But she’d barely taken a bite when the wind suddenly gusted fiercely, becoming so wild that Elise had to throw a hand in front of her face to protect her eyes from dust and bits of grass. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the tempest vanished, leaving Elise blinking and trying to clear her vision.
When she did, she gasped in shock. A woman had appeared before her, tall and willowy with pale, glistening skin. Long hair fell to her waist, and she had eyes of purest silver. Those eyes fixed on Elise.
“Elise MacFinnan?” the woman said in a deep voice that made Elise think of deep-sea caverns and waving strands of kelp. “My name is Lir.” She stepped forward, that silver gaze seeming to pin Elise to the spot.
“And I need yer help.”
Chapter Two
Jamie Donald leanedback in his chair and stretched his long legs out under the table. As Albie’s deep voice droned on, he reached for his pewter goblet, only to find it empty. Gods! How long was the man going to drone on for? He’d heard this argument already. Several times. He peered longingly into the bottom of the empty cup before setting it back on the table and plastering a look of rapt attention onto his face.
Finally, Albie fell silent. With a start, Jamie realized that the eyes of his advisors and captains had turned to him, expecting a response. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
“I hear ye, my friend,” he said, trying to keep the impatience and frustration from his voice. “But we’ve been through this already. We have no proof that these pirates are based in Ulster, and I willnae launch an attack without such proof. To do so would invite war and only worsen our problems.”
“Not when we win it willnae!” Albie boomed. He was a giant of a man who’d been one of Islay’s fiercest warriors in his youth. But Albie’s youth was long gone, and now most of his muscle had turned to fat, although that didn’t stop him shouting for vengeance and clamoring for battle at just about every council meeting he attended. “We will wipe this pirate scum off the face of the earth! We’ll teach them the folly of trying to blockade us and cut off our trade! And we’ll teach them to fear the warriors of Islay!”
Jamie leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, clasped together to try and stifle his irritation. He fixed Albie with a hard stare. “And if we’re wrong?” he asked. “If we start a war with the Ulster kings and the pirate base isnae there after all? We will face conflict on two fronts.”
Albie waved a dismissive hand. “Pah! It isnae anything the Kingdom of the Isles canna handle!”
Jamie would love for that to be true. He was Lord of the Isles, chieftain over Islay and liege lord to Skye and Barra and a handful of smaller islands. His ancestors had fought fiercely to keep their independence from both the Scottish and Ulster crowns, but he was under no illusion that he and his people were the force Albie thought they were. Only the continual strife between Scotland and Ulster had kept the two powers from Jamie’s door so far and, although he possessed a formidable fleet of ships and the sailors to man them, he could not afford to make a mistake that might turn their gazes his way.
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, someone else cleared their throat. Phillip MacClelland climbed to his feet. Older than Jamie, he had been a close friend of his father’s and Jamie’s trusted counselor since he’d come into his title.
“Thereisanother option,” he announced into the silence of the council room. “One that we’ve put off discussing.” He turned his watery gaze on Jamie, the burns that marred one side of his face pulling tight as he gave a wry smile. “But one that canna be put off any longer.”
Jamie stifled a groan. Lord help him, not this again.
Philip reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a rolled vellum scroll. “I have the marriage agreement here, ready to sign. It only needs my lord’s approval. It could be signed and dispatched within the week, and soon there would be enough fighters pouring into Islay to break any blockade and destroy these pirate bastards once and for all.”
“Aye, and trade away our freedom into the bargain!” Albie growled. “And have some French lass as Lady of the Isles!”
“Lady Margaret is the king’s kin!” Phillip protested, looking around the gathered council members. “It would be a great honor for my lord to marry into that line.”
“James of Scotland isnaeourking!” someone shouted.
“We’ll bow to no mainland upstart!” said another.
Jamie ran a hand across his face and let their arguments wash over him. The same arguments. The same wrangling. Over and over. It had been this way since the pirate attacks had begun over a year ago and only worsened since they had begun blockading the routes into Islay’s harbor and cutting off their trade.
His people were beginning to suffer, and his advisors reflected the feelings in the wider island. They couldn’t go on this way for much longer. They had to find a solution soon, but everything he’d tried so far had failed. Whenever he sent his fleet after the pirates, they seemed to melt away like mist under the morning sun. Whenever he changed the shipping routes to bring in cargo, they seemed to know ahead of time and prey on those ships like wolves on sheep.
There were only two solutions on the table. Albie wanted war. Phillip wanted marriage.Hismarriage to be exact. He eyed the scroll that Phillip held tightly in one hand. It had arrived a month ago, bearing the royal seal of King James in Edinburgh.
It contained a proposal, one that on the surface seemed the answer to all their prayers. He would marry Lady Margaret of Concressault, great-niece of King James, and in return James would send ships and warriors to help defend Islay.
Oh aye, it sounded too good to be true all right, and that’s because that’s exactly what it was. Jamie was under no illusion that should he agree, he would be giving away the hard-won autonomy of the Kingdom of the Isles and become no morethan a vassal of the Scottish throne. In time his lands would be annexed into union with the mainland.
Phillip knew that too, of course, but argued it was a small price to pay for the safety of their people. And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was more important—freedom or safety? It seemed that they couldn’t have both. War with Ireland or marriage to Scotland. Were these really the only two choices left open to him?
He wanted neither. War would be disastrous, and he loathed the idea of marriage to a woman he’d never even met. He was not naïve enough to think he would be allowed to marry for love, yet so far he’d resisted all efforts to sell him off for political advantage. He’d seen what a loveless marriage did to those involved by watching his own parents. Cold, distant, hostile most of the time, his parents had loathed each other. How they’d managed to spend enough time in each other’s company to conceive him was a mystery.
No, he didn’t want that. Perhaps it was selfish, but he would exhaust every last avenue, pursue every last option, before he resorted to that.
He waved a dismissive hand at Phillip. “I’ll think about it.”
Phillip’s mouth tightened, his burn scars stretching. “My lord, ye have been ‘thinking’ about it for a month now.”
