The Accidental Highland Hero (4 page)

Just when James thought he had struck a decisive blow, cutting the brigand clean across the chest, blood spilling from the fresh cut, the giant retaliated. Striking James’s readied sword with such force, the brigand knocked James from his horse.

On foot against the big man, James was sorely disadvantaged. Crippling the Dunbarton’s horse might have worked to even the odds, but even in battle, James could not injure a good horse. Instead, he danced like some Sassenach fool, moving himself out of the path of the rider and his horse, feeling the whoosh of the beast’s steel but missing the cut of its blade. Then swinging about as if readying himself for the final battle, only with him on foot and his opponent mounted, he waited for the Dunbarton to make a mistake.

With their eyes staring each other down, the Dunbarton kicked his warhorse forward.

James swung his sword first and made a deep cut across the Dunbarton’s thigh. With a howl, the enemy missed striking at James, who nimbly jumped away.

The Dunbarton whipped his horse around and charged again. Except this time, he swung first, and the impact of his sword against James’s knocked him off his feet. With a thud, James landed hard on his back, knocking the breath from him.

‘Twas not a good position to be in during a fight.

He tried to jump to his feet, but weariness cloaked him in a shroud of refusal. Staggering, he unsheathed a throwing dagger. He barely had time to aim it when the Dunbarton swung his sword at James’s head.

Whack!  The dagger hit the Dunbarton in the temple.

The man teetered on his horse for a moment then plummeted to the ground.
Dead
. Meaning to take the beast alive, James cursed under his breath.

Noting a missive in the man’s belt, James reached down to remove it.

Meet the ship at the aforementioned time and bring the precious cargo here post haste.

James smiled wryly. He would send his cousin and seneschal with several of his men and intercept this precious cargo before Laird Dunbarton could get his grubby hands on it.

****

An icy wind tugged at Eilis’s plaid brat cloaking her head while she held onto the ship’s railing with a death grip. Her brother’s cries still echoed in her mind. His rounded green eyes filled with tears of terror still held her hostage. He was all she had left in the world, and she wanted more than anything to free him from their uncle’s tyranny. But what could she do?

A woman set upon the Irish Sea, bound to marry a man she didn’t love, pretending to be her cousin?  She feared she was destined to fail, and all she could hope for was the creaking ship sailing across the frothing sea from Ireland to Scotland would sink.

The wind howled, black clouds boiled into mountains above, lightning flashed, casting jagged bolts of light into the rising waves, and she threw up her morning meal over the ship’s railing.

“You must come back to the captain’s quarters, my lady,” Agnes’s maid clutched the railing and commanded Eilis, although her brusque manner revealed a hint of fear. Could the maid of steel be afraid of the storm?

Eilis hoped so, as much as her own insides quaked.

The waves lifted the ship toward the heavens then dropped it, crashing it into the next black trough. The elderly woman shrieked, her face as gray as her eyes.

“I am sicker down there than I am up here. Leave me be and go inside with you.”

“Nay, I cannot leave you alone with the crude men on this ship.”

The woman had to be daft. “They will have naught to do with me!  They are too busy trying to keep the ship afloat!”

“I order you, my lady, come back inside.”

Command this!
 Eilis heaved the last of her oatcakes over the side, tears splashing down her cheeks, mixed with fresh rainwater and the salty sea. If she fell overboard, she would not have to marry the old Dunbarton chief. She would not have to lie about who she was and forever fear he’d find out.

But she was a coward, and the small nagging voice in her head said she had to return for her brother and rescue him some day. Staring into the angry waves capped with white foam, dashing into the ship’s hull, beating it with horrible vengeance, she couldn’t jump.

“My lady—”

“Nay, go away. Leave me be.” Mayhap a wave would wash Eilis overboard when she hadn’t the courage to do it herself.

“You cannot mean to throw yourself over the side. Our clan will be punished for it, and you will be hated for all eternity.” The maid curled up her lip. “Besides, your uncle kept Ethan as an added bargaining tool in case you get other notions.”

Eilis glared at Wynda, her pasty face angry and determined. How could Eilis hope to survive Dunbarton’s scrutiny when she could keep no secrets from even Agnes’s maid?

The woman’s eyes bored into her like icy gray daggers. “Think you I do not know what you are planning.” She grabbed Eilis’s arm, her fingernails digging into the flesh through the long-sleeved kirtle. “Come with me, my lady, or I will fetch the guard. He will not be as gentle as me.”

As if the woman had ever treated her with even a wee bit of gentleness. But thank God he was just as seasick as Eilis, and she was sure he couldn’t deal with her at the moment.

Early this morn, she’d overheard Wynda speaking with the personal guard, poised to protect Eilis, when in truth he  served as a spy for her uncle to ensure she did as she was told. Agnes’s maid accompanied Eilis for the same purpose. To instruct her, to keep her in line, to monitor her every move.

At sometime or another Eilis feared she must have offended God, although she did not know when. It had to be the reason her life was in such dire straits. Yet she wondered, mayhap Dunbarton would not be as bad as she dreaded.

She shook her head and fought being dragged from the railing. Dunbarton was ancient and had buried two wives already, both who had died in childbirth and their bairns along with them. She would be next.

She caught a glimpse of a wave rising like a mountain, growing higher and higher. Her mouth dropped open, and the cry she would have made, died on her lips. Cresting, the wall of seawater buried the ship as if it were dunking a small wooden toy.

Crushing cold water, no air, total darkness, cries of alarm, the cracking and splitting of wood filled her with mute terror. Swept off her feet, she slid across the deck. Something struck her shoulder, her head, her legs, the sharp pains cutting through to the bone.

Then silence.

Eilis knew she’d died until men’s ragged shouts brought her to full consciousness. Clinging to bits of ship that floated up and down the massive waves, she held on tight. Her head pained her something fierce, and the chill from the water seeped into her bones. She was only vaguely aware she was no longer on the ship. Although in the dark she could not see any signs of it.

Even more frighteningly, the men’s shouts died away. Rain splattered across the top of the sea, thunder grumbled, waves splashed into each other, and the wind cried in the darkness. But no sound of a human soul penetrated the black night, and sheer panic rose in her breast. ‘Twould be easy to let go and end the misery she was sure to face, but she couldn’t do it. Coward, she chided herself. No, not a coward. Somehow, she had to save her little brother.

Left to shiver endlessly, she gritted her teeth to prevent them from clattering, the ship’s remnant keeping her afloat. Fervently, she listened for any human groan or cry, but there was none but the storm and the sea’s harsh melody.

They had left her behind, she fathomed. When would they discover she was missing?  Too late, she suspected.

The waves settled into a choppy rhythm, up, down, up, down, with no long lulls in between, making her head ache and her stomach roil with new upset.

Near morn, the rain and wind died down to a gentle patter and whisper.

Worrisome thoughts plagued her. Would her appearance anger the Dunbarton chief? 
Aye.
Would the sailors be able to salvage her wedding gown?  Her other gowns?

She would not look like the MacBurness’s precious daughter but her half-drowned cousin. She lifted her head. The motion sent streaks of pain across her skull while she attempted to observe any signs of land. Still too dark to see anything but the cold, black water.

How far out to sea was she?

It didn’t matter that it was the middle of summer, except that the sun would rise early. The water was as frigid as a loch in winter. Watching the sky for the beginning of light, her eyelids grew heavy. Worse, she could no longer feel her fingers or toes, but better, she was not feeling so cold. In fact, she was feeling rather warm.

And for the moment, she was free of Agnes’s nagging maid. But waves crashing on a beach quickly quashed her weary relief. The tide yanked her perilous perch into the rocks farther out, but she couldn’t avoid them, nor leave the safety of her floating home. Her energy spent, she clung to the ragged piece of wood with as much strength as she could manage, her arms aching.

Men shouted in Gaelic from the direction of the beach, and she lifted her head to look. Thinking someone had sighted her and were bound to rescue her, she saw instead six men attacking two others. The two fought valiantly against the onslaught, their swords slashing against their enemy’s.

She stared at the sight, barely believing the irony. Clinging to life, she couldn’t fathom how others would kill each other when she was in such dire straits and needed rescuing.

Unable to resist admiring the bearded man and the slighter built one fighting overwhelming odds, she prayed they would survive. But when the two men finished the last of the brigands off, she reconsidered. Were they the brigands? Which clan had set upon which?  Worse, would they find her one of the enemy?

The younger man shouted in her direction this time. “Yo, there!  Hold on!”

Then he and the bearded man commandeered a small boat. Resting her head against the wet splinters of wood, Eilis tried to concentrate, but her mind drifted. They would rescue her and then where would she be?

If they were not from an enemy clan, it would only be a matter of time before they set her upon a horse and sent her to Dunbarton to seal the lie her uncle had forged. If he should discover her uncle’s deceit, Dunbarton could very well be angered enough to end her life for the treachery.

“Hold on!” the young man shouted again, closer this time. “We will rescue you!  Just do not let go!”

Her floating home lifted on a sharp swell, drawing her closer to the jagged rocks. Then the wave bashed her against the boulders. Her arms too numb to hold on, she lost her precious driftwood and was delivered atop a ragged rock.

“God’s teeth, hold on!” the young man hollered.

Another wave crashed into her, and she choked on salty water, fell against the boulders, and hit her head hard. Sharp pain radiated through her skull, and the sun instantly vanished from the sky.

Chapter Two

“‘Tis a sweet lassie near drowned,” a gruff man said. He wrapped her in a blanket while the boat tossed about in the rough breakwater. “Lass?”

“Is she dead?” the other man asked, his voice not as aged as the other’s but just as concerned.

She heard the men’s voices, understood their language but couldn’t open her eyes for the life of her. Her temple throbbed with such pain she could barely think straight.

The boat rose and fell with such a terror, she knew it would soon break up in the surf. No ship would ever be big enough again to protect her from the sea. Then the waves and the boat crashing in the turbulent water, the smell of the salty sea, and the feel of the sun on her cheeks faded away.

A short while later, she heard a grinding noise, and the boat quit rising on the swells. ‘Twas sitting on the beach now, she thought. And her stomach began to settle, although she felt she was still rolling with the waves. One of the men lifted her out of the boat and held her close. Instantly, she felt a wee bit warmer, although her body trembled without end, and she clenched her teeth lest she jar them loose from her head.