Page 33 of The Dark Wolf's Deliverance

As he rode out a short time later, he saw Monnine, her pale red hair fiery against Dunslair’s dark walls. She waved and smiled at him when he glanced over, and it was almost as if something reached out and took the breath from his lungs. Dangerous or not, spell or infatuation, whatever this thing was that had its claws in him, it could not be denied and as he smiled and waved back, all he could think was, ‘She is free now, and she is mine for the taking.’

Chapter Fourteen

The gusty wind which had swept them away from the beach to safety turned into a dangerous storm by the time they sighted the mainland. The boat bobbed around like a cork on the huge swell crashing against a deserted beach, and Conall had to fight hard and use all his sailing skills to stop it tipping sideways and capsizing. Kenna clung to the side of it and was shaking so much by the time it rasped to a halt on the shingle that Conall realised she was in a bad way.

‘I’m so cold, Conall.’ Kenna’s words were forced out of chattering teeth, and her lips were blue. The light was fading fast, and their situation was becoming grim. The rain was achingly cold on his face.

‘Can’t we stay on the boat out of the wind and rain?’ she asked as he reached for her.

‘There’s not enough shelter here to make a fire, and we have to warm you up. It is too open and this wind is rising. It’ll likely blow the boat over soon or cover it in a swell in the night. This is a really bad storm.’

He lifted Kenna to the side of the boat and jumped off to help her over the edge. When her feet touched the ground, she leaned over and retched. She had no sea legs whatsoever, and Conall pitied her that feeling. Hours of being tossed on a cold ocean had made her weak with nausea, and her usual plucky manner had disappeared completely. The waves lashing his legs were like ice as he reached back in to retrieve what meagre possessions they had. He snatched up blankets and stuffed them inside a leather jerkinhe had found aboard to keep out the wet and, by the time he went back to Kenna, sleet was blowing down the beach at them.

‘Come on, Kenna,’ he shouted. ‘We must get off the beach. The wind is blowing right through us, and you are just getting colder and colder. If we get inland, it will be easier. We can find shelter, and there’s a bit of food here to fill our bellies.’ She had to eat to give her strength, as her stomach had not held on to their last meal.

Kenna nodded in mute misery, and he dragged her to her feet. With his arm around her and bent over in the face of the ferocious wind, they set off.

They walked through the dunes and then through fields until, mercifully, they gave way to woodland, dense and wild, but providing some shelter. It was so desolate and remote that Conall could not recognise anything. It was likely the boat had been blown right down the coastline. He thought in a southerly direction, but it had been all he could do to get it to shore safely once the squall hit and where he landed had not been as important as saving their lives.

He had travelled widely around Campbell territory and beyond, but as they walked ever onward, Conall began to despair. He could not get his bearings. Nothing seemed in the slightest bit familiar to him, and there was not a village or dwelling in sight until, suddenly, up ahead, he thought he saw a dark shape, just visible through the swaying trees and driving rain.

‘I see something, Kenna. Come on.’

In the failing light, Conall could just make out the hulking, dark shape of a house of sorts, a low cottage it looked like and some kind of barn nearby where the land sloped downwards from the house. There was another clap of thunder overhead, but no sound came from the house, no dogs barking, no light shining from a fire in the hearth or candles flickering through the shutters.

He had spent many a night out in the open, but Kenna had not. He feared she would not survive the cold. They had been walking for hours, and it was obvious Kenna could not go on much longer. She was soaked, and her dress was clinging to her legs.

If he’d got his bearings wrong and they had been blown down the firth instead of across it, or if this was still Moncur land, they were still in danger. What if it was a hideout for pirate clans, who stalked these waters like hungry wolves, or the Watch, who preyed on travellers and farmers alike?

The wind was howling now, and the trees around them leaning over in the face of it, boughs creaking and threatening to snap off at any moment. A huge clap of thunder overhead made Kenna jump, and she clung on to him with stiff fingers.

Conall’s plan was set. ‘I don’t think anyone is at home, but if they are, I will force them to help us.’

‘But they may have dogs, or they might attack you.’

‘We have to do this, Kenna. We have to get out of the storm and have strong walls around us tonight. I didn’t steal you from your family just to let you die of cold. I’ll go over and look around first and come back for you. Stay out of sight.’

‘Alright, but you risk too much, and I’m frightened, Conall.’

‘Then wish me luck.’ Before he knew it, he had kissed Kenna hard on the mouth, and it was as unexpected to him as it was to her. Conall sped off and reached the door of the cottage. It was secured on the outside but not from the inside. He opened the door carefully and went inside. ‘Thank God,’ he said, as he looked within. Now they might just survive this night.

***

Kenna put her hands as close to the fire as she could without scorching her fingers, but still, she could not stop shaking. God knows how Conall had managed to light it with the flint he had found, what with the wind whining in through the gaps in the shutters and rattling against the door. Again and again, he had struck the flint onto a handful of kindling as she had shivered uselessly in the background. But he did not give up, and now he had piled any wood he could find on top, to bring the weak flame to life, and it was roaring, the smoke sucked up the chimney by the force of the wind rushing past outside.

Kenna fanned her hair out before the fire to dry it. Her nose and ears hurt as the circulation came back into them, and she was still shivering.

‘This is a home, Conall. Someone has been here recently. The larder is stocked, and all that firewood is freshly chopped. Whoever owns this place will not be pleased to find us trespassing or by the fact we have eaten their food.’

‘Two apples and a bit of stale bread. It was hardly a banquet, and besides, we have your stolen coin to pay them off if they do turn up. I wonder why they aren’t inside, what with this storm and all.’

‘Perhaps they got caught out in it and are sheltering somewhere until it blows over?’

‘Let us hope so. It’s lucky we stumbled onto this place, or else we would not survive the night.’

The cottage was neat, simple and surprisingly comfortable, given its remote location. Conall clattered about behind her, looking through the larder, and, after a while, he sat down before her by the fire with a huge grin on his face, holding out a bottle.

‘Here, I found their whisky. Have a wee gulp of it and put a fire in your belly.’

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