“She is blessed to have such a loving father,” Lathir said as she took a seat. “My father couldna refuse me if I asked for a story before bed as well.”
The fisherman settled on a bench across from her. “He sounds like a fine man.”
“He is.” Her lower lip trembled. “Hemust be saved.”
“Aye.” Rónán sat next to Lathir, assessing their host. “You mentioned that you had a ship?”
“Several years ago.” A grin touched his mouth as he filled three mugs with ale, set one before each of them. “Let us say that my crew and I tended to be a bit unorthodox in our methods to raise coin, for the most part from the Sassenach, I might add.”
Unorthodox? Lathir frowned at the odd description. At the twinkle in his eyes, realization dawned. “You were a pirate?” Given his frank and confident manner, and the way he’d stepped in to help Rónán without hesitation, it was a fact she found easy to believe.
It required little imagination to see him barking orders on a deck, or standing at the helm as a ship cut through storm-fed seas after leaving English ships lighter, and the Sassenach quivering with fear in his wake.
“Let us say, ’twas my way to support King Robert. Neither do I abide by the scoundrel Lord Comyn.” His expression darkened with distaste. “I will tell you right now, I dinna hide behind practiced words.”
“Nor do I,” Lathir said, appreciating Tighearnán’s forthright manner. Her father had taught her to trust her gut, and the fisherman had been nothing but honest and helpful. “Sir Rónán and I support King Robert as well.”
The muscles in the large man’s shoulders eased.
She met Rónán’s gaze, pleased to find his body relaxed. ’Twould seem they’d come to the same conclusion about the man. Still, she would take appropriate precautions.
“Before I continue,” Lathir said, “you will swear not to tell anyone what I am about to disclose.”
The mug scraped on the wooden table as he set it down and raised his hand. “I swear it, my lady.”
“Several days ago, after a meeting with the Bruce, my father, Sir Rónán, and I departed St Andrews Cathedral for my home. The English attack was for more than to abduct my father for ransom, but to stay our king’s hand.”
Sharp brown eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“Lord Sionn holds a secret cache of weapons,” Rónán explained. “Arms needed by our sovereign to push back the English along with supporters of Comyn.”
She nodded. “Now that we know where my father is, ’tis imperative that we reach Wynshire Castle, where I can raise a large contingent to free him.”
“If I can be of help, my lady, I am atyour service.”
“I thank you. Rónán and I seek to borrow your steed.”
Sparks popped in the hearth as Tighearnán frowned. “My steed is yours, but traveling through Tír Kythyr to reach your realm is not only dangerous, but will cost valuable time when you must act with haste.”
Alarm streaked up her spine. “What do you mean?”
“The braggart boasted that Lord Sionn was to be held at Murchadh Castle until they had received word of where he was to be taken, but he never revealed fromwhom or where.”
Fear thickened in a tight ball in her throat. “Saint’s breath, we must reach my father beforethey move him.”
Tighearnán stroked his beard as he gave a slow nod. “My thinking as well. My lady, my friend owns a cog. He and his men will help you, though their ways might be a wee bit unorthodox.”
“You mean they are pirates as well?”
Pride flickered in his eyes. “They were part of my crew. I would trust each onewith my life.”
Rónán took a sip, then set down his mug. “Will you sail with us as well?”
“I will.”
Although the response relieved her, Lathir glanced toward the loft, frowned. “What ofyour daughter?”
“Órlaithwill travel with me.”
