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until she heard her phone ringing. Except it wasn’t her alarm. Pulling it free from her pocket, she saw it was the professor.
    “Professor Thompson,” she answered standing slowly, trying to work out the kinks in her back and legs.
    “Fiona, I received your message. Your report is complete, and I will forward any questions to the other team.”
    “Wh… what ?” stammered Fiona. “It’s notcomplete. I wanted to research additional information before my final report.”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    She wanted to scream at him. “Who is in charge of the other team?”
    “Josh Matthews. Now I must go. I have a meeting to attend.”
    She could hear him shuffling papers, leaving her speechless with the revelation that Josh had been given the lead on her project.
    “Oh, and Fiona…are you there?”
    “Yes, yes, I’m here,” she mumbled.
    “See me first thing in the morning. I will be in my office at eight.”
    She blinked. “About?”
    “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
    He hung up, and she held the phone out in front of her in disbelief. “This is why I don’t have any close friends. You bastard, Josh.”
    Tapping her foot in frustration, she formed a plan. “The report will be complete when I say it is.”
    She calmly walked over and grabbed her backpack, strolling slowly away. There was no need for the others, especially Rory, to see her fury.
    Oh no . She would save her fury for Josh and the professor.

Chapter Seven
    “Once upon a time, a Knight took chains and encased his heart within the steel forever sealing out any hope for love.”
    The clouds loomed dark in the distance, but Alastair had no fear. They would reach their destination by evening. Following the northern coastline, their vessel moved swiftly through the water with help from a light breeze.
    Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the grim looks on his men. Each had taken a beating from yesterday’s lesson in the lists, and it showed on their faces. Even his face bore the bruising left there by Ivar. They would all be happy with a few days of rest, drinking, and wenching.
    “Dunnyneill,” stated Gunnar, nodding toward the island.
    “Aye,” he muttered. It was not his first choice. In truth, Alastair despised the trading port. They specialized in slavery—something he was firmly against. He would barter for any goods, but not for a life.
    Jumping down, he motioned to Steiner. “Bring us around.”
    Steiner gave a quick nod to the others, and the men shifted their oars effortlessly—a smooth, steady motion.
    Alastair rubbed a hand across his face, watching as the coastline drew closer. Always alert, he scanned the coast and along the inland. Trouble was always brewing in these parts.
    He waved his hand outwards. “Take her to the northern end of the island.”
    Gunnar wandered nearby. “I see the Norman is here.”
    “Aye, I noticed. He can trade his weak brandy. We have far better to trade in whisky, rum, and mead.”
    “And wool,” snorted Gunnar.
    Alastair glanced sideways at him. “He does not want our wool. He barters for slaves.”
    Gunnar spat out into the sea, giving a disgusted look as they passed the Norman’s ship.
    Realizing Gunnar’s ancestors once kept slaves, Alastair was relieved his crew held contempt for those who bartered for them. It was one of the reasons he chose this group of men—that and their fighting ability.
    Slowing their pace, they drifted past larger ships anchored along the coast. They were fortunate their ship was small enough to travel up and along the entrance to the island. This would give them the advantage of offloading their goods on the dock. The other ships had to do so onto smaller vessels and then transport them to the island.
    Already the sounds of revelry echoed back to them. Teasing and taunting them. His men responded with raucous laughter and shouts.
    “Give me two women, and I’ll show you how to service them,” shouted Alrek.
    “Aye!” yelled the