Page 47 of Nyall

Speal went below with the mortal, who pointed out the men he wanted released. Most were his age or older, and had little about them that would appeal to the enchantress. When she took them up on deck and removed their manacles and chains, the men gathered around Lugh as if they were his personal guards.

“We’ll no’ abandon you and the lads, Maister,” one of them said.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Lugh said, his tone stern. “The lads shall serve as sacrifice to the old Gods for their protection. Take the skiff and sail for haven.”

Speal saw the other men flinch, as if he’d ordered them to end themselves, and grabbed him by the front of his rough tunic. “What deceit work you now, you bastart?”

“Haven, ’tis the name of our village.” He looked down at her fist. “No’ every mortal schemes against you, Witch. What may a dozen old men do against you lot?”

Again he looked at her with serenity in his cool green eyes, and once more she liked him for that.

“This one and the others below shall all meet terrible ends if you attempt return and attack us,” Speal finally said, looking at the other fishermen, all of whom ducked their heads in deference. “Go home, and stay there.”

As the men passed Lugh, each one touched his brow with two fingers and pressed his other hand over his heart. Speal had never seen such a gesture, and wondered what sort of bloodline these mortals actually shared. The head fisherman nodded to his crew, but seemed only interested in the supplies Teine loaded into the skiff before helping another of their sisters lower the small boat into the water. Once afloat four of the men picked up the oars, and a fifth began slapping his hand on the edge of the hull to keep time as they rowed away toward the south.

“You need make use of my boat if you wish search the waters here,” Lugh told her as night fell and the skiff disappeared in the darkness. “’Tis faster, and no trader sails out so far from the islands. Half your crew should come with me.”

Caroline carried the last bundle of clothes from the dock to the cottage, and stowed them in the old cabinet she had decided to use as a closet. The fire in the hearth crackled nicely, but she went outside to assure the smoke from it was funneling out of the chimney. Taking care of the shabby little place was now her responsibility, and she couldn’t wait to make some improvements. Tomorrow she’d start with clearing the overgrown garden. She also wanted to clean the cottage from top to bottom, and see what exactly she had on hand to use. If she found some hand tools, the first thing she would build would be a bigger bed.

Jamaran may not be able to spend the whole night, but at least we won’t have to have sex on the cobblestone floor.

She didn’t want to brood again over Nyall, so she went over to the little pantry room to investigate what Brochan had given her for her food stores. The clan’s cook had been overly generous with bread, fruit and cheese, and had even given her a dozen large crocks of butter, jams and honey. She’d told him not to bother giving her any meat, as she intended to catch fish for herself for the time being, but found a huge box of grayish sea salt that would help her preserve what she didn’t eat. He’d also promised to teach her how to do or make anything else she needed food-wise.

“Oat flour,” she murmured after sniffing the rough-grained flour in one sack. “If I can figure out a skillet, then it’s pancakes for breakfast.”

For the first time since landing in the bay Caroline completely relaxed. Not having anyone watching her was a huge improvement, as was having her own dedicated living space. By the time she finished improving this place she’d see if the laird would give her permission to live here permanently. As long as she was careful, she’d have another fifty or sixty years to enjoy it.

As long as I’m careful while I’m out diving every day, and none of the Finfolk attack me, and the sharks don’t eat me, and I don’t get plague or cholera or an impacted tooth that ends up giving me blood poisoning.

Someone knocked on her door, and she walked over to lift the window covering, expecting to see Jamaran. Instead Valerie stood holding a basket filled with nuts, pears and little twine-tied sacks, with two MacMar guards standing behind her.

Against her better judgement Caroline opened the door. “Kind of late for a welcome wagon visit, isn’t it?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, but the maids said you probably wouldn’t be coming back to the stronghold. I really wanted to talk.” She lifted the basket. “The house warming gift was just an excuse.”

She opened the door wider to let the laird’s wife in, and noted how the guards took flanking positions beside it. “Any coffee beans in the basket?”

“They won’t get here for another five centuries or so,” the other woman said as she carried her gift over to the kitchen table. “I tucked in some packets of the herbal teas I like, and wrote the ingredients on tags so you know what they are. There’s one made of dandelion and roasted barley that is actually pretty close in taste to coffee.”

“That was nice of you, thanks.” She gestured for her to sit, and took the seat across from her. “Are you going to try to talk me into moving back? Because that will definitely be a one-word conversation on my end.”

Valerie smiled a little. “No, the reason I’m here is something Lark told me earlier today. Her sewing room overlooks the walking maze, and she said she noticed you there with Captain Nyall and Commander Jamaran. She said the commander hugged you, which I’ve never known him to do. From other things I’ve heard I’m guessing the three of you are, ah...involved?”

“We are.” She wondered why Valerie always tried so hard to be polite with her. “Want all the juicy details?”

The laird’s wife held up her slim hands. “Honestly, I respect your right to privacy. I think both of them are fine men, and you’re a lucky woman. What I want is to help Connal keep the peace on Caladh, and that means not antagonizing the Finfolk. How do you think all those unmated young males will react when they learn you’re sleeping with a MacMar and their garrison commander, but not marrying either of them?”

“Like I care what they think.” Caroline sat back in her chair. “The laird wants me to break it off with my guys, is that it? Because that’s another one-word conversation.”

“We want the three of you to protect yourselves.” Valerie looked around them. “Put coverings on the windows that no one can see through, and ask the men not to come here at the same time. If you make it public that you’re having a ménage à trois, everyone will talk about it. That gossip will only make your relationship sound even more outrageous. It could also provoke someone to attack you again.”

She wanted to tell the other woman to get out of her house, but what she said was the same thing Caroline had been thinking. “All right, we’ll keep our private life very private. Anything else?”

“Shaw is on his way back to the stronghold. He’ll probably arrive in the next few days.” The laird’s wife hesitated before she said, “You’ve made it clear that you don’t like him. We’ll ask him to stay away from you, if you’ll do the same with him.”

“Thank you.” She suppressed a shudder.

“I just wanted you to know that his situation is not his fault,” Valerie said. “Slavers did that to him with some pretty dark magic when he was just a young boy.”