Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1) (32 page)

"Ah,
mon fille
, I must insist, as your
sire, that you address me properly. You will address me as
Pe're
. Let us
have one more drink before you leave." He picked up her glass as if to
hand it to her, but instead, tipped it, pouring the cognac in her lap.

Katherine jumped up, grabbed a napkin, and tried
to wipe away the growing stain. It spread across the lower portion of her gown
directly above the most intimate part of her body.

A cold light lit Ja Bier's eyes. He moved closer.
"How careless of me,
mon petite
. Here, let me do that for
you." He wrapped his arm around her waist, took the napkin and touched the
stain, slowly rubbing it beneath his fingers. He leaned nearer, his hot breath
on her face.

God, no!

She pushed at him with all her strength, but he
didn't move. His sick eyes gleamed and he pressed the front of her skirt more
intimately.

Desperately, she flung out her arm and grasped the
large candelabra on the table. She jerked it upward and shoved the flames into
his face.

Cursing, he quickly backed away.

Her stomach lurched with the realization there was
nothing Ja Bier would not do. Even force her to become his whore. Her hands
trembled as she spat her words at him. "Don't ever touch me so again, or I
will never do what you ask. I would rather burn the house down over our
heads."  She gasped for breath. "Even threats of death will not make
me accept your touch." The candles blazed as she thrust them toward him
again. "Stand back and let me leave. Now!"

He stood where he was as she backed to the door.
Flinging it open, she fled down the corridor, gripping her only weapon tightly
in her grasp.

His mocking words followed her. "We shall
see,
mon petite
. We shall see."

Chapter Twenty-three

The sharp, almost human cry of the gull pierced
Alexander's heart. It had been five days since they'd left port and still no sign
of land in sight. Would this damned voyage never end? Thoughts of Katherine and
how she might be suffering at the hands of her abductors drove him to pace the
deck again searching for anything in the distance. Last night, alone on his
pallet, he had tossed and turned, overwhelmed by despair and guilt. It was
driving him mad.

The saints curse him for his failings. If he
hadn't doubted her and treated her the way he had, she wouldn't have fled from
him. She wouldn't have fallen prey to Ja Bier. The afternoon sun beat down
unmercifully. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and looked up. The clouds
hung motionless in the sky.

Alexander pulled at the damp neck of his tunic.
Even the breeze seemed to have left him. His voice sounded terse in the still
air. "Captain Hume, we have been sailing for five days now. In Heaven's
name, how much longer will it take to reach France and the port of Wimereux? I
fear greatly for my wife's safety!"

The captain looked at the sky and shook his head.
"Laird MacGregor, I command the
Eilidh
, not the weather or the
seas. We sail as fast as they allow. There is naught I can do to change that.
'Tis up to the Almighty himself and the fates of the deep when we shall get
there." His stern look softened slightly as he continued. "I understand
yer feelings, m'lord, but ye must remember our voyage is o'er a great distance.
With luck, we should sail into the Strait of Dover on the morrow. The port of
Wimereux is just beyond the strait. With no problems, we should land in two
days."

Alexander nodded and sighed. "Aye, captain, I
will be in my cabin. Call me if you sight land or another ship." The
stuffiness of the cabin only intensified the heat. The crude map that the
captain had drawn for him, showing the outlying areas near Wimereux, curled and
stuck to his sweaty palms. He poured himself a mug of wine and took a deep
drink. Setting it down carefully, so not to tip it over with the rise and fall
of the ship, he stared at the map again.

Sweat ran down his forehead and dripped onto the
parchment. Was it getting hotter? Glancing out the small porthole, he saw that
the sun had reached straight overhead. It would be cooling off in a few hours.
Och, he had more important things to fash over than a bit of heat. Reaching out
toward his mug, he glanced at its contents. The wine's dark surface barely
rippled and didn't slosh about as it usually did with the movement of the ship.
Tossing the map aside, he ran for the deck.

The winds had totally died. The vessel was
becalmed. No matter how the crew trimmed the sails, there was not enough breeze
to move the ship. Incensed over the delay, he ran over to the captain.
"For the love of God, man, what can be done? We can't just drift here,
going nowhere!"

Captain Hume seemed to hesitate for a moment. He
gazed out at the wide expanse of open water and back at the sails hanging limp
in the rigging. "Laird MacGregor, I once heard tell of a ship that was
becalmed for several days. Supplies were runnin' out and the sailors needed to
make port soon or perish. They hoisted a skiff o'er the side and tied it to the
bow. The crew took turns rowin' until they pulled the ship into a fair wind and
they were able to set sail once more. I dinna know if 'tis true or nay, but if
ye wish, I will have my men try it."

"Good God, man, aye! I will take the first
shift myself."

**

After a skiff had been readied at the side of the
ship, Alexander climbed in, gripped the oars and nodded to the sailors above
him. The small skiff was slowly lowered over the side of the
Eilidh
. As
it settled in the water, he released the lowering lines then turned and caught
the tossed end of a rope that had been tied to the front of the large sailing
vessel. As soon as he tied it to the stern of the skiff, Alexander set the oars
in place and signaled the captain.

Seeing the man's nod, he dipped the oars into the
water and pulled. Over and over, he raised and dipped the oars into the ocean
and thought of Katherine. Memories of the pleasant times they'd spent together
swam through his mind. Thoughts of her laughter, her sweetness and courage
filled him with added determination as he bent over his task. He rowed until he
lost track of time and the flat horizon blurred before his eyes. How long had
he been out there?

He felt the tight pull of his arm and back muscles
as he strained under the hot glare of the sun. His face and neck grew hot. He
glanced at his hands. They were turning red. Alexander shaded his eyes with his
hands and glanced at the sky. The sun was much lower than when he'd begun.
Bending down, he splashed water on his face and neck then set the oars in place
and began again. Dip, pull. Dip, pull. Dip, pull.

The commands ticked off in his head as he went
through the motions without stopping. Sweat soaked his shirt. His knotted,
overworked muscles cried for relief. It didn't matter. He must keep trying.
Dip, pull. Dip, pull.

The sun was lower still. Its rays didn't burn as
harshly as before. Or had his flesh simply stopped feeling? His body ached with
weariness. He dared a glance at the
Eilidh
. Nothing had changed. God in
heaven, her sails lay like lifeless shrouds against the masts. No matter how
desperately he'd labored, his efforts had been to no avail.

His soul cried out. He was defeated, humbled by
the power of nature. Alexander sat in the small boat, with the oars now
motionless in his hands and looked out over the endless stretch of sea. He
thought of the pleasant evening when Katherine had sung for his family. He
remembered too, assuring Gillian she wouldn't spend her life pining for a lost love
as in the words of the song. Now, he saw the irony of his fate. 'Twas him. He
was the one left to pine for his lost love. A single tear ran down his
sunburned face.

He hadn't prayed since he was a young lad. He
remembered going to mass in the chapel with his family many years ago and
watching his mother at her earnest devotions. Perhaps it was time he admitted
he couldn't control everything. He needed help. He needed Katherine.

Bowing his head, he prayed. "Almighty God, I
beseech you to hear my plea. Grant that I may find Katherine and bring her home
safely to Scotland. On my soul, I vow I'll love and care for her for all the
days you give me life." Crossing himself, he bent over the oars again.

At first, he didn't realize the change had taken
place. Then, suddenly, he noticed a cool, tingling sensation on his face where
his tear had traced a salty path down his sunburned cheek.

He rubbed a blistered palm across the cool wet
patch of his skin. Air wafted across his damp cheek like a spoken breath. He blinked
and looked up. Above him, the sky had clouded over and it felt as if the winds
were beginning to pick up. He sat perfectly still and tried to discern if what
he had prayed for had truly happened.

A loud clamor on the deck of the
Eilidh
drew his attention. The sailors and his men were shouting and pounding on the
sides of the ship. Surely, it was his imagination, but the ship seemed closer
than it had been only a moment ago.

As he stared at the large vessel, he saw it was,
indeed, inching towards him, its towrope going slack. Looking up, he saw the
ship's sails start to billow and fill with the wind he had prayed for, the wind
to carry him to Katherine. Grinning like a drunken reveler, he stood up in the
boat, overjoyed in being given another chance. He yelled and swung his arms
about.

The next thing he knew, he was rising to the ocean
surface and spewing out a great mouthful of water. Even the shock of the water
couldn't wipe the sheepish grin from his face. He felt like he had once when he
was a wee lad and fell in the loch, knowing he would have to walk home wet. But
his mother had been there waiting for him, to forgive him and surround him with
her love.

It seemed fate was going to help after all. With
luck, they would make France in the next two days, and he would once again hold
Katherine in his arms! Before clambering back, dripping, into the skiff,
Alexander silently thanked God and swore to keep his vow.

In minutes, he was aboard the
Eilidh
and once
more sailing swiftly across the water.

**

Alexander watched the shore come into view in the
morning light. It had taken two days for them to reach Wimereux as the captain
had predicted. Time to set things in motion. Scanning the busy deck, he spotted
his head-man-at-arms. "Malcolm, come with me to the captain's cabin. We
need to go over the plan. I want naught to go amiss."

Nodding, the older man followed him below deck.

The captain's quarters were small but neat. Charts
and maps were rolled and stored in a trunk at the foot of his berth. A shiny
brass lantern hung over a worn table and two chairs in the middle of the room.
Additional light poured into the cabin through the large window cut into the
stern of the ship above the bed.

Alexander and Malcolm sat at the table as the
captain rolled out a large map. The seaman studied it for a moment then pointed
to a spot with his callused finger. "Laird MacGregor, we'll land there.
See the road goin' off to the northeast? I trow 'twill take ye in the direction
ye need. Wimereux is not a large town, but I've heard tell of a rich manor
house just beyond the fork in the road. Ye will surely find it if ye continue
along this way." He traced a thin line leading away from Wimereux on the
map before lifting his hand.

Alexander looked at the map then back at him.
"Aye, Captain Hume. Since we'll be arriving at midday, only Malcolm and I
will leave the ship to search for Ja Bier's estate. I don't wish to call
attention to our presence. Did you find some old clothes that will fit us as I
asked?"

At the captain's nod, he continued. "The
clothing will conceal our identities while we search. At nightfall, the rest of
my men will leave the ship under cover of darkness. We'll wait for them near
the estate."

The captain rolled up the map and placed it in the
trunk. "Aye, m'lord. My crew will take on whatever goods are needed and be
prepared to sail immediately on sight of yer group returnin'."

**

Over two hours had passed since they disembarked,
slowly leading their horses away from the dock. Malcolm shifted in the saddle
and looked back over the dusty road behind him. "I dinna see aught. Yer
plan seems to have worked well." He sniffed the sleeve of his borrowed
shirt and frowned. "Och, I'll be glad when we change back into our plaids.
I could scarce hide my claymore beneath this rag they call a cloak and the
fishy reek near makes me retch." He shook his head. "The saints save
me from bein' a seafarin' man. Give me the hills and glens of home."

Alexander grinned. "And here I thought I
might have a hard time convincing you to return with me to Ironwood."

Malcolm snorted. "Not bloody likely." He
pointed ahead of them. "Look. 'Tis the fork in the road that the captain
mentioned. I trow we'll see the estate beyond that next bend."

The teasing tone left Alexander's voice.
"Aye. When we reach it, we'll learn if 'tis Ja Bier's, then look for the
manor house. We'll search the area then ride back up the main road to await the
rest of our men. While we wait, we'll change into our plaids."

The manor house lay at the end of a long
tree-lined drive; a drive flanked by an ornate iron gate with a coat of arms
and the name Ja Bier worked into the metal. The dwelling was large, but not
built for defense. If this had been Scotland, he and his men could have easily
taken it. Aye, but this wasn't home and Katherine's life depended on him making
no mistakes.

Alexander and Malcolm left their horses in a small
copse of trees near the manor house. They scouted the surrounding land and the
layout of the dwelling, then stood in the shadow of the trees and watched the
people come and go from the manor. Alexander fought the urge to draw his sword
and attack without the aid of the rest of his men. Though he and Malcolm were
superior warriors, he doubted they could capture the place alone. But the
waiting was nothing less than torture.

Suddenly, he gripped his friend's arm and pointed.
"By God, Malcolm, 'tis the bloody tinker!"  Though the man wore no
plaid, Alexander still recognized him. Had he not watched him long enough while
he waited hoping to see Katherine from his window that morn? Alexander gripped
the hilt of his broadsword until it bit into the palm of his hand. Remaining in
the shadows instead of running over and putting his dirk to the bastard's
throat while he forced him to lead him to Katherine was the hardest thing he'd
ever done.

Malcolm and Alexander watched from the trees until
dusk in hopes of learning anything of Katherine but learned nothing but the
tinker's whereabouts. As the sunlight began to fade, they rode back the way
they'd come to await his men. Finding a spot near the road with good cover,
they stopped to change their clothes and wait. As Malcolm dismounted, he
stretched then grinned at the sound of tearing cloth of his borrowed shirt.
"There now, do ye see? A fightin' mon would ne'er be able to move in such
garb. 'Tis glad I am we can put on our plaids now."

Within minutes, they sat clothed in MacGregor
tartan underneath the branches of the trees to await the arrival of their men.
Alexander silently sharpened his dirk for several minutes before he spoke.
"Malcolm, old friend, you have fought alongside me and served me
faithfully for many years. If aught should go wrong tonight and I am not able
to escape with Katherine and you, do not delay. Ride for the ship with all
speed. Give this to her when you reach safety."

Reaching into his sporran, he withdrew a small
rolled up parchment, sealed with a circle of sealing wax and stamped with the
MacGregor crest. "I haven't proved myself worthy of Katherine's love. If
fate should choose to separate us, I want her to know how I feel. That I love
her and only her."