by Willa Blair
She picked up a bit of fish. It went down, but she wasn’t certain it would stay there. “I think I already do.”
“Try the bread. It’ll soak up some of that ale.”
She nodded and wished she hadn’t. Suddenly she was back on the skiff, only in rougher waters than they’d crossed last night.
Euan reached across the table, broke off a piece of bread and handed it to her. “Why did ye no’ eat?”
She took his offering and got it down. It seemed more content to stay put than the fish had. “To wait for ye. ’Tis no’ polite to begin before my host.”
“Calum clearly had nay such compunction.”
“He is yer clansman. Ye are no’ his host.”
“Wheesht, lass,” Calum broke in. “‘Had I paid attention to more than my empty belly, I wouldha talked ye out of that fool notion.”
Muireall stiffened. “I am no’ a fool.”
“Nay, ye are no’,” Euan told her with a narrowed glance at Calum. “No’ as long as ye finish that bread. Then we’ll see how ye fare.”
“Where were ye all day?” Calum asked as Muireall picked up another hunk of bread and took a bite. “We heard Iain had sent ye to join us in Mhairi’s care.”
“I had other things to do.”
“I see they didna involve stowing away with the searchers.” Muireall realized that voice was hers and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Calum reared back, then leaned away. “Ye’re no about to spew, are ye?”
Muireall shook her head and winced as the room moved a bit side to side after she stopped. She hadn’t drunk that much ale. She must be hungrier than she thought.
Euan sighed. “Nay, they didna, though I would have preferred to join them. But Iain would have banished me had I defied him.”
“Ye are wise, as well as honorable.” Muireall cringed. She’d done it again. Every thought she had about Euan Brodie flew from her lips. Clearly she had no business drinking Brodie ale. It made her mouth run ahead of her mind.
“And ye have had too much to drink for having nought to eat. Try some more bread, lass.”
Euan’s tone contained no censure, only concern for her well-being. Just as it had from the moment he’d pulled her from the surf. He’d been taking care of her for only a few days, but it felt like he’d looked after her for years. He’d saved her life, after all. She felt closer to him than to any other man, save her father and brothers. Poor Georgie. If they were still alive. That thought brought tears to her eyes. Oh no, she could not cry, not here in the middle of the Brodie clan, with all eyes on her, the strange lass Euan had rescued. She took a deep breath and got her roiling emotions under control by forcing down the last of the bread Euan had broken for her.
“Are ye ready for more?”
She risked a glance at him. The room seemed steadier and he seemed a bit more in focus than he had only minutes ago. “Aye, I think so.”
“Then try a bit of cheese.” Euan signaled for a serving girl and asked for some soup and a pitcher of clean water for Muireall to drink.
His kindness set her thoughts to racing again. She knew him well enough to believe his concern was genuine. But was it only out of polite regard for a guest rather than attraction to her? In Muireall’s eyes, he was warm and caring and perhaps the most handsome man who’d ever paid attention to her. Did she feel that way because he’d saved her life, and rescued her from the Rosses? Or was there something true and perhaps lasting in her feelings?
Who was the lass who’d been holding his arm?
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t expect Euan to want to get involved with her. She needed to return to Munro.
Once she had more food in her belly, she felt much better. Looking around the room and at the people in it no longer made them wobble. The high table stood empty. Either the chief was away or he’d chosen to sit elsewhere. The rest of the Brodies sat as she did at long tables. Many benches stood empty.
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
Euan answered. “James’s family and the families of the men still missing are keeping private. Iain, our chief, sent a dozen men across the firth to search the northern coast for them. And Iain prefers not to use the high table save for formal occasions. He’s over there.”
Euan nodded toward a tall man whose dark hair glinted with coppery highlights standing a few tables away, deep in conversation with a man and a woman whose backs were to Muireall.
“He’ll make his way here before long.”
Muireall was afraid of that. She wasn’t sure she was up to convincing the Brodie chief to send her home. Euan had said he understood why she wanted to go, though he’d refused to take her. Here, he had to follow his chief’s orders. But with Euan near her, his green gaze locked with hers, leaving seemed less urgent somehow.
As much as Euan wanted this day to be over, he wanted to remain in the hall even more. He had two reasons—to await news from the men Iain had sent across to the Ross coast and to shield Muireall from Iain’s interrogation. Iain had said he would talk to the lass, and Euan knew what that could mean.
Guilt still wracked him over the loss of his men. If Iain’s crew returned with even one of them alive, a heavy weight would lift from his shoulders. But the longer it took to find them, or their bodies, the worse he felt.
Muireall was barely recovered from their escape. While she’d been braver than any lass he’d ever known, he knew Iain too well. If Iain thought she knew more than she divulged, he could be intimidating. Euan had seen grown men quail under Iain’s scrutiny. It was one thing to face his chief’s interrogation himself, another to stand by and see Iain question the lass, especially on her first day here.
Euan hoped they’d gotten enough food into her to counteract some of the effects of the strong Brodie ale. She might not have known better, but Calum did and should have stopped her, or made her eat. Another failure on Euan’s part—he was her host and he’d let her down again.
Under the circumstances, his interest in Muireall seemed wholly inappropriate. He’d succeeded in avoiding her all day, yet now that she sat next to him, all he wished to do was see her face, touch her hand, and inhale the fresh scent of her skin.
Yet he was about to be denied those small pleasures. Iain and Annie were headed toward their table. Calum, on Euan’s other side, leaned closer and whispered, “The fun is about to start. Is she up to it?”
Euan gave him the frown he deserved.
Iain and Annie reached their table and sat across from them while Euan made the introductions. “Welcome to Brodie,” Iain told Muireall, a friendly smile on his face. Either Iain was in a good mood, or Annie had warned him to charm the new lass.
Euan held his breath and looked from Iain to Muireall. She had stiffened as Iain and Annie approached. Well, meeting the clan’s laird and his wife for the first time would do that, he supposed. But she relaxed under Annie’s friendly gaze.
“Thank ye,” she said and returned Annie’s smile. “I saw ye with Euan in the healer’s cottage as I woke up earlier. I’m grateful for yer hospitality, and for everything Euan and Calum did to help me escape the Rosses.”
“Aye, well…” Iain began, then paused on a sharp glance from Annie.
Iain gave Euan a look that let him know Iain was thinking about Donas Ross and the trouble that might bring to Brodie. Euan pressed his lips into a thin line and didn’t comment.
Calum, at his side, shifted but also remained silent.
“And,” Muireall continued before anyone had a chance to speak, “I will be grateful for your assistance in returning me to my home.”
Euan bit back an oath but Iain only canted his head, which Muireall must have taken for encouragement, because she kept talking.
“Donas Ross told me most of my people were killed in the raid when Tira, Ella, and I were taken, but Euan thinks that may not be true. I need to know…”
“And ye shall,” Iain interrupted, “but no’ before ’tis safe, both for ye and for Brodie, to retu
rn ye to that side of the firth, even to Munro land.”
Euan tensed, not liking that Iain had interrupted Muireall. If that was a sign of how this interview would go, he’d better find a way to put a stop to it.
“No harm will come to me…” Muireall countered firmly, straightening up in her seat.
Annie spoke up then. “I was told ye were stolen from yer village. Is that correct?”
Usually Annie’s intervention would serve to lessen the tension in a discussion—especially Iain’s. But her question merely restated what her husband had implied—that Muireall had no guarantee of safety, even at home.
Muireall’s shoulders dropped. “Aye, Lady.”
“Then perhaps ye must admit caution is warranted,” Iain said. He glanced aside at his wife, then back at Muireall. “Ye will remain here for now.”
Iain’s mild tone surprised Euan. Usually the chief did not exercise such restraint. Then he noticed Annie squeeze Iain’s hand. Ah, Annie at work again. Well, they’d made their point and done so without rancor. Though Euan hated to see Iain force Muireall to accept the truth of her situation, someone had to. She hadn’t wanted to listen to him or Calum refuse to take her home. When he wanted to be charming, Iain had a persuasive way about him—and support from his wife. When that failed, he had the power of his position to enforce his will. As long as Iain said she would remain at Brodie, she would do just that.
Iain’s gaze shifted to Euan, and he held himself still in anticipation.
“I dinna need to remind ye that as yer guest, the lass is yer responsibility and ye will see to her comfort and safety.”
Euan could read the intent behind Iain’s words. There were to be no unauthorized trips across the firth to deliver Muireall to Munro, no matter how the lass pled her case or what inducements or enticements she offered to convince Euan to take her home. Euan met Iain’s gaze fully and nodded. He’d gotten the message.
“Verra well, then. I’ll leave ye to see to it.” He stood, but Annie stayed put.
“A chamber has been prepared for yer use while ye remain with us,” Annie told Muireall with a sympathetic smile. “If there’s aught ye need, ye have only to ask.”
“Other than an escort home, ye mean.”
She said it so quietly, Euan at first thought he’d imagined it. Surely she hadn’t mean to speak such thoughts aloud to the Brodie chief.
Iain’s eyebrows lifted, then lowered into a frown that he turned on Euan.
Euan tensed, ready to defend the lass. He glanced aside at her as Muireall’s hand rose to cover her mouth, her gaze lifting to Iain as she realized what she’d done.
Euan held up a hand to forestall the angry reaction he expected, intending to remind Iain the lass was still exhausted and not thinking straight. He thought it wise to leave out the part about the ale she’d consumed without eating.
But Iain only chuckled. “Other than that, aye,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at the lass. “For now.” He gave Euan another stern glance before taking his wife’s hand and leading her away from them.
Chapter 10
Early the next morning, the rumble of voices awakened Euan. In moments, he heard someone shout, “They’re back!” Those words could mean only one thing. The searchers Iain sent across the firth had returned.
He pulled on boots and wrapped an extra plaid around his shoulders before making his way out of the keep to join the throng headed for the beach.
The birlinn had already been pulled halfway over the high tide line, and the men walking away from her showed no sign of excitement. Nor could Euan see either of his missing men. Gasps and moans greeted the returning sailors. As they reached the crowd come to meet them, they shook their heads. “No sign of them,” Kenneth announced and hung his head, then looked up again. “We fished all along the coast, as long as we had light. No sign of our men, and no sign of a struggle to show they might have been captured. Nothing. They’re gone.”
Iain arrived in time to hear the last few sentences. “Could ye see any of the Ross village?”
“Nothing that looked out of the ordinary,” Kenneth answered.
A sob followed that pronouncement.
“But ’tis too far back from the bluff for anyone out on the water to be able to see much more than chimney smoke,” Kenneth continued as more cries of grief sounded around them.
“If Ross had them, there’d be something to let us know,” one of the men muttered angrily. “They’d taunt us with something that could be seen from offshore.”
“So they’re really dead, then.” That from a woman Euan couldn’t see in the crowd.
Iain held up both hands for silence. “We have to accept that they are gone. That does not mean that we will not be fishing on that side of the firth over the next few days. We will. But after so much time, no one can expect they still live. I’m sorry.”
Euan balled his hands into painful fists. He should be the one apologizing to the clan. To those men’s families. But his throat closed up so tightly he could barely breathe. Iain met his gaze and nodded. No doubt Euan’s rigid posture told Iain what was going through his mind.
Iain spoke more softly than before, “We’ve much to do to grieve their loss, but also to do as they would wish and live our lives. To start with, on that boat, there’s a catch to unload. Let’s get to it.”
Someone clapped Euan on the shoulder and urged him toward the birlinn along with everyone else. Calum. What did his friend expect to be able to do one-handed? Mhairi had warned him she would inflict a slow death if he removed the sling she fashioned to replace the one Euan made.
“No one blames ye,” Calum told him quietly as they walked.
“I do.” Euan stood in line and watched baskets full of fish being lowered to waiting hands.
“Ye shouldna. I was there. I ken what happened, first-hand, and I dinna blame ye. Ye mustna take on yerself what the storm wrought.”
“So you think my guilt stems from pride?”
“I think ’tis yer way of grieving. Ye feel responsible for the sun rising every morning. Ye must learn there are things ye canna control or ye may never be able to sail again.”
Euan pondered Calum’s words as they moved toward the birlinn. Was he right? If so, Euan’s only course would be to speak to Father Innis and join the clergy as quickly as he could. Maybe then he’d be able to leave everything in the Lord’s hands.
The more he thought about it, the more he knew Calum was wrong about him. No man went to sea without confidence that he could control his vessel, that he and his crew were experienced in the ways of the tides and the wind. But, he’d been overconfident, and he’d assented to Eduard’s urgings to stay and fill their hull to the brim. Even though Eduard was a more experienced sailor, Euan was responsible.
When it was his turn, he took a basket loaded with fish, wincing at the pressure on his wounds. This should have been how his fishing trip ended, with a bounty of food for the entire clan, not a loss to grieve them all.
Calum stayed by him as he turned to take his burdens—real and internal—back up to the keep. He opened his mouth to argue the point some more when Calum’s eyes widened. Then he saw the reason.
Muireall? She approached with several other lasses, waiting their turn to help carry what they could. Euan headed her way.
“Steady,” Calum warned him. “I see yer jaw jumping. She only wants to help.”
“She shouldna be here. She’s a guest.”
“She’s also had a rough few weeks. Maybe she needs to feel useful, too.”
Euan put his basket down at her feet, effectively blocking her way. “Ye dinna need to do this, lass.”
“I ken that, but I want to. This is one way I can contribute.”
“Ye dinna need to contribute. Ye are my guest.”
She glanced at the lasses beside her and waved them on, then looked from Euan to Calum and back again. “What is it with the two of ye? Do ye never go anywhere one without the other?” Her lips quirked just for a moment,
then she sighed. “To tell the truth, I’m bored. I’m not used to having nothing to do. Even in the Ross village, I had to work, and I had a friend I could rely upon.” She shrugged. “Those two lasses invited me to come along, and so I did.”
Euan nodded.
“I gather the news was no’ good?” Muireall looked from him to Calum, who suddenly studied his own boots, then back to Euan.
“Nay, there’s no news. My men are presumed lost.” Euan’s belly tightened at having to say the words.
“I’m so sorry.” She put a hand on his arm.
A prickle of heat ran into his chest from where she touched him. “Ye had nothing to do with it.”
She lifted her hand and drew back, clearly disconcerted by his gruff tone.
“What he means to say,” Calum broke in, “is to thank ye for yer kind concern and bid ye go on with the lasses.” He gave Euan a look that could not be mistaken. Stop being such an ass.
Euan crossed his arms and nodded. “Aye. I’m sorry, too.”
Muireall nodded and then froze, her gaze fixed on something behind him.
Euan glanced behind him, then turned in surprise. Kenneth approached with Muireall’s friend, Ella. When Ella spotted Muireall, she broke into a run to her friend.
“When…?” Muireall choked out while hugging Ella tightly.
“Yesterday,” Ella said, releasing her. Then she glanced aside. “Ye must be Euan. Some of your men found me on the beach, waiting as Muireall told me to do. They said they’d been told to look for a lass waiting there and bring her back with them.”
Euan traded a glance with Calum. He’d gotten the word to Kenneth after his interview with Iain. If he couldn’t make the trip, he could at least honor Muireall’s promise to her friend.
“I didna think ye had made a decision to go,” Muireall said.
“I hadna,” Ella replied, turning back to her. “Until I realized ye were gone. Suddenly I felt so alone…I couldna trust Tira. And Thomas…well, I couldna bear the thought of staying. So I went to the beach.”