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Liddy started forward, but was hauled back against Sigurd’s hard body.
‘Where do you think you are going?’ His deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She half-twisted. His closeness did strange things to her body. She frowned. Ever since she had watched the two tiny coffins being lowered into the ground, her body had had no feeling. Right now she had no time to go back to that indescribable pain. She swallowed hard and concentrated on the fortress.
‘To wait by the gate. To be first in the queue when they open for the assembly day. There are sure to be dozens of petitioners and I want to make sure mine is heard.’
‘We stay here a while yet.’ He draped his arm across her shoulders, preventing her from moving. Another warm pulse coursed through her. She screwed up her eyes and willed her lungs to fill with air. The trouble was that a small part of her wanted these pulses to continue.
Her gaze followed the line of his other arm. A group of Northmen rode up and demanded entrance. The gate swung open and another smaller group came out.
‘What are they doing?’
‘Searching. We wait until other islanders arrive. Then we will go forth as part of a crowd.’
‘Will they find us here?’ she asked.
Sigurd lifted a brow and exchanged a glance with Hring, who fingered his axe. ‘I’d prefer surprise, but we would be more than a match if they did discover us. A small patrol holds no fears for us.’
Liddy caught her bottom lip, something she always did when she was nervous. ‘Where should I hide?’
Sigurd settled down with his back against a tree. He patted the ground beside him. ‘Keep close and you will come to no harm.’
Liddy sat down with Coll between her and the Northman. The last thing she wanted, if she survived, was rumours that she had taken up with a Northman. She touched her birthmark. Not that any would be interested in her in any case. She had nothing to charm a man.
* * *
Sigurd woke with a numb arm. Some time in the night, her dog had moved to her other side and Lady Eilidith had moved closer. One hand was splayed against his chest. It felt right to hold her in his arms. He tried to remember when he’d last held a woman like this, just to sleep. Possibly Beyla all those years ago when he thought the world a very different place.
In the pale light, he watched her softly parted lips and the curve of her neck for another heartbeat. Something panged deep in his chest. He would do his best to protect her, but Eilidith was the bait. She was going to give him the excuse he needed to finally complete the first part of his vow and avenge his mother. First he did that and then he fulfilled the second part—regaining his father’s lands and becoming a great jaarl, rather than a half-breed good-for-nothing as Thorbin’s mother had proclaimed. If he lost sight of his goal, he lost everything.
He gently eased Eilidith away.
She blinked up at him, momentarily unfocused. Then recognition set in and she pulled away. Her dog gave a soft woof.
‘Time to begin, my lady,’ he said. ‘Are you ready? Shall we teach Thorbin a lesson?’
She nodded. ‘Coll and I are eager to play our parts, but Thorbin may listen to reason.’
He leant forward and adjusted the kerchief so that her flame-coloured hair was completely covered and less of a distraction.
‘You, yes, but your dog will stay with my men.’
She gave a hiccupping laugh. ‘Good luck with that. Coll will find a way to be with me. Your men won’t be able to hold him.’
‘They can and they will.’
A tiny frown appeared between her brows. ‘Why?’
‘Thorbin’s guards won’t let you anywhere near him with that dog. For my plan to succeed you must make your petition. You must be able to show Ketil’s ring to Thorbin yourself.’
The tension flowed from Eilidith’s face. ‘I knew Hring had it wrong. You would not have me play the whore.’
He stared at her astonished. She’d been worried about that? He captured her hand between his. Her fingers were long and narrow. The inside of her wrist was naked and vulnerable. Her eyes met his with a clear gaze. He realised he was staring. He hurriedly dropped her hand.
‘You are not the type,’ he said and knew from the flash of hurt in her eyes, his voice was a tad too harsh and he had put it badly. Her sensibilities shouldn’t bother him, but they did.
‘I never considered a whore for this,’ he said, trying again. ‘Thorbin knows how faithless women can be. You are perfect for what I need.’
Her hand grabbed on to Coll’s fur. Silently he willed her to see the sense. Making her a present to Thorbin would be something Thorbin would expect and would have planned for. His half-brother was thorough in that regard. They needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. Thorbin had to have no inkling until Sigurd sprang the trap.
‘If Coll senses I am in danger, he will find a way to get to me, but he can stay here.’
The air went out of Sigurd’s lungs and his neck eased. Eilidith was truly a gift. There was no pouting or demands that he list her undoubted charms as most of the women he’d dealt with would have done—instead, she turned her mind to the next problem. An attractive woman who was sensible—he couldn’t ask for more.
‘Hring will take care of him for you. I will inform him how to keep Coll under control.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Now we need to move.’
She remained where she was.
‘Do you think we will emerge alive?’
He reached out and cupped her cheek. Her soft skin trembled beneath his fingers. ‘Thorbin failed to kill me once. He won’t succeed this time. Trust me to get this right.’
Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. ‘What are we going to do? Tell me now or I will go straight to the gate and proclaim that Ketil’s men are here.’
With great reluctance he let her go. Soon, he promised his body, he would taste her lips, but he needed her courage first.
‘Warriors are allowed to challenge for the leadership,’ he said, forcing his mind to work, ‘if, and only if, they are in the assembly. A decree from King Harald Finehair in order to stop disputes. Thorbin seeks to prevent anyone from Ketil’s felag from reaching the assembly. That is where you come in, you are going to get me into the assembly today.’
Sigurd hunched down and outlined his plan, concentrating on the important aspects of it, rather than thinking about how her lips might taste or how her hair slowly turned a glossy red in the rising sun. Such considerations had no place in the here and now. He had to focus on his task as he had a thousand times before. Focus kept him alive.
Eilidith was useful to him as a reason to challenge something Thorbin could not duck or forestall on—that was all. He knew what was important in his life and where his future lay. It had nothing to do with a flame-haired woman and her overgrown wolfhound.
* * *
The gates finally swung open mid-morning after much grumbling in the growing throng that they normally opened at dawn as they had done on previous days. The crowd began to shuffle with much jostling and shoving to get a good position.
Against her natural instincts, Liddy obeyed Sigurd’s instructions and waited. According to him, they wanted to be in the centre of the stream of people going in. They were less likely to be questioned, more likely to make it to the great hall where Thorbin would hear the petitions. Her stomach had twisted itself into knots. The last thing she wanted was to be questioned about who her companion was. Her ability to lie was laughable.
She put her hand out to pat Coll and encountered empty air. She curled her fingers into her palm and wished Coll was there, but he was back being fed dried meat by Hring and she was here with Sigurd, trusting that her curse would not ruin everything.
The queue moved forward and then stopped abruptly. Sigurd changed his gait as they inched forward. To her sidewise glances, he appeared much more flat footed and slow, rather than possessing the arrogant swagger of a Northman warrior.
A large warrior jostled a fishmonger’s wife and she told him what to do in no uncertain terms in Gaelic. All banter ceased. The man stared at her while other people nudged each other. When she finished her tirade, she said very loudly in Norse that she wanted to go in to sell her fish, the freshest in the land. He nodded and waved her on.
‘Most Northmen don’t know the Gaelic language,’ Liddy whispered. ‘They taunt him. It is what passes for sport in this country these days.’
‘They should be careful. Not everyone from the North is ignorant or tolerant.’ Sigurd watched the warrior who was inspecting the woman’s basket of fresh fish with a dubious expression. ‘Gorm used to be well thought of. Slow to anger, but when he does, watch out. His double-axe skill is legendary.’
‘Is that his name? Gorm?’
‘Yes, that is his name—Gorm the Two-Axed. We served together briefly a few years ago against Ketil’s great rival, Ivar the Boneless, and his band of dark Northmen, the men from the Black Pool, or Dubh Linn as you Gaels call it.’ Sigurd pulled his hood more firmly over his face and leant on his stick more, giving the impression that he was old and feeble. ‘He fights with two axes and no shield. I saw him clear an entire ship of Gaels on his own and emerge with only a slight cut on one arm.’
A shiver went down Liddy’s spine. The people were playing with fire. All it would take was for someone to point out what was being said. ‘Is he still...a great warrior? He seems to be running to fat.’
Sigurd was quiet for a long heartbeat. ‘He broke his leg in a fight after a feast more than two years ago. See how he still walks with a limp. I’d prefer him not to be against us should it come to a full-on fight.’
Her heart thudded. If he knew Gorm, then Gorm would know him. Any hope of surprise would go. Her mouth tasted like ash. And she would be condemned as an accomplice. Any hope of rescuing her father and brother would be lost. She stared up at the clouds. There were too many people behind them to run. She kept trying to remember the sound of her seanmhair’s voice as she declared that Liddy would do great things, rather than thinking about Brandon’s scorn.
‘Gorm will recognise your voice.’ She kept hers to barely above a whisper.
Sigurd nodded. ‘It is why you must speak if he acknowledges us.’
She risked a glance at him. He had straightened up a little and was surveying the crowd. ‘No one will ever take you for a servant. Stoop and keep your eyes on the ground.’
His breath fanned her ear. ‘Your lover, then.’
Something warm curled about her stomach. Lover? She was finished with such things. She’d been no good at bed sport with Brandon and Sigurd had made it very clear that she was undesirable—not meant for the jaarl’s bed. ‘A servant will provoke less comment.’
He raised a brow. ‘Say what you will, but make it convincing.’
‘Why did you choose me?’ she asked as they moved ever closer to Gorm’s inspection.
‘I knew I needed a distraction. Luckily the fates sent you along. Thorbin has even given up hunting wild boar, something I never thought I’d see him to do. He used to live for the chase.’
Gorm was five people away and demanding the cart be searched. The farmer instantly complied. The hay and straw was stabbed repeatedly with swords from all sides.
‘I can see why you didn’t try smuggling yourself in a load of hay.’
‘I saw this happen to three carts on my first day of spying,’ he said. ‘Until then I had favoured that idea.’
Gorm started towards them, waving his hand and signalling to another guard that he wanted to deal with them. Liddy forgot how to breathe.
‘Whatever you do, act naturally,’ Sigurd said in a low voice. ‘You look like a doe who has just heard the hunter’s tread.’
‘Turn towards me, pretend we are in close conversation,’ she retorted. ‘It won’t be so bad then. I can’t see him.’
He took a step nearer. He was nearly touching her. His breath fanned her cheek again. ‘I still think my idea of lovers was a good one.’
Liddy wriggled to make some more space. Lies dripped from his lips as easily as honey dripped from the comb during the September harvest, the same as they had dripped from Brandon’s when he’d courted her. In her mind she listed the reasons Brandon’s mistress had given her for why she was undesirable to men, starting with her birthmark. Her breathing eased. ‘You should have told me about this possibility before I agreed to help you.’
‘I discovered too many people knowing my business leads to disaster. Has the danger gone?’
Liddy raised up on her tiptoes and peered around Sigurd’s bulk. ‘Yes, he wanted the farmer’s lad to help him unload the cart. He wasn’t signalling about us after all. I panicked.’
‘Keep on the side closest to Gorm. I’m depending on you, Eilidith, and your dazzling smile.’
‘My smile never dazzled anyone.’
‘We are going to have to do something about your persistent lying.’
Liddy shook her head, smiling a little at his foolish words. She knew what they were designed for. It had been a long time since anyone depended on her. Mostly they looked with horror at her, the woman who had caused her children’s deaths, and tried to forget she existed.
Sigurd walked at her side, leaning on his staff as if he had trouble standing straight.
‘Keep your head bent and your mouth shut,’ she whispered as they neared the gate. ‘Someone else has joined your friend Gorm. They seem to be looking for someone. They are unloading the sacks of grain for a second time.’
‘Thorbin always had a paranoid streak. Who would hide in a sack of grain?’
The guards finished with the grain and motioned her and Sigurd forward. His hand squeezed hers. ‘For luck.’
She drew back, knowing that her cheeks flamed. One simple touch and the ice she’d been encased in ever since Keita had given a terrifying gurgling sound and stopped breathing vanished. It was as if all the vile things Brandon had said to her and about her meant nothing. This man had touched her voluntarily. No, not voluntarily—to distract her from what was to come.
She withdrew her hand rapidly. ‘No more of that.’
A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth. ‘If you say so, I was merely trying to play a part.’
‘We agreed on another part,’ she said between gritted teeth.
‘What is going on here? Why do you come to this fort?’ a booming Northern voice asked.
Liddy jumped and then slowly turned towards the warrior. ‘I come seeking my father and brother.’
The warrior’s brows drew together. Liddy tried not to think about the axe which hung from his belt. ‘And your father is?’
‘Gilbreath mac Fergusa. Chief of Cennell Fergusa.’
‘You speak the North language. Good. It is good to see the women make an effort.’ He gave a coarse laugh.
‘Enough to get by.’ Liddy wriggled to keep her gown from sticking to her back. Now she had started, the words flowed more easily.
‘Your companion? Why is he here? Why does he allow a woman to speak for him?’
She kept her gaze on the warrior, refusing to look at Sigurd. ‘My servant has lost his wits and his tongue. They say a witch cursed him last New Year. A woman like me would hardly walk across Islay on her own.’
‘The North’s peace runs here. Women are safe.’
Liddy remembered the sacred grove and knew he lied. She lowered her voice. ‘Outlaws. My mother worries about outlaws. But I believe that despite his lost tongue, my servant could use his staff if any outlaws approached us in the woods.’
Sigurd made some mumbling sounds and seemed to shrink deeper into his cloak.
‘It is fine, Colum,’ she said. ‘The warrior simply wanted to know about your ailment. I don’t believe the witch’s curse will pass to the next unworthy soul.’
Sigurd reached a trembling hand out as if to paw the large Northman.
Gorm drew back. ‘You may take your suit to the council, but keep your servant under control. You are in luck. Today is the day Lord Thorbin hears such things.’
‘Hopefully he will see the justness of my cause.’
