Behind the Plaid (14 page)

I doused the candle and then locked the door
, tucking the key back into place within my sporran pouch. A gift from my mother, made from the fur of a wolf I’d hunted as a child. No one need enter the library. I didna usually keep it locked as I believed those within my castle were loyal—or at the very least too scared to spy inside. But with Emma… I just didna know and I wouldna take any chances.

I spun around to see the lass staring at me. Her face was blank of emotion, but her eyes were deep and
penetrating, and I could sense the torment lying just beneath the surface. What had her life been like before she came here? Was that the reason for the agony I sensed within her soul or was it the task she’d been sent here to accomplish? Was there even such a task?

“Lass, I hear ye tried to leave.”

She shook her head, and I could tell from the way her eyes widened and she readily reacted that leaving was not her purpose for going to the gate.

“I only wanted to see it.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and looked
away. “I was curious about the stones.”

“The stones?”

“Yes…” she drawled out. Judging from the way she was avoiding the subject I was positive I wouldna be getting a straight answer.

“They were cut from a quarry and brought here on carts a few years ago.
I wanted a stronger gate. The one we had before was built of wood.”

“So they are new?”

I nodded. “Were they not here last time ye visited?”

She shook her head. “No, I saw them.”

Such a strange lass. “There were spires though.” She gasped as though she hadna meant to say it.

“Spires? Atop my gate?”

She shook her head so vehemently her hair came loose in places from her braid. “I’m thinking of another place, sorry.”

Emma
shifted nervously, which put me on edge, making me think my suspicions of why she’d come to Gealach were warranted. And yet, there did not seem to be an evil bone in her body. She was more of a wounded soul that needed to be embraced, brought back to earth, soothed. For some ungodly reason, I needed to be that man. The one that lulled her back to a sense of peace.

Shaking my head slowly, I said, “Emma, I dinna know why ye came here.”
My throat grew tight with the strong desire to demand she tell me all, but I knew the way to draw in a wounded animal was not by making them feel threatened, but safe. “I’ll not press now, but know that in time, ye must tell me. Ye can trust me. Ye are safe here.”

She nodded and looked away. Almost like she’d heard those words before. Was it the wrong thing to say?

“I’m off to the wharf.”

She glanced up, interest lighting her eyes.

“Would ye like to join me?”

She bit her lip, wrung her hands. “I would.”

I was only going to assess the cargo. The ships were now commandeered by me, and I’d make a gift of them to the king. He’d be pleased for the added vessels in his fleet. Might even make a gift of one to me.

“Come then. I see ye have your cloak already. ’Tis windy by the loch.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

“’Tis good to know. A woman with a robust nature will survive well in the Highlands.
” Taking her by the elbow, I led her through the castle, down the damp, spiral stairs to the water gate. The heat of her body was warm beneath my fingertips. At the sudden contact, she trembled, but after a few moments seemed to calm.

“
Oh, I’ve seen one of these before,” she said, her eyes widening in surprise as we reached the iron sea gate.

I pulled the keys from within my sporran and unlocked the pos
tern. “The water gate? Where?”

“In London.”

“Oh, aye, the Tower.”

She nodded again. Her eyes
were riveted by the flow of water and the row boats that were tied to the stone walkway, awaiting myself. The gate was hidden inside a cave at the base of the loch. I’d had it built after hearing of the Tower water gate. The idea was perfect for keeping Gealach safe. Not many outside the castle knew of it and I kept it that way. By showing Emma, I was hoping to ease my concern about her possibly being a spy. Her genuine interest and surprise relieved me a great deal. A spy would have greedily taken in their surroundings and not shown such enjoyment. Well, a good one at any rate.

Overhead the stone was black with dampness. Water gathered on the pinnacles of some stones until enough accumulated to for a single drop which then fell, echoing in soft pings. The platform was stone, carved from the rocky mountain itself, as were the stairs leading down to the waterway.

We nodded to the half dozen warriors who sat watch.

“Are we getting into a boat?” she asked.

“Aye. Can ye swim?”

“Yes.” She looked from side to side, nervous. “Y
ou’ve no safety vests.”

“Safety vests?”
I’d never heard of such a thing.

Again the look of panic flitted over her face.
“To wear. In case we capsize. Even though I can swim, I could still be pulled under.”

“I’ll keep ye safe.”

Her eyes locked with mine and she studied me for several moments. Her lips were pressed together as though she contemplated just that.

“Ye dinna have to come, Emma.”

“I want to,” she said quickly.

I got the feeling she didna
want to be alone in the castle if I was not near.

“Come
, then.” Again, I took her by the elbow and led her into one of the boats, our added weight making it rock. I settled her onto one of the wooden benches and the men untied the line holding it to the dock.

“Should ye like one of us to accompany ye, my laird?” Seamus, one of my guards asked.

I shook my head. “Not necessary.”

The men nodded. I lifted the oars and began paddling. As we withdrew, the dimmed light of the cave turned into the brightness of a sun drenched
summer. Emma closed her eyes and tilted her head, absorbing the sun. She was beautiful, innocent in that moment.

“What is it like in Washington?” I asked her.

She jerked her head toward me, eyes widening a little. “Not at all like Gealach.”

“How so?”

She frowned. “There are many buildings. Seems like they’ve taken over whatever beauty there once was.” She looked around, then down at the water. “But I will say the buildings are stunning.”

“In what way?”

“They are made of stone, marble, carved.” She shrugged. “The architects made constructing them an art form.”

Her words were odd to me. Architect… It was a relatively new position I’d heard of. Mostly in Spain and Italy. They were constructing massive buildings. Perhaps some of the Spaniards and Italians had made it acros
s the ocean? However impossible…

I grunted, not sure how to answer.

“We do have beautiful hiking trails, and there are still lots of places in the country that are beautiful and untouched by…civilization. But I haven’t spent much time there.” She hungrily eyed the mountains that crept up behind the loch, skimming the clouds. “It’s very beautiful here.”

“I agree, but I am also partial
.”

Emma
smiled, her lips curling attractively, showing even white teeth. I wanted to reach across the boat, gather her in my arms and claim those lips once more. Her beauty was like none I’d ever seen before. But beyond her outward appearance, something deep down drew me closer. I wanted to consume her, be a part of her and have her be a part of me. ’Twas an odd feeling. I wanted to dominate her, and yet I wanted to hold her cradled in my arms and cherish her.

“What do ye think of Gealach Castle? Is it as grand as those ye saw in
Washington?”

Her smiled dipped. “They are too different to compare. Gealach has a magical feel. A raw, electrifying power emanates from its stones. The age and wealth of history in Scotland are just…” She shrugged.
“Different.”

I could understand. Traveling to Edinburgh or even to the border of England and Scotland, and then north to the Isles—all those places were different
, too.

We rowed the rest of the way toward the ships in silence. As we ap
proached, Emma eyed the vessels warily.

“They are huge,” she murmured.

“Aye.”

“Do all Scottish ships look like this? They look almost…”

“Viking?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded glancing up at one particular stern with a carved eagle jutting from it. “They were built to entice fear from those who gazed on them.”

“The Vikings were a cruel lot.”

My lips peeled back in a semblance of a smile. “Aye. The man who owned these galleons boasted of being a descendant of the bastards.”

“Are you?”

I jerked back toward her. She eyed me curiously. Tamping down my alarm, I said, “Nay. Are ye?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

I looked back up at the ships. Those who I’d put in charge of the ships were instructed to bring its cargo to the deck so I could inspect it. My men could be seen walking to and fro.

“Where is the man who owns these ships now?” she asked.

Her question was legitimate, but I studied her anyway, trying to see if she was curious or digging. “He was not on any of them. Most likely home, protected in his vast castle, whipping his slaves and beating his women.”

Emma’s mouth formed a shocked O. “He sounds horrid.”

“He is.”

Reaching the roped ladder, I tied up our boat. “Ye climb first, lass.”

A flash of fear came and went from her eyes. “It’s much taller than I imagined.” She gripped the rope and craned her neck. “Much taller than they look.”

“Have ye never climbed onto a ship?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Then how did ye get here from across the ocean?”

Startled, she hadna expected me to question her. “A plank.”

I grunted again. Washington must have had
impressive docks. Our harbors were remarkable as well, and had we approached from them, a plank could have been lowered, but I preferred not to use the planks. Planks meant many men could climb aboard a ship in a quick amount of time—easier for them to escape with the ships. I wanted to make it difficult. My own ship was not even kept here at our quay, but anchored within one of the hidden alcoves Gealach Mountain provided against the loch. Just as easily reachable from the water gate as the docks—in the opposite direction.

“Well, are ye going or staying?” I asked.

“Going,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

She gripped the roped rungs, her knuckles white.
Tentatively, she placed a foot on the first rung and yanked herself up, placing her other foot on the next rung. She paused there, the rope ladder taut with her weight.

“Ye’ve got it, lass. Keep going.”

“It’s harder than I thought.”

I chuckled. “Aye, but ye’ll get it. And I’m right behind ye.”

With jerky movements she grabbed the next rung, hoisted herself up another one. Her lavender gown and black cloak billowed in the wind. I’d not noticed she was wearing the gown I’d given her, the cloak having covered it. I was pleased she wore it. Her slippers were not really suitable for climbing, and flashes of her pale ankles were seen with each movement of her skirt.

“My arms are trembling,” she mumbled.

“Aye, mine did the same, first time I climbed.” I didna tell her that had been when I was a boy of only a few summers.

Once she’
d gone up enough rungs, I grabbed the ladder.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” she cried, stilling her ascent.

“I’m climbing.”

“No. You have to wait until I’m done.” Her voice was shaky. Holding herself there
, nearly plastered to the ship’s side, instead of moving was only going to tire her out.

“Why, lass? There’s plenty
of room for both of us.”

“You’re shaking the ladder,” she answered.

“I’ll be still.”

She shook her head.

With a deep sigh, I let out shrill whistle, which startled her even more. Several of the men came to the side of the ship.

“Calm yourself, lass. I’m only calling the men to help ye over.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice sounding choked.

“Help the lass when she gets to the top,” I ordered.

The men nodded, eyeing Emma.

“Go on, lass. The longer ye hang
there, the more tired your arms will get.” Climbing a rope ladder up the side of the ship, one’s feet were useless and arms took the brunt of a body’s weight.

She didna
say anything, but continued her jerky climb. She didna pause again, and even found a steady rhythm. Once she reached the top, the men gripped her arms and helped her over the side. I grasped the rope and climbed, moments later reaching the top. I jumped over the side to the deck and gazed down at Emma.