Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

E sme lay unmoving and silent, totally caught up in her lover’s story. After giving her pert nose a small flick with his finger, Bruce continued.

“Me faither was an adventurous man. It was the age of the Crusades after all, and everyone was making the pilgrimage south to visit the land of the saints. Bending the knee in front of some shrine was nae to me faither’s liking, so he went nosing around those ancient structures they have buried in the sand there.”

Shifting his position to be more comfortable, Bruce continued. “If ye think the standing stones and brochs o’ the Highlands are big, lass, ye should see the great monuments in the south. Even half covered in sand and rocks, the smallest tip sticking oot the surface is almost as big as a mountain. It is there they bury their dead, treating their highborn with reverence as if they were still alive. And it was under one o’ these ghostly pyramids me faither decided to burrow!”

Esme was so rapt by the story, she shuddered with terror. “Burrow under a pile of gravestones? Ugh!”

He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head, ruffling the hair with his cheeks. “Me poor wee sprite. I forget ye ken nothing aboot the world beyond this island. Suffice it to say, me faither found something there and it was enough to change the fortunes of oor hoose forever.”

“How? What happened?” Esme had never been so entertained in her life before. She was the orphaned daughter of a fisherman who had never seen anything except the sea and the rocky land beneath her feet. For her, it was as if Bruce was describing someone bringing back a piece of the moon.

“Laird Sterling brought the stone tablet of Thoth back to oor bonny Highlands. Who is Thoth? The ancients worshiped the image of Thoth for many reasons. He is the god of the moon and the messenger of the gods. He is called the master of Knowledge and Animals, using one to rule the other. His magic shrine boasts effigies of five great beasts; the wolf, the hellhound, the lion, the eagle, and…and the bear. I am the bear.”

Leaning over the bed to pick up his black plaid off the floor, Bruce revealed to Esme a small secret pocket sewn into the wool. When he prised it open with his fingers, it revealed an ancient talisman. The tiny figure of a bear was etched onto the rough stone. Sighing, Bruce rubbed the symbol with his thumb before placing it back into the pocket.

This time it was Esme who sat up. She could not believe in magic, not after all the horrors she had seen in her sad life. “Ye’re bamming me, Bruce. I am not so innocent that I haven’t heard of those fierce berserker warriors in the north who call themselves scary names like Bearwolf and Screaming Eagle, and other such nonsense. Are ye sure ye are nae tryin’ to shine a light in me eyes?”

Laughing, Bruce rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I am nae! I swear it. And I’ll tell ye something else for free as well. Thoth is the god who weighs the heart against the weight of a feather to see if it is light enough to enter the afterlife. If ye have a heavy heart, Thoth kicks ye oot to that place down below!”

“Where I have nay doubt a hellhound is waiting to meet them!” Esme laughed, swatting her hand against his chest in jest.

But Bruce did not laugh with her. His eyes were somber. “That’s the trick, sweetheart. An immortal cannae die. Thoth is the god o’ time and space too. When me faither stole that stone tablet from the tomb, he brought a curse back with him. Me heart is heavy, weary from the pain of life—and yet I must always move on, seeking oot battle and strife.”

“Nay, Bruce! Dinnae speak of such things. Are ye nae lighthearted when ye are with me?”

That gave him pause for thought. Esme watched as the expression on Bruce’s face changed. “Lass, ye are right. I feel… Everything feels right when you are with me.”

“We just have to tell Clyde that.” Esme felt so sure when she was lying in the braw Highlander’s arms, but whenever she remembered that Clyde wanted her body, she got scared again. And if that was not bad enough, Anna, Clyde’s wife, wanted her dead and so did Mackenzie.

If she were to rate her chances of survival, it was not high. Being with Bruce gave her the strength and courage to carry on. And if something bad happened to her, Esme knew she would die with her lover’s name on her lips and the image of his immaculately handsome face in her mind.

“What is it?” he wanted to know when he saw the small crease of a frown appear between her eyebrows. Esme adored how observant he was about her moods. “N-nothing, Bruce, it’s just that I have to be honest with ye. And ye might not like it.”

Gesturing down to his naked body, Bruce replied in a confident voice. “I have nothing to fear for yer honesty, lassie. This is what I offer ye and I ken how to use it!”

Stifling a giggle with the back of her hand, Esme got serious. “Och aye, Highlander, ye’re a braw duin , no doubt, but this is nae aboot that.” Taking a deep breath, Esme gathered her courage. “If the chance to kill every single one of the Fluga clan ever presents itself to me, I will do it.”

This time, there was no laughter or joking, because he knew she was telling the truth. Bruce had learned to read her face very well by now and he could see that Esme was serious.

“But why, sweetheart? Why this insatiable desire for revenge? Please help me understand.” Holding her close to his chest, Bruce tried to imagine what would make such a good-natured young woman risk her life for such a murderous deed.

“Ye have told yer story, so now it is time for me to tell ye mine, Bruce Sterling.” Snuggling against his hard body, Esme did the bravest thing she had ever done and remembered back to the night of her family’s murders.

“I had seen barely ten summers in my life before the sea raiders arrived in oor waters. The lookout on the cliffs came running down to the fishing village, warning us to prepare for invasion. We were sure the longboats would go sailing past, the same as they always did, heading for the more profitable islands or the mainland. But we were wrong.

I blame what happened on the poor communication we had between the two wee villages on the island. The cliffs and the beach were separated by over two miles of rough terrain, making it hard to relay messages to one another except on foot. There were no horses, only ponies, and mules grown fat from the lush grass that grew in the meadows.

Oor chief was a good commander and we had defenses set in place, but the main problem was that there was nowhere for us to run! No woods to hide in. No caves for shelter. And no gentle waters to duck under to wait for the fear to pass by.

They played a game of cat and mouse with us first, hugging the coastline on the cliffside so that we could not see the boats. They are expert navigators, I’ll grant ye that, but the sea raiders from the north did not stay undercover for long. There was a particularly cruel reason they did this—it was so neither village knew which would be attacked first.

In the beginning, the cliffside dwellers came down to the beach village to take refuge with us there. They were convinced the longboats would stay by the rocks. They believed the raiders would climb the rocky narrow footpaths up to the top of the cliff in the middle of the night. The chief gathered the warriors close to where you and I are lying right noo. The men crouched doon behind the lookoot tower, waiting for a sign that the attack was starting.

Can ye imagine it? Waiting on the edge of the overhanging cliffs all night with the wind howling and the waves crashing onto the rocks below. The men who defended the island did that for three nights, every moment expecting the hammer to fall. All the while, the women, elders, and children cowered doon in the beach village, praying and hoping—that is all they could do.

We were a large family and a big clan. Every one o’ us were proud to call oorselves a MacKenzie. The lads would sail away to the Highlands when they wanted to woo a lass, and the maidens were bound not to marry anyone close to their family, so we were a healthy lot. There was a Kirk on the island then. The priest used to write everyone’s names into the back of the Bible to keep track of oor heritage, but that’s all gone now.

For three nights they loitered under the cliffs like evil monsters hiding under the bed. We believed they were working oot a way to climb up the steep incline from the rocks below. The beach villagers provided shelter and food for the poor cliffside dwellers as we waited for the chief and his men to come and tell us it was all right.

My family was even brave enough to continue fishing, casting the nets across the water and wading in to gather the catch. Oor fires stayed lit and oor hopes were high. We imagined what a shock the sea raiders would get when they crested the clifftop to find the brave lads waiting there to cut them doon!

I was oot with me faither in his wee coracle boat when the longboats came snaking around the coastline. It is a terrifying sight! I dinnae wish it on the worst person. They were so swift and so silent, for one moment I thought it was a mirage, some trick created by the waves and the early morning dawn light.

I opened me mouth to cry oot a warning, but me faither gripped his hand around me face muffling me voice. ‘Wheesht, wean,’ he ordered me, ‘I’ll nae have ye suffer for sounding the alarm.’

Suffer . We were to suffer the most awful anguish as the Fluga tribe came ashore and began to take captives and slay the men. Not one male over the age of six and under the age of four score years survived the dawn raid. And all me faither and I could do was hunker doon in the coracle and watch. They burned the cottage thatch, laughing harshly as those sheltering inside came running out.

But for some reason, they barred the door to the fisherman’s cottage, so that those trapped inside could nae get oot. I can hear me family’s screams as the boiling pitch and burning thatch began to fall in on them in me head every night. It was then me faither gave me a hug and made me swear that I would be a good girl and stay in the water.

‘I have to go ashore, Esme,’ he was shaking from shock and horror, but determined to die with the others, ‘so always remember yer promise to yer auld faither and keep oot o’ harm’s way. Stay safe as a way to honor yer family’s memory. And avenge us if ye get the chance.’

I clung to him, weeping with a deep sadness that seemed to cut into me soul, Bruce. But me faither slipped into the water and swam back to the beach. Finding the auld sword he kept hidden under the hen hutch, he was able to kill two marauders until they brought him doon.

When oor warriors and chief arrived from the other side of the island cliffs, every captive had a knife to the throat. Oor men threw doon their weapons and begged for mercy, but there was none. Their throats were cut one by one, brave men to the end, willing to sacrifice their lives so that the women and children could live on as slaves.

They were pirates, common brigands. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure, they had managed to convince the clerics and nobles on the mainland that they were invited to the island to bring order and peace, but things can look different from over the leagues of sea.

The man ye call ‘laird McFletcher’ is really a brigand chief who has stolen Mackenzie land and customs. It is his way to invade vulnerable communities and hold the young to ransom in exchange for good behavior. And ye have been part o’ that, Bruce. All this nonsense aboot ‘protecting the island from the Norse’ is a load of shite. And I think ye ken what I say is true.”

Bruce did not react. The expression on his face was dark and stern. “What did ye do after yer faither fell in battle, sweetheart?”

This time, it was Esme’s turn to shrug as she made light of the horrors in her past. “I waited for the raiders to settle doon for the night and then went ashore. I lived along the coast for a long while, surviving by eating cockles and mussels and cooking them over a baking stone in the evening. Do ye ken how we get fresh water on the island? There is an underground spring well that feeds the burn. That was one of the reasons why we believed oorselves to be so invincible—I mean, it’s nae as if they could poison oor water supply, or so we thought. After a while, I rejoined the villagers at the beach, but never for too long. I never wanted to be a slave.”

Bruce’s voice was harsh. “But ye were only a child. Ten years auld!”

Esme sighed. Now it was her turn to hug him. “Hush, Bruce. I had a fire burning in me belly to keep me warm. The fire of vengeance.”

He was amazed, dumbstruck by how brave she was. “Surely there are other men besides graybeards living as captives on the island noo? I have seen them.”

“Aye,” she agreed with him, “We were allowed to send for distant clan members to come and help us here. But only if we never spoke badly aboot the methods that were used to take over the island. Over a dozen men came, lured by the laird ’s seedy promise that he had named his daughter in honor of the Mackenzie clan and changed his tribal name to McFletcher. Like I said, things can look rosy from over the seas.”

“I see it all noo,” Bruce groaned, covering his eyes with his hands before he let them drop back down on the mattress. “The womenfolk were controlled by the vulnerability of their children. Or else they had bairns with the Norsemen to keep them enslaved by love. Every male was either too young to remember or so auld they have passed away.”

“Aye.” Esme said grimly, “that is how they control us so that we are forced to go along with whatever moonshine story they want to spin for the folks on the mainland. And whenever anyone steps oot o’ line, they get taken aside and threatened; ‘D’ye want for yer family to end up like those poor wretches burned alive in their wee cottage?’ So, we all behave oorselves like good wee lambs.”

“I should bludy well hope so,” Bruce was in no mood to be mollified. Turning onto his side, he faced her. “Lass, I must beg yer pardon. I never knew it was so bad.”

Not meeting his ardent gaze, Esme looked away. “All ye had to do was ask before ye went riding off into the sunset with that blonde shieldmaiden o’ yers, Bruce. But that never happens, does it? The high and mighty folk never bother asking the low and humble about how they got there.”

Her unforgiving statement made him wince and hold his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Be kind, bonny lassie. I will ken better another time but for noo I must ask ye for a favor.”

He was so charming that Esme almost forgave him. She ran her fingers over his jutting jawline. “We have told oor stories, Bruce. What favor do ye ask of me?”

Leaning in closer, he kissed her passionately. The embrace was so unexpected, yet so divine, that it nearly took Esme’s breath away. It seemed so natural for her to yield underneath him. It was at such moments when Esme felt comfortable knowing that he was her master and she belonged to him, body, soul, and heart.

“Say ye forgive me for the tardy way I searched for ye. I must admit that it was nice for a wee while to stay in one place, hoping to find me salvation in ye. I should have looked harder.”

“Och, Bruce,” Esme stroked his rough jaw, “If only I had kent how noble yer nature was, I would nae have hidden from ye for so many years.”

One long sensual kiss was all it took for his touch to ignite the flames burning inside her. It was enough for now that their naked bodies could intertwine together with only a thin film of heated sweat separating them. His fingers grazed lightly down her thigh, flickering over those sensitive parts that never failed to thrill at the thought of their connection.

He could be so gentle, but there was strength behind every movement. And that hard, unrelenting part of his body that insisted on dominating her concentration probed at the doorway to her own personal heaven. Esme shuddered with pleasure when she felt its rigid command. When he entered her most secret parts to find her willing and oh so ready for him, Bruce growled his satisfaction.

To have this man, the man of her dreams, inside her was more exciting in the flesh. No one could have prepared her for the exquisite mounting thrust. How good it felt to have him bucking on top of her, as desperate for her rapturous fulfillment as he was for his own.

In Esme’s mind, she did crazy things. Climbing on top of him and riding him like a runaway stallion or bending like a beast in front of him to let him have his way. All of these fantasies gave her great satisfaction, helping her reach a peak of huge significance. Every time she thought it was high enough, it somehow got higher, until she was breathless from panting and softly moaning.

And when it was over, they both knew something had changed. Esme might have been a lowly slave girl for the last ten years, but she was sure that what had just happened had somehow made this man her slave. Rolling off her with a deep groan of happiness, Bruce was astonished.

“Never in two hundred years did I believe such a thing was possible, lass! Ye emptied the very heart of me that time, I swear ye did.”

All she could do was pat him and smile gently. Fate moves in mysterious ways, and maybe she would have her vengeance and somehow manage to escape this loathsome island prison at the same time.