Page 58 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

She slowly straightened, stretched, and pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are we near?”

“We’ve nay far tae travel lass, but I’d welcome yer hand on the second oar so I can steer us safe into the bay and over it, to the castle.” He reached a hand and helped her to her feet.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Aileen took the oar, even though the breeze in the sail was carrying them along at a good rate. She gazed into the sky. “We’re on a south-west position?”

“Aye. If me skills still serve me, we’ll be soon along the southern coast of Barra.” He reached over and touched her hand lightly. “I wished ye awake to catch the first glimpse of the island that will be yer home. Fer now, that is,” he added hastily.

She looked over at him, his eyes searching the sea, his jawline set. “Are ye thinking I’ll nae wish tae stay?”

He shook his head slowly. “I dinnae ken how ye’ll like it. Mayhap ye’ll tire of it. The castle is nay the magnificent place ye’re used to. Dunrobin is three times the size. And the island is small. Ye’ll soon ken every islander by sight if nae by name.”

He gave a shrug that appeared so careless the words were on the tip of her tongue to ask if he cared whether she would to stay ornay. But this was not the time for such talk, it was time to find their way to safety. She swiveled, her eyes seeking for anything that might betray the presence of their pursuers. She froze, listening. There was nothing but a grunt from Maxwell, the creaking of the boat’s timbers, the sound of the waves lapping on the hull and the wind in the sails

She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “There’s nay sign of Sutherland’s men as far as I can tell.”But who knows what might be lurking behind us out of sight?

Shivering she pulled her cloak tighter, put her head down, and plied her oar in time with Maxwell’s.

Dawn was patching the sky when they finally came in sight of land. The gulls careened overhead as if forming a welcome committee.

Maxwell rested his oar, drawing in a long deep breath. “There.” He pointed to the distant shape, a mountain wreathed in mist, a few lights twinkling from cottages along the shore.

They sailed on, up the coast, soon nearing the shore.

“Keep yer eyes alert, lass. If Sutherland figures we’ll be making for Barra, my guess is he’ll have issued instructions for men to wait at the entrance to the bay to ensnare us and take us captive before we reach the sanctuary of the bay.”

Aileen groaned quietly. It would suit Sutherland to let them get so close and then close his trap. “He loves to play cat and mouse. That would suit the evil devil down to the ground. Capturing us when we’re so close, kenning we are weaker after so long on the run from his men.”

Maxwell nodded, keeping his eyes on the hill and the lights along the coast. “He’ll nay take me alive this time, Aileen. Without yer wiles to draw me in he’d never have taken me while there was breath in me body.”

“Oh? Are ye telling me that ye simply came along on the birlinn because of me? I thought it was yer anger that was driving ye on.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Ye had already captured me in the tavern at Ullapool. Did ye but ken it then? Och, I was angry. Ye made me fierce enough to throw ye overboard. All the same I didnae want to leave ye.” He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Ye’re naught but a witch who used yer spells tae enchant me.”

She laughed. “Aye, Maxwell. Mayhap the same spells ye wove around me.”

He squeezed her hand and lifted it to her lips. “May ye never break yer spell on me.”

She was about to say much the same soft words in reply but as she glanced sideways in his direction, she caught a hint of movement. She gave a sudden squeal of horror. Emerging from the mist behind them was the dark shape of a large birlinn.

“Maxwell!” She seized her oar. “They’re here. After us.”

He whipped around and turned back to her, frowning, his face ashen. “God’s blood. And we’re so close.” He grabbed his oar and together they pulled and strained to propel the tiny craft to an ever-greater speed across the water.

She kept glancing over her shoulder, her stomach knotting painfully as she caught sight of the other vessel.

“Jesus, I can only pray she belongs to Everard. Can ye make out the flag?”

She gasped. Flying from the mast was a banner displaying the distinctive red and yellow Sutherland colors. The knot in her stomach tightened. The faint hope that the birlinn had been one of MacNeil’s or anyone’s but Sutherland’s faded. This was the game he loved. The cat had cornered the mouse.

“She’s gaining.”

The birlinn was close enough for them to see at least twelve men at the oars and another six or so manning the two sails and the rigging.

“Is Sutherland on board? Can ye see him among the men?”

She peered at the menacing vessel bearing down on them. “Nay. I cannae see him. Is it important fer him tae be aboard?”

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