17 A WOMAN OF YER WORD

THEY SAILED UP the west coast of Skye, past rocky coves, plunging cliffs, and emerald-green headlands with sculped peaks thrusting into the sky behind them.

And despite that she was anxious to reach her destination, Skye's fabled beauty enchanted Astrid. She'd visited this isle once—when she'd been little more than a bairn, with Loch and her parents—yet she didn't recall just how breathtaking it was.

Turning her thoughts from worries about what was happening on Mull, she focused instead upon the magnificent razor-sharp, smoky peaks to the east then, which sliced into a limpid sky. Sunlight highlighted the steep sides and deep corries. Ironically, the weather had been glorious ever since the tempest, late spring turning into summer.

"The Black Cuillin are a sight, are they not?"

Tearing her gaze away from the mountains, Astrid glanced right to find that Rankin was standing at her shoulder.

Finn was a few feet away. Ever since the pirate captain had made it clear he owed Astrid's father a favor, he'd relaxed a little. However, glancing left, Astrid marked the way her protector's gaze narrowed.

He was still suspicious of Rankin, it seemed.

Shifting her attention back to the pirate, Astrid favored him with a wary smile. "Aye … I've never seen mountains of the like … not even Ben More on Mull can rival them."

"They sit within the Macleod borders," Rankin replied. "Our destination isn't far away."

Astrid inclined her head, studying him now. "What did ye do to make yerself an enemy of Tormod Macleod?"

The pirate flashed her a grin, revealing surprisingly white and even teeth. "What I've done from one end of the Western Isles to the other," he boasted. "More than one Macleod birlinn has crossed our path over the years … and when they do, we help ourselves to their bounty." He paused then. "When ye get to Dunvegan … best ye tell them a merchant picked ye up."

Astrid stiffened, ignoring his advice as she focused on his admission instead. "And what of the crews of the galleys ye attack?"

Rankin's grin faded, his bright blue eyes hardening.

Astrid suppressed a shudder. He didn't need to say a word—she had her answer.

Silence fell between them for a short while before Astrid eventually cut the pirate a sidelong glance. "Ye got a goodly amount of silver out of me, Rankin," she murmured, "But ye were always going to take us weren't ye … thanks to yer association with my father?"

Their gazes held before he favored her with a half-smile. "Aye, but the coin is much appreciated, all the same."

Astrid's mouth pursed.

Rankin stepped closer then. "May I be frank with ye, Lady Astrid?"

"I suppose so," she replied, eyeing him warily.

"Ye put on a brave face before the world … yet I sense the uncertainty just beneath. Ye doubt yerself, don't ye?"

Astrid's pulse leaped. Rankin had only known her a short while—how had he managed to cut straight to the core of who she was? She considered deflecting him with a flippant comment yet stopped herself. It wasn't his fault that he'd seen the truth. "Aye," she answered after a moment. "Sometimes."

"Why? Ye are sharp-witted and capable."

She huffed a soft laugh. "Aye … but it's what lies in the heart that matters. Ye are right … I'm not half as tough as I appear." She halted, swallowing. "Deep down … I'm a coward."

Hades, she couldn't believe she'd admitted such a thing to him. To a stranger.

He arched an eyebrow. "Ye have survived a shipwreck, Lady Astrid … don't be so hard on yerself."

She gave a soft snort. "Captain MacDonald is largely responsible for that … and fate took care of the rest."

"Ye brood too much," Rankin replied with a shrug. "Getting tangled in yer thoughts never does anyone good. "

Astrid frowned. The pirate was free with his opinions.

Nonetheless, he wasn't yet finished. "Trust yer gut a little more, lass. When ye need it, courage will find ye."

The Blood Reiver dropped anchor at a small cove where pines and birch grew down to the water.

The pirates, their captain among them, rowed Astrid and Finn out to the pebbly beach where they alighted.

Rankin stepped off the boat too, awaiting his payment.

Astrid untied the purse from her belt and handed it to him. "It's all there," she assured him. "Although ye are welcome to count it, if ye wish."

The pirate flashed her a grin. "No need for that. I can see ye are a woman of yer word." He stepped toward her then, his fingers closing around the purse. "However, if ye wish to pay me with a kiss as well, I won't decline."

Astrid stilled, her eyes widening at his boldness.

Meanwhile, next to her, Finn's reaction surprised her even more than the pirate's behavior.

He actually growled . "Touch her, Rankin … and I shall cut off yer balls."

Astrid stifled a gasp and shifted her attention to Finn, to find him glaring at the pirate, a murderous look on his lean face, his eyes narrowed into slits.

Hades, he looked a breath away from making good on his threat.

Rankin, on the other hand, merely chuckled and stepped back. "Ye need to keep yer hound on a tighter leash, Lady Astrid," he said mildly. "Or he's likely to bite someone."

Astrid drew in a deep breath. "Very well, Rankin," she said finally. "Ye'll get a kiss from me … and a bag of one hundred silver pennies as well … if ye agree to sail south after ye leave us and go to my brother's aid."

Next to her, another growl rumbled deep in Finn's throat, but Astrid didn't look his way. Instead, her gaze remained fixed upon the pirate.

Let Finn growl . The Macleans were desperate for help—and she didn't care from whence it came. After all, the Macleods couldn't be counted on.

Rankin held her gaze, surprise flickering across his face. "A generous offer indeed, Lady Astrid," he murmured after a lengthy pause. "But one I must decline. I don't like to involve myself in the conflicts between clans."

"Why not?" she demanded, not ready to let this go. Rankin had a large ship and a hardy crew. He also wasn't as villainous as the legends surrounding him told. Loch wouldn't turn their assistance away.

As if reading her thoughts, Rankin's mouth curved. "That's the way I like it, lass … and the way it will remain."

"Careful, Astrid," Finn muttered once the pirates had climbed back into their boat and were rowing back to The Blood Reiver . "Ye were playing a dangerous game there."

Snorting, Astrid turned to her companion. "I wasn't. I was offering Rankin a job."

"And offering yerself as part payment." Anger glinted in his eyes.

Astrid folded her arms across her chest. "It was just a kiss."

"A man like Rankin will take more than that," he countered.

She made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat. "For the love of God, MacDonald … I can do without ye snarling at my shoulder while I try to negotiate."

"The bastard overstepped."

Astrid's mouth pursed, her temper quickening. "Maybe, but I was handling him in my own way."

Finn screwed his face up and stepped away from her, motioning to the path that led up a steep bank into the trees. "Come on," he snapped. "We can argue while we walk."

Astrid picked up her skirts and brushed past him, bristling now. "I'm not arguing with ye."

"Always have to get the last word, don't ye?" he answered, following her.

Astrid flung a venomous look over her shoulder. "And ye don't?"

Quietly fuming, she strode up the hill. It was best she didn't engage with Finn at all. Now that they were out of immediate danger, there was no need for them to converse, for when they did, things always seemed to go into a spiral.

And his reaction when Alec Rankin had requested a kiss had been feral—almost as if he was jealous.

Astrid's pulse lurched into a canter. Jealous ?

Aye, they'd kissed, but that didn't give MacDonald any claim over her.

They walked on, following the coastline north before the pines drew back and a castle appeared ahead. Built upon a rocky outcrop, a dove-grey keep with a high curtain wall stood against a cloudy sky. The fortress overlooked an inlet with a long wooden jetty, where several birlinns were moored.

Astrid surveyed their destination as she made her way along the path toward the steep, rocky steps that led up to the castle's sea gate. Although Dunvegan lacked Duart Castle's lofty position, Astrid had to admit that this stronghold also had a commanding presence.

The Macleods of Dunvegan were renowned, and feared, throughout the Highlands, and for good reason too.

Astrid's belly clenched as her gaze flicked to the galleys bobbing with the tide. She had to get Tormod Macleod's assistance, and quickly.

Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced right at where Finn walked next to her. His attention was riveted on their destination, a groove etched between his eyebrows.

"When we go before the clan-chief, I will do all the talking," Astrid informed him then.

Finn's gaze snapped to her, his jaw bunching. "What's wrong … ye don't trust me?"

She didn't actually, not after his outburst earlier. "This mission is vital," she replied, her chin lifting. "Tormod might be reluctant to aid us … and Loch's counting on me to get the help we need."

"I know just how important this is," Finn countered, his eyebrows drawing together. "And I may not be a Maclean, but I care about what happens to yer clan as much as ye do."

Astrid's eyes widened. "Ye do? I thought yer loyalty was to my brother … and Jack … and no one else."

His mouth thinned. "Maybe … once," he replied, cutting his attention away, back to the castle that now reared above them. From here, they could see helmed figures on the walls, staring down at them.

"But not any longer?" Astrid kicked herself for continuing to engage him in conversation. Nonetheless, she couldn't help herself. Curse him, Finn intrigued her. He was a man of many layers. Once she stripped back one, there was another, even more intriguing, underneath .

Intriguing? Hades, where was her mind leading her these days?

Finn shook his head, still not looking her way. "I will serve yer clan for as long as Loch will put up with me," he answered gruffly. Then, before she could ask him anything further, Finn strode ahead, climbing the rocky path up to the sea gate.

"The Saints were looking after ye, lass," Tormod Macleod announced, his rheumy grey eyes sweeping down Astrid's no doubt bedraggled form. Her surcote and cloak were both stained and stiff with salt. Underneath her clothing, her skin itched. "That was a devil of a storm."

"Aye, it passed this way first," the clan-chief's son, Malcolm, added. "And smashed two of our birlinns to pieces on the rocks before it moved south."

Astrid's stomach swooped at this news. They needed as much help as the Macleods of Dunvegan were prepared to give. However, if they'd lost two of their galleys, Tormod might be hesitant to assist them.

"We were fortunate indeed," she agreed, her gaze resting once more on the clan-chief's face. She'd heard Tormod was elderly but wasn't prepared for just how decrepit the man was. Hunched and frail, he looked as if a puff of wind could blow him over. His beard was snow-white and so long that he'd tucked it into his belt. And when he'd entered the great hall to receive them, he leaned heavily on a carven stick.

Nonetheless, the moment Tormod Macleod spoke, the strength of his voice told Astrid that the man still had his wits about him. Disconcertingly, he hadn't smiled once since meeting with her. They now sat together at the clan-chief's table, at one end of a rectangular space with dark paneled walls, a large hearth where a log smoldered, and massive beams that rose above them like a ribcage.

In contrast to his decrepit father, his nineteen-year-old son was hale and strong.

There was no denying that Malcolm Macleod was attractive. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built with a mane of thick auburn hair and piercing grey eyes, he exuded a warrior's arrogance.

When he'd stridden into the hall at his father's heels, Astrid had marked the way the young man's gaze snapped to her, and the interest that had sparked in those slate-grey eyes an instant later.

"Ye are here to ask for our help, Lady Astrid," Tormod said then, his gaze roaming her face. His expression grew stern then. "Aren't ye?"

Astrid nodded. Tormod wasn't one to bandy words, it seemed. However, his manner was worryingly cool. Of course, what she had to say wouldn't entirely be a surprise to him. Loch had corresponded frequently with the Macleod clan-chief over the last few months; she knew her brother had mentioned the brewing trouble with their neighbors.

"The Mackinnons of Dùn Ara have attacked Dounarwyse broch, just a short distance north from Duart," she informed him. "After their clan-chief lost the support of the MacDonalds of Sleat, he delayed his attack … but he's found new allies now … and a fleet of birlinns has converged upon us."

Both Tormod and his son's gazes widened at this.

"Whom has he rallied?" the clan-chief asked.

"The MacNabs and the MacGregors," Finn replied. "And it looks as if they've given the Mackinnons everything they have."

Silence followed this announcement, while Astrid resisted the urge to cut Finn a censorious look over her shoulder. She'd told him to let her talk to Tormod.

Meanwhile, the clan-chief's gaze remained cool, and a veiled expression dropped over Malcolm's face.

Undaunted, Astrid drew in a deep breath. "My brother is a proud man," she began, her voice low and sure. Aye, she was desperate, for her clan's plight had weighed increasingly upon her ever since The Blood Reiver had picked them up. But it was vital not to show any hesitation in meetings like these. "He would never have sent me unless our need was dire." Astrid paused then, allowing her words to settle. However, Tormod's expression didn't change, and neither did his son's.

Astrid's pulse quickened. Hades, this was going to be an even bigger challenge than she'd readied herself for .

Exhaling slowly, she decided it was time to speak plainly. If the old man wasn't one to dress his words up, then neither would she. Instead, she'd remind him of the bond between their clans. "I call upon the old alliance that was forged between ye and my father … and remind ye that the Macleans of Duart will always stand with ye when ye need us."

Tormod's eyes, cloudy with cataracts, narrowed, but Astrid met the clan-chief's gaze squarely. "Will ye help us?"