Jamie clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll meet again in the great hall of Dun Arach. When this is done.”
Arran nodded, something fierce flickering in his eyes. “Aye. When this is done.”
Jamie stood back as Arran and Jenna walked down to the quay and boarded Arran’s flagship. One by one, the Skye ships slipped away with barely a sound, sails dark against the glittering water, until they too were swallowed by distance.
The shore felt suddenly empty. A chill wind blasted along the coastline. That was it, then. Everything was set in motion and there was no going back.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and strode along the beach to where his own ships waited.
Three vessels only. That was all Barra could spare without leaving herself exposed—but they were the fastest she had, their hulls narrow and light, their crews handpicked by Cailean himself. Warriors seasoned by storms and steel, men who could fight on deck or shore with equal ferocity. They waited now in disciplined silence, weapons stowed but ready, eyes bright with anticipation.
Jamie climbed aboard the lead ship and scanned the faces of his crew.
“Ye know what we need to do,” he said, pitching his voice so all could hear. “Speed over strength. Surprise over numbers. We strike hard, we strike fast, and we dinna surrender.”
That earned him a low growl of approval, blades thumping against shields. Jamie stepped back as the lines were cast off. The sail went up, catching the wind eagerly, and the ship lurched forward.
As the shoreline of Barra began to slide away, Jamie moved to the prow and planted his feet, gripping the rail. The wind tore at his hair and cloak, cold and bracing, carrying the tang of open sea.
The Isles were at war. And he was coming home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elise had neverbeen one to panic. In fact, her family described her as too laid back for her own good, taking whatever was thrown her way with a “meh” and a shrug.
But right now, she was pretty damned close. As she paced up and down in her room, her stomach was doing somersaults, her thoughts spinning round and round.
Andrea had almost died because of her. Because of what lived inside her skin. Because of the power that other people coveted so much. Andrea, her friend, a woman who had done nothing wrong other than try to help her.
And then there was Phillip MacClelland. That look in his eyes when she’d finally unleashed her War Weaving was enough to make Elise’s blood run cold. It had been full of greed and hunger, like a predator who had finally run down its prey.
But hell would freeze over before Elise would become the monster he wanted her to be.
And therein lay the problem and the reason she’d been pacing her room ever since the spectacle in the courtyard earlier. She was desperately trying to think of a way out of this, a way she could escape Dun Arach, thwart Phillip’s plans, and still ensure Andrea, Albie, and the rest didn’t pay the price for her.
So far, she’d come up with nothing.
She clenched her fists in frustration and fury. She wanted to hit something—preferably Phillip MacClelland’s face. Several times. With a hockey stick.
Could she use her power to escape? Shatter the window and jump out? But then what? Battle every guard in the courtyard? Somehow tear down the gates?
Perhaps she could do it. Perhaps if the guards threatened her life, it would be enough to spark her War Weaving. But even if she did make it out of the gates, what then? How would she get off Islay? How would she find Jamie?
And, more importantly, what would happen to Andrea, Albie, and the rest of Jamie’s men who were incarcerated in Phillip’s cells?
She would not allow them to be hurt. She had to free them somehow. Problem was, she had no idea where Andrea was being held.
But she wasn’t going to remedy that pacing her room. With a hiss of frustration, she pulled her door open and barged down the hall. She would find Andrea, free her somehow, then the two of them would free Albie and Jamie’s men, and they would all escape Dun Arach.
It sounded simple in her head. She suspected it would be anything but.
There was nobody in sight as she stole down the stairs and all she could hear was the drone of voices out in the courtyard. She made her way deeper into the castle, intending to begin her search for Andrea’s prison in the warren of storehouses near the kitchens. Yet she’d not gone more than three paces when a sound from behind made her freeze in her tracks.
The discordant clanging of the warning bell.
She turned, heart leaping into her mouth. It was so loud and so off-key that she could feel it reverberating through the walls around her, seeming to make the very stone shiver.
Shouts answered and she heard the heavy thump of running feet as people rushed to answer its call. For a second, Elise stoodfrozen as she tried to figure out what it might mean. Then she was running back the way she’d come.
