Page 17 of The Outlaw's Bride
They walked down to where a row of small wooden boats bobbed in the water. Unfortunately, the craft were moored right before the inn. The white-washed building, which rose high above all the others in the village, lay in darkness. No light peeked out from behind the closed shutters. Perhaps it was later than Adaira realized. Even the inn-keeper would be abed.
She followed Lachlann down the grassy slope to the water. There, he went to the first boat in the line and hunkered down before the wharf. Working by feel, for the shadows were long here, he started to untie the oiled rope that moored the boat.
“Climb in,” he whispered.
Heart hammering, Adaira complied. She lifted her skirts and stepped into the boat. It rocked under her, and she stifled a gasp, lowering herself to the deck. She then shuffled forward and perched upon a plank of wood. Lachlann passed her the satchel and cloak—and then he pushed the boat out into the water.
Adaira clung on to the sides. Her eyes strained in the darkness for any sign of movement around them. Lachlann moved slowly, but even so, every splash, every ripple, seemed obscenely loud.
As he crept out of the shadow of the docks, Adaira caught sight of Lachlann’s face illuminated in the moonlight. It was set in grim, determined lines. It seemed Rhona had made the right choice in making him her protector; Morgan Fraser’s first-born was practical, a survivor.
When the water had reached thigh-height, Lachlann climbed in and set himself down opposite Adaira. He picked up the oars and maneuvered the boat around so that he was facing shore. Then he started to row.
The pair of them did not speak. Adaira hardly dared breathe. She kept glancing back over her shoulder at Kiltaraglen, expecting to hear shouts echo out across the water as someone spied them.
Guilt assailed her then. At dawn, a fisherman would wander down to the water to find his boat gone. They were stealing a man’s livelihood. How would he feed his family without his boat?
Adaira shoved the thought away. It was too late now to torture herself. She had to put her trust in Lachlann. She realized now that it was too risky to wait till daylight, yet resorting to thievery upset her.
She turned from the village, her gaze traveling east. In daylight the isle of Raasay rose out of the sound, but tonight she saw only darkness. However, the island would still be there, and they would need to turn south soon.
“Lie down and rest awhile, Adaira.” Lachlann broke the silence between them, his voice terse.
Adaira stared back at him, studying the lines of his face. Her heart had settled to its usual rhythm, and now that they were out of danger, she felt weak, wrung out. She was bone-weary.
Still she resisted. “What about ye?”
He huffed. “Someone’s got to row. There is nothing to be gained by both of us having a sleepless night. When dawn breaks, I’ll bring the boat ashore so I can rest.”
Adaira nodded, stifling a yawn. Despite that she’d slept the day before, she was desperately weary now. Using her cloak as a pillow, she stretched out, curling her torso around the satchel. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in, but it was wonderful just to lie flat—not to be on her aching feet.
I’ll only close my eyes for a short while, she promised herself.I’ll just take a nap. But the gentle splash of the oars and the subtle roll of the boat had a lulling effect on her. Before she knew it, sleep caught her up in its embrace and carried her away.
Lachlann Fraser stopped rowing and studied the young woman before him. Adaira was curled into a ball, her hands clasped under her cheek. He’d taken to calling her an ‘angel’, but now she truly looked like one. Her face appeared pale and very young in the hoary light of the moon.
Is she asleep?
It was a breathlessly still night, and even the slightest sound carried. Without the splash of the oars, he heard the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
Yes, she is.
Lachlann's fingers flexed around the oars, and yet he hesitated.
He’d made a pledge to take her to Argyle, but tonight he’d decided that he wouldn’t. Gylen Castle was at least three days’ travel from here in this tiny row boat; it would be many days before he saw his home again. In the meantime, Lucas might use Lachlann’s absence as an excuse to take his place as chieftain of the Frasers of Talasgair.
Lachlann didn’t trust his brother one bit—and he couldn’t let him get his hands on the Fraser lands. He had to return home. He didn’t have time for this detour.
Once again, his grip on the oars tightened, but he still didn’t move.
His conscience was needling him.
Lady Adaira captivated him. She was sheltered—although that was usual with most high-born ladies—and had a beguiling innocence about her. She was also trusting and gentle-hearted.
She’d be upset that he’d broken his promise.
Lachlann loosed a long breath. Adaira would get over it in time. He wouldn’t send her back to Dunvegan. He’d arrange for a boat to take her to the mainland from Talasgair, or she could make a new life for herself at the Fraser stronghold if she wished. Either way, her father would never know she remained upon the Isle of Skye.
Adaira would still get what she wanted, to be free of her union with Chieftain Budge.
