He smiled at the image. “Well, if you are my mother and not an angry angel here to strike me dead, I must say I’m pleased to know I have a higher purpose than land-loving, clan-clashing, and wench-watching.”
The ethereal image smiled.
“Time is precious, and life can be short. You, my son, can leave a better legacy than your father.”
Ethan sobered. His father had been gone a few months. Ethan realized the power Nicholas had over him. He’d been his puppet on strings.
“Aye, Ethan, you can be selfless instead of selfish.” She paused and looked behind her as if startled. “Others are coming. I must be quick.” She wrung her hands. “Help the girl, the one with the black hair. She has a gift and a purpose. Do what you can for her.”
A loud bang sounded behind Ethan just then. He jerked around to find an old couple walking into the nave. When he swung back around, his mother was gone.
Ethan sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to let his mother’s words take hold.
Clearly she was speaking of Ursula. Be selfless? That wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter 10
As the bell finished its eighth ring, Ursula opened her eyes. Where was she?
The first thing she spotted was the fire in the hearth beyond her feet. It still glowed with embers stoked hours ago.
A cheery room greeted her as she sat up in bed. The cozy tavern? Aye. Last night she’d collapsed into bed after a generous supper of lamb stew and ale.
When her mind cleared even more, she glanced at the spot beside her. Ethan?
Nay, she’d slept alone.
Eight bells? Wait. The Merry Maiden was due to leave port at eight.
Ursula flung off the plaid covers and made a direct line to her satchel by the hearth.
“Holy Mother of God!”
“Och! Diabhal!” Ursula went down fast and hard.
When strong arms grabbed her around the middle, she couldn’t breathe. Either from his squeezing or having the wind knock out of her in the fall.
Ethan chuckled into her neck, but she bit his ear in return.
“You are feisty in the morning,” he said, smacking her arse. He turned his head and started to kiss her.
Maybe it was her anger that set her breathing back in motion, but it came back as quickly as it left, and just in time for her to bite his lip, breaking his hold.
Ursula scrambled to her feet. “Get up,” she shrieked, and before she realized how inconsiderate that was, Ethan was on his feet, too, swearing loudly.
At least she hadn’t screamed like she had yesterday. The last thing she wanted was the tavern owner at her door again.
“God’s teeth, woman,” he spewed, looking at her incredulously. “I shall leave you here and retrieve the faerie items myself if this is how I’ll be greeted upon waking,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Ursula sucked in a breath. Ethan was naked.
“If this is how I shall be treated upon waking, then I shall leave you here and retrieve the faerie items myself,” she mimicked, tamping down a snicker and eyeing him.
It took him a moment to realize what was up. Then he shrugged and met her gaze with a devilish grin. And with quick movements, he yanked the blanket off the bed to cover himself and his reaction.
The potion is still working.
He cleared his throat. “Some privacy.”
Ursula spun around to face away. “So modest,” she declared, but she appreciated the courtesy. Without the potion, she might have had to fight him off to protect herself.
Thankfully, Ethan had been a gentleman last night, or at least she had no memory otherwise.
He’d sacrificed his own comfort for hers?
A few minutes passed while she waited, until she remembered why she should not be waiting so patiently. “The boat,” she shrieked. “We missed it.”
Expecting a panicked reaction from Ethan, she was surprised he chuckled instead.
“No alarm necessary,” he said. “You can turn around now.”
When she complied, she found him looking dapper in his traveling clothes and cape, sword secured in its scabbard at his waist.
“Och! We have missed the Merry Maiden’s sailing. The bells tolled eight.”
“No, the ship sails at ten. If you’d followed me to the harbor rather than dining in the tavern, you’d have found out about the delay.”
While her mouth remained agape, he filled the silence. “You are welcome.” Then he bowed. “I shall meet you at the stables shortly.”
And without another word, he was gone.
She shook her head in disbelief. Damn, her concoction was working wonders.
So instead of needing to make another batch of it, Ursula set about tiding up the room before she thanked the tavern owner.
When she met Ethan by the stables, he had her palfrey ready and even offered a boost into her saddle.
She agreed in spite of herself, and in no time, they were riding their horses through the cobblestone streets of Petershead.
Ursula had spent time in portside villages before, but this one was more charming than most, with cheery, modest-sized thatched roof cottages and window boxes filled with bright flowers. The dew on the patches of green between homesteads looked like rows of glistening emeralds.
After Ursula and Ethan reached the hilltop at the village’s center, she had a good view of the port. Flat, clear blue water stretched as far as she could see. Her heart skipped a beat for a moment, though, when she thought the harbor was empty, until she finally spotted the Merry Maiden.
A three-masted ship with lateen sails floated on the eastern edge of the calm waters. Even from this distance, she could spot the riggers tightening ropes and the boat testing its anchor.
Ethan said they had plenty of time, but she was anxious to board. She’d been fidgety in her saddle most of the ride, Ursula was pleased they’d made their way efficiently down the winding path, and once at the wharf, they handed their horses over to the crew. In no time, Ursula was on deck talking with the captain.
“Yer to be bunking in my cabin,” Rosalyn’s uncle said after introductions were made. “It be above board rather than below.”
Ursula gave Captain Quinn a concerned glare.
“Without me in it, lass,” he amended.
Ursula curtsied. She often traveled in the company of men, but as long as there were boundaries, she rarely worried about the accommodations.
“’Tis good for a captain to sleep with his mates from time to time,” Quinn admitted, then made a grand gesture, sweeping his arm across the deck before them. “My Merry Maiden is a fine gal, and she’s not had any lady friends to visit. I’m sure if she could talk, she’d insist you have my cabin.”
“I cannae turn down your offer,” Ursula said with another curtsy. “’Twould be disrespectful of me.”
“Good, ’tis settled,” Quinn said. Then he grinned. For a moment, his smile blinded Ursula, the sun’s rays gleaming off his front gold teeth until he spoke again.
“Best you take your meals in yer cabin as well. The talk amongst the men will nae be for a lady’s ears.”
“No reason to sidestep around me, captain. I do nae want to feel like a prisoner.” But when he frowned, she added, “I mean no disrespect.”
“See for ye self, lass,” Quinn said. “And ye will fend for ye self, too. The men get to grabbing.”
When her eyes opened wide, he added, “For the food.”
Ursula laughed.
“Captain! Captain! We have a request for permission to come aboard. Chap says he needs a passage to Inverness.”
Quinn strode to the starboard side and peered over, no doubt getting a good look at the chap. After the newcomer apparently passed inspection, Quinn waved him aboard.
<
br /> More like a giant, the new passenger strode across the deck. He moved with a bit of a limp, but that did not diminish his grandeur. When he reached the group, the voyager stopped across from Ursula. With his massive hands at his waist, the man reminded her of one of the sturdy masts rising behind him.
Unmistakably a Highlander, sporting a gold-and-black tartan kilt and sporran. The massive black bear fur covered a beaten mustard-colored leather vest, but it was the face of a warrior that told his story. His highbrow, chiseled jaw, dark-hazel eyes, and burnished red hair to his shoulders made him appear as wild as she imagined he’d be.
“Alasdair,” he offered. “Alasdair MacLeod.”
“MacLeod of Dunvegan?” Rosalyn’s uncle asked as Ursula swallowed hard, remembering the Highlander.
She blushed and curtsied.
Alasdair bowed but kept looking at her, sporting a wry grin.
She welcomed an immediate distraction from the crew as they dragged the gangplank aboard and weighed anchor. She imagined once they were underway, the men would want her off the deck.
Ursula blushed after she realized she and Alasdair were still staring at each other while the captain began his story of the ship’s history.
“She’s as nimble to steer as a warhorse. Built for cruising close to the shore and close to the wind. My Merry Maiden can outrun any square-rigger,” Quinn boasted like a proud father. He grinned as he swept his arm above his head in a flourish. “She’s Portuguese, but that does nae bother an old Scotsman like me.”
Ursula twittered while the giant studied her even more. Glancing his way periodically under her lashes, she was surprised by the boldness of his ogling. She should have been appalled, but it thrilled her instead.
Nay, having Alasdair MacLeod aboard was a fortunate coincidence, although Ursula never believed in coincidences. Ethan had said the Faery Flag had been given to a MacLeod, the fourth laird of Dunvegan. Alasdair was a decedent. No doubt he could speak on the matter.
When they’d met at Fyvie just three days ago, their time spent together was much like this, bowing and curtsying. After Ethan had rudely abandoned Ursula, Lachlan had rescued her. But he’d whisked the Highlander off to a secret meeting. It would have been odd for her to ask Lachlan about the Highlander, so she hadn’t.
Fortune smiled on her now. Alasdair MacLeod could be the key to getting everything she needed on Skye Isle. Now, if only she could convince him to help her.
“What is a lass like you doing aboard a ship full of cussing sailors bearing for the Highlands?” Alasdair asked.
The question startled Ursula out of her musing. She found him standing beside her.
Ursula remained silent as she struggled to come up with a plausible answer for the provocative Scotsman.
“Reuniting with my family in Kyle of Lochalsh,” Ethan interjected.
“Yer family and mine would be near neighbors,” Alasdair said. He studied Ethan. “You do nae look like a MacKenzie, but you do look familiar.” He sounded suspicious as he eyed Ethan up and down.
Ursula cut Ethan off before he could answer. “You may remember us from Fyvie Castle where you delivered a missive to Ethan’s brother. We are newly married, and ’tis my family we be visiting, Clan Fraser.”
Alasdair’s face brightened, and he flashed her a dazzling smile. “Well now, lass, that be a might better, for there’s been much fighting over the tidal home of the MacKenzies. ’Twould be a bit dangerous for a lass to visit Eilean Donan Castle until the ownership is settled.” Then he paused and shifted his weight. “’Tis at least how ’twas when I passed through Kyle of Lochalsh on my way to Inverlochy a fortnight ago.”
Ethan moved to Ursula’s side and placed a possessive arm around her waist. “She willnae be in danger, sir. I protect what is mine.”
Ursula raised a brow at Ethan’s attempt to sound Scottish. God help him. But at the same time, she realized the implications of her actions. Although Ethan was still under her potion’s influence, he might consider taking liberties as they posed as husband and wife. Even though he’d left her alone last night, the morning tussle on the floor left her uncertain.
Now she regretted resorting to the same excuse Ethan had used with the tavern owner. Perhaps the clan leader would assume their marriage was one of title convenience like most. She wished instead she’d told the Highlander she was Ethan’s sister.
Rosalyn’s uncle broke the awkward silence. “’Tis customary on my ship to toast to the voyage. To my cabin.” He pointed to the back of the ship and a set of stairs leading to the upper deck beyond the masts.
Ursula slid out from under Ethan’s arm as he turned toward the stern of the boat. While he and the others followed the captain, Alasdair stood transfixed in his spot as did Ursula.
The Highlander took her hand, then bowed low. “Are you in need of assistance, mi lady?”
She swallowed her gasp. The first words he’d said to me on the parapet at Fyvie. Her stomach did a flip-flop.
“Ursula!”
Ethan’s shrill yell broke whatever spell had been cast, and the Highlander released her hand. With an apologetic grin, Ursula curtsied one more time, then rushed to catch up with Ethan.
When she reached the captain’s quarters, she glanced back, expecting Alasdair to have followed, but he was nowhere to be seen. The main deck was empty. She shrugged, perhaps he’d seen this all before.
Quinn led them into the well-appointed cabin. Never having set foot in a captain’s quarters before, Ursula was intrigued by the maps and navigational instruments on the massive table in the center. Curious, she walked over to examine the navigational tools and was dazzled by the inked markings on the map outlining the northern coast.
While the men gathered by the bar and poured generous servings of amber liquid into weighty pewter mugs, Ursula studied the arrow markings. She assumed they represented either wind patterns or ocean currents.
Glancing briefly at Ethan when he called her name, Ursula waved off the offer of a morning ale. Instead, she went back to studying the parchment before her, intrigued by a map of her homeland.
Tracing a finger along the northern coast, Ursula drew along the path of the shore to the village of Inverness. Fascinated by the distance they would cover in half the time than by horse, Ursula decided Alasdair would likely be traveling with them all the way through to Inverlochy. She immediately hatched a plan.
Chapter 11
The moon shone brightly on the placid ocean water as the Merry Maiden snuck through the darkness and cut through the waves like a silent thief. A gentle rocking motion and a soft breeze made Ethan’s eyelids heavy. He was ready for sleep.
But Ursula had shut him out of the cabin with threats of dismembering his manhood. She had made it clear he wouldn’t be sharing the captain’s quarters with her. So he’d slammed the door and descended a short flight of stairs to the wardroom.
Quinn did not appear a bit surprised when Ethan joined him. Some of the crew had gathered in the cramped quarters, too. They sat drinking and laughing at tables made from storage barrels.
“Marriage troubles?”
Ethan grunted.
The captain doubled over with laughter, and when he regained his composure, Quinn recruited a young lad to bring a tray of tankards to the table.
Ethan took one for himself and opened its lid. The boy filled it to the brim.
After a few long swigs of the ale, Ethan’s anger diminished, and he relaxed a bit.
“She’s a witch, you know.”
Quinn cocked his head to one side. “She does nae look like a witch.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Does she turn into a hag after the sun goes down?” Quinn asked. “Is that why you are here with me rather than in her bed?”
It was Ethan’s turn to la
ugh.
“Hag, no. Nag, yes,” Ethan told the captain after he’d caught his breath.
Quinn slapped his leg. “All women are nags, Ethan. That’s why I’m married to the Merry Maiden here. We coexist peacefully in our ocean home. I tell her what to do, and she does nae talk back.”
Quinn was an amiable man. Ethan admired that kind of logic. “Well, you are lucky to have such a lovely lady in your life,” Ethan said. “Have you two been together long?”
“We met about five years ago when a Portuguese captain was down on his luck,” Quinn said. “He’d sailed her into Aberdeen’s port with just a two-man crew.”
Quinn shrugged his shoulders. “How they managed the fourteen sails, I do nae know.” He took a long swig of his ale, then leaned forward so only Ethan could hear.
“But I happened to be on the pier when he threw anchor, and I helped ease her into the wharf,” Quinn said. “Once the gangplank was in place, the captain raced down the wooden ramp and kissed the ground. The two crew members scurried down moments after.”
Quinn stopped, and after a quick glance around the table, he leaned in even farther.
“The two crewmen took to running,” Quinn said. “Their legs pumping as fast as they could, they flew from the wharf as if something . . . or someone was chasing them.”
As Quinn took another swig of ale, Ethan wondered whether the captain was spinning a yarn to take his mind off of Ursula or confiding in him about female troubles of his own. The captain’s words drew Ethan in.
When Quinn looked around the table again, Ethan leaned closer.
“A strange sight to be seen I tell you,” Quinn said. “I helped the captain up, who was as white as a ghost, and I offered my assistance.
“With eyes full of fear, he told me he needed a buyer for his ship immediately.
“Well, Big Douglas had just died, and I was helping Rosalyn and her mother with the wool trade. A new ship seemed like a good idea, until he told me a woman came with it.”
The Secret of Skye Isle Page 7