“There,” she said brightly. “All done.”
Conall pulled the belt from his mouth. Molly could see bite marks in the tough leather and it was covered in saliva. Conall looked a little pale and shaky but managed a grim smile as he inspected her handiwork.
“Ye have a gentler touch than any of my sword-brothers,” he said. “And a steadier hand. Thank ye, lass.”
“Glad I could help.”
She began repacking Conall’s medical kit whilst he stood and put his belt back on. He was very close to her, his bare torso only inches from where she stood as she gathered everything into the pouch. He didn’t seem to notice the effect his proximity had on her, but she did. Her pulse went up a notch and she could feel heat creeping across her cheeks. She was almost glad when he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, wincing a little at the pain in his arm.
Molly stepped back, holding out his medical kit. “Here.”
He reached out and took it and for the barest of seconds, their fingers touched. The heat across her cheeks flared, and her breathing quickened. Conall’s eyes found hers, as gray as a storm-lashed sea.
Molly snatched her hand away and stepped back, busying herself with brushing sand from her clothes and pushing her hair behind her ears. Conall turned away and began belting on his sword. If he’d noticed her discomfort, he didn’t show it.
“Can I ask you something?” Molly said.
“Aye. What is it?”
“You’re not a smuggler, are you? Like Fiona, I mean? You said you were up here on ‘business’, but I get the feeling that business isn’t smuggling. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Aye, I’m no smuggler. I’m up here looking for someone.”
“That enemy that you and Fiona were talking about? I got the impression that you weren’t just talking about the raiders.”
Conall sighed and then shook his head. He studied her a moment, as though deciding how much to reveal. “I’m tracking a very dangerous man who is wanted up and down Scotland. His name is Leif Snarlsson, a Norwegian mercenary turned arms dealer who’s been bringing dangerous new weapons into Scotland: gunpowder, cannon, long guns. Not only that, but he was also responsible for a plot that almost plunged Norway and Scotland into open war. My sword-brothers and I managed to foil the plot, but Leif Snarlsson and his general, Alice Brewer, got away. They have a network all over the northern Highlands and are being aided, we fear, by some of the nobles. It’s my job to find out who they are.”
“And do you know who they are?”
A spasm of pain suddenly crossed Conall’s features and she got the feeling it wasn’t because of his arm wound. He looked out to sea, his gaze becoming distant. “I suspect,” he said quietly.
This was more information than she’d gotten out of him since she’d arrived. She still had so many questions, but instinct warned her not to push her luck. There had already been so many revelations today.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use something to eat,” she said brightly, changing the subject. “I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
“Is that so? Then we’d best be getting back to the cave, hadnae we?”
They began walking down the beach in companionable silence. Things felt different between them. Or maybe it was just Molly who felt different. Lighter. Freer. She’d told Conall the truth and he hadn’t turned away from her. He still had her back, just as he had from the first moment she’d arrived in this time. It felt good to have an ally. It felt good to not feel alone anymore.
She couldn’t help glancing at him as they walked. Several times she caught him looking back and looked away quickly. He paced by her side so closely that their arms were almost touching and it would take barely any movement at all to reach out and take his hand in hers. Her fingers itched to do just that, but she didn’t have the courage.
Fiona met them at the mouth of the cave. The chief looked weary. There were dark circles around her eyes and wisps had come free from her plait, dancing around her face in the breeze. Molly wondered when the woman had last slept.
“Here,” she said, handing them both something wrapped in muslin that was giving off a delicious smell. “I thought ye might be hungry.”
Molly took hers and unwrapped it to reveal a hunk of roast mutton with a bannock wrapped around it. The three of them stood in the cave mouth, eating standing up, and all too soon for Molly’s liking, it was gone. She licked juice from her fingers.
Fiona glanced back at the people filling the cave and then gave Conall a significant look. “We need to talk. Away from listening ears.”
Conall nodded. “We do. TheMermaid?”
“Aye, that will do.”
“Come on then. Ye too, Molly. This concerns ye as much as any of us.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow but didn’t object to Molly accompanying them. It seemed that if Conall trusted her to hear what they had to say, that was enough for the chief. Conall trusted her. The thought gave her pause. He trusted her despite the fact that she’d lied to him. A warm sensation uncoiled in her belly. She was surprised at how good it felt.
The three of them walked down the beach to where theMermaidwas pulled up. Now it was low tide the boat was beached, waiting for high tide to float her again. The overcast had deepened, with dark clouds gathering on the horizon that threatened another storm. Molly shivered. She did not fancy spending the night in a cave when that hit.
