My Cursed Highlander (31 page)

Chapter 23

The boatswain's whistle sliced through the chaos engulfing the ship. Certain she would trip, Viviana held the skirt of her fawn-colored gown and jogged alongside Taveon to keep up with his hasty strides over the expanse of three decks. Crewmen plummeted up from the foc's'le and swarmed the bow of the ship, making the vessel dip at an unsettling angle.

Trembling, Viviana sucked in gulps of icy air as Taveon hauled her up the catwalk. He set her in front of him and gazed out over a carpet of sparkling waves to the object of everyone's attention.

"'Tis Ravenhurst," he murmured in a voice filled with pride.

Viviana's knees wobbled. Her breath froze in her throat. A massive fortress sat atop an enormous flat-top rock with sheer cliffs all around. A coastal pathway ribboned up the steep embankment leading to two towers that seemed to touch a ceiling of gray twilight. Gulls and other seabirds screamed their welcome, deafening the pounding of Viviana's heart. Ravenhurst was nothing at all like the Medici Palace.

No wonder Taveon had a fear of heights. An image of a young boy watching his father leap to his death came to the forefront of her mind. Her vision tunneled and a bout of anxiety attacked her.

Taveon glanced at her, freeing her from the ominous stronghold, but her actions revealed her dismay; eyes wide and unblinking, dropped jaw, chest heaving.

Knowing he awaited her opinion, she pasted on a false smile, lessened her grip on his hand, and swallowed—hard.
Mannaggia!
She was going to swoon. "It is a monstrosity."

"Ye are impressed?" He returned his attention back to his homeland.

Impressed?
She mulled over the word. Terrified better described her current state of emotion. It would take months to become familiar with the lay of the grounds, let alone the castle.
Oh, pish!
She damned the coward inside her and refused to disappoint him. "I'm very much impressed."

"Ye will be happy here," he whispered against her hair and brought her knuckles to his lips.

Making her happy seemed to be his goal. He'd done little else the past days, and his efforts had been nothing short of successful. He romanced her with lyrical words and charmed her with sinful kisses. They spent every sunrise and sunset in bliss-filled ignorance, but something about this place made her feel as though their honeymoon period was about to end.

"
Yap, yap, yap!"
Miocchi's nails clicked onto the rail beside her. Viviana stroked her pet's smooth fur beneath the coat Remi had made him. "What do you think, Miocchi?"

"
Yap."
The dog panted, his tail beat against her skirts like a round of applause. He had endured quite a journey and was no doubt anxious to reach land.

"He approves," she translated, trying to make light of the situation if only to ease her angst.

Taveon squeezed her tighter in his embrace and propped his chin atop her head. The dozen or so Scotsmen hanging about in the ropes didn't prevent her husband from showing his affection. He laced his hands in hers and wrapped his arms around her middle, then kissed her temple. "Welcome home, m'lady."

His excitement was contagious.

"I'm going to drink twenty quaffs o' whisky the moment mi big toe touches land," a crewman murmured beside her.

"Before or after ye make merry with your wife?" another asked from overhead sending a burst of heat through Viviana's cheeks.

"During." His response gained a roar of guffawing that triggered a rush of vulgar comments.

"Weel." Laird MacKaskill interrupted their play. "Think we should swim or mayhap ye bastards can ready the longboats. I'm anxious to see my daughter." His suggestion set the crew into a whirl of commotion onto the main deck.

"Come." Taveon escorted Viviana alongside the rail and back to the cabin. "Gather anything ye might need this eve. I will make arrangements for your belongings to be delivered to the keep." He raised her chin between his thumb and forefinger, then placed a chaste kiss on her lips. "I cannae wait for ye to meet Makayla."

Darkness.

Click.

Viviana's palm flattened against the wooden door. Any self-assurance she might have possessed fled with her husband. What if Makayla didn't approve of her? What if the child rejected her?

Stop fretting and prepare yourself. No one will approve of you in the rag you're wearing.
Obeying her inner voice, Viviana found her way to the lockers behind the desk. Her hands shook violently as she stuffed a satchel with non-essential toiletries and searched for a gown more suitable than the threadbare gown she was currently wearing. She stripped out of the garment and quickly ripped a comb through her hair, then plucked a velvet gown trimmed in lace from the armoire.

The door squeaked open on its hinges just as she pulled the final button through its matching hole. The ship swayed. Her toes curled inside her boots. Nausea thickened in her throat. Where was the privy pot? She was sure to be...

"Are ye ill?" Taveon crossed the cabin and pressed a hand at her back.

She nodded and inhaled through her nose, willing the bile back down her throat.

"'Tis the seasickness that has ye green?" He straightened the mess she'd obviously made of her buttons.

"
Sì.
" She didn't completely lie. While her limbs wanted to latch onto him for comfort, she refused to let him see the coward inside her. Her chin rose to a haughty tilt. "Get me off this damn ship."

* * *

"Ye gods, I can almost smell my bairns." Remi's chatter filled the air while they rowed toward the shore.

"I thought I recognized their god-awful stench," Monroe jested behind Viviana. Their banter did little to lessen a feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of her churning stomach and nearly caused her to gnaw her lip off.

She strangled the seams of her mantle in an effort to hide from the bitter coastal winds. With Taveon's hands occupied on the oars, she rode in darkness, waiting for the small vessel to strike land.

The boat stuck, then jerked forward.

Viviana gripped the bench beneath her while the men dragged the boat ashore. Before she could gather her bearings, Taveon lifted her off the seat and set her on land.

Land. Glorious weeds, and pebbles, and mud.

Silt sucked at her boot heels, but she could hardly let the moment pass. She raised her skirt and bounced on the embankment.

Stillness.

Her body had never grown accustomed to the rocking rhythm of the ship and the return of her sense of balance was most welcome.

"Are ye coming? 'Tis getting dark and we've a long walk to the top." Taveon tugged her hand and glanced toward the winding path where Remi and Miocchi made up the tail end of a string of racing warriors led by Laird MacKaskill.

Viviana matched Taveon's steps at first, but quickly became winded. Her calves burned, her chest burned, and damned if she wasn't feeling faint again. She stopped and bent over panting. Perspiration laved her skin and slicked the hair at her temples.

"'Tis not much farther." Taveon pulled on her arm.

"You must give me a moment." She wheezed. He surely thought her inept.

Taveon scooped her up in his arms and continued their trek until the path spilled into a flat of green grasses. The man showed no sign of exertion which for some foolish reason angered her.

"I'm not an invalid." She kicked her feet. "Put me down. I do not wish to meet your family this way. Gaining their respect will be difficult enough."

Taveon paused and slid her down his front. "Think ye my kin will disrespect ye?"

Viviana couldn't gage his tone. "Forgive me. I'm simply nervous. Nothing more." She smoothed her skirt, attempting to perfect her appearance.

Taveon bent and kissed the back of each eye. "I'm the king of my castle. Do ye know what that makes ye?"

"The queen?" she guessed, sensing his attempt to soothe her.

"Aye. My kin will treat ye with the dignity ye deserve."

She wished she had half his confidence. "And if they do not?"

"They will be ousted from the clan."

She'd had her fill of false friendships at the Medici Palace. While being Lorenzo's ward gained her a livelihood fit for a princess, she never really bonded with the Medici children. Angelo had been her only true friend.

A fierce pounding of horse hooves vibrated the ground and drew their attention.

Taveon whipped a full circle. The man approaching on a black mammoth destrier looked exactly like her husband, save for his dark hair was much longer.

The man, Viviana could only assume was Keegan, brought the barreling steed to a halt and dismounted. He was garbed in a purple and green plaid that draped over his broad shoulder. A thick leather belt held an arsenal of weaponry from small knives to a much larger sword hanging from his hip, but what Viviana found the most interesting of his garment was the short skirt that exposed his thick muscled thighs.

"Brother." He splayed his arms wide and wrapped them around her husband. "'Tis good to have ye home. Ye have been missed."

Taveon released her hand.

Blackness.
Mannaggia!

She relied on her other senses to experience their reunion. A hearty slap clipped the air and the smell of sweet hay hid beneath the overpowering scent of saffron.

Seconds later, Taveon's hand slipped back into her own, and Viviana was once again gifted with sight.
Stop chewing on your lip!
She prepared herself for the introduction, her gut a twisted mass of anxiety.

Taveon set her before the handsome man grinning at her with a mouthful of straight, white teeth. "Keegan, I would like ye to meet my wife—"

"Viviana," Keegan supplied and ogled her from nose to navel. Aside from his green eyes, he resembled her husband's every feature—strong nose, square jaw, dented chin, thick brows.

"I trust ye spoke to Remi?" Taveon's question didn't need answered. While Viviana recognized the disappointment in her husband's tone, she was thankful she wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of being named blind and barren again.

With as much nobility as she could muster, she raised her hand, palm down, toward the man whose smile had gotten impossible broader.

"Jesu! Ye are a curvy wee lassie." Keegan wrapped huge arms around her and hugged her with an intensity that trapped her breath in her lungs. Her feet came off the ground when he spun her full circle.

Her hold on Taveon's hand broke. Darkness swept behind her eyes, but was quickly replaced. Chaotic images swirled through her head in a cluster of colors. Pinks and yellows reflective of a dying sun mixed with lush, green landscape blended together like a warped painting.

Oh,
cazzo!
She could see through Keegan's eyes. Why? Why him? Because he was Taveon's twin? Was there a connection between them and Angelo? Would there be others here she could see through? Her pulse accelerated, but before she had time to deliberate any of her questions, Keegan set her back on her feet.

"The women will be verra pleased." Keegan gripped her face in his palms and kissed her cheeks, then much to her surprise, he pressed his lips to hers.

"'Tis enough. I'm certain Cora-Rose wouldnae be
pleased
with
ye
." Taveon huffed, took hold of her hand and jerked, but Keegan was not inclined to release her.

The brothers appeared like two ghosts overlapping inside her head. Her husband's scowling face projected over Keegan's much more jovial image, then Taveon disappeared and was replaced with a fleeting glimpse of her breasts. She might have scolded Keegan for the wayward direction of his gaze had she not been on the verge of a swoon.

Her head grew light and bobbed. She felt tipsy. Actually, stone drunk better described the weight taking over her head.

Do not show weakness. Say something.
"It is wonderful to make your acquaintance," she managed, but swayed side to side, trying to wade through the confusion.

"The pleasure is all mine, I can assure ye. Come. Cora-Rose will be eager to meet ye. The women have retired for the eve, but I sent Sela to fetch them."

Keegan released her hand and Taveon sat her sideways atop the unsaddled steed. After the turbulent meeting with Keegan, she welcomed the darkness.

"And how is my sister-in-law fairing?" Taveon's voice projected in front of her just as the horse stepped forward.

"The woman is huge. Cora-Rose sets her trough on her belly as she can nay longer reach the table. Her time is verra near." Keegan's voice lowered with his last statement.

"We brought the amulet home. We will seek out Noreen on the morrow."

Viviana's stomach clenched. She pressed the talisman against her skin beneath her bodice. The stone was warm—warmer than usual. She didn't want to be selfish, but dreaded the loss of the amulet's power should it come to pass. Tears pooled in her eyes. She swiped them away, damning her self-pity. Regardless of what lie ahead, she would be strong and accept the worthless eyes the devil had cursed her with.

A shrill-toned music filled the air. The sound nothing like the whimsical tunes she played on her own lute. It more resembled the mewling wails of a dying cat. An eerie tingle raised the tiny hairs on her nape as they drew closer to Taveon's home. She pulled the seams of her mantle around her neck in a futile effort to stay the cold. Something about this place was haunting. It reminded her of the Duomo.