“I didn’t bring anything of value with me when I left Canna. I have my knives from Ruairí’s chest. Several of them have jewel-encrusted handles.”
“Did he give those to you? Would you add thievery to your list of wrongdoings?” Caragh lifted something from around her neck. “Rowan has let me choose various pieces of jewelry from the chests he has kept. This one should bring you a fair amount if you can find a jeweler in a decent-sized town. Otherwise, use these rings.”
Caragh pulled off two rings from her right hand and handed the three pieces of jewelry to Senga.
“You’re getting too close to that village, my ladies,” Skinny called out. “Someone may see us.”
Skinny had given them privacy to talk, so there was quite a distance between the cousins and the pirate. Both women pretended not to hear him as they continued to wander and gather plants.
“We have to distract him long enough for me to slip away.”
“You have to distract him. I’m complicit, but I’m not doing any more to aid in this insane plan of yours.”
“Skinny?” Senga called to him. When he approached, she pointed to several trees near a deer path they could see. “Do you see the tree to the far right? I believe it’s an alder tree. Could you help us by carving some bark from it? The trunk is hard, making it a difficult task.”
Skinny looked between the two women and nodded his head. Caragh handed him a small sack from her basket. They waited until Skinny was within the tree line before Senga gave Caragh a tight squeeze and darted in the village's direction.
Ruairí could feel his temper rising with each splash of the oars. He saw Rowan wave as they approached his cousin’s boat. “Where’s Senga?”
“Good morning to you, too, Ruairí. She and Caragh went ashore with Skinny to collect medicinals. Caragh realized it was a good idea to have a stock on hand, and I guess Senga needed to replenish her supplies.”
“You let them go ashore with only one man? Do you not remember where we are?” Ruairí wanted to scream. They anchored off the coast of Inverkip, at what appeared to be a sleepy coastal village, but both Ruairí and Rowan knew it was a smuggling stronghold. One where they weren’t welcome. Both had raised their white sails and the banners that showed they sailed under the marque of the Earl of Argyll for the express purposes of disguise. “I assume Caragh doesn’t know where we are. I know Senga doesn’t. What if they meet someone and mention who they’re with?”
“I think both women know not to admit they sail with the MacNeil cousins.”
“You think, but you don’t know. Bluidy hell, Rowan. If anything happens to Senga, I won’t forgive you.”
“I’m coming down.”
Senga looked back twice to be sure Skinny wasn’t following her. The woods still hid him, and Caragh appeared to be looking at the ground for plants. Senga’s legs burned, but she pushed herself until she reached the village outskirts, where she slowed to catch her breath. She looked around and spotted the tavern. She wouldn’t go there immediately, but she knew she might have to if she could find no other sources of aid. As she approached the town square, she realized it was market day. She casually wound her way through the stalls until she found a jeweler who looked to know his trade and had items of similar value to what she carried.
“Good day,” she spoke in low tones to hide her Hebridean accent. She must not have hidden it well enough, because the man’s face took on a skeptical appearance.
“Good morning, lass. Is there something you’re looking for?”
“Not exactly. I was hoping to make a trade.”
“Trade or sale?” The man ran an assessing gaze over her.
“Sale. My husband passed, and now I’m in need of funds.” Both statements were true, even if she made them sound connected.
“Let’s see what you have.” Senga laid one ring on the stall. The man peered at it from various angles. “How did you come by such a fine piece? It looks French.”
“It is.” Senga prayed he wasn’t testing her. “My husband traded there and brought it back.” That was near the truth.
“I’ll give you twenty shillings.”
Senga smiled warmly, “Then you’ll give it back, and I’ll move on. Thirty shillings.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Done.” Senga covered the ring with her hand until she received a pouch of coins. She discreetly tied the pouch to the laces of her skirt before hiding it within the folds of her arisaid. She’d been torn between which plaid to wear. Senga couldn’t bring herself to leave the MacNeil plaid behind. She found she wasn’t sentimental about her MacLeod or Sorley plaid, but she couldn’t walk away without something from Ruairí. Senga moved on to several more stalls where she bought food and a wine skin. She kept an eye open for any merchant who seemed to be preparing to leave. Senga found an older couple who struggled to load their donkey cart. She walked over and helped without being asked.
“Lass, you’re a kind one,” the old woman offered her a gummy smile.
“It’s my pleasure,” Senga smiled back
“Would you like to pick something from our wares?” the old man asked. The man tempted Senga since the couple sold woolens, but she would rather they allow her to travel with them than consider stockings.
“I’m not in need of anything, but I appreciate your offer.” She pretended to look at their crates. “From where do you hail? Where do you go next?”
The woman seemed happy to find someone to talk to when her husband only grunted at Senga. “Auchenbothie is our next market.”
Senga hadn’t a clue which direction the town lay, but she hoped it wasn’t taking them closer to Glasgow. “Is that a busy market?”
“Nay. We came to the coast from Glasgow, but now head east and our home.”
East. That is the wrong direction. But Auchenbothie may be inland. If that’s the case, Rowan and Ruairí won’t be near the village.
“Do you not stay along the coast?”
“Nay. We’ve already traded there and will go inland to make our way home sooner. Where do you go, lass?”
Senga racked her mind for any place she’d heard of near Glasgow that wasn’t the city itself. She remembered a man who came to the Three Merry Lads who claimed to know the Earl of Argyll because he hailed from the village of Kilmacolm.
“Kilmacolm.”
“Near to where we travel,” the old woman responded.
“Aye. Perhaps I could be of help to you, since we travel in the same direction.”
The husband chimed in at her offer of help. “That would be a fine thing, lass. We shall ride while you manage the donkey.”
Senga helped the couple onto the cart and landed the switch across the donkey’s rump. It brayed but moved forward. Senga didn’t look back as she led the cart to the path that headed away from the coast. She couldn’t bring herself to take one last glance, but it also meant she didn’t see the men following her and the old couple.
Chapter Fifteen
Ruairí tried to keep his knee still as his anxiousness grew with each sweep of the oars. The same sense that screamed for him to follow Senga to her cottage surged through him now. He had a sickening feeling that Senga was in danger, and he didn’t know where she was. Ruairí and Rowan spotted Caragh and Skinny as they stood in the field arguing. Ruairí took off running but had to hold his side as he pushed himself. Rowan could have outpaced him, but Ruairí knew his cousin hung back for his sake.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Caragh looked at her husband and cousin-by-marriage, but she refused to look them in the eye.
“Wife, you’d better answer now if you don’t want to find yourself over my lap with a switch across your arse in plain sight.”
A flash of defiance crossed Caragh’s face as she looked at Rowan, but the distress on Ruairí’s face made her relent. “She’s gone, Ruairí.”
He stood staring at the woman who looked so much like the one he loved and wanted to throttle. “What do you mean ‘gone�
��?”
“She left. She’s convinced she must uphold some pledge she made to God when you were ill. She promised to let you go if you survived. Senga believes she’s cursed since the men in her life always die. She thinks she’s protecting you, Ruairí. Senga loves you.”
“Loves me? Loves me? If she did, she wouldn’t run away.” Ruairí felt his world crumble around him. He swayed on his feet, and Rowan was quick to hold him up.
“Ruairí, I don’t think you understand the depth of her love.” Caragh’s hoped her soft tone would calm the bereft pirate. “She’s willing to live a life of hardship alone to give you the chance to live. You know she has nowhere to go and no one to help her. Wherever she settles, she’ll have to make a life on her own, with no help from friends or family. At least when Alex died she already had a home on Canna.”
“She could have a home with me,” Ruairí croaked. He felt anger and bitterness creeping back into his soul. It had left him for the short time Senga had been part of his life. Now that she was gone, the void caused by her absence was rapidly being filled with the familiar feelings that had driven him since he ran away from home.
“Ruairí, you left everything you knew and loved to protect me,” Rowan said. “Do you not see the similarities?”
“No,” Ruairí barked. “It’s not at all the same.”
“But it is. I love you like my own brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you or to repay you for the sacrifices you made to keep me alive. She’s willing to do the same. Misguided as she is, she’s doing it because she loves you.” Rowan attempted to reason with his cousin.
“Ruairí, I told her it was a ridiculous plan and a ridiculous reason to leave,” Caragh cut in. “But she’s deeply wounded by the things that have happened. Far more damaged than any of us could see. She believes she not only causes her own misery but is the cause of the deaths in her life. She’s sure she’s cursed.”
“But I lived,” Ruairí whispered. His throat felt as if it would cinch closed, and he was close to crying for the first time since he was seven summers old.
“She’s driven by fear, just like we were when we left Barra,” Rowan reasoned. “Neither of us used much reason in those early months. We did whatever we had to. She’s doing the same.”
Ruairí blinked several times before looking toward the village. “I won’t lose her.” He began walking and assumed the others would follow. He felt like it took him years to limp into the village. He looked around, but the market day crowd was dense. “She could be anywhere.”
“I can imagine where she went first,” Caragh replied. She took Rowan’s hand and dragged him into the crowd. Ruairí had no choice but to follow. Caragh paused at every jewelry stall until she found one she knew Senga would have chosen. “I have a very particular ring in mind, and I wonder if you have anything similar to what I desire,” Caragh cast a shrewd look at the man. “It has a large ruby in the center with emeralds around it, as if to make a rose.”
She squeezed Rowan’s hand like it lay in a vice. She knew she’d have to add that to her list of transgressions, since he knew which ring she gave to Senga to trade. The jeweler brought out Caragh’s ring.
“However did you have something like what I wanted?” Caragh asked, her charm on display. “Where did you find such a jewel?”
“A young woman traded it recently.”
“Did she happen to have black hair?”
“Aye. That’s the one.”
“Hmm. I saw it last sennight and admired it. I wonder where she went. I should like to thank her for the opportunity to own such a beautiful bauble.”
“I saw her leave to the east with an old tinker couple.” Rowan slipped the man a few coins as they turned to leave. “But I doubt they made it far. I spotted some unsavory sorts following them.”
That was more than Ruairí needed to hear to barrel through the crowd. He didn’t care who he jostled or what bumped against his wounds. He pushed through until he reached the blacksmith’s stall.
“I want a horse. Now.”
“I’m sorry — You’re Ruairí MacNeil.” The man looked over Ruairí’s shoulder and nearly wet himself. “And Rowan MacNeil.”
“Aye, we are, and I said I needed a horse.”
The blacksmith nodded and dashed to fetch any properly shod horses he could find.
Ruairí turned to Rowan and pulled him into an embrace. “This is where we part. You can’t bring Caragh along if there might be a fight, and I know you won’t leave her with just Skinny.”
Rowan pulled a short sword from his belt and handed it to Caragh before grinning at Ruairí. “Do you not remember how you met my bonnie bride? She’d just killed one of your men. I’d put my money on her before anyone else. Just as bloodthirsty as your woman.”
The three mounted their horses and raced out of town.
Senga knew they were being followed. She discreetly turned to look over her shoulder, but made it appear as if she were looking at the couple while the old woman nattered on. Four men followed them on horseback. They hung back, but there was no reason for them to do so unless they didn’t want to overtake Senga and the couple. They were past the outskirts of town, and there was no way Senga could turn back without alerting the couple or the riders. She pulled the dirks from her boots and laid them in her lap. She wished she had at least one of her swords, but there’d been no way for her to bring them. Senga wished now that she’d stopped long enough to trade for a new one. She used the whip to hurry the donkey along the road, and for once, the animal sensed her urgency. She stopped the cart when they passed through a bend in the road. Senga pulled away from the road and put her finger to her lips when the old woman began to ask questions. The first rider made the turn, and Senga launched one of her dirks at the man’s shoulder. It met its mark, and the riders pulled to a stop. Senga was ready for the attack.
“You bitch. You shall pay for that,” growled the injured man.
“What do you want?”
“We know you came off the Dark Heart’s ship. We saw you row over to the Blond Devil’s ship, then come ashore with the other woman.”
It was the first time she’d heard Rowan’s moniker, but she had to admit it suited him as well as Ruairí’s fit him. “So, what if I did?”
“Neither of those men take women on their ships. It’s said the Blond Devil married some chit he kidnapped. You came from the Dark Heart’s boat, so you must be his woman.”
“If I were, why would I be riding away from him on a donkey cart?”
This made the men pause, but the man with the dirk in his shoulder responded first.
“What does it matter to us? He’ll pay a ransom for you.”
“Why would he pay for my return if he’s already sent me away?” Senga hoped her lies would be convincing.
“If he doesn’t, then we shall keep you for ourselves. Perhaps sample you before we hand you over.”
“The only man sampling my woman is me.”
Ruairí’s voice seemed to echo in their surroundings. Senga whipped her head around to see Ruairí, Rowan, and Caragh galloping toward them. In the time it took for her to look away, one man grabbed her from the cart. She already had another dirk in her hand. She stabbed at any part of him she could reach, meeting her mark several times. The man released her, and she fell to the ground, rolling in an attempt to land clear of the horse’s hooves.
“Senga!” Ruairí sounded like an enraged wild animal, and the men, as a one, looked back at him. Senga watched in awe as Ruairí raced toward them. His long blond hair had come loose from his queue. He leaned over the saddle as he swung his sword through one, then two of the men, nearly cleaving them each in half. “You touched her. You will die slowly for that.”
Ruairí reined in and pulled the last man from his horse before dismounting. Ruairí leaped from the saddle, tackling Senga’s attacker before clamoring back to his feet. He kicked the man in the bollocks before severing both hands with one strike of his sword on eac
h side. The man hadn’t pulled Senga’s blade from his shoulder, knowing it would only make the wound bleed faster. He soon realized that leaving it was a far greater mistake than pulling it out. Ruairí leaned forward and twisted the blade as he pressed it to the hilt. It was only moments later that the bodies of the attackers lay strewn on the grass, dead where they dropped.
Senga watched in horror as she tried to hold both Ruairí’s horse and the donkey in place. She wanted to run when Ruairí looked at her. She shrank back and bumped into the cart. Ruairí stalked toward her, and Senga could only shake her head.
“Don’t you dare shake your head at me.” His hushed tone was even more menacing than him yelling her name. He reached for her and pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”
Ruairí clenched his hands in her hair as he cradled her head and drew her in for a kiss that poured all his anger and love into one searing brand. Senga leaned into the kiss, cupping his jaw as their tongues dueled.
“You’re mine,” he breathed.
“I am.”
They kissed again; the conflagration of emotions burned through them as flames of desire flared between them. When they were both breathless, Ruairí ran the pad of his thumb over her swollen lips. Senga’s eyes fluttered shut as she struggled not to fall apart in his arms.
“I only wanted to protect you,” she whispered.
“I know. I know all about your foolish plan, what little there was of it. I shall relieve you of that foolhardiness when we return to our cabin, and I turn you over my knee. I should have done that ages ago. It would seem Rowan is far wiser than I am in that area. You might take a lesson from your cousin.”
Senga peeked over his shoulder to see Rowan sat on a rock with Caragh draped across his lap and her skirt about her waist. She was receiving a punishing spanking, but she seemed no worse for wear. In truth, Senga was certain she was enjoying it, or at least not fighting it. “Our cabin?” she asked.
The Dark Heart of the Sea: A Steamy Fated Lovers Pirate Romance (Pirate of the Isles Book 2) Page 11