On a Highland Shore (35 page)

She put a hand to his cheek. “Aye, love. And a thousand times aye.”

He pulled her atop him. She received him eagerly, leaning back when he filled her, seeing the stars and the moon. I want love, she had told the moon, not realizing then that her plea had been heard. And granted. It was heaven being a woman, she thought, and thanked the moon again as Gannon moved within her. He was less patient, less gentle this time and her pleasure became intense. She arched, then bent forward when her body took command, clutching at his shoulders, lost in sensations she’d never dreamed of. She stretched out above him, her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her cheek. And then he began to move again and she was lost.

Hours later they lay on their backs, looking at the stars overhead in the inky autumnal sky. She stretched, then curled against his warmth again, pointing to a faint cluster above the entrance to the loch. “What’s that one?”

“That’s Draco. The dragon.”

She fingered the torque at her neck, golden, like this man. “A sign, then.”

“Aye.”

She pulled herself up on one elbow and looked into his eyes. “Never leave me, Gannon.”

“No,” he said. “Swear it.”

“I swear it.”

She lay back, content once more. He slept then, his long limbs wrapped around hers, his warmth comforting as the night cooled. She sighed and looked up at the stars. Eternity, she thought, might not be enough.

He did leave her eventually, waking her in the twilight before dawn, dressing slowly, their bodies now familiar to each other. She watched him move, feeling as though she’d started the day with this man a thousand times before.

“Are ye ready, lass?” he asked, when they were both dressed. “Nervous?”

She touched the torque and gave him a wide smile. “Let them say what they will,” she said, and kissed him.

But no one said anything, greeting them as though it was right that they’d been together. Tiernan nodded at her, his manner no different than any other day. Nell watched Margaret with wide eyes but no reproach. Rufus made no comment. Nor did anyone, and she realized that she and Gannon had not been the only ones to celebrate in the age-old manner. Dagmar restricted herself to a sly smile and swayed her hips in Tiernan’s direction again. And life went on.

Margaret laughed at herself, both for her trepidation and from sheer joy. Gannon’s woman, she told herself, looking down at her hands which had done things the night before she’d never known possible. Gannon’s woman, she told herself, touching the torque at her neck.

N
or Thorkelson swore as he looked at the morning sky. The clouds were obscuring the sun, darkening in the west and racing toward them on a wind that increased with every moment. It fit his mood.

He’d gone to destroy more of William Ross’s lands, hoping that perhaps Ross himself would be there. Or his nieces, who he’d heard were taking refuge at Inverstrath. Holding three members of Ross’s family would no doubt have given him an advantage when they at last came to parley. But none of that was to be. He had failed. One ship, sixty-three men, was all he’d managed to save out of the four ships and three hundred men he’d had the day before. The rest had been killed or left on the beach. Including Drason. Some of the men left at Inverstrath would remain silent, no matter how they were provoked. Others would talk as soon prodded, and he was sure that the Scots would question his men forcibly.

And Drason. His nephew was supposed to be at the bottom of the sea, not telling the Scots all he knew. He thought of what Drason could tell them. His name, but he’d been about to reveal that anyway. His home, but let them come; he’d prepared for that. How many men he had, but that was changing with every success. Nothing of importance. He’d been wise to not trust Drason with his plans.

And perhaps he was worrying for no reason. No doubt the Scots would blame his raid on King Haakon’s fleet, and think that Nor was simply following orders from his king. He told himself that he could not always succeed. A small setback was all it was.

They’d sailed all night, north, but not to Orkney. He’d previously arranged to meet the other half of his force so they could split the spoils before returning home. He congratulated himself now on his foresight. He needed to hear their account before he decided what was next.

The first thing he would do when they reached a safe harbor was to call his spies to him for their reports and immediately send them out again with a new task. He wanted the name of the man who had planned Inverstrath’s defense.

It took eight days, but he got the name he desired. Gannon MacMagnus. Half-Irish, half-Norse, from the lands they’d raided in Antrim. MacMagnus had accompanied Rory O’Neill to Inverstrath, had stayed behind when O’Neill and Ross left. He had a brother. And a woman.

Gannon stretched his legs before him and considered the young man on the other side of the table. Drason Anderson met his gaze without flinching. Rufus leaned his chin on his hand and watched them both. The other prisoners were still being held in the small room at the back of the hall, but Drason had been sequestered, then brought to Gannon early this morning. So far the boy had said little, only that yes, his uncle was Nor Thorkelson and yes, he’d been tied to the mast. But nothing more.

“It’s this simple, lad,” Gannon said now, idly tracing his finger tip along the edge of the dirk that he’d set between them for just this purpose. “Ye can tell me the whole of it. Or I can turn ye over to the Inverstrath people, or worse, the Somerstrath people. Or I can return ye to yer companions and see what it is that they do to ye.”

“You do not frighten me,” the boy said, and indeed he did not look fearful.

Rufus leaned forward. “Or I could use this knife to cut a body part off ye for each hour ye keep silent.”

Gannon saw the flicker in the boy’s eyes.

“That is not frightening,” Drason said with unconvincing bravado.

Gannon laughed. “Of course it is. But we’ll not have to do any of it, will we? Ye spoke last night because ye hate yer uncle, and that is why ye’ll tell me where to find him. Revenge is a powerful emotion, and I see lust for it in yer eyes. Why?”

The boy looked down, then off into the distance, for so long that Gannon thought his ploy had failed. Then Drason met Gannon’s gaze and nodded.

“It is revenge that drives me. I will tell you where to find him. But I must have a promise from you first.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“When you capture Nor, I will be the one who determines how he dies.”

It was Gannon’s turn to look off into the distance as he weighed Drason’s request. It seemed a small thing to offer in return for the man’s death, and how Nor died was of little importance to him. He was not a man to savor another’s torture or slow death. Dead was dead and the quicker accomplished the better. But Margaret and Rignor and Nell, and the people of Somerstrath and Inverstrath, and William Ross, might all wish something else. Still…Nor dead. It was tempting.

“If you agree,” Drason said, “I will tell you where Davey MacDonald is.”

Gannon reached across the table and grabbed the boy’s thin wrist. “Ye ken where he is?”

“I think so.”

“Last night ye said ye dinna ken where he was. How is it ye now do?”

Drason looked uncomfortable. “I thought of it in the night.”

Gannon made a sound of disgust and rose to leave. He’d gone three steps when the boy called out.

“Wait. Please, sir! I…was afraid to tell you in front of the others because I’d like to trade what I know for something.”

“Which is?”

“That you must promise me that I will decide how Nor dies.”

Rufus and Gannon exchanged a glance.

“How would ye do it?” Gannon asked.

“I’d burn him alive in one of his own dragonships.”

Gannon blinked. He’d expected Drason to ask for mercy for Nor, for beheading or a draught of poison which would let Nor slip peacefully into death.

“Why do ye hate him so much?”

“He killed my father. He doesn’t know I know, but I saw him. And he killed my uncle. He placed him, alive, in the hull of the ship that held my grandfather’s body, and he set it afire and pushed it out to sea. I watched it with him, but I didn’t know then that my uncle was in the ship. Nor just…watched while his brother was burned to death.”

Gannon felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He’d dreamed just this, a man burned alive, but he’d not tell the boy that. “How did ye discover it? Did he tell ye?”

“No. One of his men talked. Before he, too, disappeared. And our priest argued with Nor, then disappeared. And he…my mother is terrified of him. I’m not sure what he did to her…but I will avenge that as well.”

“Tell me about Davey.”

“He’s on Skye. Take me there, and I’ll show you where to find him.”

“At Leod’s?”

“No. But not far from there.”

Gannon rose to his feet. “We’ll leave now.”

Drason stood as well. “Good.”

The word spread quickly, and soon Margaret was running across the hall to Gannon, her face alight with hope.

“Is it true? Ye ken where Davey is?”

Gannon gestured to the corner, where Drason, under guard, was breaking his fast. “On Skye, or so he says. We’re going there now, lass, to find out.”

“With Leod?”

“Supposedly not.”

“I’ll come with ye.”

“No. I dinna ken what we’ll find, but if Nor is there, we’ll finish it.”

“Ye only have one ship.”

“I’m taking
Gannon’s Lady
and two of Rufus’s galleys. We’ll have more men than Nor Thorkelson does.”

“He’ll have men already there.”

“Aye, but he’ll not guess we’ll find him.”

“We have to tell Rignor.”

He shook his head. “I sent men to him last night, lass, with news of the attack. If yer brother were concerned about ye and Nell, he would have been here by now. Ye’ll notice he’s not come.”

“Perhaps Somerstrath was attacked again!”

“Then Rufus’s men will bring us word of that. And in that case, Rignor willna be minding us rescuing Davey without him.”

Tiernan joined them, pulling on chain mail. “Great news, aye?”

“Aye,” Margaret agreed. “Will Rufus go with ye?”

“No,” Gannon said. “I’ll not leave ye unguarded. Tiernan, ye’ll stay as well.”

Tiernan’s face flushed. “Ye canna mean it!”

“I do.” Gannon gestured to Drason. “I’m leaving Norsemen here with my woman. Who else can I trust to keep her safe?”

Tiernan nodded, assuaged. “I’d not thought of that.”

“I had,” Gannon said grimly. “Watch them, Tiernan. Ye’ve got murderers in yer midst.”

“When will ye be back?” Margaret asked.

“When Nor is dead.”

The whispers found him as he was crossing the channel that separated Skye from Scotland. They spoke in breathy half words of death and horror, of revenge. He told himself that he was not hearing them, that there were no trees here, no branches for wind to rustle. He was aboard his ship in the middle of the day, in the middle of the sea. Was he losing his mind, to conjure them here? Was it a warning? Or just his fevered imagination? He looked across the water to Skye and knew he was not mad. And that it would be an interesting afternoon.

His uncle had several camps, Drason had said. The first was small, treeless, and unprepossessing, set in the back of a sea loch on a marshy meadow, moist and foul-smelling. And empty. There was not a boat in the small harbor, not a house with inhabitants. No dogs barked to herald their arrival, no one ran down to the water to see who had come. The pigsties were empty, the cattle pens bare. There were signs that people, and pigs and cattle, had been here not too long ago, but all were gone now. There was a longhouse that might have been comfortably furnished, for there were tapestries on the wall and wide bedshelves fitted into wall nooks. But no one was there.

Gannon stood in the middle of the village, the hair at the nape of his neck rising. Nor Thorkelson had known they’d come looking for him, had known they would discover who he was and where he hid, that they would come after him. One of several camps, he told himself, turning to leave. And Davey was in one of them.

But not in the second either, a high spot with good views of the nearby waters, but even fewer comforts than the first. The wind blew through here constantly; the nearest fresh water was a far walk. As they returned to the ship, Gannon grabbed Drason’s shoulder and whirled him around.

“If I discover ye’ve been lying to me, I will kill ye.”

The boy nodded. “I’m not lying. I know of one more camp.”

“How many are there?”

“I’ve been to three. They are all I know of.”

“And Leod knew none of this?”

“How could he not? It’s his island.”

“Were ye a prisoner all the time?”

“Most of the time. My uncle has no use for men who do not enjoy killing.”

“Did ye kill?”

“No. I am a disappointment to him. I was hidden away, especially when visitors came.”

“Visitors? Who were they?”

“Recruits. Some Irish, some Scots, mostly Orkneymen. Some from Norway. King Haakon was said to be close by, but he never came.”

“Was Nor in communication with Haakon?”

“Yes. The king was quite pleased that Nor had raised the tension between him and Alexander of Scotland. But Nor was not pleased that Haakon of Norway decided to launch a fleet against Scotland this summer, just when Nor decided to become a rich man.”

“What d’ye mean? From the plunder he took?”

“That. And he had a plan—to spend one year raiding and ten collecting gold from those who would rather be robbed than raided.”

“He wanted them to pay him not to attack?”

Drason gave him a withering look. “It’s been done for centuries.”

Gannon raised himself to his full height and gave Drason an equally withering look, pleased to see the flash of fear in Drason’s eyes. “I’m beginning to see why ye were tied to the mast. I ken that it’s been done for centuries. I’m just making sure I understand. Was Nor obeying Haakon’s orders?”

Drason’s manner was more subdued now. “Not that I know of. I don’t think Nor expected or wanted Haakon to get involved, but of course that’s what happened. Haakon’s fleet sailed only after word of my uncle’s raids reached Norway. Nor’s raids were the spark that began this fire.”

Gannon nodded. Whatever Drason Anderson was, he was no coward. And God help him if he was a liar.

Drason talked more as they sailed to the third camp, passing the entrance to Loch Bracadale, Leod’s territory. He talked of Nor’s strengths: his intelligence, courage, and ability to convince men to join him. And his weaknesses: his vanity, his arrogance, and inability to believe he could fail.

“He considers himself invincible,” Drason said, his cynical tone in contrast to his youthful appearance. “He thinks no one sees the lies he tells, that no one saw what he did on Ketelsay. We did, my mother and I, and we were not alone. People started leaving, moving away in the night to other islands or even to Caithness, fearing for their lives if they opposed Nor. When droves of men came to join him, more left. My mother and I talked about leaving, but we were too late.”

“Tell me of Leod,” Gannon said.

Drason snorted. “Plays both sides. You’ll have a difficult time pinning him down, but even if you do, he’s likely to twist in the wind.”

“Does Nor trust him?”

“Nor trusts no one.”

“Does Leod provide Nor with men?”

Drason shook his head. “But he looks the other way. Nor’s men have angered the Skyemen. They are not…good guests on the island.”

The boy said little more then except for how to reach the next camp. He hoped the boy was as truthful as he was convincing. If he had to kill Drason, he’d regret it.

Margaret was with Rufus in the courtyard, surveying what repairs would need to be made to the walls, when shouts from outside the fortress brought them out onto the field. Three men were riding Highland ponies hard toward the gates, one pulling something behind it that bounced and twisted as it hit rocks. They were Inverstrath men, men she’d known all her life, one with whom she’d wept just hours before, when his son had been among the few who had died in the Norsemen’s attack. They shouted as they rode, their voices harsh with anger and something more, something that made her stop and look more closely at what they towed.

It was a man, or what was left of one. A Norseman, she thought, like the one left at Somerstrath. No mercy would be shown him.

The riders circled the field once again with their unholy burden, whooping with triumph, drawing Rufus’s people from the village and the fortress to see. The three men whirled around one last time, coming to a quick stop before Rufus. And Margaret saw at last who it was they towed.