. We’re bringing them back home. I’ll meet ye at th’ ship after I say good-bye to Lady Maria.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dundhragon Castle
September 26, 1267
Early afternoon
“Ye canna go home,” Maria said. One of Laird Ewan’s guards accompanied her and Moira through the village to the waterfront.
“Yer father was clear. He told me ta bring everyone here,” Moira said.
“Ye are as bad a liar as I am. Ye do no’ intend ta bring yer clan here,” Maria said.
“I’m no’ telling a tall tale. I am going home ta speak ta them.”
“Who sails wi’ ye?”
“Ross, Fergus, Angus, and a few others. They’re waiting for me on th’ Pir.” Moira stopped at the dock and removed the pin Maria had let her use. “It was nice of ye to walk wi’ ye, but this is where we part.” She gave the pin back to her.
“More clouds today, but no sign of rain, although Father’s captain assured me it would storm. Safe journey.” Maria gave her a hug and left.
Laird Ewan had made no mention of her father’s secret weapon. That suited her. If her people decided against moving to the castle, it would be their best defense.
“Good day, milady, although I use that term loosely after crossing swords with you.”
She whipped around and came face-to-face with Halsey Bridgeton. He threw his arm around her shoulder and tugged her close. His other hand held a knife at her side.
“You are surprised to see me? You were naughty in Kerrera. You had us wandering all over the bloody place, searching for you and your friends. Not this time. You will notice that six men are in our vicinity. They are not Laird Ewan’s men, but mine. You will come with me and not cause a scene.”
She said nothing. Ross and Gareth must have gotten away. That was a relief. Gareth may hate her, but that didn’t mean she cared for him any less.
Curses filled her head. Dressed as she was for her audience with Laird Ewan, she didn’t have her sword. Her dirk was tucked into her bodice, but that was of no help now. For the moment, she had little choice but to obey.
“That’s a good girl. Did I mention, green is your color?” He gave her a wicked smile. “With any luck, everyone will notice us leave together.”
Bridgeton kissed her lips. He laughed, and guided her along the road.
Moira thought to fight her way out, but with so many of his men surrounding her, she gave up on the idea. Patience, she told herself. He would get careless, and she would pounce on the opportunity.
Bridgeton walked her to the dock, and handed her down to his men in the boat. They rowed to the Fair Wind anchored in the harbor, not far from the Pir. Ewan’s ships were already moving out. With so much activity in the harbor, Bridgeton’s adventure would go unnoticed.
Once on board, he roughly pulled her along to a cabin filled with discarded furniture, crates, and barrels. He pushed her inside and closed the door.
“You’re not so smart,” he said. Before she could move, he struck her with a backhanded slap across her face, knocking her into the wooden post in the center of the room.
Dazed and with the strong taste of blood in her mouth, she blinked, trying to clear her eyes. She saw a flash of steel and braced herself for a killing blow.
She kept her wits about her. Moira stared at his face. An ugly red welt ran up his right cheek and across his eyebrow. Blinking must be difficult. The scar would be gruesome. That satisfied her. Every time he glanced in a mirror, he would remember her. And every time someone looked at him, they would turn away in disgust.
He stepped close to her.
“I can be lenient. Tell me where the weapon is, and I might spare your wretched village. Deny me, and you’ll pay for what you’ve done to me. A little cut here or there, and we could be twins. Then you’ll watch as I destroy Gilmar and everyone in it.”
She spit in his face.
Bridgeton gawked at her. If he expected her to cower and beg, he had greatly underestimated her. He wiped her spittle from his face.
As he raised his hand to strike her again, the cabin door opened, and Guy de Montfort walked in.
“What is she doing here?” Guy asked as he grabbed Bridgeton’s hand.
“I took her right out from under MacAlpin’s nose. Now I’ve got his ship and his whore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not connected to MacAlpin.”
“He calls himself Gareth. You know he’s MacAlpin. My men are spreading the word all over this pitiful village and throughout the castle that MacAlpin’s ship and woman are mine. He must give me the weapon in exchange for them both.
“Who do you think possesses MacDougall’s weapon? We know Laird Ewan doesn’t have it. You told me it isn’t in Gilmar or on that wretched island. That leaves MacAlpin.”
“Be quiet you fool,” de Montfort said.
Bridgeton waved him off.
“Nor is the weapon on the Fair Wind. But you,” he turned to Moira, “the chieftain knows where it is.
“Who told ye about th’ weapon?” she asked.
“Don’t tell her anything,” de Montfort said.
She turned to de Montfort. “Ye told him. Did my father show it ta ye?”
“No, but your father spoke to Laird Ewan of it often.” de Montfort gave her a nervous stare.
“My father said many things, especially in front of Laird Ewan’s enemies. Did my father fool ye, the same way ye were misled when ye went against King Henry?”
“No, there’s a weapon,” Bridgeton said. “We have her, and soon we’ll have her lover. One of them will tell us everything.”
A low mist settled on the water. The dock was filled with activity. From his vantage point on the high road to the harbor, Gareth stood stunned. On the road below, he found her in a green dress. He watched as Bridgeton kissed her, then kept her close. Moira had him convinced she wanted Bridgeton dead. Was she the traitor? To her own people?
Gareth kept his eyes on her until she climbed into the boat. The whole time, Bridgeton laughed with her.
His mind brought him back to London in the king’s court, Thomasine on his arm. Count Crespin LeVerley called him English scum, claiming he had corrupted the lady’s character. He said nothing. But when the Frenchman spoke against Thomasine for taking him as a diversion while she slept in his bed and spent his money, he snapped. He called LeVerley a liar and challenged him, all in defense of Thomasine’s honor.
The sword fight, at a remote part of the Thames, didn’t last long. LeVerley brought his brother Jupp, and Jupp’s friend, Halsey Bridgeton. He and LeVerley were evenly matched. Their swords were locked at the hilt, close at their chests, when someone hit him in the head with the steel end of his dagger. Stunned, he fell to the ground.
The man stood over him and screamed for him to get up. When he put his hand on the ground to push himself up, Jupp stomped on his hand. As he lay there bleeding, his head cleared enough for him to listen as Thomasine screamed at LeVerley. She admon
ished the man for hurting her pet. Her pet. The phrase still made him violent. She left on LeVerley’s arm without a backward look.
He had recovered from the physical wound, but not the emotional one. His heart hardened, at least where women and Frenchmen were concerned. Now Moira. Thomasine was an opportunist. He could almost tolerate her deceit, but Moira? He thought better of her character.
“Gareth.” He whipped around.
“Wesley? When did you arrive?” Gareth asked.
“Long enough to know I needed to find you,” Wesley said.
“Moira went with Bridgeton,” Gareth said in disgust. “Another traitorous woman.”
“Bridgeton wants you to believe she went willingly with him. He has been busy. Your name is ringing throughout the castle, as is Moira’s,” Wesley said. “Our friend, Bridgeton, with the help of de Montfort, told anyone who would listen that he had two things that belong to you, and wants you to come and get them.”
“Two things?”
“The Fair Wind, and Moira.”
“MacAlpin’s whore?” Moira laughed at his inference.
“It really doesn’t matter if you are or aren’t. I’ve told everyone you are, and made Gareth—MacAlpin, or whatever name he uses, a hated bastard. People will believe whatever I tell them. If they find him, they will deliver him to me.”
Moira despised his arrogance.
“MacAlpin will come to your rescue. I’ve heard of your stolen kisses. He is one of those honorable men. And when he does, I will relieve him of his head and take it to King Henry as a peace offering, along with instructions how to make the Greek fire.”
She refused to let her face show any emotion.
“Yes, I know what the weapon is. Now you will tell me how to make it.”
“Th’ secret died wi’ my father. And if you’re waiting for Gareth ta come for me, you will have a long wait,” Moira said.
“Come, Guy. We’ll leave her here while we prepare for the guest of honor. Hear me, Moira.”
The Pirate’s Redemption Page 10