by Alisa Adams
He found himself with a strong need to find her.
When he spotted her sweeping in her cottage, he had felt...happy. For the first time in a long while.
No, he couldn’t tell the “annoying” Neilina Eunson that he just wanted to be with her. To have her company while he searched Brough for any sign of the smugglers.
Or her father.
He couldn’t say any of that, because he was having a hard time accepting these new feelings in himself while at the same time dealing with what happened to Brough. He knew he was broken, angry, and had gone cold inside.
He was not the man she thought he was.
Neely and Steil walked past the rest of the cottages, which were sadly all destroyed.
Then they walked south. Taking the long, meandering road that followed the line of cliffs above the sea, and then wound down the long hill to where they could see white sand where the land flattened out and a little village sat in an inlet by the sea.
They talked softly about all sorts of things, still holding hands.
Neely didn’t dare let go of his hand to itch or move her hair out of her face. She could barely breathe. Steil had grabbed her hand and she wasn’t going to give it back. She wasn’t going to let go.
They walked all the way down the hill, all the way to where the tiny fishing village of Brough sat in the little inlet. It too was deserted, the small, stone cottages in disrepair, sitting lonely and abandoned with only the ocean breeze and sea birds for company. They talked as they walked slowly along the narrow road, peering into doorways and windows. Neely described who had lived in each of the houses, who her father had known and spent time with in the village.
It is so sad to see it like this, Neely thought. Abandoned, ghost-like. Just like my little cottage up on the hill, near the castle. A few unwanted items were scattered here and there; a broken chair, a teacup missing a handle, a tiny cradle laying on its side. They had packed up and left with what they could carry.
And there was still no sign of her da. She had searched here before she had left Brough and had hoped—wished—that perhaps he had come back, taking up residence in one of the tiny stone cottages, if not her own. But no. The village was empty, save for the sea birds, the occasional seal out on the rocks, and the little mice and red squirrels that had made the stone cottages their home.
Neely’s heart was breaking all over again.
And Steil’s face was closing up, going frozen, silent and cold once more.
Finally, Neely pulled Steil away to sit on a stone wall along the narrow road, their backs to the stone cottages, facing the little beach where the fishing boats used to be tied.
They sat in companionable silence, watching the antics of the sea birds as they dodged the waves and searched for small crabs among the rock pools. The day was sunny and warm but the winds were blowing. It was always windy on the peninsula. There was no escaping it. But today it was a warm day, and the stones they sat on were almost hot.
Neely looked up to the blue sky and smiled slightly as she breathed in the salty sea air.
“Tell me about the attacks on Brough?” Steil asked quietly. “Tell me about me four uncles—the riders of Teeth and Old Inch and Dummy? Did they die quickly?”
Neely looked up at his strained face. His dark auburn hair blew back from his face in the wind coming off the sea. His cheekbones were strained tightly with all that haunted him. The stubble along his square jaw stood out in sharp contrast to his skin.
He was staring far out beyond the waves, his light eyes reflecting the color of the sea and sky while he stared into the past. Neely knew what he was seeing. Those men he had called his uncles; they were not related by blood, only by love and loyalty. They had been his family too.
Neely swallowed, picturing that day. She took a breath.
“They were in their element,” she began. “Standing up there on the rampart, shaking their fists at the attackers, and bellowing their war cries. They were a sight to behold.” Her voice softened. “I can still see their white hair and their beards. Everything else was smoke and soot, and chaos. They were outnumbered, out-weaponed. But they had the biggest smiles on their faces as they wielded their swords and shot arrow after arrow.” Neely paused. Her voice quieted. “Aye, they died quickly, and honorably.”
Steil said very softly, “And together, doing what they did best. Fighting for others.”
Neely squeezed his hand.
Steil blinked a few times as he stared off into the distance. Then he turned to her and looked down at their clasped hands. When had their hands joined? He did not know, but it felt as natural and right as breathing to him.
“Neilina,” he whispered as he leaned towards her.
He rested his forehead against hers for several breaths, holding his eyes tightly shut. Forcing himself to breathe in and out.
“Come back to me,” Neely whispered as she squeezed his hand again.
Steil raised his head, just a bit.
He stared deeply into the soft, grey depths of her eyes, letting them pull him in. Pull him back.
For a moment.
For an eternity.
He leaned in closer, brushing his nose and mouth lightly across her fragrant cheek and her pert nose, his breath mixing with hers as he watched the silver in her eyes dilating with desire.
He heard the soft gasp of want from her lips, felt the same within himself.
He lowered his mouth and lightly grazed her lips with his. Just as he was about to increase the kiss, there came the clip-clopping sound of hoofbeats on the far side of the village.
They both spun their heads around to see a man leading a horse, with another man riding it. Something looked odd about the man on the horse, but they were not close enough to see.
Steil slid quickly down off the stone wall and pulled Neely down with him. He ducked down beneath the wall and put his hand on Neely’s head to push her down as well.
He put his finger to her lips. “Shhh,” he whispered.
Then he raised his head very slightly, just enough to barely peer over the wall. He watched as the man and the horse came closer and then went past, just in front of where they were hiding behind the stone wall.
Neely’s head came up slightly so that she could see as well. She and Steil stared at the passenger on the horse as they went by.
Neely’s eyes widened and Steil’s brows furrowed.
The man led the horse and rider through the village and down the road until he was out of sight.
They slowly stood up and looked down the road from the direction he had come.
It had been from Brough.
Neely’s mouth was still open. She closed it as she looked at Steil. His eyes narrowed, turning to glinting blue slits as he stood there thinking.
“Who or what exactly was that?” Neely asked him.
“No one ye know?” Steil asked with a crooked grin, though his eyes were intense, cold, concentrating.
Neely laughed. “No! I have never seen the likes of that and I cannae imagine what it was all aboot, can ye?”
Steil let out a short laugh as he rubbed his jaw. “’Twas a dummy sitting on the horse, with a leather head, and a rather large belly.”
“Aye, I saw that too, but...whatever for?” she asked curiously.
Steil looked at her. “I believe we just saw one of our smugglers,” he said quietly as his jaw tensed.
“A dummy?” Neely asked in confusion.
“The man leading the horse is the smuggler. The dummy was carrying the contraband.” Steil’s lips lifted in a fierce smile, like a wolf sighting its prey.
“I dinnae understand,” Neely said with frustration in her voice.
“That large belly of the dummy was made from sheet iron. ’Tis called a belly canteen. It can carry quite a lot of whisky. Anyone seeing him from a distance would just assume it is a man riding a horse. Oftentimes ’tis a real woman wearing the belly canteen, looking vera pregnant. With none the wiser. Unless of course it
is broad daylight, or ye are close enough to see whot is whot.”
“Och, I cannae imagine who would come up with sich a thing, but ’tis brilliant,” Neely said, wonderingly.
Steil stroked his chin again. “I think he is on his way to deliver some whisky, and he knows he’ll be going along the roads in the dark when no one will see that ’tis but a dummy.” He put his hands on his hips. “Aye, a smuggler from Brough just passed us.”
Neely stood there looking at Steil with her mouth open.
Steil used one finger to tip her chin up to close her mouth. He smiled grimly down at her. “’Tis a vera good ploy to evade the excisemen that are looking for illegal stills and smugglers.”
“Sards,” Neely whispered. “And he came from somewhere here in Brough?”
Steil grabbed Neely's hand. “Come!” he said as he started walking rapidly back up the hill of the village road. “I have an idea, but the tide’s coming in and there's no time to waste!”
He turned off the road where the stone wall ended. There was a large rock outcropping stretching out to the water and around it, a drop onto a narrow section of beach, and above it the rocky cliffs that made up the hill that climbed towards Brough Castle.
“What are we doing?” Neely asked as she tried to keep up with his long-legged strides.
“We are gaunnie see where he came from. There should be hoofprints in the sand, for he didnae come down the hill road from the castle, of that I am sure. There was no sound save the sea birds, and then suddenly, the horse’s hooves on the road could be heard.” He narrowed his eyes on the sand and the footprints left there. “Here they are. Let’s see where our ‘belly canteen man’ came from.”
10
The beach was narrow here, but Steil and Neely could still see the prints as they followed them in the dampening sand. They followed them until they stopped at another rock outcropping where the cliffs began. The sand here was getting wetter and wetter, making walking hard as the lapping tide came in and out.
Steil stopped and looked around. If one could get around the rock outcropping at low tide he knew they would be under the cliffs where Neely’s cottage was, somewhere down the hill from Brough Castle.
He studied the area. It was too narrow for a horse and man now. At low tide it would be a squeeze. Now though, the tide was coming in more and more. Steil looked at the ground, searching all around him. The hoofprints had disappeared. Had they been washed away with the tide?
“I dinnae understand where the mon and horse could have come from,” Neely said, deep in thought as she too studied the ground for footprints, hoofprints, anything. But nothing was left. “We need to come back at low tide and search again.”
The sand beneath their feet softened and began to shift as the waves lapped at their boots.
The tide was coming in fully now.
“Sards! We’ll be swimming again if we dinnae find those prints soon,” he said with a frown as he continued to look at the sand.
“Steil!” Neely said his name as the water deepened. “Greysteil!” she called again as she started stepping up onto the rocks, out of the range of the waves.
He ignored her and kept looking, walking rapidly back and forth in the narrow space between the rocky cliffs and the sea. The water was above the ankles of his boots.
Steil looked at the sand and water and snarled angrily as a larger wave hit at his knees and smashed into the rocks, almost taking him with it.
“The tide,” Neely shouted as she made her way further up the rocks. “Come, hurry! We are too late.”
Steil put two large hands on either side of Neely’s waist and helped her down from the rocks and back onto the road again.
He paused for a moment, holding his hands tightly on her hips. “Ye werenae wearing naught but a shift last night,” he said.
Neely stilled, looking up at him. “Aye,” she said in a whisper. “And ye had only yer breeks on… ”
They stared into one another's eyes, unable to look away.
Visions of their kiss on the sand the night before, their wet bodies rolling as they gasped for breath in between their wild, feverish, hungry kisses that went on and on until they were spent and even more exhausted than when he had carried her out of the surf.
Steil leaned down, slightly. He wanted to hear her sigh again with want, with need, with desire.
For him.
He needed to know.
Neely tipped her lips up to his. Asking. Demanding.
She sighed, her breath quivering through lips that trembled with desire.
It was enough. Steil murmured her name as his lips came down to seal with hers.
Groaning at their meeting, the satisfying and yet hungry sealing of their two mouths. A joining, like their hands had been.
Natural and right.
For she was the air his body needed to breathe. To survive.
He pulled her closer.
Closer.
Up against his chest.
Their thighs pressed into one another's.
Her hips pressed into his.
She trembled as she felt his desire.
His hands slid down from her waist to her hips, then around behind her back to just above her buttocks. His large hands and fingers pressed her even tighter to him as he moved his mouth hungrily over her lips.
Neely gasped quietly and murmured his name as she sought more of him. This time it was she who thrust her tongue between his lips, asking for that dance.
He pulled away, placed his hands on her shoulders, and set her back, away from him.
Her lips were full and red from his kisses and her creamy skin pinkened from the stubble on his chin.
His eyes went cold again, narrowed back into those steel slits as his jaw tensed and his fingers tightened on her shoulders.
“You should get back,” Steil whispered in a deep, hoarse voice.
Neely turned around before she changed her mind and threw herself back into his arms, forcing the coldness from him. Instead, she started walking up the long road to the castle.
Her heart was in serious danger, and she knew she had a battle ahead of her.
She had fallen in love with the Highlander with the heart of steel.
She would fight the fight he would give her.
But she would win.
Oh yes, she thought, I am keeping him.
11
Neely walked along the top of the hill towards the castle. She knew Steil was behind her. He had not attempted to catch up to her on the walk back and she let him have his time to think. She was staring ahead at the tower house of Brough Castle.
She saw Kaithria sitting on the steps watching Keir as he brushed down his war horse. The horse was terribly scarred, and had one ear that had the tip missing from a sword that had sliced it clear in half.
Swan was sitting in the sun, leaning against a tree and napping.
Neither Kaithria or Keir were talking. They just seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon. As well as not wanting to disturb Swan's rest, Neely supposed with a soft smile for her friend.
As Neely passed by the path down to the beach, Cat was just coming up. She had a huge smile when she saw Neely.
“’Tis a long walk back up,” Neely said to Cat as she stopped and waited for her.
“Och, dinnae ye start on me too! I have never felt this guid in such a long time!” she said as she stretched her arms up wide to the sky. She looked at Neely and leaned in with a secretive grin. “Do ye want to know what I have been doing?”
Neely looked at her and could not help her own grin. She knew what she herself had been doing on that beach just last night. With Steil. Neely cleared her throat and smoothed her expression to one of interest. “Aye, I do, for ye look vera happy.”
Cat leaned in further. “I took all me clothes off and just laid on the sand under the sun. It felt so wonderful!” she said and spun in a circle. “Then I went swimming, withoot me clothes!” She let out a happy whooping noise and
spun once more. Then she stopped, catching her breath as she looked at Neely with a happy smile.
Neely looked at Cat in her tidy cream blouse and tartan skirt in soft greens and blues. Neely was glad that Cat had put her clothes back on. Neely grinned back at her, for Cat’s happiness was infectious.
Cat laughed happily. With both hands she ruffled the cap of damp curls on her head, shaking her head and laughing as the droplets of water were flung all about.
Neely’s eyes followed Cat’s hands. She stared at Cat’s unconventional hair. The girl’s short curls were in damp ringlets and blowing all around her face. She was lovely, though looked so fragile that it was worrying.
“Were ye vera sick at one time Lady Catriona?” Neely asked with concern.
“Och, ye dinnae have to call me ‘Lady,’” she scoffed.
Neely grinned. “Ye call me ‘Lady’ and I have no title. But ye are a titled lady, a laird’s sister, and at one time ran the McKay Castle yerself.”
Cat’s eyes fell downcast. “Aye, but then I fell sick.” She sighed and took a breath, looking at Neely. Deciding whether to tell her, and how much. “Me brother Wolf heard I had taken ill. He sent word to the housekeeper to watch over me. She said that I couldnae do anything or go anywhere and must stay abed, and the healer agreed with her. And really I wasnae well enough to even fight them. She told everyone in the castle and...I became a prisoner in me own home. I was alone.”
She huffed out a breath in frustration. “And Uncle Keir knew as well, obviously. He still says he is taking me back to McKay. Everyone has treated me like a fragile babe for far too long. But here, on this adventure, I have never felt stronger, or better, and surrounded by women I would like to call me friends.” She sighed happily, the picture of health.
“Och, ’tis terrible fer ye,” Neely whispered. “I am so vera glad ye are feeling better. And so vera glad ye came and we are together. And yes, we are friends.”