Chieftain's Rebel (Chieftain Series Book 6) by Frances Housden

Author:Frances Housden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2016-02-29T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Boats were breaking up near the shore, two or more burnt down to the waterline. Olaf’s dragon-boat had fulfilled its purpose, even if it wasnae to take the auld Jarl to Walhalla. For them all, it was about saving as many inhabitants of the settlement by the Ness as they could manage.

“They’re coming. Get ready.” Rory’s urgent whisper cut through the air around them, rising o’er the rustle of the heather and other vegetation they lay amongst. He pushed onto his knees, held out a hand and pulled her close. Fingers entwined and forearms aligned. “This is it, lass, Ainsel and Rory together as it should be. What say ye?”

Ainsel leaned closer. He could feel her warmth; taste her sweet breath as softly, quietly she said, “Aye, the two of us together.” It felt like a promise, but there was nae time to confirm it as such. Nae sense in dying together for the sake of a kiss when they could be fighting side by side, shields locked to fend off the enemy. The celebration of their victory and confirmation of their promise could come later as they lay in bed, for he had nae doubt they would beat these Irish. The invaders were distressed frae the fire and the smoke, dragged down by wet clothes, and would be easily conquered, for he and Ainsel had right on their side.

All of that aside, he was coming round to the thought that mayhap Ghillie hadnae been so far off the mark. All would be well at Caithness—eventually. The qualification being his own; confirmation that he was his father’s son, rebel or not.

And so it began with Finn yelling out a warning, a roar of the triumph her brother expected to wreak on the enemy, and rang with the delight he would take in making that true with a winning stance for the men of Caithness.

In the end they—he and Ainsel—were back to back, he taking out any Irishmen climbing up the sandy bank, hands gripping the heather to hoist themselves upward, panting and unprepared to meet Rory towering o’er them at the top. Ainsel, the woman he had decided owned his soul and heart, took care of the stragglers; together they made a guid partnership. Their blades were well bloodied and their shields battered, but they were still standing as night ended and the sun climbed up frae behind the hills and out of the water at the end of the Ness.

The solstice was o’er.

The Gathering done for yet another year.

Rory looked at Ainsel and, though their bodies weaved frae the waist up, the result of exhaustion, at last they were able to stand still, short breaths scraping the inside of their throats as they looked around them at the carnage of battle. Men fallen among the heather, faces frozen in the rictus of death and coated with blood and sand and mouths open as if still searching for that last gasp of air. It had been a terrible night,

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