Chapter 23
The birlinn rockedupon the rough waves as the oarsmen rowed out into the sea and toward the distant isle. The deep, rhythmic song used to keep their strokes synchronized drifted away on the fierce wind. The salty spray stung Torr's face and wet his hair. The approaching dark clouds foretold of the impending trouble.
A quarter-hour later, they entered the shallows of Ròncreag's coastline. Torr leapt into the icy water to help the other men drag the birlinn onto land. Within minutes, they had splashed farther onto the beach.
A colony of gray seals lounged about on their sides, watching from a distance. Torr eyed them intently. Were any of them selkies? He'd never seen Brodie in selkie form and had no inkling what he looked like. Mayhap the MacCains who were with them could identify Brodie.
"Do you see him here?" Torr asked Kenneth.
The burly sword-bearer squinted and ran his gaze over the curious seals. "I've only seen the chief in selkie form twice. But right now, they all look alike to me."
"Brodie!" Striding up the beach, closer to the cliffs, Torr glanced this way and that, then shouted his friend's name again. He'd never been here before. When they'd been lads, this was too far out to venture without the assistance of the grown clansmen.
"How large is this island?" Torr shouted over the wind.
"'Haps a couple of miles long," Kenneth said.
Torr's gaze followed the rocky shoreline. "Finnian said he would be in a cave."
"There's one, just beneath that cliff." Gavin pointed.
Torr, Gavin, and a couple of the MacTavish clansmen set out toward it at a brisk pace.
Torr was excited to see a fire glowing from within the cave opening.
"Brodie?" Gavin called as they drew closer.
What if it wasn't Brodie's cave? Could be a pirate lair... though they'd seen no ship. But who knew what was on the other side of the island?
Just in case 'twas outlaws, Torr halted and withdrew his sword. Gavin paused beside him.
"Brodie, are you here?" Torr yelled.
A man with long, black hair and a familiar chiseled face poked his head out, surprise evident in his dark eyes. "Torr? Gavin?"
"Brodie! Thank the saints." Relief surging through him, Torr sheathed his sword and strode forward.
Their friend emerged, wearing a shirt and plaid. Studying them, he gave each of them a warrior handshake. "Come inside, out of the wind. What the devil are you two doing here?"
"Looking for you, of course." Gavin followed him into the front part of the cave.
"Why?" Brodie asked.
Torr joined them in the cavernous space, wanting to get straight to the point. "Your mother and your clan are trying to marry Cat off to the brutal Chief John MacPeter."
"Saints." Brodie's dark brows lowered. "Why would they wish to torture the lass so?"
"They think MacPeter will offer your clan protection," Torr said.
Brodie glowered. "We need no protection from him. Anyway, why are you two helping her?"
"When Cat couldn't find you—her brother, who is supposed to protect her—" Torr said dryly, "—she came to me for help."
Brodie's scowl intensified. "Are you saying 'tis my fault?"
"Aye," Torr said bluntly. He might anger his friend, but Brodie needed to quickly realize the truth.
"Why are you out here rather than at the castle?" Gavin asked.
