And just like that, Tav knew what he had to do.
“Nay, Tosh.” Smiling, he slammed his hand against the man’s back. “After all, the Black Banner now works for the Crown, and Scotland depends on the man’s skill at sea.”
“I dinnae understand.” Tosh was frowning now.
But Tav smiled. “The Black Banner isnae retiring, but mayhap ‘tis time he passed on the black sails and black kilt to another, one who doesnae have his responsibilities.”
His friend’s eyes opened wide. “Tav?” he whispered.
And Tav’s smile grew as he held out his hand. “Congratulations on yer promotion to The Black Banner, Tosh. Ye’ll be a blessing to Scotland’s interests, and I’ll be certain to pass on yer missions from my sister.”
With a pleased hoot, his friend grasped his forearm firmly. “Ye’re certain?”
Tav nodded firmly. “My place is with my wife, protecting my sons.”
“Then ye best get going!”
“Beware the Black, my friend!”
As Tav vaulted the rail to splash ashore, weaving his way among the buildings, searching for a vessel he could commandeer to take him across the bay to Kisimul, he heard the cry taken up around him.
“Beware the Black!”
* * *
“How dare ye!” MacNeil was pacing in front of the hearth in the great hall, still ranting. “Ye think because my men arenae here ye’ll be able to sneak in here and—what? Steal yer son back? Like a thief in the night?”
He was so irate, spittle was actually forming on his beard. The man had been spewing obscenities at her for a quarter of an hour, as Isabel stood, hands folded in front of her, head bowed.
She might’ve appeared meek, but inside, she was quivering with indignation. Her jaw ached from how hard she had to clench her teeth to keep from snapping a reply to MacNeil. But she knew, for each minute she kept him down here, that was another minute for Dane to successfully sneak Alex out of the castle.
Only when she knew her son—her sons—were safe, could she leave MacNeil’s presence.
But there was not much more of his vitriol she could take.
“And how in God’s name does a whore like ye get the bloody Black Banner to do yer bidding? As if I need to ask. Is he another one of yer conquests? Like poor Edward Bruce? Like me?” He spat, turning on her once more. “For God’s sake, ye must—”
“Dinnae speak like that.” The command slipped out, her voice low and, she imagined, dangerous.
It certainly halted MacNeil, mid-tirade. “What?” he blurted.
Her nails digging into her palms, Isabel finally lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “I have stood here and listened to yer insults, but ye’ll no’ take the Lord’s name in vain again, ye pig.”
He reared back, obviously surprised by her words. Or mayhap her backbone. “How dare ye—”
“I dare, because while ye accuse me of sneaking into yer home like a thief in the dead of night, ‘twas ye who had the audacity to kidnap my son. A wee, innocent child!” Shaking with anger now, she stepped toward him and was gratified when he actually backed up a step. “And no’ just my son, but a princess along with him!”
When he paled, she had the satisfaction of knowing she could reveal his blunder now. “Och, aye, ye didnae ken, did ye?” she mocked, stepped closer. “The daft serving lad with Alex…? ‘Twas Princess Margaret, the heir to the Crown. My son—my son—protected her from ye until we could rescue her. She’s far beyond yer reach now.”
“Nay,” MacNeil choked, shaking his head. “Nay, ye lie! Ye are a lying whore!”
“Believe what ye want, but King Robert kens the truth by now.” She was careful to stay out of his reach when she shook her head in mock pity. “Ye will be punished, no’ just for what ye did to Alex, but what ye did to the King.”
With a roar, MacNeil lunged for her, but she—who still had her skirts tucked up—was able to nimbly sidestep.
Tsking, she shook her head. “Ye think to hurt me? Ye think Queen Elizabeth will no’ have yer head for that?”
“Ye bitch,” he hissed, his big hands reaching for her, fingers grasping, even though he didn’t come any closer. “Once ye’re my wife, I can do whatever I want to ye, in the eyes of God and the King.”
Isabel vowed to say a dozen novenas in thanks for never having to be yoked to a man who felt that way.
“Ye’re right.” Her chin came up. “My husband does have control over me. Luckily, ‘twill never be ye.”
“If ye want to see yer precious lad again, ye’ll marry me as promised.”
“I never promised.” She stepped backward out of caution but kept her chin up. “I cannae marry ye, because I am already married.”
His fingers opened, then closed again into a fist, then opened again, grasping at an invisible line, while his mouth worked. Finally, a noise rather like a wounded animal’s growl emerged from his lips.
And she nodded, proud to be able to tell him, “Tavish MacLeod is my husband.”
“Ye bitch,” he whispered harshly. “Ye lying, deceitful whore. Did ye spread yer legs for him too, whore? Did ye make him promises as ye did me? Did ye wrap those pretty lips around his—”
“If I were ye, MacNeil, I’d shut yer mouth before someone shuts it for ye.”
The threatening words had both MacNeil and Isabel whirling to face the door to the kitchens. She couldn’t imagine his response to seeing Tavish, but hers was a burst of relieved elation…up until she noticed the blood.
His sword was drawn, blood dripping from the tip, and he had blood on his cheek as well. She couldn’t tell how much more there was on his black kilt. Standing beside him, Dane cradled his arm against his chest, blood caking his fingers, but he looked otherwise unhurt.
And wrapped around Tavish, supported by the man’s other arm, was Alex, his wee face burrowed against his new stepfather’s neck.
“Tavish?” she croaked, taking a stumbling step toward the three most important males in her life. “Are ye—? The blood?”
“Belongs to MacLeods, love.” His expression was deadly serious, and he didn’t drop his gaze from MacNeil as he answered her. “I found Dane doing his best to ward off some bastard who thought ‘twas sporting to pick on a lad.” He hitched one shoulder, as if it mattered little. “Of course, seeing as how the other guard was dead at my son’s feet, Dane’s dagger in his chest, mayhap the bastard thought himself justified.”
“Jesu Christo,” Isabel whispered, making the sign of the cross as she hurried toward the trio. “Dane, ye’re hurt?”
“ ’Tis naught.” The lad’s voice was tight with pain, so Isabel didn’t push him, but just reached for his arm.
Aye, he had a gash across the forearm, likely a result of blocking a blade, which would leave a scar. Pulling his plaid from over his shoulder, she began to wrap it. “ ’Twill have to be stitched later. Ye got this protecting Alex?”
Dark blue eyes looked up and met hers.
“He’s my brother,” Dane said simply.
Suddenly, Isabel’s chest ached with the need to gather this sweet lad in her arms. Knowing he’d not appreciate the gesture at that moment, instead she turned to her husband, her arms open to receive her other son.
At that moment, MacNeil seemed to recover his wits. “How dare ye, MacLeod! Ye forced yer way into my castle as a member of that bastard Black Banner’s crew? Dinnae think I cannae see yer damning black kilt! That whore of yers—”
“I warned ye once already, MacNeil!” Tavish growled. “Dinnae speak of my wife that way!”
Before she could fully understand what had happened, he’d thrust Alex into her arms and was stalking across the hall, his sword raised.
MacNeil drew his blade, but Tavish didn’t stop. As Alex whimpered and wrapped his legs around her waist, Isabel tightened her grip on him and began backing up, pulling Dane with her while she kept her attention on the combatants.
“Yer brother will ken of yer treachery, MacLeod!” MacNeil howled, swinging wildly. “How
dare ye enter my keep uninvited!”
“How dare I?” Tavish roared. “How dare I? The MacLeods are no’ responsible for my actions, but I’ll be certain to tell them of yer dishonorable attempts at kidnapping and extortion.”
Their blades clanged over their heads, and Isabel could see MacNeil struggling, while Tavish seemed to only gain strength.
“Ye only believe that because that whore of yers—”
“She’s my wife, ye spineless mollusk, and I love her!”
The words slammed into Isabel so hard she stumbled and might have fallen, had Dane not slid his good shoulder under hers. Tavish…loved her?
Mayhap the news had startled MacNeil as well because he fumbled his grip. Quick as a blink, Tavish had swung his blade under the other man’s and flipped it, sending MacNeil’s big sword skittering across the rushes to land against the hearth.
Before the man could dart over, Tavish laid the point of his blade against MacNeil’s neck, and growled, “Dinnae move.”
Both men were breathing heavily, but what looked like exhaustion on MacNeil seemed like barely suppressed rage on Tavish.
“MacLeod—”
“Dinnae speak either.” Tavish took two more deep breaths, before growling, “I will be the one to speak, and ye will listen. I am no’ the Black Banner. Ye can tell my clan aught ye would like, but the truth is I am no’ that pirate. I am simply a man who is willing to risk everything for his wife and family.”
His sword didn’t waver as he glanced over once at Isabel, now standing in the shadows with the lads, then back to the man who’d caused them so much anguish.
“I’m no’ going to kill ye, MacNeil, although the saints ken ye deserve it.”
“Ye coward—”
The tip of Tavish’s sword drew a drop of blood. “I’m no’ going to kill ye…because there are worse fates ahead. What do ye think the Bruce has planned for ye now, eh? Now that he kens ye’re the one responsible for stealing his daughter?”
“I didnae ken ‘twas she—”
“And the Earl of Carrick?” His blade slide along MacNeil’s neck, making the man swallow audibly. “Ye kidnapped bairns to further ye’re own power, and the King has nae use for that kind of man at his back. I verra much doubt ye’ll remain Laird MacNeil for long, ye bastard.”
With that, Tavish lifted one black-booted foot and kicked the other man hard in the midsection. As MacNeil doubled over and fell backward, Tavish whirled and hurried toward the shadows.
Isabel met him, although once she did, there was naught she could do, her arms full of Alex. Still, when he rested his hand on the small of her back, his dark gaze flicked over her, as if ensuring himself she was unhurt.
“Isabel?”
“Aye, husband.” Her voice shook as she turned them all toward the door and the rocks where the skiff was moored.
She’d insist Dane rest for the trip back to the birlinn, and she doubted Alex would release her long enough for her to be any help with the oars. Therefore, it’d be up to Tavish.
She smiled at him, remembering his passionate vow. “Take us home, my love.”
And his eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arm around Dane’s shoulders and led the lad to the skiff. “As my lady commands.”
Chapter 12
Tav figured he could add skiff-stealing to his long list of crimes, but he cared not. As long as Isabel was willing to overlook his flaws, he’d gladly take the opportunity to row straight back to the birlinn, rather than making a side-trip.
Luckily, by the time they’d arrived—and Dane had been stoic throughout, although he could see the lad’s face growing paler with each whimper as the skiff hit a new wave—Tosh had rounded up the men, and they were able to climb aboard with minimal fuss and cast off.
Once they were past the channel, and the sails had been switched out for their usual pale ones, he had Jock light a torch so they could tend to their wounded. Luckily, Dane looked to be the worst, and although he pretended irritation, Tav was proud of the lad.
“I thought I told ye to be careful,” he growled as he stitched up his son’s arm, trying not to wince each time he pierced the skin. “This isnae careful.”
“ ’Twas either take the blade in my arm or allow it to go into my brother’s neck.” Dane’s voice was pinched with pain, and when he glanced at him, Tav saw the lad’s gaze locked firmly on the mast, his face pale. “I decided ‘twas worth it.”
Tav had to swallow twice to get past the thickness in his throat at the thought of his son’s nobility…and his wound. “ ’Twas bravely got,” he managed gruffly. “A man’s wound.”
Dane merely snorted, and his father had to smile.
As he was bandaging the arm, Isabel stumbled over to sit against the gunwale beside them, Alex still wrapped around her. “I’m sorry I was nae help. I’ve never stitched skin, and Alex—”
“Doesnae look likely to let ye go anytime soon,” Tav murmured with a grin.
Isabel’s arms snaked around her son’s back. “I dinnae mind.”
Nay, he imagined she didn’t.
Alex lifted his head and looked between his mother and Dane. “He told me he was my brother.”
Smiling softly—likely at how accusatory the lad had sounded—Isabel nodded. “I’ve married Tavish MacLeod, Alex. He is yer new father, and Dane is yer aulder brother now.”
The lad hadn’t loosened his hold on his mother but was studying Dane. “He saved me.”
“Aye, he did,” Isabel agreed, her free hand fumbling for Dane’s uninjured one. “And I owe him everything for that.”
Dane scoffed modestly, even as he twined his fingers through hers. “Da saved us both, Mother.”
Mother?
Slowly, Tav’s grin spread. He wasn’t certain what had passed between his son and his wife—though he’d find out—but whatever ‘twas, he was thrilled Dane was accepting his new family.
When he glanced back, ‘twas in time to see Isabel’s eyes shining with love. “He did,” she agreed, and it took Tav a moment to remember what they’d been talking about. “And I think I’ll love him forever for that.”
He blinked. So much had happened this night, but he had no trouble remembering the way she’d blurted out her love for him right before they’d parted.
“Ye’ll love me for that?” he repeated, tying off Dane’s bandage with a flourish, then scooting over to sit between the two of them, resting his back against the gunwale. As he carefully wrapped one arm around Isabel and gently urged her to lean against him, he pretended to sniff indignantly. “Surely I have other talents.”
“Ye’re no’ bad with a—” Dane’s comment was cut off by a yawn.
“A sword? A horse? A grappling hook?”
Isabel huffed. “A grappling hook?”
Tav winked at her. “I used to be a pirate, love, remember?”
Alex struggled around to stare, wide-eyed, at him. “My da was a pirate?”
Da. Well, the lad was acclimating to his new family as easily as Dane had, was he not?
“Mayhap ‘tis a story for another day,” Isabel murmured, as Alex suddenly let out a lusty yawn. She helped him settle down on her lap, his head against her shoulder, even as she leaned against Tav. “I’ll be grateful when we’re all away from here and safe.”
“Aye.” Tav was careful when he draped his arm over Dane’s shoulder, but the lad seemed content to snuggle up against him like a younger lad might. After this evening’s adventure, he was entitled to a little coddling. “Let us go fetch Margaret and return to Scone.”
‘Twas Isabel’s turn to yawn, though with a ladylike gesture, she smothered behind her hand. “Will we stop for the night?’
“Nae need,” Tav murmured, glancing up at Tosh.
The man might have once been his second-in-command, but now took charge of the birlinn as if he’d been born to do it. He wore the black in a dashing manner as well, Tav thought. He was now the captain and would carry on the legend of the Black Banner better than Tav ever
could.
And sitting there, his arms full of his new family, already looking toward the future, Tav knew he wouldn’t regret it.
The big man nodded in response to the unanswered question. “We’re on shifts all night and will keep sailing until we reach Dunvegan. Ye rest for now.”
“Aye, and I’ll spell ye in a bit,” Tav agreed. “Good man.”
Tosh grinned. “And ye best no’ forget it!”
Before Tav could respond, Isabel shifted against him, her voice weary when she asked, “And when we reach Dunvegan?”
“How should I ken? I’m no’ in charge of this mission.” Tav offered her a little squeeze. “What do ye want to do?”
She paused to consider, then lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Send a messenger overland to Scone, telling the Queen we’re on our way. But I imagine ‘twould be safer and easier for all of us to continue through the Minch and into the North Sea?”
“Smart lass.” He kissed her temple. “ ’Tis the route I would’ve suggested as well. We can be in Scone within the sennight and likely still outpace any pursuit MacNeil sends after us.”
On his other side, Dane had already fallen asleep, and Alex’s eyes had been closed for a while, but Isabel still shifted so her face was tilted up toward him.
“When Robert hears MacNeil’s plans, I doubt the man will live for long. If he hasnae already hidden, he is stupider than I thought.”
“Aye, love. The King will punish him far better than I could have. Besides, I didnae want to disappoint my wife by killing another man.”
There was enough blood on his blade already, all of it to save his sons.
Her lips twitched. “Ye are a thoughtful husband, and I am blessed to claim ye as mine.”
“Do ye?”
He wasn’t even aware he’d murmured the words until her smile grew.
“I do. Ye are mine, and I love ye, Tavish MacLeod.”
“Good.” He leaned down to brush his lips over hers. “Because ye are mine, and I love ye, Isabel MacLeod. I vow to be a good father to our lads and a good husband to ye.”
“And that includes forgiving yerself for yer past sins?” she prompted.
The Pirate’s Angel Page 13