Kilts Ahoy! Page 13

  “Nay, but I expect them any time soon.”

  He was still repeating the same words three hours later. By then, Teagan and Seth had arrived and been told of the overdue birlinn. Marshall longed to take her into his embrace and kiss away the welling tears, but others were present. She slumped into her brother’s arms and the two of them stared out at the bay. Bo sat like a statue at their side.

  Silence reigned as MacCrays and Robsons gathered in groups to wait near the docks. Worry gnawed at Marshall’s innards. By the time darkness fell, the reality could no longer be denied. The Robson birlinn was lost out at sea.

  *

  Perched on a coil of rope, Teagan absently fondled Bo’s ears as she listened to the men of both clans who’d gathered nearby to form a search party. She might have known Marshall would take the lead.

  Torches cast pools of light, their reflection dancing on the waves of Wick Bay.

  She desperately wanted to insist she be aboard the vessel going in search of her brothers on the morrow, but the will to open her mouth and speak eluded her. An icy hand gripped her innards. The prospect of losing Beathan and Archie couldn’t be borne. The pain of the potential loss of a brother was plain to see on Marshall’s haggard face. Two lairds lost. Two clans devastated.

  On top of that, the rest of her brothers were determined to sail aboard the rescue vessel.

  Lost in a dull fog, she didn’t notice approaching footsteps until Seth took her arm. “Come, Teagan, we canna do more this night.”

  She looked up and saw deep distress in his eyes. Ethan and Lachlan hovered nearby, looking guilty. “’Tisna yer fault,” she croaked in a hoarse voice she didn’t recognize.

  Ethan shook his head. “We should have waited, made sure they were following.”

  Lachlan nodded. “Especially when we kent how incompetent the Robson laird…”

  He held his tongue when Marshall approached and took hold of her hands. “I promise ye I’ll do everything I can to bring them home safely,” he rasped.

  Reassured by his warmth, she longed to throw herself into his embrace. Hopefully, he could see the love she bore him in her eyes. “I ken ye’ll find them.” She swallowed the lump in her dry throat when he brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “But dinna risk more lives in the process.”

  *

  Castle Robson was ablaze with light when Marshall and his clansmen finally arrived home. Word of the overdue birlinn had clearly reached the castle. Concern was etched deeply on every face in the crowded courtyard. Bone tired, and held in worry’s thrall, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to deal with Moira who stood among those waiting for news. He ought not to blame her for appearing in public in her night attire, but he took her by the arm as soon as he dismounted. “Let’s get ye indoors, Aunty, and I’ll tell ye what’s happening.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t fight him as he guided her through the throng. “We’re going out to search on the morrow,” he told those nearby. The news spread quickly as the message was passed on.

  He escorted Moira to his library. “The boats became separated,” he told her, hoping the wild panic in her eyes wasn’t caused by confusion.

  “Ye must find the MacCray laird,” she cried. “He canna die.”

  Marshall eyed her. “And Elgin,” he replied gruffly.

  “Aye. Him too. For my sister’s sake. But if he’s lost, ye’ll be laird. As it should be.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “May God strike me down for my sinful thoughts.”

  With that, she fled the library, leaving him alone to face a sleepless night of gnawing worry, made worse by his own guilty thoughts. If his brother was lost at sea, Teagan could be his.

  The urge to gulp down a tumbler of whisky was powerful, but he had to have his wits about him and the cock’s crow would come all too soon.

  Polaris

  After a sleepless night filled with mind-numbing nightmares, Teagan curled her fingers into Bo’s collar as she stood beside Finlay on the dock at Wick. They kept vigil until the sail of Marshall’s birlinn was unfurled and the vessel disappeared around the headland.

  Her youngest brother’s jaw was tightly clenched. He was concerned for their brothers and angry Seth and Cooper had insisted he remain behind to watch over her. “I should be going with them,” he hissed.

  She linked her arm with his and leaned into him. “I need ye here. ’Twould be even worse torture to wait alone.”

  “I could keep ye company,” Marshall’s aunty piped up.

  Teagan inhaled deeply, unwilling to waste energy she didn’t have trying to interpret the elderly woman’s ramblings. She’d arrived on foot just as the birlinn was leaving the dock. Even Marshall seemed surprised to see her. She’d waved them off with a lacy kerchief as if they were going on a quick tour of the harbor.

  “My thanks, Lady Moira, but…”

  “I ken,” she replied, tucking the hanky into her sleeve. “Ye have this handsome laddie to take care of ye. I’m Marshall’s Aunty Moira by the way, young mon.”

  “Finlay MacCray,” her brother replied, glancing askance at Teagan.

  Moira took her hand. “Ye must be worried sick about yer kin.”

  Fear constricted Teagan’s throat. “I am,” she managed.

  “And now Marshall’s gone off too,” Moira sighed, retrieving the kerchief to dab at unshed tears.

  Teagan again wondered if she was being tested. “And, of course, we’re deeply concerned about Elgin.”

  “Weel,” Moira replied with a shrug. “If he doesna return, ye willna be obliged to marry him. Ye can wed a mon ye love, instead.”

  With that, she turned and left.

  Finlay patted Teagan’s hand as they watched the daft woman march off up the trail to the hilltop. “Strange bird.”

  “Aye. Ye can say that again,” she agreed. However, peculiar though she was, Moira had seen the truth.

  *

  After lengthy discussions with Brosnan, Marshall summoned the MacCray brothers to the prow as darkness fell on the first day at sea. “If they followed the smaller birlinn south to avoid the storm, our best guess is they have gone aground somewhere along the Danish coast,” he told them.

  “What’s to say they didna capsize?” Cooper asked.

  Ethan shook his head. “We’d have heard cries for help, especially in the fog.”

  “Besides,” Marshall added. “Brosnan reports they avoided the storm, so there is nay reason the boat would have overturned. There’s naught as challenging as the sandbars of Sinclair Bay on their route. I’ve sailed her in rough seas and ne’er felt she couldna handle the heavy weather.”

  “But I’ll wager ye didna entrust her to yer brother,” Lachlan accused. “How long is the coastline?”

  “Two hundred miles, give or take, I’d say,” Marshall replied, choosing to ignore the taunt.

  “We’ll ne’er find them,” Ethan complained.

  “Aye, we will,” Seth insisted. “Marshall kens what he’s about. I trust him.”

  Appreciative of Seth’s confidence, Marshall spoke into the sullen silence that followed. “Drifting sand has created large dunes in a good number of areas along the western shore of Denmark. ’Tis a desolate coast dotted with only a few small villages. They may have been unable to find help.”

  The meeting broke up after it was agreed they would carry on into the night. Marshall, Seth and Ethan would take the first watch, Brosnan, Lachlan and Cooper the second. The oarsmen were divided into two teams.

  As he took readings with his sextant, Marshall said a silent prayer of thanks for calm seas and a clear sky.

  “Polaris,” Seth said. “Shining brightly. ’Tis a good omen.”

  Marshall nodded, glad the friendlier MacCray brother had chosen to man the tiller. Ethan had wandered off to encourage the oarsmen. Marshall adjusted the sextant and took a reading of the half-moon. “Rudder slightly to port,” he commanded.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Seth replied.

  Marshall fille
d his lungs with sea air. So far, they were making good progress. He took courage from the steady dip and splash of the oars. Wood creaked on wood as the rowers kept up a rhythmic pace, their grunts of exertion providing familiar reassurance. The moon danced on the water. This was the kind of night out at sea he loved, and all seemed to be going well. If only the reason for the voyage wasn’t so dire and his thoughts weren’t preoccupied with what he’d learned about Elgin’s antecedents. He closed his eyes, conjuring a vision of the woman he loved. “I will bring yer brothers home to ye, Teagan,” he promised.

  *

  Unable to sleep, Teagan furled Beathan’s winter plaid over her shoulders and wandered out into the courtyard. Nestled in the warm wool she’d taken to bed with her for comfort, she looked up at the night sky, relieved to easily identify Polaris. “Seth explained how important this northern star is to navigators out at sea,” she told Bo.

  Hunkering down to put her arms around her beloved dog, she closed her eyes, conjuring a vision of Marshall’s birlinn plying the waters with its precious cargo. Dread lay like a lead weight in her belly. It would break her heart and decimate the clan if none of her brothers returned home safely. The prospect of never seeing Marshall again couldn’t be borne.

  “Bring them all back safely,” she prayed, knowing in her heart Marshall would do everything in his power to make it so.

  Trust the Sea

  The lookout at the prow of Marshall’s boat handed the telescope to his captain after sighting land just before dusk the next day.

  “Is it Denmark?” Seth asked as Marshall scanned the distant coastline.

  “Aye. Nothing but miles and miles of sand. Get the sail down,” he shouted.

  The word passed among the crew, their audible relief echoing his own.

  “Are we nay going ashore?” Ethan asked upon arriving at the prow.

  Marshall shook his head. “If they’ve beached the birlinn, we should be able to see them. Yonder lie the Holmsland Dunes, but there’s nay sign of a boat. We’ll make our way north slowly and keep our eyes peeled, though ’twill be dark soon.”

  “I think we should go ashore,” Ethan’s twin declared.

  “To what end? See for yerself,” Marshall replied, handing Lachlan the telescope. “If I recall correctly, there’s one tiny fishing village on a narrow spit of land and beyond that a large fjord. Do ye see any movement at all? We could be delayed for days haggling over how much dried codfish we want to buy. Danes can be persuasive.”

  Scowling, Lachlan handed back the telescope. “I suppose ye’re right.”

  They proceeded slowly, every available man scanning the long stretches of sand.

  Marshall tried to quell the wee small voice in the back of his mind that insisted they wouldn’t find the lost birlinn here, but he pushed himself to persevere until darkness fell. After calling a halt to the search and posting lookouts, he resolved to continue further north at first light.

  Loud snoring soon indicated most of the tired crew had fallen asleep. Marshall stood at the prow, closed his eyes, lifted his face to the moon and listened. The breeze played with his hair. Wood creaked as waves lapped at the hull. Distant seagull cries echoed.

  Over the years, he’d learned to trust the sea—she couldn’t be rushed but always gave up her secrets eventually. He had to be patient and pray for the best outcome.

  *

  Three days after Marshall’s boat left Wick, Teagan heeded Bo’s insistence she pull herself out of despair. Having Katie burst into tears every time she saw her mistress made things worse.

  The hound had whined and barked and even pulled at her sleeve. “Ye’re right,” she told him. “Moping about and thinking dire thoughts willna help the situation.”

  The ostler greeted her in the stables with a weak smile. “Aye. Go to yon cliffs and look out to sea. She can be a cruel mistress, but sometimes she holds the answers…”

  He choked on his words and she pondered them as he saddled Geal. It was unlikely there’d be any sign of the birlinns returning yet, so what did he mean?

  The gallop cleared the fog from her brain, and Geal was friskier than usual. “Ye’ve missed our rides,” she said as she dismounted to sit on her usual rock. Panting hard after his run, Bo leaned against her. She stared at the waves for nigh on an hour, but the only revelation was a dire warning insinuating itself into her thoughts. She should be preparing for the worst outcome. If the sea claimed her family, the chieftaincy would fall to Finlay. Her youngest brother had never had the opportunity to be a leader. It would be her responsibility to help him in any way she could.

  Heartbroken by the prospect of a bleak future, she stood and stretched, inadvertently catching a glimpse of Castle Robson, something she’d steadfastly tried to avoid. A movement prompted her to look more closely. Her mouth fell open in amazement when she realized Moira stood atop the battlements, waving something white.

  The urge to laugh bubbled up in Teagan’s throat. She returned the wave, fanning to life the spark of hope lit by the often perplexing behavior of a peculiar woman.

  *

  For the better part of a day, Marshall directed the oarsmen to row slowly along the barren Danish coast. He sensed growing impatience emanating from Ethan, Lachlan and Cooper MacCray, but Seth kept reassuring them he was confident the lost birlinn would be found. “We’d ken deep down if Beathan and Archie had drowned,” he insisted. “My gut tells me they’re still alive.”

  His words eventually seemed to penetrate. His brothers nodded thoughtfully. Cooper even put a hand over his heart.

  Marshall also felt a strange optimism that his laird still lived, though he had never enjoyed a deep bond with Elgin.

  But what had become of them? After miles and miles of scouring the desolate coastline, one sandbank and dune began to look much like another. He began to think he may have blinked and missed some sign of a wreck.

  At dusk, they hove to south of a wide bay. “We’ll stop here for the night,” he told the MacCrays. “This is the mouth of the Limfjorden. The fjord cuts deep into Denmark, almost as far as the Baltic. We’ll search there on the morrow.”

  “Why would they sail into the fjord?” Cooper asked.

  What to say in reply?

  If Elgin was navigating…

  He kept silent, unable to explain the gut feeling that the fjord held the answer.

  Off Course

  Teagan worried about Finlay. The possibility he might have to take the reins of the chieftaincy seemed to weigh heavily on his young shoulders. Sullen moodiness replaced his usual lighthearted demeanor. His healthy appetite fled.

  She recognized this was the time he needed her support the most. Though uncertainty and dread gnawed at her innards, she had to be strong and prepare him for the worst news.

  “Seth isna here to continue my lessons,” she declared, hoping to distract him from staring at his uneaten breakfast.

  He dragged his gaze from the plate of ham. “Lessons?”

  “He’s teaching me to be a mariner.”

  She’d expected snorts of brotherly derision but he nodded thoughtfully. “I recall something of the sort. Said ye have the makings of a good sailor.”

  She took a deep breath. “Ye’ll have to take over until they return.”

  He arched a brow. “Me?”

  “Do ye nay ken how to sail a birlinn?”

  “Of course. I’m a MacCray.”

  “So am I,” she countered. “If ye dinna want to take me out on the water, ye can teach me about navigating and the like. How do ye ken where ye are when ye’re out at sea? And where ye’re headed?”

  To her relief, his eyes brightened. “We use a contraption called a sextant; ’tis like an astrolabe, except…”

  Her intentionally puzzled frown evidently inspired him to stand and hold out his hand. “Beathan has an auld astrolabe in his study. I’ll show ye how we use it to navigate by the sun, or the moon and stars.”

  Seth had already taught her the rudiments of celesti
al navigation, but she saw no point in informing Finlay of that as she allowed him to lead her to the study. Let him continue to think she was a witless lass if it brought him out of his stupor.

  *

  Marshall never tired of watching dawn’s fledgling rays shimmer on rippling water. Even the morning’s weak sun made the waves sparkle as though the gods had cast diamonds upon the sea.

  His intuition that other vessels would appear in the waterway soon came to fruition when a cog flying a Danish flag sailed out of the Limfjorden.

  Standing at the prow, he cupped his hands to his mouth and hailed the captain. “Har du set en birlinn?” he shouted. “Fra Skotland?”

  His shouts brought the MacCrays hurrying to his side. “What did ye say?” Ethan asked.

  “If they’ve seen a Scottish birlinn,” Seth replied.

  Marshall chuckled inwardly. The supposedly slow brother had figured out what was obvious. What else would he have inquired about?

  “Ja. I Thisted,” came the reply.

  Marshall supposed Thisted was a town. “Hvor langt?”

  “He wants to ken how far Thisted is,” Seth explained to the frowning Ethan.

  “Fyrre ligaer,” the Danish captain yelled, pointing up the fjord. “Den vestlige bred.”

  Marshall had to be sure they were speaking of the same birlinn. “Kaptajn. Rødt hår?”

  The Dane’s bellowing laughter echoed across the water. “Ja. Rede af slanger.”

  Marshall waved a salute of thanks. “Tak skal du have.”

  “Weel?” Lachlan asked as the cog sailed past them into the open sea.

  “Seems our kin are in Thisted,” Marshall explained. “Forty leagues up the fjord, on the western shore. He remembers the redheaded captain with hair like a nest of snakes.”

  “Elgin,” Cooper hissed.

  “But what are they doing so far from where they’re supposed to be?” Ethan asked.

  Marshall shrugged, equally puzzled. “A navigation error,” was all he could think to say.

  Even Seth smirked at the notion.