Chapter Twelve
Someone shook my shoulder gently, and I opened my eyes to gray light. Iskair, standing over me, held out a hand.
“We must leave,” he said.
Groggy, I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. The fire was out. John, Torq and Andrew were just at the point of walking out the door.
Torq handed me the cup of water.
“From last night,” he said when I looked into it. I drank it and handed it back to Iskair, who tucked it into the folds of his kilt.
He handed me an oatcake, and I bit into it as I followed him to the doorway. He walked with a limp.
“Are you in pain?” I asked.
“A bit,” he said, “but I have no time for such weakness.”
He descended a few steps and turned to hold out his hand for me. I hesitated, and he dropped his hand.
“Mind yer step,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Do what, mistress?” he said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and looking at the men walking toward the beach. I couldn’t see the boats yet.
“Reject your help.”
“It is naethin. Dinna apologize. I ken ye are afraid of me. I saw the fear in yer eyes last night.”
“No!” I said, reaching the ground where he had waited for me.
He strode off after the men.
“I’m not—” I called after him but bit back my words. I was afraid of Iskair, although I didn’t think he would ever hurt me. I stared at his rigid back. To say that I was afraid of him and still know with certainty that he would not hurt me made no sense at all. But then what did anymore?
The men paused and waited for me, and I hurried to join them. We walked onto the beach, and I saw the birlinns then—two beautiful Nordic-style boats with curved bows and tall masts holding furled white sails. Each boat held eight oars, and the men on the birlinns moved around. The boats had been pulled onto the beach, and we wound our way through the mud and around rocks.
When we reached the boat, Iskair turned to me and spoke in a low voice. “I have to touch ye to set ye into the boat, mistress, or if ye wish, one of the other lads can haul ye up.”
John and Torq were busy climbing in and didn’t hear the exchange.
“Oh, Iskair! I’m so sorry.”
“Still no need to apologize. What is it to be?”
“You can help me get in, please.”
Iskair took me by the waist and tossed me easily into the boat. I landed on my feet and sat down on the nearest bench, next to Andrew. Torq reached over the edge and helped pull Iskair in. I didn’t know what Iskair looked like climbing into a birlinn when he wasn’t injured, but he seemed to manage just fine.
He took up a seat next to one of the oars, but Torq waved him away.
“Save yer strength. We have enough arms. We will have need of ye later.”
I saw Iskair shrug. Then he rose and moved toward the back of the boat. I didn’t have the courage to sit with him...or perhaps I should say the gall, since I had shown him my fear.
I turned forward and hung on to my bench seat as several men pushed the boat out into the water before jumping in. The other birlinn launched simultaneously.
The men began rowing, turning the birlinns out into the bay. I was able to study them then. Most were tall and solidly built, all with long hair either hanging loose or tied back. Beards were the norm except for Andrew. Everyone wore the same length of tartan—the muted red plaid pattern favored by the Morrisons. Among them, they packed a lot of swords, pistols and knives. Each man sported more than one weapon.
“I know you said that Torq was your uncle, Andrew, and Iskair is your cousin, but is one of these men your father?” I asked my bench companion.
“Nay, mistress. My parents passed some years ago.”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
Andrew nodded but didn’t seem inclined to talk. I suspected he was more shy than anything. I settled back and looked over my shoulder to see the castle garret fading into the distance. My eyes drifted to Iskair, who stared at me without expression. I pressed my lips together and turned forward, self-conscious of Iskair’s presence behind me.
To Andrew’s surprise, I slipped off the bench and huddled onto the deck, pressing my head against the hull as I prepared to doze.
“Are ye ill, mistress?”
“No, just tired. This is okay, isn’t it?”
“Aye,” he said. “Or ye could sit in the back of the boat with Iskair. It might be more comfortable for ye.”
“This is fine. Thanks.”
I had wondered how I would feel floating around on the sea in a sixteenth-century boat, but the ride was generally smooth—at least in the bay. I had no idea what to expect when we reached open water, where we would probably parallel the coastline as we traveled north. As it turned out, the rocking of the boat sent me to sleep, and when I woke, Iskair was bent over me, offering me a container of water.
“It is from Dun Eistean, so it will be Ann’s special sort.”
He lowered himself to the bench seat where Andrew had been sitting. I saw that Andrew had moved and worked an oar. The boat rode the swells, and I rose up on my knees to see that we were out to sea paralleling the coast to our left.
“Where are we?”
“We approach Dun Eistean. They will take the birlinns further out to sea so they are no spotted from the keep.”
“So there’s no chance to get back to Dun Eistean?” I asked.
“Nay, I am sorry. We suspect Angus has set some men to guard the island to keep us from returning.”
“I see.” I drank water.
“Ye fret about the dagger,” he said flatly.
I looked up at him. “Iskair, if you were suddenly thrust back in time, wouldn’t you want to know when, and if, you could return?”
“Aye, most likely.”
“So yes, I worry about the dagger. It was my idea to find the dagger. I didn’t know for sure that it would initiate the time travel because I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but it was my idea.”
“But ye are sorry ye came.”
“No, not really. Well, I am in a way, but then not. I am conflicted.”
“Aye, I would say ye are indeed.”
I fell silent and took another drink of water. “How long until we reach wherever it is we’re going?”
“Nightfall. Ye will stay on the boat with Andrew while we go ashore.”
“Where is that?”
“Near Ardmore Castle.”
“So you think they reached Ardmore Castle with the hostages?”
“I dinna ken that they could move that fast wi the women and bairns, but we will be there afore them.”
“And then what?”
“Take the castle back as best we can. The Morrisons have nowhere to go. They canna return to Dun Eistean, so they must take the castle. It is time that the Macleods know their place.”
“What about the Macaulays? Won’t they come to the aid of the Macleods?”
“When I left, my cousin Murdo Macaulay had gone to visit some of his tenants. The deed will be done before he returns. He may leave things as they are.”
“It all sounds so...sketchy.”
“Sketchy?”
“Doubtful, uncertain.”
“Aye, it is certain that the outcome is uncertain. But they have no alternative.” He nodded in the direction of the Morrison men.
“Why do you live with the Macaulays?”
“I canna say that I do anymore. Word will have reached my cousin that I warned the Morrisons of the Macleod attack.”
“But the Macleods and Macaulays think you’re dead, don’t they?”
“Aye, let us hope so.”
“Do you think your cousin will retaliate if he finds you alive?”
“Nay, I am his kin. He will be disappointed, but he will no thirst for my blood. I didna betray him, and I have no allegiance to the Macleods. In truth, his allegiance to them endures only as it suits his purposes.”
“So, I don’t understand. Why do you live with the Macaulays? They’re aligned with the Macleods, aren’t they? Wasn’t it hard for you to raid the Morrisons if you’re related to them? Isn’t that how you met Cynthia?”
“Aye, though I didna take her myself. My men, Murdo’s men, did that against my wishes. Angus asked my cousin to harass the Morrisons. It suited Murdo to do so. His restless men enjoy a good battle.”
For all that I had studied Scottish history, I really didn’t think of the kidnapping, wounding, maiming and killing of people as “a good battle.”
“Why do you live with the Macaulays again?” I knew I sounded like a broken record, but Iskair wasn’t answering the question.
He sighed heavily. “Why must ye keep repeating the same question?”
“Because you’re talking around the subject. You’re prevaricating, lying.”
“Well, ye would ken something about that, no Mistress Donaldson?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a separate subject.”
“Deceit, untruths—they are all the same subject.”
I lowered my voice. “Are you talking about my traveling through time? That I lied about it?”
“Nay.”
“Well, you seem to be accusing me of lying, so what about?”
Iskair gave me a sideways look before rising to return to his seat, leaving me with the container of water and oatcakes. A strange sort of boiling rage overcame me, and I jumped up and stomped to the back of the boat. Thankfully, everyone else seemed largely preoccupied with rowing the birlinn, but I wasn’t sure I cared. I threw myself down on the bench beside him and thrust the water and food in his hands.
“Well, as one liar to another, at least give me the courtesy of telling me what you think I’m lying about. I’ve told you everything about me, which is a whole lot more than you’re telling me.”
“Woman! Must we persist wi this discussion?”
“Yes!” I crossed my arms and stared at him with narrowed eyes.
“I dinna ken that ye still speak untruthfully, but ye did, and I am no likely to trust ye verra much in future.”
“But I explained about the time traveling! How could I just blurt out that I was a time traveler the moment I met you? You would have thought I was nuts! And it wasn’t just my secret. It affected other people.”
“As ye said. That is no the deceit which concerns me.”
“Then what? What else have I lied about?”
“Yer brother who is no yer brother!”
“Dylan. You think I’m untrustworthy because I lied about Dylan?”
“I dinna ken if ye are trustworthy or no. I said that I was no likely to trust ye.”
“Because I told you that Dylan was my brother?”
“And more.”
“More what? What was I supposed to say? Oh, hey, Dylan is my boyfriend? Was my boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?”
“Lover?”
Iskair drew in a sharp breath and swung to look at me.
“Aye! That is yer truth! Ye are a lass of few morals.”
“Few morals? Few morals? I know this is the sixteenth century, Iskair. I know that. I’ve studied Scottish history for years. But I never had to live it. This stinks! I’m not doing this! Nope! Not gonna do this with you!”
I jumped up and returned to my spot on the deck, dropping down to the boards on shaking legs. In fact, my entire body shook with anger, or whatever strong emotion I was experiencing. Tears blurred my eyes, and I assumed they were tears of anger. I dashed at them, crossed my arms, pressed my face into the hull, closed my eyes and stewed. As handsome and valiant as Iskair was, he was a judgmental, old-fashioned, moralistic fuddy-duddy, and I wanted nothing more to do with him. For a while!