Page 39 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

“Nay, I can manage. We’ve nay time tae spare.”

He shook his head. “Ye’re a brave one. When we reach shelter, I’ll see tae it. For now, I’ll take yer oar, ye tend the sail.”

The little craft skimmed over the waves and it was not long before the ghostly lights of the castle had faded into the distance. They both breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief, scarcely able to believe their success in escaping Dunrobin.

“We’ve done it.” Aileen was jubilant.

“Aye lass. We’ve made it this far. But dinnae forget ‘tis a long journey that lies ahead of us tae the Isle of Barra.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The sea grew choppy as they approached the Firth of Dornoch and it took all of Maxwell’s strength to hold their southerly direction as their little birlinn danced and bounced over the ever-mounting waves.

Once they’d made the crossing and entered calmer waters, he kept a watchful eye on the surging water, hoping to find a naust or a natural curve in the coastline that indicated a cove where they might take shelter. Aileen held the sail steady but he could see from the way her head drooped she was in sore need of a rest.

At last, he felt the rushing of water that told him they were nearing an inlet. He allowed the surge to guide them through a break in the coastline which after some time took them into a small pebbly beach. He seized both oars and rowed them as close as he could to the dark outline of the shore. Once there, he kicked off his boots and tied the laces at his neck before going over the side into the ice-cold water and hauling their craft as far up the beach as he could. Then he swung Aileen into his armsand helped her walk across the pebbles to a place where rocks and bushes offered some shelter from the bitter wind.

She took off the leather satchel that she had slung over her good shoulder.

“Here.” Unlacing the tie and opening the bag she held it out to him. “There are salves and stockings inside ye can use to bind my shoulder.”

After taking a stocking from her pack, he peeled back the fabric of her tabard, now stained with her blood. He dabbed at the cut, cleansing it with salt water he garnered from a pool in the rocks.

She winced, gritting her teeth, and he paused, concerned at causing her more pain.

“Keep on, MacNeil. ’Tis nae a deathblow, ‘tis just a mere nuisance that will hamper me arm fer a day or so.”

Gingerly spreading the pungent ointment over the deep cut, he grinned at her show of toughness. “Aye lass, it will be good in nay time.”

Once her shoulder was dealt with and her tabard and cloak adjusted, she snuggled closer and he took her in his arms, warming her.

“We’ll catch a few winks of sleep here fer what’s left of the night. But we must be off at first light. That swine Sutherland will likely be hot on our trail.”

She nodded sleepily, and in no time her breath was steady and deep as she slept. Gazing at her sleeping form he was mindful she was now in his care, just as he was in hers. From here on, each of them depended on the other. It was a bond that could never be broken without lives being put at risk. This could have been an onerous burden, yet it seemed a simple thing to place himself at her disposal and, in return, accept responsibility for her protection.

Holding her fast, he dozed, determined not to succumb to the sleep he so desperately wished for. It would not take much for Sutherland’s men to estimate how far they had come. As this was the only refuge they’d encountered, anyone in pursuit would readily calculate this to be a place they might be found. He made up his mind that when dawn came, they’d be on their way.

But from here on, they would leave the sea and make their way along the shore, abandoning the little birlinn that had brought them this far.

In his mind he mapped the route they must take. The distance was great. They had to cross Scotland from the east to the west, and it would be many days before they reached his home island. Without doubt, Sutherland would be aware of their destination and, while he might not send men to track them overland, when they crossed the sea to the Isle of Barra, he was in no doubt Sutherland’s men would be waiting for them.

Meanwhile, one thing he could be certain of, the wicked Scottish winter rapidly closing in was a constant danger.

Despite his determination to stay awake, he finally succumbed to Morpheus’s lure and slept fitfully until dawn’s grey light penetrated his dreams. He stirred, waking Aileen, who grumbled at being disturbed.

He chuckled. “Mayhap ye’ve forgotten where ye are, lass. We’ve nay time tae be snuggling asleep. We need tae be up and on our way with all speed.”

She groaned and rolled out of his arms, rubbing her eyes. Maxwell got to his feet and reached a hand to help her up.

The drank greedily from the flask of fresh water Aileen had brought in her satchel and then set off. They skirted the shore, eventually reaching a path that led them inland. Not far along that path they joined a road already busy with farmers’ carts.

Walking alongside one of the carts loaded with hay, Maxwell asked the farmer where he was heading.

“Along the road. Further a few miles.” It turned out he was not heading to market in the nearby town of Dingwall, but was on his way to a neighbor’s farm with hay for his wintering cattle. Maxwell thanked him and turned to Aileen.

“It seems we sailed further than I thought last night. We entered the Cromarty firth, and this road leads into Dingwall. Mayhapfer a coin, one of the farmers would be kind enough tae let us ride in his cart as far as the village.”

Aileen was happy to oblige, extracting a silver coin from the pouch she had slung at her waist. In no time they were in a farmer’s cart, along with a load of carrots and neeps, lumbering along the road, surrounded by cattle and sheep being driven to market.

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