She perched on the wooden bench and squeezed Margaret’s hand under the table. “Things have changed. It appears I must now go back home to Islay.”
“That is for the best considering your MacDonald clan’s arrival.” Margaret’s brows twitched nervously as she watched another dozen MacLean warriors stride into the great hall and grumble. She leaned closer, and murmured, “Eat a bite or two if you can. My clansmen need to see I’ve welcomed you to our table.”
“Of course.” She picked up the large pitcher and filled two goblets with warm cider. She passed one to John as he filled a trencher with steaming bacon, crusty bread, and sliced cheese. He nudged her to share his food. Quickly, she laid a bacon strip on top of the bread and took a bite.
Arthur, dressed in tan breeches and a forest green jerkin over a beige tunic, removed his dirk strapped to his thigh, stabbed a wedge of boiled egg from his trencher and ate it from the tip. “Do you sleep well?” he asked her.
“I’ll sleep better once I return home. I’m sorry if I’ve caused any problems with my arrival.”
“Aye, these circumstance are no’ to my liking. Mayhap Finlay shouldnae have brought you to Mull.”
“Your warrior, as far as we can tell, acted alone in doing so.” John slid his hand under her hair and around her nape as he spoke to Arthur. “Provided we’re assured safe passage from your shores, we’ll hold no grudge against you and your kin for his actions. And by we, I mean my new handfast wife, myself, and my men.”
“I see.” Arthur lifted a brow as he twirled his dirk then speared a slice of ham from the platter. “An interesting turn of events. You should know though, that none of my men were instructed to remain on Islay after the battle, and as long as you dinnae seek to attack us, we will do naught more than protect our own borders while our chief remains in Edinburgh.”
“Then we shall agree to do the same while Angus is imprisoned.”
Katherine’s heart lifted. Had a truce just been reached while their chiefs were in the king’s hands? Perhaps her trip to Mull to seek some peace between the clans hadn’t all been in vain.
“Good.” John slowly stood and tugged her to her feet. “Then it appears we must leave. My thanks for your hospitality.”
Archie pushed back his chair as he eyed John. “My congratulations on your handfast, brother. Your timing is impeccable.”
“My congratulations too, Katherine.” Margaret rose. “You’ll need to fetch your things. Come, I’ll help you.”
“Be quick.” John released her and he nodded. “I’ll wait right here.”
“I won’t be long.” She clutched Margaret’s hand and hurried upstairs.
In her chamber, Margaret nabbed her traveling bag and handed it to her. “Keep the gown. There’s no need for you to change afore you leave. At least now we’re more aware of where the MacDonald clan stands, particularly with your warrior’s promise just now to curtail any warring until his chief’s return. That’s a good sign.” A spark of hope lit her eyes. “Tell Mary I’ll be thinking of her.”
“I will. I know she thinks of you.”
A knock sounded and a MacLean guardsman wearing a darkened nasal helm, chainmail and black boots marched in. His green eyes, a paler shade than Arthur’s, glinted through the slits as he scrutinized first her then Margaret. “My lady, Hector asks for you. The boy frets when so many MacDonalds remain within our walls.”
“I’ll be but a moment.” Margaret hugged her. “Hector is my son. I must go to him.”
“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“You’re welcome. Take care as you travel.” She grasped her skirts and walked from the room.
The guard shut the door, closing them in. “Now,” he grated, “’tis time for you and I to speak.”
“I too must go.” She tried to edge past him, but he blocked her way. Towering over her, he removed his helm and scrubbed a hand across his scraggly brown beard. Finlay. “What are you doing here?”
“Arthur may lead this clan in my laird’s stead, but I know Lachlan’s wishes well. He would never sit idle when we held such a bargaining chip in our hands.”
“I’ve been given safe passage to leave.”
“And you shall, with me.” He shoved a dirty wad of linen in her mouth and knotted a strip of tartan around it.
She fought, clawing at his face and kicking.
“Nay, lass.” He grabbed her hands and rammed her into the wall.
Her head hit and she gagged as the room spun.
Black dots danced before her yes, and then nothing.
Chapter 8
John clenched his fists as he waited for Katherine to return. What the hell was taking her so long? His men were past ready to leave and so was he. He crossed to Arthur at the base of the stairs. “I need to collect my wife.”
“She should’ve returned by now. I’ll escort you upstairs.” Arthur gestured for him to go first and he scaled the winding stairwell.
All was quiet on the second floor landing, each door leading off the darkened corridor firmly shut.
“’Tis the third door on your left,” Arthur instructed.
John stopped at the door, turned the knob and strode inside. The fire had long gone out and the morning’s sunshine streamed in through the window and lit the chamber with its large burgundy canopied bed and curtained ambry. A dressing screen next to the side table remained folded against the wall and next to it, Katherine’s leather traveling bag had been dumped and overturned. He hunkered down and scooped it up. “She’s no’ here.”
“She didnae pass by me.” Arthur strode to the wall and wiped a smear of blood from it. “’Tis fresh.”
John snarled, a low and deadly rumble. Katherine had been taken, and not of her own free will. “What tricks do you play, Arthur?”
“None, and damn it, this has to be Finlay’s doing.” Arthur slammed one fist into his open palm. “He can be rash and reckless at times.”
“Where will he have taken her?”
“I’ll check with the guards.” Arthur raced out the door and John made chase. In the great hall, Arthur ordered several of his men to begin a search.
Archie gripped John’s shoulder. “What’s this all about?”
“Katherine’s gone, taken by Finlay.” To his men, he gritted out, “We are no’ at war, but I want my wife back. We’ll do all we can to ensure it.”
Arthur marched across to him. “Finlay was sighted leaving through the postern gate a few minutes ago, although his destination is unknown. He could be anywhere.”
John sprinted out the door and his brother and men followed as he raced toward the bay. If Finlay was on the run, his options were by land or sea and he’d already proven he had a penchant for using the sea as a means of escape. He hailed Josiah and his men who’d remained on board. “Katherine is missing. Have you seen any sign of her or the warrior Finlay MacLean.”
Josiah held onto the center mast and pointed toward the tip. “A nasal-helmed warrior just sailed out of the bay after carrying something bulky on board wrapped in a thick brown fur.”
“That’ll be them.” John bounded into his boat and bellowed to his men as they followed him, “All to oars! There can be no delay. Chase the MacLean.”
“We’ll catch him, brother.” Archie grabbed the ropes and tossed one to him as their warriors sank their oars into the waves and rowed them out of the bay.
“There were signs she struggled against her captor, Archie, and if MacLean harmed her in any way, I’ll kill him.” John gripped the birlinn’s rope alongside his brother as the crosswind filled the sail with a hearty slap. The birlinn shot off like an arrow and his men stowed their oars.
With his feet braced wide along the side of the boat, he pulled his rope until the sail tightened. As they hit the tip, the wind blasted through and the galley rose half out of the water. He and Archie leaned farther back to counter the move and his men moved into the perfect positions to ensure their balance and that they picked up even more speed.
They skimmed the high waves, the massive square sail pulled as taut as he’d ever seen it. Ahead, the MacLean’s skiff came into view along the waterway toward the south. Finlay too stood on the side of his skiff as it careened over the waves, the wind taking him swiftly toward MacLean land on Jura. “I’ll lose her if he makes it to Jura’s northern shore. There are too many places he could hide.”
“Then we’ll make sure that does no’ happen,” Archie shouted over the crashing of the waves.
John eyed the MacLean’s skiff, his heart a pounding mess as movement stirred within the hull. Katherine shoved the fur off her head and pushed one hand out. “There she is.”
The wind tore at him and the sea-spray battered his face. He’d allowed his wife to be taken from him again, and it should never have happened.
A huge wave rose and as they crested it, he gripped the rope tighter, his arms and legs burning as every muscle strained to control the wind power harnessed in the birlinn’s tight sail. “Hold tight,” he barked.
The bow rose sharply upward then slammed back down. The impact sent several of his warriors flying to the other side, but none were tossed overboard.
“’Tis slippery,” Archie yelled as he grappled to keep his footing.
A woman’s scream echoed across the raging waves as the MacLean’s skiff pitched sideways and hit the icy water. A wave rolled and twisted it over. It popped bow up and sank. Gone, swallowed whole, and by the same rogue wave that had almost toppled them.
John’s heart stopped beating. He tossed Josiah his rope, tore off his cotun and weapons as his brother did the same.
He dove into the frigid water and allowed the raging waves to close over him as he kicked downward into the murky depths.
* * * *
Katherine’s head shattered with pain as icy, turbulent waters surged and dragged her under. She’d barely come to when Finlay had roared the skiff was going down. The crashing waves tossed her about. So deep.
The fur bedcover, still half wrapped around her, tore at her chest and legs. She wrenched it free and it jerked away into the swirling vortex of nothingness. She yanked out the gag and black hazed her vision. No. Clawing with all her might, she fought toward the surface. The sea wouldn’t take her, not now she’d finally found the man who was hers. She had to get back to John.
An arm cinched around her waist.
She lurched around and stared into the most piercing golden eyes. John firmed his hold on her and pushed them upward through the twisting current, and in a flurry of bubbles, they broke the surface.
“J-John?” She gulped in great drafts of air. “Is it really you?”
“’Tis I. You were down so deep.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her closer. His dark hair floated around his neck as he treaded water for them both.
He was real, his body solid, his flesh warm and his hold tight. She clutched his shirtfront as over his shoulder, a birlinn bobbed on the water. Cheers erupted from his men on board and a few others in the water surrounding her. “F-Finlay came to my chamber.”
“I know, love. I made chase as soon as I could.” He swept her hair back from her forehead and touched a spot that throbbed. “You’ve got a nasty gash that needs tending.”
“You’re not hurt are you?”
“Nay, no’ a scratch. Let’s get you out of this cold water.” He cut a fast path through the churning waves toward the birlinn, gripped her waist and boosted her upward.
Josiah reached, grasped her hands and lifted her up. Another man smothered her in a thick MacDonald tartan and then John was there, sopping wet as he scooped her up and carried her to the stern. He sat on the wooden bench and cradled her on his lap, his fingers biting into her sides. He shook, whether from anger or fear, she wasn’t sure.
“It’s all right.” She wound her arms around his neck and plastered herself against him. “Where’s Finlay? And where exactly are we?”
“Off the coast between Mull and Jura.” He glanced at Archie as he hauled himself into the birlinn.
“Heave,” Archie called to one of his men in the water. He reached over the side and grunting, lugged a body on board. Water sluiced from the hefty chainmail wrapped around Finlay and his head lolled back on an impossible angle. Two men carried his body to the bow and beyond her sight. Archie strode toward her and knelt at her feet. “Did you suffer any injuries?”
“What happened to Finlay?”
“There was naught I could do. He broke his neck in the fall.” Ever so gently, he lifted her hair from her forehead and muttered under his breath. “Damn him. He hurt you.”
“Are you sure Finlay’s dead?” She shivered uncontrollably.
“Aye, we’ll bury him on Jura. For now, we’ll set sail afore any more MacLeans have the chance to catch us up.” He strode away.
“No one is supposed to die because of me.” She grasped John’s shirtfront.
“His death was a surety the moment he stole you away. What happened to him isnae your fault.” John tore a strip from his tunic’s hem, wrapped it around her head wound and knotted it lightly.
Hot tears burned behind her eyes.
“Katherine, nay.” John tipped up her chin. “Look at me. You’re no’ to blame yourself for his death.”
“I’ve changed history. He isn’t supposed to die because of me.” She tucked her cheek on his chest and shivered inside the tartan.
“A warrior’s life is never long and he chose his own destiny.” He tucked her drying hair behind her ear. “Rest while we sail. I’ll watch over you.”
“Don’t stop talking to me.” Her eyelids drooped. All that had happened over the past few days caught up with her and darkness edged her vision. “I need to hear your voice.”
“You need to rest more than…”
She battled to focus on his drifting voice. He was all she’d ever dreamed of, and now safe again in his arms, she let go and allowed the dark to pull her under.
* * * *
Waves slapped against the birlinn’s sides as the boat rocked and dipped, the sound tugging Katherine further toward wakefulness.
“Go back to sleep.” John’s voice floated over her then his lips brushed her cheek. “Sleep.”
She stretched and pushed her eyes open. Night had fallen and the moon, hidden behind a dark layer of cloud, cast John’s face in shadow. “Where are we?”
“We’ve no’ long left the northern tip of Jura. Archie brought the birlinn into shore and buried Finlay on MacLean soil. The wind is easing now, so we’ll need to make landfall somewhere safe for the night. You’ve naught to fear. We’ll soon pass from MacLean land to our MacDonald soil. You’ll be safe.”
“I’m always safe when I’m with you.” She cupped his stubbly jaw. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you for coming to my rescue.”
“I gave you my promise of protection and ’twill always stand firm.”
“So I’ve learnt.” She edged up and kissed his chin.
“You’re such a complete distraction.” His gaze held deep longing and it pulled at her heart. “Kiss me again, my sweet imp, and this time dinnae miss my lips.”
“And you’re a demanding man, but I love that.” She licked his lower lip and as he groaned, she grinned. “I’ve heard distraction is good for the soul.”
“So is a little peace.”
“Well, you know me. I’m all for a little peace.”
Chapter 9
As the wind died away, the men lowered the sail and rowed. They passed into the southern portion of Jura’s waters and after rounding the tip, cruised into an isolated bay. Beside Katherine, John lifted his face to the night sky, his eyes closed as he breathed deep. She did the same, taking in the scents of salty sea and Scotland’s freshest air. She was home, or at least now very close to home.
Ahead, along the rugged and untouched coastline, moonlight bathed the woodland’s treetops a silvery hue. “This is such a beautiful place.”
“Aye, and the place where we’ll rest for the night.”
They came ashore and the men set up camp, hunted game then roasted their meal over an open fire. Her belly rumbled as the succulent aroma of cooked goose pervaded the air.
She sat close to the fire on the blanket John spread out, her knees snuggled to her chest as the fire’s brilliant orange and red flames warmed her through. Her gown was almost dry, although the salt encrusted fabric irritated and made her want to scratch her itchy skin.
“Are you all right?” John settled in behind her, his legs either side of hers.
“I could really use a wash and a change of clothes.”
“There’s a loch no’ far from here. We’ll bathe after we’ve eaten.” He tugged her back until she rested against his chest. Gently, he twined a lock of her hair around his finger, his warmth fully enclosing her. “You have the most beautiful hair. ’Tis so pale it shimmers like gold.”
“It does?”
“Aye,” he purred in her ear, “and I want to see it lying across my pillow, each and every night.” He selected one of the sticks of meat from the fire, tore off a chunk and slipped the morsel between her lips.
“That could be arranged, provided we ever see a bed.” She plucked a piece of meat from the skewer and fed him.
In silence, they ate as the other warriors did the same. A few men remained close to the fire while half a dozen others strolled down to the water’s edge and washed up. These men were islanders and seafarers. They lived and breathed the sea and were most content when closest to it.
Archie bounded from the beached birlinn, a couple of bags in hand and his tartan slung over his shoulder. He set one of the bags at his feet and passed the other to John. “That’s yours.”
“My thanks.” John placed it behind him.
Archie chose a skewer then perched on a low boulder and glanced at her. “How do you fare?”
“Much better. I want to thank you for coming to Mull for me too. I never meant to cause such trouble.”
“You’re my sister-by-marriage, and with your handfast to my brother, now my sister twice over. I will always be here for you.”
Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat Book 5) Page 12