Aiden caught her shoulders. “I will come back to you. That I swear!” Her soft gasp made him realize his error. Blast it, never was she to know how much she meant to him. His heart breaking, he gave her a gentle shove. “Go.”
“Godspeed.” The soft crunch of leather on the sand filled the silence as she and her guard creptdown the beach.
Aiden watched her go, damned each step that took her farther away from him. He’d fought in many battles, but the stakes hadn’t been so high.
Nor had he been in love.
A soft cry of a hawk echoed in the night.
The sign. Aiden turned to Cailin. “Take charge of the remaining men. Keep hidden until the ships are ablaze and the English storm from the castle. Once they are too far from the stronghold to retreat, attack.”
“Aye,”Cailin replied.
Aiden glanced toward the fortress. “Is Rónán in place?”
His friend nodded. “He, along with twenty men, are hidden near the stronghold. Once we have cut off the English, they will slip inside and seize the castle.”
“Excellent.” Aiden turned, then hesitated. “My friend, we have been through much. If anything should happen to me, ensure Gwendolyn istaken care of.”
Somber eyes held his. “I swear it.”
“I thank you. And now,” Aiden said, focusing on their mission, “I think ’tis time to teach these English bastards a lesson!”
“Aye,” Cailin agreed,“’tis indeed.”
Waves rolled up the shore as Aiden led the few men he’d selected to the wooden boats pulled onto the sand. Once the crafts were shoved into the surf, they rowed toward the moored cogs.
Halfway there, as he dipped his oars into an oncoming swell, the edge of the tidal current caught him. Muscles bunched, Aiden rowed beyond the dangerous pull of water, aware that the intense flow could drag an unsuspecting man a great distance out to sea.
A short while later, he halted near the anchor of the farthest craft, severed the mooring. Freed, the ship drifted toward the main fleet. Aiden climbed aboard, then slayed the guard, the resistance from the Englishman pathetic. After binding several lengths of wood, he soaked them in oil and set them ablaze.
Thick black smoke billowed above the flames, the stench of the burning rags filling the air as Aiden climbed down the ladder, the putrid bundle firm in his grip.
At the bottom, he glanced around the crates for signs of another guard. Seeing none, he lit fires around the hull.
The roaring flames built and spread around him. A sharp snap sounded to his side, then a hiss. Wood groaned beneath collapsing wood,and he whirled.
God’s sword, whatever cargo they carried was fueling the blaze, the ship going up faster than expected. He drew back to heave the torch onto the crates near the end of the hull.
A blur appeared before him a moment before he caught theglint of steel.
Aiden blocked the swing with the torch, withdrew his sword withhis free hand.
“Ye bastard!” his attacker shouted.
Forged steel sank into the flaming wood, driving Aiden back. Sweat streaming down his face, heat building with each breath, he swung.
The assailant screamed as Aiden’s blade drove a huge gash along his side. Fury and pain marred the man’s face. With a curse, he lunged.
Aiden shoved his dagger deep into the warrior’s chest, but, still in motion, the attacker’s body collided with his. Arms flailing, Aiden stumbled back, tripping on several collapsed timbers. He grabbed for a nearby post, missed, slammed against the planks below.
Pain exploded in his head. Against the roar of the growing flames and the cloying smoke, he gasped for breath.
Blackness threatened.
Heat an inferno around him, he forced himself to sit. He heaved his enemy’s body away and shoved to his feet. Flames consumed most of the interior hull and soot-drenched smoke billowed through the hatch he had climbed down onlymoments before.
Head throbbing, Aiden wrapped his hands around the woven hemp, cursed with each effort as he pulled himselfonto the deck.
