She turned at her name.
“If you listen carefully, with any luck, you’ll hear your lover’s voice one last time. I’m leaving a man outside your door. Have him get me when you’re ready to tell me the ingredients, and I may let you see him one last time.” He left the room and locked the door.
After the confrontation between her and Gareth, she was sure he wouldn’t care what happened to her. But his ship… He spoke of nothing else. She slid to the floor, tears running down her cheeks. He would come to the Fair Wind, and they would kill him.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Chapter Seventeen
Dundhragon Bay, Scotland
September 26, 1267
Later that afternoon
The slow, rhythmic slapping of the water against the Fair Wind’s hull did not produce its usual soothing affect. It echoed in the small room like Hamish’s hammer on his anvil.
Moira scoured the space for anything she could use to defend herself. The dirk in her bodice was for a close assault. She needed something else. A broken chair in the far corner would have to do. She pulled and pried at the legs until the cross piece loosened and finally came off, a club, a simple weapon but effective. A few swings to judge her striking distance, and she was ready.
Careful not to make noise, she crossed the room and put her ear to the door. Nothing. A soft sound across the room made her freeze. In a single movement, she spun toward the window, ready to fight.
Gareth leaned in the window, a coil of rope over his shoulder. He put his finger to his lips, warning her to remain quiet.
She made her way to the window and stood on the crate beneath it.
“Ye must leave. Bridgeton and de Montfort are waiting for ye,” she whispered. “They may be back any moment. Ye canna fight them alone. Think of another way ta take back the Fair Wind.”
“I’m here for you. Hurry. Come out the window and I’ll lower us both into the water.” He handed her the rope from his shoulder.
“For me?” She looked at him, unable to believe what he said. “Not th’ Fair Wind?”
He stared into her eyes. “Of course for you. The Fair Wind can be replaced. Now hurry, while the fog still hides us.”
Moira didn’t know what pleased her more, escaping from Bridgeton or Gareth risking his life to rescue her. With practiced speed, she unlaced her girdle and took off the gown.
“What are you doing?”
Moira removed her kirtle and stood in front of him in her chemise. Exposed and vulnerable, she trusted Gareth more than she trusted herself.
“Lower yer voice.” She put her finger to her lips. “I canna git through the window nor swim wearing all this. It will drag me to th’ bottom.”
She took the rope to tie around her waist but froze at the sound of a key in the lock. She dropped the rope and picked up her makeshift weapon.
The door opened.
“No my lovely. I’m no th’ enemy.” He closed the door behind him.
“Martin?” Gareth said softly from the window.
“There isna much time,” Martin said. He quickly surveyed the room. He took a stout barrel and put it on the crate under the window, then tied the end of the rope to it and threw the rest out the window.
“I’ll help you,” Martin said. “And Gareth, dinna drop the lass.”
Martin helped her onto the crate.
“Feet first, milady. Yer shoulder will be a squeeze. Curl them toward each other, and ye’ll make it through.”
Her legs and hips made it easily through the opening. With her arms over her head, she followed Martin’s instructions and curled her shoulders. Gently, Gareth pulled her through the window.
Before she could say anything, Martin blocked the window with the barrel. They stood on a narrow piece of wood unable to see into the room, but heard everything.
“Where is she?”
From the sound of de Montfort’s voice, he was more than angry.
“Not in here.”
Gareth stifled his chuckle. Martin was too brazen for his own good.
“What do you mean she’s not here?”
Gareth waited for Martin to work his magic. He had a knack for diverting people’s attention.
“See for yerself. All that is here is a dress and undergarments. Whoever finds her is in for a pleasant surprise.”
Gareth and Moira clung to the side of the ship and listened to wood scraping against wood and heavy items thrown against the hull.
“I searched th’ water, but wi’ this thick mist, it was useless,” Martin said.
“Bridgeton how can you lose one woman in the middle of an empty room? She must have used the rope to lower herself into the water. I can’t see a thing out this window.” de Montfort said.
“She must be headed for the Pir.” Bridgeton said.
“If I were her, I’d seek out Laird Ewan’s help,” Martin said.
“Her men are on her ship. I told you we should have killed them and sank the damn thing,” Bridgeton said.
“In the middle of all these MacDougalls? These are men with Viking blood. You must be mad. No, she’ll go to her men,” de Montfort said. “Jupp, make yourself useful. Prepare two boats. We’ll catch her at the Pir.”
Gareth and Moira listened to the sounds of boots marching out the door.
Martin bent his head out the window. “Dinna drop the lass,” he repeated.
Gareth grabbed the dangling rope and, with Moira clinging to him, lowered them both into the water. Martin tossed the line down, and saluted.
She stared into Martin’s pleasant smile. He tossed her a kiss and pulled his head back into the room.
Gareth tapped her shoulder and pointed toward shore. She shook her head and pointed to herself, then toward her ship. Before he could respond, she started swimming. Gareth followed her to the Pir.
Fergus stood by the rail, reached down, and helped her onto the vessel.
He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
Gareth climbed up after her. He scanned the water, trying to peer through the fog. In the distance, he heard the sound of oars. Bridgeton and de Montfort weren’t far away.
Moira checked the armament baskets.
“Ye had us remove th’ weapons and replace them wi’ skins,” Fergus said.
Gareth spun her around. “This is your last chance. You can go over the starboard side and swim for shore.”
The rowboat rubbed against the larboard hull.
“I’m where I should be.” She smiled.
He marveled at her strength and conviction. She was as strong as any pirate he knew.
“You’re fierce and beautiful.” He pulled her close and kissed her hard.
“Victory or death,” she said. Those words had a deeper meaning to her now. She fought for her clan, but she fought for him as well. There was no sense going on without him.
“Victory or death,” he repeated. They stood in front of the mast and waited for the boarding party.
Martin and three men came over the side.
Gareth released the tension in his shoulders; all four were his men. Bridgeton assumed pirates had no allegiance. The Englishman was in for quite a surprise.
Bridgeton, with Jupp at his side, came over the rail and scanned the deck.
“You!” Bridgeton took a step toward them.
Gareth tipped his head.
“Doona come any closer,” Moira said, settling near the barrels.
“Is that where you hide the Greek fire, in the barrels?” He pushed Jupp closer to the barrels. “What is that vile stench? I can smell it on the Fair Wind”
“Stay back,” she said to the sailor.
“Bring me whatever is in the barrel,” Bridgeton ordered, his eyes wild. The man could hardly stand still.
A second boat hit the ship’s hull and startled everyone but Gareth. He kept his eyes on Jupp.
Jupp opened the first barrel and dipped his hand inside. Sand ran through his fingers.
; “Open the other one,” Bridgeton ordered.
Jupp took the lid off the second barrel and pulled out a closed earthen pot. A foul odor seeped across the ship.
“The barrels are filled with these pots,” he said. He showed it to Bridgeton and turned his head away from the stinking mess.
“Give it to me,” Bridgeton held out his hand. “You think you can stop me with pots?”
“No,” Moira called.
Bridgeton grabbed the pot, knocking off the top. The content splattered on Jupp’s shirt.
Moira reached for the sand. Gareth stepped in front of Moira to shield her from what he knew was going to happen.
Sticky liquid ran down Jupp’s shirt. He stared at Gareth hatefully and grabbed a wet deck rag and ran it over his clothes. A flash ignited the material followed by a faint rumble. Jupp screamed as the flames quickly consumed his shirt. Screaming, the man ran to the rail.
“No, let me help ye.” Moira went toward Jupp, but Gareth wrapped his arms around her.
“You can’t help him,” Gareth said.
Jupp threw himself overboard, but there was no relief. Another flash and the surface of the water burst into flames. Thick clouds of smoke rose, and his screams finally ended.
The fire spread across the water. Bridgeton stared in horror as it swallowed up his boat.
“Bridgeton, get in the boat,” de Montfort demanded.
Fear darkened Bridgeton’s features. He hurried over the side of the ship and jumped into de Montfort’s boat.
“It looks like Bridgeton left before we could board de Montfort’s boat,” Martin said to Tim, Gill, and Ivo.
“Help me wi’ th’ skins,” Moira called.
She ran to an armament basket tied it to the rail. Covering her mouth, she pulled off the top, took out rolled up skins on long ropes, and hung them over the side. The bottoms fell just below the water.
“Do th’ same wi’ th’ others. These skins are soaked in vinegar and will protect us for a while,” she said.
“We still must move from this part of the bay. The fire will spread before it burns out,” Gareth warned.
“Hoist th’ main sail. Weigh anchor,” Martin commanded.
“Aye, Captain,” Gareth said.
Moira gawked at Martin.
“I regret this is no’ a formal introduction, milady. I’m Captain MacAlpin. A friend of Gareth, Wesley, Laird Ewan, and yer father, may his soul rest in peace. I would regale ye of my many deeds wi’ yer father, but at this moment, ye must make a decision.” He pointed to the barrel of earthen pots.
“No one should possess this weapon, Moira,” Gareth said.
“What are you going to do? We can’t fight them. You’ll all but hand them the Greek fire,” she said.
“I doona think that is th’ plan. Is it Gareth?” MacAlpin asked.
Gareth remained quiet, and stared at the Fair Wind.
She glanced at the Fair Wind and made out Bridgeton and his men boarding. De Montfort boarded his ship.
“They intend ta come after us, doona they?” she asked.
“If they get their hands on these barrels, they will terrorize not only Scotland, but de Montfort will use it to his advantage against King Henry,” Gareth said.
“Tis yer decision, Moira. We can sail away and ye’ll keep looking over yer shoulder for Bridgeton, or we can destroy th’ weapon,” MacAlpin said.
“And th’ Pir,” she said.
“Captain, th’ English ships are headed toward us,” Tim pointed out.
Her course was clear. The instructions destroyed, the last of the fire must be, too. She turned toward MacAlpin. “We fight. If we fail, we’ll let th’ Pir burn.”
“Ye’re every bit as fierce and beautiful as Gareth told me,” MacAlpin said. “You will have ta wait ta hear more accolades he used ta describe ye. Now, we must leave the bay. We canna maneuver here. We’ll be caught in th’ flames.”
“Tim, raise th’ red flag. Ivo, you and Ross, man th’ rudder. Maiden Island is outside th’ bay. That is where we will make our stand.”
“Red flag?” Moira asked.
“A signal ta let th’ English know we take no prisoners,” MacAlpin said.
The sail fluttered and filled as it caught the wind.
“Quick man, the wind is gusting.” Gareth said.
The sail was out of position, and the boat rocked.
Moira stood in horror as the rope snapped and a barrel slid on the sandy deck. She watched as it caught on one of the deck boards and tipped over.
Her heart hammered as she waited for the flash of light and sound of thunder. Instead, rocks tumbled out across the deck.
Gareth and MacAlpin stared at her.
MacAlpin made the course correction, and in minutes, the Pir glided across the water and headed into Loch Linnhe. Bridgeton, de Montfort, and their two escort ships not far behind.
Moira knew one barrel was good. She checked the other two. They were filled with the sealed earthen pots.
“What happened?” Gareth asked.
“I’m no’ sure. These barrels are fine. Someone must have swapped ours for this one filled wi’ stones. I had th’ barrels removed from th’ ship at the castle. I planned ta give them ta Laird Ewan. When he refused ta protect us, I decided ta take them back ta Gilmar. Tis the only protection I can offer th’ village.”
“Who do you think…” Gareth followed her gaze to the boats behind them.
“A traitor,” MacAlpin said. “But I have no idea who.”
“Captain, we’re coming ta th’ channel between Maiden Island and th’ mainland,” Gill said.
“More sail, Gill. Hold our course,” MacAlpin called to the helmsman. He turned to Gareth. “This is yer maneuver.”
“What is he going to do?” she asked MacAlpin.
“The first time I saw the Pir, I knew she was built for speed rather than hauling troops or cargo. Yer Gareth is going to show th’ English her pretty little stern.” MacAlpin leaned against the railing and watched.
“Ross, ease to larboard,” Gareth said. “Hold until you pass Ganavan, then hard to larboard, bring her into the strait, then around the island.”
They sailed along the shoreline and came around the back side of the island.
“Gareth, we’re going into th’ fog.” Moira ran to the railing. “If you continue around the island, we’ll run into th’ English.”
“Yes, we will. Head on.”
Chapter Eighteen
Maiden Island, Scotland
September 26, 1267
Late afternoon
“Why are we stopping?” Moira asked Gareth. “The English aren’t far behind.”
“If we work fast, we’ll have enough of a lead to put things in place,” Gareth said.
“What things? Our only weapon is the Greek fire.” She had every right to be upset. He gambled with her boat and her life, as well as the lives of everyone else.
“Ahoy,” shouted someone alongside the ship.
Moira froze and turned toward the rail. Gareth helped them aboard.
“This is the last place you should be. I didn’t want to get you involved in this fight,” Gareth said to Wesley.
“I know. I saw through your motives,” Wesley said.
Moira walked over.
“I’ve brought men to help,” Wesley said, standing in front of her.
“How did you git here?” Moira asked. “We left ye in Gilmar this morning.”
“I’m glad to see you, too. Hamish hadn’t stowed the special skins to protect Laird Ewan. He asked me to bring them to you.” Wesley sniffed the air. “Although, it smells as if you have everything you need.”
“And Gilmar?” she asked.
“They are fine. I left them with some protection, so you needn’t worry.”
“Protection?” she asked.
Gareth looked at MacAlpin.
“I felt it my duty ta help yer clan since Bridgeton did his destruction in my name,” MacAlpin said. “Several of my men
and ships are in Gilmar.”
“You can hear everything later,” Gareth said to her. “Now we need to show Wesley and his men how ta handle the pots and the nets.”
Angus pulled pots out of the barrel, stowed them in a net, and climbed to the furthest point on the bow.
“Angus calls it a stinger,” Moira said. “He’ll put a few pots along the yardarm as well.”
Ross positioned a rope at the steering stick and prepared to tie it in place on Gareth’s order.
Gareth kept his eyes on the sea for any sign of Bridgeton and de Montfort. The crew on the Pir had been quick. One thing remained for him to do.
“It’s time for us to leave,” Wesley said.
“What is he talking about?” Moira turned to Wesley.
One by one, the men climbed over the side and down the ladder into the waiting boat.
“Everyone is leaving the ship. I’ll set the rudder then meet you at the gathering point on Maiden Island,” Gareth said.
“How? You can’t out swim th’ fire,” Moira said.
“As long as I’m off the ship before the Pir hits Bridgeton, and the fire starts, I’ll be fine. I have no intention of dying.”
“Neither did that poor sailor.” She rubbed her hands together.
He read her thoughts as clearly as if she spoke them out loud.
“There must be another way,” she said.
“We’ve no time to think of one. This has to work.” He sensed the emotions that warred within her and knew when she finally accepted their fate.
“Th’ basket by the helm has a soaked skin ta use for yer protection,” she said. “You must be away from th’ ship when th’ pots ignite, or you’ll be caught—” She stared at him for several heartbeats, then threw her arms around him.
“I’ll be away before the ships collide,” he said to her, and pulled a gem from the bag that hung from his belt.
“This is my North Star. Keep it safe for me. It is dear to me, like you are. I’ll see you on Maiden Island. I have so much to tell you.”
He kissed her, sweet and quick.
“Now go, before we miss our opportunity,” he said.
“Wait.” She removed her red and green scarf and tied it around his arm. “Take me wi’ you,” she whispered.
The Pirate’s Redemption Page 11