“All these years, I ha’ loved ye. Without fail.”
“Without fail,” Da repeated.
“I ha’ watched ye guard this clan like a fierce father and watched ye fight for it time after time. Ye told me often ’tis why ye were born. And ye spared yoursel’ naught in it. But I tell ye now, Airlee, it is time to stop fighting. Yer pain…” She moved her hand from his chest to his cheek. “Yer pain is more than any man should bear.”
Da said nothing, but abruptly and quite disquietingly, his eyes filled with tears.
Quarrie did not know that he had ever seen his father weep. Och, tears of anger at times, or frustration. Tears shed when Kyle died or over the death of a loyal comrade, fallen. Naught like to this.
Ma went on. “Ye ha’ a fine son to tak’ yer place. Strong he is, and as steadfast as they come. Ye may trust in him and—and tak’ yer rest.”
Quarrie drew a breath. Might he become the chief his father was? Could anyone? But Ma could no longer watch this man suffer. Nor could he.
Da said, his gaze still fixed to Ma’s, “The healer wishes to tak’ my leg. Even then he says it may not cure me. The poison is all through my body. I am sorry, Einid. I was no’ strong enough. I failed ye.”
“Ye did no’ fail.” She leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. “So braw a heart as yours could no’ fail.”
“What happened to your face? Your bonny face.” He reached up and touched her cheek tenderly. “Did I harm ye?”
“Never. Ye never harmed me. It was a blessed day when first ye smiled at me, Airlee MacMurtray. And each day since.”
“’Twas ye who smiled at me. Remember?”
“Ye were swimmin’ in the sea, the bunch o’ ye lads.” She dimpled. “And had taken off all yer clothes. To be sure, I did smile at ye.”
“My bonny lass.” Da turned fierce eyes on Quarrie, all the tears now burned away. “Ye will look after yer ma? Tak’ care of her and o’ this clan. I will ha’ yer promise.”
“I promise to do my best, Da.”
“Aye, son, we ha’ fought this thing together, but I think the battle is near done.”
*
It ended forhim later that same night. He had quieted as if at last his heart had found peace. Both Quarrie and his ma sat with him, Ma holding his hand. The fever burned bright, flushing his skin.
And then the hoarse breaths just stopped. Burned up entirely, his spirit fled his body. Quarrie almost swore he saw it go.
Ma wept tears of weariness and relief.
Quarrie shifted beneath the new weight that descended upon him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The settlement atMurtray had become a kind of touchstone for Hulda, a place past which they sailed repeatedly following their various victories. She never paused there. She did not dare. But her longing grew.
She did not understand this longing. One man, just a man. One kiss, just a kiss. She had the world by the tail. Every raid they launched had been wildly successful. The men, despite their youth, fought well and sailed even better. She was one of them, treated as their leader rather than a woman. She’d returned home twice, carrying enough wealth to let her thumb her nose in Faðir’s face. The men—her crew—remained eager for more, and said theFreyasailed under good enchantment.
Hulda had all she wanted. How dare she want for one more thing?
It was impossible anyway. He was her enemy. His people—if not him personally—had killed her brother.
That thought, even as she entertained it, tweaked something in the back of her mind. As if it had all happened before, long ago.
She concentrated on moving through her days. On her successes. When the men asked why they sailed always past the one Scottish settlement, she said since it was where Jute had died, she paid him tribute.
Forgive me,bróðir, for the lie.
Life aboard the cramped ship was not always pleasant. TheFreyastill had her idiosyncrasies with which they all learned to deal. But Hulda had the pleasure of watching her young crew grow and begin to harden. They learned difficult lessons, turned from overeager boys into men. They were learning the price of what they did—the costs of greed. The weight of taking a man’s life.
