Page 30 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

She leaned in, whispering. “Ye’re nae wearing yer gloves.”

Aileen shook her head. “They’ve gone from me life. I dinnae wish tae wear them any longer.”

Séamus looked up, a smile spreading over his rugged features. “Aileen, that is good tae hear. Ye’re daeing the brave and good thing. There’s naught fer ye tae hide. Ye came by each of yer scars honorably and ye can wear them with pride and hold yer head up.”

Maxwell, hearing the comment, joined in. “Aye,” he said softly, “I’ve told her they are beautiful. Each scar tells us of her courage in standing up against Sutherland’s evil cruelty. What ye say is true”. He turned to Aileen. “Wear the scars without shame, lass.”

Tears sprang to Aileen’s eyes at the kindness the three showed her. She acknowledged their words with a nod. The scars spoke of her defiance, yet the gloves had become a symbol of her submission. She could only wonder what Sutherland’s response would be when he saw her bare arms.

They turned their attention to their porridge and oatcakes. Although it was tempting to tarry over their meal, it would do no good to delay their departure. She preferred sailing in daylight. And the days were short enough this time of year. No matter what the weather had in store, they’d make Dunrobin today.

“I’ve filled a barrel wi’ hot water fer those of ye who wish tae wash.” Tam said, keeping his voice low. Opportunities for bathing were rare and for most of the crew they’d not done more than splash their hands and faces since the cold weather had closed in. As many of them were sewn into their undergarments fer the winter, a full-body wash was only to be dreamed of.

“That’s an opportunity too good to miss,” Aileen said. Beside her, Finn nodded. “I relish the thought of warm water.” She got to her feet, followed by Finn.

Maxwell also rose. “I’d welcome a splash meself, I’m tired of all this salt drying on me skin.

“Well, ye’re nay sailor or else ye’d favor the salt.” Finn put up a hand. “Ye must wait yer turn.” Then she turned and scurried after Aileen who was already walking toward the door. “Ye’ll get yer chance before the other men.”

With Finn holding up her cloak for privacy, Aileen stripped naked and stepped into the barrel. The water came up almost to her shoulders and for a few moments she reveled in the warmth, allowing the water to flow like silk over her skin.

Tam had provided them with a sliver of precious rosewater soap and she stepped out of the water, lathered all over and stepped back in to the water to rinse. Once she was done, she dried herself on the linen towel Tam had left them. Already shivering in the icy air, she speedily donned her clothes, before holding Finn’s cloak so she could do the same.

As Finn re-entered the inn, Maxwell hurried out.

“The water willnae be warm fer long so ye’d best make haste,” Aileen said.

He draped his cloak over a nearby branch of a tree. Then, undoing the tie at his throat and unlacing his shirt he pulled it over his head and tossed it over to her. Without thinking, she caught it. Then he undid his belt and unwound his kilt and tossed the length of plaid to her. Now he stood by the tub naked, save for his woolen socks and his boots, which he then removed.

It was impossible to turn her gaze away from him. Hardly able to breathe at the sight of his powerful body as he ladled himself with the water, she was suddenly seized with an urge to run her hands over his slick, wet, shoulders, his wide back and the firm curve of his buttocks. Her fingers tingled as she gazed upon the eagle now fully revealed, wings spread, covering his shoulder and neck and, as he turned, the MacNeil coat of arms becamefully visible on his chest. There were sigils and symbols there she did not understand. Mayhap one day she’d take the time to ask him about them.

He turned to face her fully and she gasped at the sight of his powerful shaft, half erect as he looked back at her, a bold grin on his face.

She huffed, averting her eyes as she handed him his plaid and shirt.

“Hasten to put on yer clothes MacNeil, if ye’re nae aboard when we’re ready to sail, ye’ll be spending yer days and nights here wi’ Tam.” Pulling her cloak around her she turned to go.

He laughed. “I dinnae think ye’ll sail without me, lass. I’m far too precious tae ye.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Once they’d boarded the birlinn, Maxwell took his place on the bench with the oarsmen, ignoring their ribald comments about his lingering scent of rosewater. “Are ye certain ye’re a man?” Bran said cheekily.

Maxwell could only laugh.

Once the men heaved up the sail, they moved out of the tiny, sheltering cove, into the choppy water of the North Sea. Aileen took her place with Séamus at the rudder while Finn, whose task it was to ensure everything on board was in good order, was nowhere to be seen.

In the heavy seas, the task of the oarsmen was more onerous than it had been. The blisters Maxwell had received on his hands on the first day of rowing had healed, but the additional effort required in the battle with the harsher conditions today, soon opened up the damaged skin on his palms. The calluses of long standing from his own ventures into sailing and from long yearsof wielding his claymore were no protection from this fresh assault on his hands.

By the time they took brief refuge in a quite naust some miles down the coast, they’d been rowing for hours and the crew was grateful for a rest.

Maxwell sought out Finn, finding her winding rope with Ewen in the stern.

“If ye please. I’m needing some cloth to bind my hands.” He raised one of his hands, dripping blood, where the blisters had ruptured.

She glanced at his wounds. “Come with me, I’ll find ye some tincture for that, and some binding rags.”

He followed her to the cabin, sitting as she gestured to the chair. She reached into the cabinet and brought down a basket containing rolls of clean cloth. She ripped two lengths and set about dabbing his hands with a dark green liquid. He sucked a breath between his clenched teeth.

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