Duncan was wearing the clothes of a well-known gossip who had died a few weeks earlier and who, fortunately, had been enormous. Duncan and Alex had drawn straws for the privilege.
“Any man that touches me will find himself on his arse,” Duncan said with a sour look.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I think ye will be safe from untoward advances,” Ian said. “But just in case, I hope ye have a dirk hidden beneath your skirts.”
“Hmmph.” Duncan snorted and glared at the castle.
Alex put on one of the masks Tearlag had fashioned from scrap cloth to cover Connor’s and Alex’s bruised faces. “I hate to hide my pretty face, when all the lasses of the clan will be at the gathering.”
Connor was lying in the bottom of the boat, fast asleep. Even though Ian had carried him most of the way, the trip down to the boat from the cottage had sapped what little strength he had.
“Best get him up now,” Ian said.
Duncan and Alex helped Connor sit up, and Sileas put on his mask for him.
Ian didn’t need to hide his own identity, since people would expect him to be at the gathering. All the same, he kept his cap low over his eyes as he guided the boat up to the castle’s sea entrance. Earlier, there would have been a line of boats waiting, but the afternoon light was gone, and evening had settled in. The torches inside the sea gate shone on the boat ahead of them, the only other latecomer.
Ilysa had returned to the castle earlier by the road, since it might raise alarms if she was missing when it was time to set out the food for the gathering.
The water sloshed between the boat and the sea steps as one of the guards grabbed the coiled rope from the front of their boat and tied it to an iron peg. This was the most dangerous moment. Ian was prepared to reach for his claymore and cut the guards down if he had to.
The other guard was a small wiry fellow, who gamely offered his hand to Duncan. “Big lass, aren’t ye now?”
Duncan looked as if he was going to squeeze the life out of the guard rather than take his hand. Ach, this was going to be trouble. Ian tensed as the guard turned his head, letting his gaze rove over each of them in turn. When his eyes met Ian’s, his face broke into a wide grin that showed several missing teeth.
“It’s me, Tait,” the man said in a low voice. “Ilysa sent me down to help at the sea gate.”
In the light from the torches behind the guard, Ian could just make out the features of Tait, the man who hated Hugh for violating his sister.
“I can handle this last boat and lock the sea gate,” Tait called to the other guard. “Ye don’t want to miss the bonfire, now do ye?”
This time when Tait offered his hand, Duncan took it. The boat dipped as Duncan stepped on the side of the boat then rose again when he stepped off.
“Glad to see ye here, lads,” Tait said as soon as the other guard disappeared up the stairs. “That damned Hugh Dubh has been parading around the castle all day like a damned rooster.”
Tait climbed into the boat to help him with Connor. As they half-carried Connor between them, Ian looked over his shoulder to see Sileas helping Alex.
“By now, everyone will be outside in the yard for the bonfire,” Tait said.
Ian looked up the long flight of steps, lit by torches that lined the walls on either side. Unfortunately, they would have to go up through the keep to get to the bailey yard. All that was on the dank sea level of the castle was the dungeon—a place Ian hoped they wouldn’t see the inside of tonight.
Alex went first, managing well enough on his own. Duncan was next, dragging his leg, with Sileas hovering beside him.
“I think I can go up myself,” Connor said in a tight voice, but a groan escaped him as Ian and Tait helped him up the first step.
“Save your strength,” Ian said. “You’ll be needing it soon.”
“Word is that Hugh has his men watching for ye, Ian,” Tait said, as they inched their way up the steps behind the others.
It was taking an eternity to get the men up the damned stairs.
“He’s heard that some of the men intend to put your name forward to be chieftain, now that they think Connor is dead—even though ye aren’t of the chieftain’s blood,” Tait said.
“Why do ye suppose I went to such trouble to get Connor here tonight?” Ian joked.
Connor stopped where he was and turned. “Maybe ye should take it, Ian. I’m in no shape to lead the clan.”
“No, ye will not be giving me the miserable task of leading this stubborn rabble,” Ian said, pulling Connor up the next step. “You’re the right man for it. The only one.”
The Samhain bonfire raged in the middle of the castle’s bailey yard, just as it had every year of Sileas’s life. It seemed odd, when so much else had changed.
No one gave them a second look as they merged into the shadows at the back of the circle gathered around the fire. Many in the crowd wore garish costumes or carried lanterns made of hollowed-out turnips with carved faces to ward off evil spirits.
A few women were throwing bones or roasting nuts to divine whom they would marry, for Samhain was a time for divination. Many a lass told her young man aye or nay following Samhain, depending on what the signs revealed this night.
The children were enjoying themselves as they usually did, but Sileas sensed the tension behind the adults’ revelry. Hugh had made it known he would call on every man to make a pledge of loyalty to him before the night was over.
