The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (35 page)

If the fleet was returning to the Ayrshire coast—where the English were stationed—they would sail south of the island, opposite where he and Ellie were now.

“When can we go back?”

He could see the agony of his own fears reflected in her eyes. “Soon.” Knowing how difficult this must be for her, he drew her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. It had been a tumultuous day for both of them—in more ways than one. Yet through it all, Ellie had demonstrated strength and resiliency that made him proud. Not to mention the arrow she’d saved him from.

He wondered if she realized that she’d chosen him over the English from whom she’d sought rescue not two weeks ago.

She curled against him, burrowing her head against his chest. He stroked her hair, feeling calm for the first time in hours. “You must be hungry.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t even thought about food.”

He understood. Like him, she was worried about his men and the villagers.

“Do you think …”

She didn’t finish the thought, but he knew what she’d been about to ask. He tipped her chin and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. A hard pang squeezed his chest. “They’ll be fine,” he assured her with more confidence than he felt. He hoped the English would leave the villagers alone, but his men were outlaws and the dragon banner had been raised. Anger surged inside him, but he held it at bay, knowing he could do nothing about it—yet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, lifting her face to his. He could see the tears shimmering in her wide hazel eyes. “I know you would have gone to help them if it wasn’t for me.”

“Nay,” he said roughly. “I wouldn’t have.” He didn’t want her to blame herself. Actually, slipping away with Ellie might have just saved his entire mission. He could well be in the same circumstances as his men. “I couldn’t risk it. There is something important I must do.”

“For Robert?” He looked at her strangely, and she blushed scarlet. “It’s how the family refers to him.”

He didn’t say anything. Though he knew he could trust her, he was under orders to keep his mission a secret.

But she’d already put most of it together. “The Irish soldiers …” Her voice dropped off. “You are to bring them to him. When?”

“Tonight.”

Her eyes widened. His sentiments exactly.

“What if you are late?”

“That’s not an option.”

He felt her eyes on him. “I see.”

He knew she realized what it meant: an attack was imminent. “I don’t need to tell you what is at stake.”

She shook her head and fell into a contemplative silence.

He waited as long as he dared. With only an hour of daylight left, he helped Ellie into the skiff and rowed back to the bay, staying close to the shoreline and carefully checking before rounding any blind curves.

It was deathly quiet as he pulled the skiff around the headland into the mouth of the bay. The fires that had been lit on the beach still smoldered, and the deathly scent of smoke tinged the tangy sea air. The bay itself was empty, with not a single fishing boat in sight. He swore, realizing what must have fueled the fires. His situation had just gotten even worse. The English were taking no chances. If he was still on the island, they were going to make sure it stayed that way by burning any method of transport off the island.

Though he knew it was implausible that his men hadn’t been found, he half expected to see Domnall wander out of the cave. Hell, right now he’d even welcome Randolph’s grousing.

But no one came to greet them.

It was eerily quiet, the heavy mist thickening the still air in a drizzly cloud.

He pulled the skiff onto shore and ordered Ellie to stay in the boat. That she didn’t protest told him she understood why.

He passed the charred remnants of a few fishing boats as he made his way up the shore. From the number of footprints in the sand, it appeared that the English had descended in force on the beach. His men would have had some warning, but against so many the battle would have been brief. He suspected they’d hidden in the cave, waiting to attack if necessary.

His suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when he found the first body at the entrance to the cave. A few feet beyond were two more. Death was nothing new to him, but the pain of losing a man never lessened.

He bit back his rage and braced himself for the worst, expecting a slaughter. But surprisingly, he didn’t find any more bodies among the scattered belongings of his crew.

What the hell had happened to them?

He walked back to the beach, the gravity of the situation hitting him full force. As much as he was worried about his men, his first concern had to be his mission. He needed to get to Ireland to meet the McQuillans, and at the moment he didn’t have men or a boat. He also couldn’t be sure when the English would be coming back, which meant he needed to leave here as soon as possible.

Ellie was watching him intently as he approached. He read the question in her eyes and told her what he’d found.

“What about the others?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“And Meg?”

“That’s where I’m going now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“That’s not a good idea.” There was no telling what he’d find.

Ellie squared her shoulders and got that stubborn nursemaid look on her face. “I don’t need you to protect me.” Undoubtedly realizing how ridiculous that sounded in light of what they’d just been through, she amended. “Not from this.” She gave him a pleading look. “Please, Meg is my friend, too.”

He held her gaze and nodded. Meg’s house was dark as they approached, and Erik wasn’t surprised to find it empty. Hoping that she’d retreated inland when the English arrived, he suggested that they continue on to the next holding.

Meg must have seen them approach and raced out to greet them. Ellie had tears in her eyes as Meg folded her in her arms, relief that he shared.

“Thank God,” Meg said. “I thought they’d found you, too.”

“What happened?” Erik asked.

Meg told them that the ships had arrived not long after they left. She claimed there had been at least a dozen of them, and they’d circled the island. “It’s almost as if they knew you were here,” she said.

He’d reached the same conclusion.

As he suspected, Meg said there had been a warning but not enough time for the men to attempt to escape. The English had come in full force. Meg had watched from the cliff as the English searched the beach, and, eventually, as they led the men from the cave.

Erik frowned. It wasn’t like his men to surrender. Highlanders fought to the death.

Meg must have guessed his thoughts, because she said, “I saw Thomas talking with their leader.”

Randolph surrendering, now that made sense. Meg went on to explain how the soldiers had gathered up the villagers and questioned them, searching every house.

“You are all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “They didn’t harm any of us.” A puzzled look crossed her face. “The English commander wasn’t as bad as most.”

Erik was relieved but surprised. It wasn’t like the English to show such restraint, especially for harboring fugitives. “My
birlinn
?” he asked.

“Taken,” Meg said.

Erik’s mouth fell in a flat line. He would rather have seen it burned than captained by an Englishman.

“I need to find a ship right away.”

Meg shook her head. “There is nothing left. Not even a fishing boat. They burned them all.” She explained how the fishermen from around the island were gathered at the church in the village, devastated by the English soldiers’ cruelty in destroying their livelihoods. Erik vowed to make sure that every one of those boats was replaced. But first, he had to figure out a way to get out of here.

“They were looking for you,” Meg paused. “And the lass.”

Erik swore. He glanced at Ellie and noticed that she’d paled.

“Me?” she intoned, eyes wide.

“Not by name,” Meg assured her. “Just that Hawk was with a lass.”

His stomach dropped as the implications hit him. “How did they find out?”

Meg shook her head. “One of the men or villagers must have told them.”

Erik tried to control his anger. If the English knew about Ellie, they could use her as a weapon against him. It shocked him to realize how effective a weapon she would be. The thought of her in danger turned his blood cold.

“I don’t think they’ve given up looking for you,” Meg said. “They’ll be back.”

“I plan to be long gone by then.” His best bet—his only bet at the moment—was the old skiff. To make it seaworthy, he was going to have to improvise. But he didn’t have much time; it was already almost dark. “I’m going to need your help,” he said to Meg.

She grinned eagerly. “Just tell me what to do.”

He explained what he needed, and Meg returned to the croft to gather help and supplies.

“What can I do?” Ellie asked.

He turned, seeing that she was watching him with a determined look on her face. What he wanted to do was lock her away somewhere safe—preferably a high, impenetrable tower—until this was all over. But he had a feeling she wouldn’t agree to that, even if it were possible. She had that I-intend-to-help-and-you’d-better-not-try-to-stop-me look on her face.

“I don’t suppose you’ve noticed a nice high tower around here, have you?”

She rolled her eyes. “You won’t get rid of me so easily.”

He didn’t doubt it. He liked that about her. She wasn’t easily pushed around. How had Domnall put it? She didn’t take his shite. “You can help Meg when she returns. Can you start a fire?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” His wet clothes didn’t matter, but he wanted her warm and dry. “See what food you can find.”

Her mouth tightened as if she knew what he was up to. “I’m not hungry.”

“
I
am,” he said. “And I’m going to be hungrier before the night is through. You’ll do me no good if you are weak from lack of food.”

They had a long night ahead of them.

He led her back to Meg’s longhouse and told her he’d be back. “Where are you going?”

“To see if there is anything I can salvage from the cave. And then I have a ship to build.”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t mean to attempt to outrun the English fleet in that rickety pile of kindling.”

He grinned. “Not attempt.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth before she could reply. “I’ll be back soon.”

He started to go, but she stopped him. “You won’t leave without …”

Me
. He knew what she was trying to ask. But beyond getting her warm and fed, he hadn’t fully considered what he was going to do with her.

He’d vowed to take her home, but he no longer had the time. He couldn’t leave her here in case the English returned. She knew too much. He trusted her, but not the English methods of persuasion.

Assuming he was able to make the skiff safe enough to cross the channel, she would be safer with him—as long as the English didn’t catch up with him. But he didn’t have any intention of allowing that to happen.

He wanted her close. So he could protect her, he told himself. If he left her here, it would drive him mad with worry, not knowing what was happening.

He hated that he’d gotten her into this, but into it she was.

“I’ll be back. Be ready to go.”

It was the first smile he’d seen on her face since the morning, and he realized how much her unhappiness had weighed on him.

He just hoped to hell he was doing the right thing.

    Ellie had never seen anything like it. Working with single-minded determination and purpose, in a few hours Erik had rigged the small skiff for a sail, turning tree branches into a mast, a few old planks into a rudder, and linen bedsheets into a sail. The axe that had slain more men on the battlefield than she wanted to think about had become a delicately honed instrument in the hands of a skilled shipbuilder.

She stood on the beach, warm and fed, bundled in extra plaids and a thick fur mantle, admiring his handiwork as final preparations for their voyage were made.

Though by no means as sturdy as his hawk
birlinn
, the skiff was eminently more impressive than when she’d last seen it. He’d repaired some of the warped boards by planing down the old ones for a tighter and stronger fit. One or two had been replaced, but he hadn’t wanted to do more because the wood was not cured. The hull had been blackened with a sticky material that Erik said would help keep it watertight.

The mast was rustic-looking but appeared functional, as did the rudder attached at the back. The sail had been fashioned from two bedsheets that she and Meg had sewn together. An old fisherman had then spread some kind of rancid-smelling animal fat on it.

Erik had finished storing the provisions that Meg had given him—extra blankets, food, water, and ale—in a small chest that he’d fastened to the hull for her to sit on and came up to stand beside her.

“Your ship awaits, my lady,” he said with a gallant flourish of his hand.

She shook her head and gave him a wry look. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

He grinned. “Not that I know of, but I’m sure you’ll be the first to let me know if there is.”

She laughed. “Count on it.”

After all that they’d been through today, Ellie realized that his ability to lighten the mood definitely had its benefits. It was easy to see why his men admired him so much. In the darkness of battle, men needed a way to ease the tension. Erik was a natural morale-booster. Moreover, his unflappability in the face of danger and calamity must inspire and give confidence to the men he led. He would be the perfect man to have around when things didn’t go right—as was inevitable in war.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was his incredible tenacity and determination. He had a job to do and nothing was going to get in his way. She suspected he’d swim off this island if he had to.

Clearly, if he cared about something he took it very seriously.

If only she could be that “something.”

Giving the rickety-skiff-turned-seaworthy-sailing-vessel another glance, she shook her head and said, “Why do I get the impression that you never give up?”