Redemption (Book Two of the Shipwrecked Series)

by Jenna Stone

  “Good morning,” Sarah said cheerily as she walked into the cabin and closed the door behind her.

  Rowan, Anna and Malcolm sat around the kitchen table. Malcolm patted the seat next to him, motioning that she should sit down.

  “Where’s Quinn?” Sarah asked, suddenly alarmed.

  Malcolm swallowed his mouthful of food. “He went hunting. Left early this morning.”

  “Did you bring Mairi up here?” Sarah asked Malcolm, her heart racing now.

  “Nay. She was still sleeping in her box when I got up this morning,” Malcolm said, concern overtaking his face.

  Sarah bolted out the door and ran as fast as her feet would carry her back to Quinn’s cabin. She threw open the door and dug frantically through Mairi’s box next to the bed. It was empty. She screamed now, a dull, agonizing wail. Mairi was gone.

  Sarah’s worst fear had just come true.

  Adahy had come for his daughter.

  Chapter Seven

  Quinn’s heart thundered in his chest as he made his final preparations. He dismounted his horse and removed the dagger from his belt, thinking it best to enter the village unarmed. He hastily stashed the dagger in his saddlebag. The small dirk would be of little defense if the savages decided to kill him.

  Death was a risk that he had reconciled and was willing to take. He would give anything to bring Mairi back to Sarah.

  He pulled the leather throng from his chestnut hair and ran his fingers through it roughly. The thick masses now fell loosely about his shoulders. Quinn knew that this was how the savages wore their hair, free and unbound. Maybe it would help

  His fingers worked quickly as they dug the leather wrapped parcel from the saddlebag and undid the twine that held the package together. The horse whickered nervously and stomped his feet in protest. The scent of coppery blood had reached his flaring nostrils, unnerving him.

  Quinn took the heart from its leather wrapping and looked down at it in his palm. It was huge. Fresh blood still dripped from the vessels that Quinn had severed when removing it from the bear. Reaching with his free hands to grab the reins of his horse, he began to walk into the village.

  His boots made no effort to avoid the small sticks and dried leaves that littered the path. He no longer worked to stay hidden in the forest. Quinn wanted them to see him now. He wanted the savages to hear his movement and confront him.

  The heart was cold in his hand, slack and lifeless in the grips of his fingers. Blood dripped from the large muscle and fell in small circles that splattered the forest floor. The contrast between the crimson splatters of blood and the bright yellow aspen leaves that littered the autumn ground was stark.

  As Quinn suspected, the savages noticed his presence almost immediately. They had been watching him. Three men revealed themselves from the cover of the trees on the north side of the narrow path. They stood in a human wall before Quinn, shoulder to shoulder.

  Quinn’s pulse hammered in his veins. He felt perspiration break out across his skin and suddenly, he felt too warm. He would not indicate any form of weakness to them. He stood straight and refused to show any sign of fear.

  He regarded the men confidently, shoulders squared and spine rigid. His face was expressionless save for his glowering steel gray eyes.

  The men were dressed in buckskin clothing and each had long, straight black hair that fell to the middle of their backs. The pitch black color of their hair reminded Quinn of Sarah.

  Focus. Doona think of Sarah now.

  Two of the men had bows and complimentary quivers of feather tipped arrows slung over their shoulders. The third man was larger and held a single lethal looking spear in his fist.

  Quinn knew that they could kill him easily if he made the wrong move. He had willingly put himself at their mercy.

  Moving with caution, he slowly released the reins of his horse and took a step away from the beast. His only weapon was in the saddlebag. He was completely defenseless. Very slowly, Quinn raised his hands to show that he came unarmed.

  The men chattered amongst themselves in their strange tongue. They maintained their grips on their weapons as they evaluated Quinn.

  “Adahy,” Quinn said firmly as he slowly raised the heart that he held in his right hand. “Uzumati,” he added, remembering the word that Sarah had taught him for grizzly bear. He hoped that he had pronounced the word correctly. He made a gesture to indicate that the heart was a gift for Adahy.

  One of the men smiled and nodded. His eyebrow arched over his almond shaped brown eye. He looked pleased, almost friendly.

  “Uzumati?” he asked, stepping closer and looking skeptically at the heart that Quinn held in his blood stained hand.

  “Aye,” Quinn nodded. “Uzumati for Adahy,” he said calmly as he raised the heart again and gestured that he intended to give the heart to Adahy.

  The man nodded in apparent understanding and turned to chatter enthusiastically with his comrades. They appeared to be impressed by Quinn’s kill.

  Quinn smirked and then quickly moved to erase the emotion from his face. A good kill was a good kill no matter where a man came from in the world.

  Still holding their weapons for good measure, the men motioned for Quinn to follow them into the village.

  Quinn took a deep breath to calm his nerves and strode after them.

  Lord help me, Mairi. Watch over me and help me tae be strong enough tae pull this off.

  ..ooOoo..

  The small hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck stood at attention as he was prompted to sit onto the ground next to the fire. The fire was centrally located in the village and was surrounded by the conical dwellings of the savages.

  Night would soon be upon the village. The fire felt too hot as it warmed Quinn’s adrenaline flooded body. Feelings of nausea began to overtake him and he fought to slow the beating of his erratic heart. He cleared his throat and exhaled slowly, working hard to look confident and in control.

  “Adahy,” he demanded, voice firm as he glowered at his three companions who sat across the fire staring at him.

  The men nodded in understanding. The tallest of the three left the fire, presumably to go find Adahy. The other two men’s eyes never left Quinn. He felt their eyes upon him, searing his flesh as they studied him openly.

  Quinn hoped that he would be able to retain his composure and not kill the bastard Adahy when he finally laid eyes on him. Negotiating with him would be a struggle.

  Two older men made their way towards the fire and sat across from Quinn. They did not greet him, but remained stone-faced, regarding him openly in the fire-light. One man’s hair was completely white and was cropped closely on the top of his head. The back of his hair fell in long stringy clumps mid-way down his back. The second man’s hair was adorned with braids and feathers, all of which were braided into a thick tail that hung down his back.

  The men held and air of importance. Quinn wondered if they were the chiefs that Sarah had spoken of.

  A young boy, shirtless in the chilly autumn air, settled down next to the older men. His eyes flashed to the white-haired man and they exchanged hushed words quickly.

  “Welcome,” the boy said, startling Quinn with his unexpected use of English.

  “Thank-ye,” Quinn responded. The opportunity to communicate through a translator had not been something that he expected.

  “I need tae speak with Adahy.”

  The old men and the boy nodded but did not respond otherwise.

  Quinn refused to back down on his request and he scanned their faces with his intense gray eyes. Maybe the boy did not speak English after all.

  Show no fear.

  A young man and woman approached the fire and sat down, joining the growing circle.

  Quinn knew immediately that the man was Adahy. He forced himself to remain expressionless and he hid his hatred for the man that had hurt Sarah so brutally. This was the man that had raped his beautiful Sarah. This was the man that Quinn wanted to kill with his bare hands. Q
uinn’s muscled tensed involuntarily. He worked hard to restrain himself, clenching his jaw in reaction to the man who now sat across the fire from him.

  Adahy was short of stature yet sinewy and muscular. His long black hair was unbound and adorned with a single braid that framed his angular jaw. One eagle feather was tucked into the braid and fluttered now, lifted by the autumn breeze. Adahy was stone-faced and regarded Quinn quizzically. He gave no indication of surprise about his visitor.

  Quinn wondered if Adahy had been expecting him.

  The woman that accompanied Adahy was slight and petite. She had an overall appearance of fragility. Her face was round and plain. She kept her eyes downcast at the ground. She had settled against Adahy’s side and bent her knees so that she could tuck her legs beneath the folds of her buckskin dress. Her hand rested possessively on Adahy’s knee.

  This is Inola.

  “Uzumati,” Quinn said sternly, the sound of his confident voice breaking the hushed silence around the glowing fire. The Cherokee language felt strange on his tongue. He reached out his gift and offered the heart to Adahy.

  Adahy hesitated momentarily and then reached forward with both of his hands to accept the large, bloody heart. He looked both surprised and pleased.

  Quinn’s gray eyes locked with Adahy’s deep brown ones as the heart passed between them. His heart thundered as he contemplated his next move.

  “I’ve come for Sarah’s daughter,” Quinn began boldly. He held eye contact with Adahy across the fire, challenging him.

  The boy translated his words into the Cherokee tongue and Quinn waited, on edge as he anticipated Adahy’s response.

  Adahy responded, speaking directly to Quinn and not to the boy. He shook his head sternly and spoke with resentment in his tone.

  “She is my daughter,” the boy translated softly.

  “She belongs with her mother, with Sarah,” Quinn persisted with his mouth set in a hard challenging line. He fought the urge to launch himself across the fire and choke the very life out of Adahy. “In yer society as well as mine, a child belongs with her mother,” Quinn asserted.

  The boy swiftly translated Quinn’s words and Adahy’s eyebrows knit together into a scowl. Quinn watched as Inola’s eyes flittered across the ground. Her grip was tighter on Adahy’s knee and this indicated to Quinn that she was very uncomfortable with their topic of conversation. She knew that Mairi was not her baby and Quinn was certain that he saw the distinct shadow of guilt on her face.

  “Inola is her mother now,” Adahy said sternly and placed his hand atop hers in reassurance.

  “Nay. Sarah is her mother. Sarah doesna want her baby to be an outcast as she has been. She has lived her life not belonging with your people and also not belonging with her own mother’s people. She has been an outlier and doesna want the same fate for her baby. She wants her daughter back.”

  The boy translated Quinn’s heated words into the Cherokee language and Quinn waited.

  “She wants to stay with my people,” Quinn added softly.

  “Your people are murderers, takers of life. We should kill you now,” Adahy said angrily, scowling with hatred as he regarded Quinn from across the fire. His body language had changed and his muscles were tense now with anger.

  “The English are not my people!” Quinn asserted firmly, his expression of anger now mirroring Adahy’s. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the conversation now turned towards dangerous territory.

  “My people have much in common with your people,” Quinn began with restrained rage evident in his trembling voice. “The English bastards took everything from me. They killed my woman,” Quinn said, his voice trembling with rage.

  His eyes followed Adahy’s as they flashed protectively towards Inola. He loved her and Quinn’s words made him contemplate this love.

  “They killed my people, slaughtered my family and burned down my home. They put me on a ship and transported me here tae yer lands as a slave. I am NOT English,” Quinn affirmed, eyes wild now. “I understand the plight of yer people because they have done tae me what they are doing tae ye now. I live and breathe tae seek revenge on them. Tae pay them back for all that they have taken from me.”

  The boy began to translate Quinn’s heated words and as he spoke, Adahy nodded in seeming approval.

  “They have taken much from us,” Adahy admitted. He was pleased to discover that the bear killer was not English.

  “Heal this injury between my family and yours. Give me the babe,” Quinn demanded. “We can move forward as allies against the English if ye will heal this wound.”

  Adahy’s eyes flashed to the boy, who moved quickly to translate. Inola looked up at Adahy now and whispered something into his ear.

  Quinn began again, not wishing to lose the momentum of his argument. “In my homeland of Scotland, the bear is a symbol of strength and virility,” Quinn lied handily. There were no bears in Scotland. “My people believe that if you eat the heart of the bear and sleep beneath his skin with your woman, you will have many sons.”

  The boy translated Quinn’s words. Adahy raised an eyebrow. He looked interested.

  “I have killed this bear for ye, for ye and Inola as a gift. I mean it as an offering of peace between our people. Give me the baby and I will lead ye tae the bear so that ye can take his hide and make many sons with yer wife.”

  Adahy nodded in understanding and looked down tenderly at Inola. Tears had spilled from her almond shaped eyes and now stained her round cheeks. Adahy looked at her with great love in his heart. He knew that she wanted children. She wanted her own children. The bear killer was offering her another chance.

  “We accept your gift,” Adahy said as he reached over and took Inola’s hand in his. “Tonight you will stay in our village and tomorrow you will take me to the bear.”

  ..ooOoo..

  Inola placed Mairi gently into Quinn’s arms and smiled softly as she watched the look of love spread over the massive warrior’s face. It had been wrong to take Sarah’s baby. Inola’s heart was happy that this wrong had been righted. She was content now that the baby was in the hands of this man who loved her so much.

  Quinn’s heart bloomed with joy as he held tiny Mairi in his large, work-hardened hands. She was so small and fragile and yet she held such great promise for the future in her tiny being. Her eyes were closed in tranquil slumber and her dark eyelashes rested on her round cheeks. She was beautiful. She was perfect. And, she was his.

  Quinn placed a light kiss on Mairi’s forehead and tucked her into the crook of his arm. Moving towards his warmth, Mairi cuddled into his chest and began to nuzzle him, searching for food. Quinn chuckled softly and brushed the side of her lovely face with his index finger.

  His eyes flashed to Inola and he raised his eyebrows in question as he pointed down at the nuzzling infant. Unable to communicate in the Cherokee tongue, Quinn shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he could not help Mairi with her predicament.

  Inola nodded and smiled in understanding. She reached out to take the baby from Quinn, indicating that she would take the baby to be fed.

  Quinn hesitated and placed his hand protectively over Mairi, not wishing to let her out of his sight. He had just recently gotten her back and could not bear to go through the torment of being separated from her again.

  Inola smiled knowingly and motioned for Quinn to follow her. They ducked into a dwelling that was filled with women and children. Quinn immediately felt out of place. The women began to chatter and giggle, causing Quinn to smile nervously. He wished that he could understand what they were saying.

  One of the women reached for Mairi and Quinn hesitantly relinquished her to the woman’s waiting hands. She loosened the tie that secured the top of her buckskin dress and bared a pendulous breast. In one swift movement, she brought Mairi to her breast and the tiny mouth found what it had been searching for. Mairi latched onto the woman’s breast and began to suck hungrily, making small sounds of suction with her tiny lips.
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  Quinn felt color rise on his face. He knew that breastfeeding was perfectly natural, but here he was with a group full of women that he did not know, staring at a woman’s breast. This was too much. He cleared his throat and ducked out of the dwelling and into the crisp night air.

  Taking a moment to collect himself, he raked a hand through his unbound hair and let out the breath that he had been holding. He looked up at the night sky and said a quick prayer of gratitude. He prayed to God, to Mairi, to whoever would listen. He had Sarah’s sweet baby back and he could go home tomorrow.

  Quinn felt alive and full of purpose for the first time in a long time. He felt as though his heart was beginning to mend.

  ..ooOoo..

  Sarah trailed her soft black hair down Quinn’s taught abdominal muscles. She tormented him with the sweet feeling of her warm breath and placed kisses against the sensitive skin of his belly. It had been so long since someone had touched him. It had been so incredibly long since he had allowed a woman to touch him like this.

  The rabbit skin blanket felt lavish against his skin. It was completely divine against his nakedness and caused shivers of pleasure to resonate down the length of his spine. Quinn growled with pleasure as Sarah’s hot breath inched deliciously down his abdomen. Lower and lower. She was inching dangerously close to his manhood. Quinn took in a breath sharply and held it shakily in anticipation.

  He threaded his fingers through her soft black hair, palming her head lovingly in his hands as she continued her sweet torment. Her lips were soft against his burning skin as she placed light kisses down the rippled muscles of his belly.

  Sarah was everywhere, kissing his abdominal muscles lightly, trailing her lovely hair over his abdomen. She nuzzled his neck and nipped playfully at his ear. Quinn tried to sit up, tried to take control of their lovemaking, but he was in a trance from her touch. Her hand quelled his efforts and she pressed him firmly back down onto the cot.

  “Ye want tae play that way do ye?” he muttered as he relaxed against the bed. He knew that when Sarah set her mind to something, resistance would be futile.