by Amanda Scott
She could hear the noise of that crashing surf over the howl of the wind.
Surely, Alyson thought, no boat could land there. But, stepping back into the dark shadows of the space between the two cabins, she kept still and watched.
Although shadowy figures moved about on deck, none challenged her.
Not long after that, through the darkness, she saw a boat, a coble, plunging toward them through the waves. When the moonlight touched it, she saw that it was full of people, at least two of whom were small enough to be children.
Not far away, unbeknownst to anyone aboard the Maryenknyght, another ship more nearly akin to a Highland galley than to the merchantman rode the heaving seas. Sir Jacob Maxwell, the Sea Wolf’s captain, kept his gaze fixed on the much larger ship. When its sail had come down as it passed North Berwick, he had strongly suspected that it was the ship he sought. When it dropped anchors off the massive, formidable, nearly unapproachable formation known as the Bass Rock, he was sure of it.
The wind came from the northeast quarter, and the merchantman had stopped well away from the Bass Rock and anchored so that its prow faced southeastward. Thus its length had somewhat sheltered its steerboard side earlier as it lowered a boat.
“Be that our quarry, sir?” his helmsman, Coll, asked him quietly in the Gaelic.
“It must be, aye,” Jake replied in the same language.
Although he’d been born in Nithsdale, in the Borders, he had spent two-thirds of his life on shipboard, much of it in the Isles, and considered himself nearly as much a Highlander as his helmsman was. Moreover, few of the men aboard spoke Scots or any language except Gaelic, so most conversation aboard was in that language.
“I canna make out her flag in this darkness,” Coll said.
“She is the Maryenknyght out of Danzig,” Jake said. “She was flying a French flag when she entered Leith Harbor, though, and I’d wager that she flew that same flag when she departed. However, it could be a Norse one by now.”
He did not add that the Maryenknyght belonged to young Henry Sinclair, second Earl of Orkney, or that Henry had sent orders bringing the ship to Edinburgh for this particular, albeit hopefully secret, purpose. Orkney owned more ships than anyone else in Scotland but had not wanted to use one that would be too easily recognizable as his. Hence the Maryenknyght’s making what Jake understood to be her first voyage to Scotland.
Since, for a fortnight, he had kept a man posted at the harbor to watch for the right ship (harboring the Sea Wolf at a smaller, less frequented site on the firth’s north coast), he had not learned the Maryenknyght’s name or its intended time of departure until that afternoon. He glanced at his helmsman, knowing that Coll must be bursting with curiosity, but Coll’s face had resumed its usual stoic expression.
Shifting his gaze back to the Maryenknyght, Jake said, “There’s the boat returning now.”
“I don’t envy anyone trying to climb that great ship in these seas,” Coll muttered.
The merchantman’s broad side did at least offer some protection as the first of the coble’s passengers prepared to climb a rope ladder to the deck of the ship.
Jake realized that he was holding his breath as he watched the man, clearly the coble’s rudder man, begin to climb.
One of the six oarsmen had caught the ladder’s end while his two comrades on that side were doing their best to keep the coble from banging against the ship. Meanwhile, the fierce winds and incoming waves were trying to push ship and coble back to Edinburgh.
“By my soul,” Coll muttered when the first man had reached the deck and a second, much smaller passenger moved to the ladder. “That be a bairn, Captain Jake! Whatever mad business goes forward here?”
Jake did not answer him. His full attention was on the lad, and he could feel the pulse hammering in his neck, as if his heart had leaped into his throat.
“Sakes now, look at him,” Coll breathed admiringly. “He’s going up that ladder as deftly as ever ye might yourself, sir.”
“I suspect that after being lowered in a basket from halfway up the sheerest face of Bass Rock to that boat, as I was told they would be—because the rock boasts only that one place on this side sheltered enough for any boat to approach—climbing a rope ladder on his own must seem easy,” Jake said.
“On a night like this one?” Coll exclaimed. “Who the devil was crazy enough to order such a thing?”
“His grace, the King,” Jake replied.
Aware of Coll’s stunned silence, Jake watched the second lad climb the ladder almost as lithely as the first one had. Returning his gaze to the coble to see a tall, slender man grab the rope ladder, he felt his jaw tighten. He had counted the men in the boat and knew that this had to be Henry of Orkney. Jake had known him almost from Henry’s birth and liked him. He did not want the wicked weather to send the young earl into the ice-cold sea, where he might drown before the others could get to him. But Henry could swim, and Henry was not Jake’s first priority.
“Am I to know who those lads be, sir?” Coll asked bluntly.
Jake hesitated, but he had known Coll for over a decade and trusted him. Moreover, they’d be following the Maryenknyght to her destination, and accidents did happen, even to men like himself who had lived on ships most of their lives. If aught did happen to him, his men should understand the exact nature of their mission.
Knowing that the wind would blow his words away before they reached ears other than Coll’s and that, with the Sea Wolf’s sails down as they were, the other men were focused on their oars, Jake leaned nearer and said, “Wardlaw said nowt about any second lad to me when we were in St. Andrews, Coll. But one of them is now heir to the Scottish Crown.”
In the uncertain moonlight, he saw Coll’s eyes widen. “Jamie Stewart?”
“Aye, sure, for since Davy Stewart’s death—”
“Sakes, sir, that were a year ago!”
“It was, aye, but whilst the news of Davy’s death was still new, James was safe at St. Andrews Castle under Bishop Wardlaw’s guardianship. Forbye, after Parliament proclaimed that Davy’s death was accidental instead of the murder we all ken fine that it must have been, his grace did begin to fear for Jamie’s life, too.”
“That would explain why the lad has been missing these two months past and more,” Coll said. “But how could he have lived on that rock for so long?”
“There is an ancient castle built right into the rock about halfway up.”
“Ye be jesting, sir. Nae one could build a castle there.”
“Believe it,” Jake said. “The plain fact is, Coll, that because after Davy’s death his grace did recognize the threat to Jamie’s life, he arranged to send Jamie to our greatest ally, the King of France, for safekeeping.”
“Aye, well, ye need not tell me who his grace fears would do the lad harm,” Coll said with a grunt. “Only one man would be sure to benefit from it, and that be the one next in line for the throne. But if aught happened to the wee lad, would not the country rise in anger against his murderous uncle, the Duke of Albany?”
“Most likely they would have, had Jamie’s death occurred soon after Davy’s,” Jake agreed. “But it did not. Recall, too, that folks expected Parliament to understand that Albany was responsible for Davy’s death. Instead, thanks to an earlier winter this year than last and the inability of many Highland lords to reach Perth, Albany’s allies in Parliament prevailed. Not only did they declare Davy’s death an accident. They also named Albany Governor of the Realm again.”
Coll nodded. “ ’Tis true that once the wicked duke held the reins of power again, even his grace would have had to acknowledge that Jamie was no longer safe here in Scotland. But what be our place in all this, sir?”
“We are merely to see that Jamie gets safely to France,” Jake said. “And mayhap to do what we can to aid him if aught goes amiss.”
After watching men rush to aid the first child aboard and wrap him in warm blankets, Alyson went back down the ladder to her own tiny c
abin. Since the country had speculated on the fate of their eight-year-old crown prince for months, she immediately suspected who at least one of the children might be.
The presence of Mungo and her husband on that ship—and thus her own—likewise suddenly grew more understandable. Did Niall and Mungo not serve Henry of Orkney, chief member of the wealthy and powerful Sinclair family, which had long supported kings of Scots even when they disagreed with them?
Indeed, she had wondered why they were sailing on such a wretched ship, on Henry’s business, when Henry owned dozens if not hundreds of ships of his own. But well aware now that if she was right and Jamie Stewart was their primary passenger, she dared not wait there to see who else was with him.
Better to proceed cautiously until she learned more.
The winds seemed to ease for a time after they raised anchor and headed southward, and the following day dawned overcast with rain clearly threatening.
Alyson wasted no time after waking before showing herself on deck, where one of the first men she saw was Henry Sinclair. He clearly was neither astonished nor delighted to see her, but he greeted her cordially enough.
“Good morrow, my lord,” Alyson replied.
“In troth, ’tis a dismal day, my lady,” he said with a slight smile. “Forbye, I must tell you how sorry I was to miss your wedding to our Niall.”
“And are likewise sorry to see me here,” she said. “ ’Tis true, is it not, sir?”
With a rueful look, he said, “It is, aye, though in courtesy I should not say it.”
“With respect, sir, you may always speak the truth to me, for I prefer candor. What others call tact or cosseting nearly always results in misunderstandings of one sort or another. Do not you agree?”
His blue eyes twinkled. “I might, but many would disagree with you, madam. Most people, in my experience, do not appreciate bluntness.”
She smiled but said with her usual frankness, “That was Jamie Stewart I saw come aboard from your coble last night, was it not?”
He glanced swiftly around before saying in a lower tone than before, “The captain of this ship is French, Lady Alyson, and so is his crew. So, although we call both boys by their given names, we will say little about them during the voyage.”
“Doubtless an excellent notion, sir, but I trust that you will not keep them cooped up in that wee cabin opposite mine below.
With a wry smile, he said, “In troth, they slept on pallets in the master’s cabin last night, with me. I had meant to turn Mungo and your husband out of the smaller forecastle cabin and order them into the cabin opposite yours. I did not do so last night, though, for fear of waking you and your woman.”
“I see,” she said. “But if you want no undue attention drawn to the boys…”
“Sakes, I do take your meaning,” Henry said. “I had been thinking that as Jamie has been living rough these past months, I could at least give him the more comfortable cabin. But I cannot. Still, one dislikes…” He paused, clearly thinking.
“In troth, sir, I was trying to imagine how Ciara and I might earn our place on this ship, since you are unhappy to have found us aboard.”
“Not unhappy, certainly, nor is it of use to repine now…”
“Prithee, sir, we can certainly help to look after the boys whilst we travel.”
His relief was plain. “I’ll accept that offer,” he said. “After more than two months on that rock, my ability to devise new entertainments has long fled me.”
Well satisfied, Alyson went to inform Ciara that their voyage would no longer be nearly as tedious as it had already begun to seem. What Niall or Mungo might say to it all, she did not trouble her head to consider.
The uncertain weather continued. By the second day, the winds had picked up strongly again, and Jake thought that the merchantman allowed them to push it dangerously near to the English north coast. Although England, France, and Scotland were enjoying a rare truce, he had little faith in truces. Moreover, he had heard that pirates often prowled that coast.
On the third afternoon, a squadron of five ships emerged from behind a great outcropping and sailed toward the Maryenknyght. Hearing cannon fire and seeing the merchantman begin to heave to, Jake watched in dismay as the English ships surrounded it and two of the larger ones, using grappling irons, flanked it.
He could do naught. The Sea Wolf carried no artillery and was heavily outnumbered. Nor had it been anyone’s intent that Jake should do aught but witness the prince’s safe arrival in France and report it to the bishop. However, if the pirates took captives, he would follow them and mayhap render aid to the captives then.
Sometime later, when the five other ships left the Maryenknyght to plunge about, apparently uncontrolled in the angry seas, Jake ordered the Sea Wolf closer, wondering why the pirates had not sailed the merchantman into harbor.
When the Maryenknyght began to list, he realized that it was sinking. Only then did he see that at least one person, a young woman by the look of her, remained aboard.
THE DISH
(8 Pages TK)
Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
A Preview of Highland Lover
Map
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
The Dish
Other Books by Amanda Scott
Copyright
OTHER BOOKS BY AMANDA SCOTT
HIGHLAND MASTER
TEMPTED BY A WARRIOR
SEDUCED BY A ROGUE
TAMED BY A LAIRD
BORDER MOONLIGHT
BORDER LASS
BORDER WEDDING
KING OF STORMS
KNIGHT’S TREASURE
LADY’S CHOICE
PRINCE OF DANGER
LORD OF THE ISLES
HIGHLAND PRINCESS
THE SECRET CLAN: REIVER’S BRIDE
THE SECRET CLAN: HIGHLAND BRIDE
THE SECRET CLAN: HIDDEN HEIRESS
THE SECRET CLAN: ABDUCTED HEIRESS
BORDER FIRE
BORDER STORM
BORDER BRIDE
HIGHLAND FLING
HIGHLAND SECRETS
HIGHLAND TREASURE
HIGHLAND SPIRITS
THE BAWDY BRIDE
DANGEROUS ILLUSIONS
DANGEROUS ANGELS
DANGEROUS GAMES
DANGEROUS LADY
THE ROSE AT TWILIGHT
* Pronounced Shara.
* Pronounced Neal.
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Lynne Scott-Drennan
Excerpt from Highland Lover copyright © 2011 by Lynne Scott-Drennan
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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First eBook Edition: October
2011
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ISBN: 978-0-446-57430-3