Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

HOY ISLAND, ORKNEY

“ D amn the bastards! I’m gone for less than a fortnight and this is what I find upon my return?” Thorgren demanded of the ragged-looking men facing him in the dull morning light, a drizzle-laced wind lashing at them.

Some bore bandaged wounds while others kept their eyes downcast as if fearing his wrath—and by Odin, they should be afraid for their lives!

All around him was devastation, from the burned-out settlement—a charred smell lingering in the air—to the freshly dug graves of raiders slaughtered by rampaging Highlanders, as those who survived the massacre had described their attackers.

Thorgren had anticipated that they might one day sail to the Orkneys to avenge the raids he had committed against the northern Scottish coast, but how had they known to come to this side of Hoy, out of dozens of islands?

“Loose tongues,” he muttered, answering his own query and guessing that the settlement on the western side of the island must have been attacked as well…and someone there had revealed Tira’s whereabouts.

A traitorous act causing his woman and the mother of his bairn to be stolen from him!

The cluster of bodies discovered on the slope above the village those of the four guards along with Brinda’s near-decapitated corpse, Thorgren imagining exactly what had occurred.

The Highlanders had struck the settlement first, which had given Brinda and the guards some time to flee with Tira from the outlying cottage where Thorgren had purposely left her. Yet they hadn’t gotten far before they were overtaken, Brinda failing to slay Tira before she’d fallen into the Highlanders’ hands.

More than one survivor had seen Tira, still heavy with child, screaming before she was lifted up by a red-haired warrior and carried to one of three ships, her rescue clearly as much a focus of the surprise attack as vengeance.

Damn them, Thorgren had never known such galling humiliation that her death would have spared him!

Enraged, he swore so vehemently that the raiders in front of him jumped—and now he did strike out at the nearest man, who collapsed groaning to the ground from a fierce cuff to the side of his head.

Thorgren wanted to punish them all for not fighting harder to fend off their attackers, and he swung his arm again only for the man to dodge the blow and gesture wildly to someone huddled near a blackened wall.

A chilling realization swept Thorgren as he recognized the haggard face of a raider he had left behind with half of his men when their encampment had been attacked by Highlanders last November—Clan Mackay joined with their long-time enemies Clan Sutherland, no less!

His raiders charged to fight to the death while Thorgren had hauled onto his ship Tira and a comely redheaded wench, who had incredibly escaped by throwing herself over the railing…and yet here was one of those men alive.

He didn’t wait for the coward to creep forward, but strode over and grabbed him by a thin shoulder to shake him violently. “Was it you who brought the Highlanders down upon us?”

“F-forgive me, Thorgren, they threatened tae cut our throats!”

“ Our ?”

“Aye, there was one other but they must have killed him after I stabbed a guard and jumped overboard—och, I can still his cries for mercy suddenly silenced. They came here tae rescue the lass and I will gladly give you their names, but first swear you’ll spare my life— aagh !”

His jaw clenched with rage, Thorgren had yanked a knife from his belt and sliced into the man’s upper chest while holding him fast.

“I swear tae kill you quickly if you tell me their names, or else you will die very slowly?—”

“G-Gavin MacLachlan, aye, he was the one in command! There was a red-haired younger man, too, who f-forced us tae accompany him tae Dumbarton where he asked the Scots king for warships. They were tae return there afterward—ah, God!”

Thorgren had dug the blade deeper, his voice harsh against the man’s ear. “MacLachlan, you say? I know of him from years ago when he was a raider—the devil of the seas, they called him, but the other one?”

“Errol Sutherland! Y-your lass was tae become his wife until she was abducted from her family—but I know no more! Spare me, I beg you— noooo !”

His agonized plea became dying whimpers as Thorgren cut him from breastbone to groin, the man collapsing in a pool of blood upon the ground.

“Traitor! I dinna need tae hear anything more from the likes of you,” he ground out as he sheathed his knife and fixed his gaze upon the assembled men who stared back at him, their faces white with terror. “You will rebuild the settlement while I’m gone tae fetch what is mine. No one takes what belongs tae me, no one ! Now leave my sight, I dinna want tae look upon you any longer!”

At once the raiders scattered, some slipping in the mud, which made Thorgren grunt out a laugh even though he felt no humor. He wiped his bloodied hand upon his fur cloak and made his way back to the shore.

With Tira so near to giving birth, he doubted the Highlanders would have sailed straight for Dumbarton, but instead stopped somewhere along the northern coast of Scotland, he was certain of it. Yet where?

“Gavin MacLachlan,” Thorgren muttered to himself, intuition twisting his gut.

The former raider renowned for his legendary exploits upon the sea had become a baron of Argyll, the castle granted to him by King Robert the Bruce one of the most formidable along the western Scottish coast.

A challenge to be sure, Thorgren considered as he strode toward the two birlinns hauled up onto the beach, but stealth and surprise had always served him well. Why not now?

There were sheltered coves and inlets aplenty where he and his men would bide their time until he discovered if Tira, indeed, had been taken to Castle MacLachlan—though Thorgren’s instincts screamed that he would surely find her there…along with his son.

Aye, Tira’s stomach wouldn’t have grown so big if she didn’t have a strong male child inside her or mayhap even born by now—by Odin, his heir and he would have him back!

He had planned to wed the wench upon his return to Hoy, but now Thorgren felt his loins stiffen at the sight of a dark-haired lass waiting for him at the prow of the nearest ship…a lass who hadn’t protested or shed a single tear at his lusty attentions as had Tira.

No, this one with her full ripe breasts had jumped into his arms when he and his men had raided her village and brazenly kissed him full upon the mouth. A surprising response he had never encountered before, Thorgren groaning as he felt himself grow even harder.

He didn’t need Tira Cheyne any longer—and he wouldn’t let her live, either, once he found her…as revenge for the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of his Scots enemies.

Aye, she would die knowing he had regained their son—no, his son alone, who would grow up tall and strong and powerfully built to become as fearsome an Orkney raider as Thorgren…

“Though mayhap prettier,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his nose, flattened years ago by an enemy’s sword hilt right before Thorgren had skewered him to a wall.

Yet the smiling lass who jumped overboard in knee-deep water to wade toward him didn’t seem to mind, Roslin’s hardened nipples outlined against her damp tunic.

Their rousing coupling nothing like with Tira, who had wept whenever he touched her and fought him…though that had brought him pleasure enough until she would grow stiff as a plank beneath him—aye, by all the gods in Asgard, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her forever!

Errol blinked open his eyes to the sound of birds chirping outside the window above him, a waft of fresh air further reviving him.

Groggily, he propped himself on one elbow, though the sudden movement cost him at the dull pain in his head—ah, God, could Gavin’s captain have struck him any harder?

Wincing at the memory flooding back to him, Errol felt embarrassment, too, that he had collapsed like a child’s straw doll in the bailey—och, why was he thinking of that wretched moment when a much better one was Tira coming to the infirmary to see him?

His heart begun to pound, Errol glanced over to where Ambrose stood with his back to him, but he didn’t need to ask the healer if he was well enough to get up from the cot. He threw aside the blanket and sat up…only to feel some lightheadedness that he hadn’t expected, though he gritted his teeth and threw his legs over the side.

The same side where Tira had sat so close to him, her hip pressing against his forearm, and he had become choked up, his chest heaving.

“Och, you unmanned yourself,” Errol muttered, wondering what Tira must have thought to see him sobbing…but at least she knew now why he hadn’t gone looking for her sooner?—

“Dinna stand up too quickly!” came Ambrose’s warning even as Errol rose from the cot, his knees so shaky that he sank back down with a groan.

“Och, I warned you, lad. It’s the sleeping tonic I gave you last night. You were beside yourself?—”

“I know, I remember,” Errol said tersely, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head and glanced at the window, guessing it must be close to midday. “How long before I’m steady enough tae leave this place?”

“You can go now, aye, you’re awake and your color is better. You must take it slowly and you’ll soon regain your full strength. Lady Cora came by tae see you moments ago, but you were still sleeping—och, didna you hear me?”

Errol had lunged from the cot, willing his legs not to tremble as he hastened toward the door.

A quick glance told him that his sword belt and sword were missing, but Lorne must have taken his weapon for fear he would jump up from the dirt and start swinging again—och, what a wild display he had made of himself!

Cursing and shouting and taunting Gavin’s men to fight him, his agonized frustration overwhelming him that Tira had seemed repelled by his touch—and yet she had come to see him and clasped his hand so tightly, pleading for him to wake up.

Aye, it had been her sweet voice that made him open his eyes, he remembered all of it now, the last traces of the healer’s potion thankfully clearing from Errol’s mind and his legs.

I feel so terrible for treating you so badly .

Those had been Tira’s very words, Errol feeling a burgeoning sense of hope for the first time since he had rescued her from Hoy.

He stepped outside into the bailey, suppressing a laugh when several men nearby turned and went the other way to avoid him—och, it wasn’t so bad a thing to have earned some respect for his skill with the sword. Yet where was his weapon? He felt naked without it?—

“Errol!”

He spun around to find Ambrose hurrying after him with a sword and leather belt in his hands, an incongruous sight for so slight and aging a healer.

“You left so fast, lad—ah, tae be young and vigorous again. If I didna know better, I would never guess you spent the night in the infirmary.”

Errol gave a wry smile and murmured his thanks, the belt scarcely fastened around his waist when he heard another voice from across the bailey.

“Errol, thank God!”

He turned to see Cora rushing toward him in a flutter of green silk, Gavin’s wife truly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—other than Tira.

Cora so kind, too, Errol grateful for everything she had done since they had arrived at Castle MacLachlan, which included her accompanying Tira to the infirmary. He had no sooner strode up to her than Cora reached out to clasp his hands, her blue eyes alight.

“I have wonderful news! Tira has agreed tae become your wife, aye, this very day if you will have her.”

Dumbstruck, Errol could only stare at Cora as his heartbeat seemed to slam in his throat, which only made her laugh gaily at his surprise.

“Aye, it’s true! What do you say?”

Say ? He had never felt so stunned, Cora’s news nothing he would have expected at all—even after what Tira had told him in the infirmary about treating him so badly.

Had his injury caused so swift a change of heart? Was it possible that she might love him still?

“Och, you worry me, Errol. Are you not pleased? You told me you love her and she needs a father for her bairns, she canna face the world alone. She will need time before—well, you know of what I speak…but with kindness and patience, Tira will come around again tae the young woman you knew before. I’m certain of it!”

Errol slowly nodded, Cora’s words cutting him to the quick even though he knew he should feel elated.

Of course Tira had agreed to marry him. What else was she to do?

A young mother with two wee bairns and no husband…at least not yet. If only Cora had said Tira loved him, too, not just that she needed a father for her children?—

“I take it your nod was an ‘Aye’? By God, Errol, I’m not a woman tae curse, but will you give me an answer?”

“Aye, I will marry her. The healer gave me a strong sleeping brew last night—and I fear it affects me still, forgive me.”

At once sympathy washed across Cora’s face and she took Errol’s arm to draw her with him toward the keep.

“You must forgive me, too. I was so excited tae tell you the news, not even thinking—och, do you feel well enough tae wed her today?”

“Aye,” he said firmly this time, which made Cora squeeze his arm as if encouraged that he sounded so resolute.

He scarcely heard her, though, as she began to tell him all that needed to be done before the ceremony…Errol’s heart beating faster as he bolstered himself that there was still hope.

Hope for love. Hope for happiness.

Tira would soon become his wife, aye, it was enough for now.

It had to be…for all he yearned for depended upon him making her feel safe and cherished, and that he would be a good father to her bairns.

Mayhap one day she would open her arms to him, too, aye, and he would see joy in her eyes again and feel the wonder of her kiss?—

“Och, Errol, didna you hear anything I’ve been saying? Off with you tae the barracks tae wash up while I send a servant over with one of Gavin’s finer tunics for you tae wear at your wedding. Go!”

Cora’s laughter, so happy again, made him smile, which made her eyes dance again with excitement.

Excitement that seemed infectious, Errol’s step undeniably lighter as he obliged her while more of Gavin’s men steered clear of him, making him laugh, too.