The Intended (45 page)

“The men spotted him on the horizon about
three hours ago.” Alexander’s expression told of his concern. “Now
here is sunset, and the blackguard is ready to bugger us.”

“So you think he is following us?” the
Highlander asked.

“With the wind blowing steady from the north,
it just might be that he is tacking the coast, the same as we are.”
Alexander beckoned to his ship’s mate. “But then again, it could be
that, whoever it is, he’s decided to take us.”

“Can we stay ahead of him, Alexander?”

“Well, our wee barque hasn’t the sails that
the galleon has, but into the wind we’ll give him a run for his
money...and we are not about to lie down if he catches us.”
Alexander gave him a wink, and Malcolm knew that he was talking
about the cannons that all the new Macpherson ships had been fitted
with.

Malcolm watched the young mariner begin to
give orders for changing course and knew he was not needed on deck.
Remembering the promise he had given Jaime of checking on her,
though, he turned and started for the cabins belowdeck.

“Let me know if I can be of help,” he called
over his shoulder.

“Aye,” Alexander replied. “But they will not
try to get any closer till dawn. That you can be certain of.”

When Malcolm had last gone below, Caddy had
been a pale shade of green from the turbulent motions of the sea,
and Jaime had been seeing to the older woman with all the care of a
loving daughter. But now, the Highlander knew that he had to
convince Jaime to leave Caddy in his care and take a rest herself.
With all that had occurred in the past few days, he knew that the
young woman had not so much as closed her eyes since they’d left
Kenninghall.

He caught up to her right outside Alexander’s
cabin. One look at her weary expression and he knew, whatever
argument she might put up, he would force her, if need be, to take
a rest.

“She is sleeping peacefully in the mate’s
cabin,” Jaime said.

Malcolm pulled her into his embrace and
warmed with satisfaction at the way she buried her face against his
chest.

“When Alexander came down to check on you
both,” he asked wryly, “he didn’t poison the poor woman?”

Jaime giggled softly but didn’t release him.
“Why, did you ask him to?”

“Now, why would I do such a thing?”

“To be able to have some time alone with me,”
she teased, squeezing him tighter.

His hands caressed her hair. His mouth placed
a gentle kiss against her soft, black tresses. “You are falling
asleep, standing here in my arms. Why not go to your room, lass,
and rest a little...while you can. I’ll keep an eye on Caddy for
you.”

She slowly pulled away and took hold of his
hands. “She should sleep the night away. The poor thing gets sick
the first day of every voyage, but she mends after that. She was
exhausted, but feeling better when she dropped off tonight. Come
with me, Malcolm” she said softly, opening the door of the
cabin.

He lifted her chin and looked gently into her
face. “You need to rest.”

“Aye, so come and help me get ready.” Jaime
smiled over her shoulder as she drew him into the room. “Unless you
want me to ask Alexander find someone else to come and help me
undress. For with Caddy sleeping...”

Malcolm growled at her teasingly as he closed
the cabin door behind them. A small wick lamp swayed and flickered
from the bulkhead by the bunk. “No one but I will help you with
that task. Do you hear me?”

The smile that brightened her face was
brilliant. “I was hoping you would say that.” She reached behind
him and latched the door and, drawing him to the middle of the
cabin, she turned her back to him. “Will you help me undress?”

Malcolm stared at her beautiful profile. At
the straight, perfect nose, at the tantalizing smile that was
daring him to resist. “You
will
rest...first,” he said as
she unhooked the cloak that covered her. But as the cloak came away
in his hands, he stared at the solid back of the dress. “But there
are no buttons to undo.”

She turned around slowly and gave him a view
of the laces that held together the front of her dress.

“But you don’t need my help with...” His
words trailed off as she lifted his hand and placed it on the knot
at the top of the laces.

“I believe I do.”

The muscles in Malcolm's jaws clenched as he
struggled to control his desire. She was tired. And, well, the knot
did look somewhat difficult. And, after all, it is only a wee thing
she was asking.

His fingers pulled slowly at the lace of her
dress as his eyes gazed deeply into hers. He could see the
vulnerability in their depths and he thought of what she’d gone
through only two nights earlier.

“Are you afraid, Jaime?” he asked gently.

“I am afraid of being left alone,” she
whispered. “I am afraid of falling asleep and having the nightmare
of him coming after me again.”

His hands slid the dress off her shoulders to
her waist. She herself pushed it down over her hips and stepped out
of it. Malcolm took her hand and brought her palm to his lips. Once
again, their eyes locked.

“We are going home, my love,” he said
huskily. “To where you will be safe. And I swear to you, I’ll give
my life before...”

“I know,” she whispered against his mouth,
brushing her lips softly against his.

No longer could he hold back his fiery
desire, his blazing love. He gathered her into his arms and kissed
her with all the passion that burned within him.

A moment later, as he ended the kiss, she
sank against him. “Stay with me, Malcolm,” she asked. “Hold me and
keep me safe.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to
the small bunk. Pulling back the blanket, he placed her in the
middle, his eyes never leaving her. He stared at her ebony hair,
spread across the ivory skin of her shoulders. At her face, glowing
like the light of the moon. At the curves of her flawless body,
firm and womanly beneath the thin chemise.

She watched him with a loving eye as he
straightened up with a deep breath and moved busily about the room.
Seeing him now, dressed in a kilt, a borrowed Macpherson tartan
about his shoulder, she was reminded of all the longing, all the
anguish she’d suffered for him through the years of growing up. But
all that pain was nothing compared to the yearning she felt for him
now.

Her eyes drew his gaze to her. Slowly, she
raised herself up and reached out a hand to him. He sat beside her,
his lips grazing against hers as she pulled at the brooch holding
his tartan.

A moment later, as the two of them—relieved
of their clothes—lay down on the bunk, it was their love and a
desperate need for healing that set their pace. She caressed his
body—her hands learning, her heart soaring—as she grew in the
knowledge of his love. His mouth played on her skin, drawing out
her essence—giving her pleasure—making her see the beauty, the
sureness of their love, as he hoped all the while that he might
somehow blot out the brutality of the past.

When she guided him into her, it was the
joining of their bodies—and two hearts beat in flawless symmetry.
But when they climaxed together, it was the union of their
souls—and two spirits sang in everlasting harmony.

Malcolm's hand caressed her silky hair as he
continued to gaze at his angelic, yet sleeping lover. He couldn’t
remember how long he’d been watching her this way. As tired as she
had been before their lovemaking, there had been so much they had
wanted to say to each other, and they had lay awake for quite a
while. He had told her about Catherine and her presence in his
chamber when he’d returned that night. And Jaime had told him of
her visit with Henry Tudor, her father, the same night. Only two
nights had passed since then, but it all seemed so long ago to
them. They’d already set their minds on the future and the
happiness that surely lay in store for them.

The future was all that mattered now.

Jaime opened her eyes and looked around
sleepily as the sound of the men shouting above made Malcolm sit up
in bed. He touched her cheek and pushed aside the covers.

“Wait for me,” he said. Donning his kilt and
his shirt, the Highlander yanked on his boots, grabbed his sword,
and reached the door just as Jaime pulled her chemise quickly over
her head.

She knew it was only a short time that he was
gone from the cabin, for she had barely gotten herself dressed, but
to her it seemed like an eternity.

“What is wrong?” she asked, as he knocked and
pushed open the cabin door.

“They have a small fire on deck. Some cannon
powder had sparked.” He picked up his tartan and draped it from one
shoulder across his chest, and buckled on his sword. “I am going on
deck.”

“Is the ship in danger of burning?” Jaime
reached for her cloak. “I have to go to Caddy!”

Malcolm put his hands on her shoulder and
held her in place. “The fire was nearly under control and may, in
fact, be out by now.”

“But still I have to check on Caddy.”

“I’ve seen Caddy,” Malcolm replied. “And she
is bringing down some breakfast for the two of you. Jaime, I want
you to stay here and latch the door.”

“What is wrong?” she interrupted. “There is
something...”

“‘Tis nothing, lass. ‘Tis just that there’s a
ship that has been following us, and with this fire, now...”

“A ship?”

“Aye, Jaime, a galleon. ‘Tis probably
nothing. A merchant ship, in all probability. But if there’s
trouble, I’ll come and take you forward.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Don’t, Jaime,” he said, cutting her short.
“Please do this for me.”

He took hold of her chin and raised it until
their eyes met. “Please, my love.”

She nodded and stretched up to give him a
quick kiss, but he took her in his arms until they were both
flushed with the embrace.

“Soon, my love,” he whispered, making his way
out of the cabin.

Jaime pushed open the broad shutters at one
end of the cabin. A small launch was secured just beneath the
portal, but when she leaned out, Jaime could see the larger ship
sailing not a league behind them.

Turning back to the cabin, she spotted
Malcolm’s dirk on the table, and frowned. Donning her cloak, she
slipped it into the inside pocket as a knock sounded at the door.
Either he remembered the dagger, she decided, and was returning for
it, or her dear Caddy had made her way below.

But as she swung open the door, the person
awaiting her in the narrow gangway was neither Caddy nor
Malcolm.

The Highlander ran the back of his hand over
his face, wiping the soot and sweat out of his eyes. “You do not
like the looks of it, do you?” he asked.

“Nay, Malcolm,” Alexander responded, looking
about at his sailors, who were securing the barrels and buckets
they’d been using to quell the fire. “I don’t.”

“You think someone started it?”

“It is possible,” he replied.

Malcolm shook his head and glanced at an
aging sailor working by the railing. But as he did, the sailor
turned his gaze to him, and something in the old man’s look sent
cold waves of fear deep into his soul. Stepping back, he suddenly
felt as if the ground had opened beneath him. Within the depths of
those blue eyes, he felt the power, he saw the reflection of the
seer James. The ancient one who had come to him in his dream.

“JAIME!” Malcolm turned and shouted, running
like a madman toward the door leading below.

But he never reached the door, for Caddy
burst through onto the deck, her eyes wild with worry.

“My mistress is gone!” she cried, her arms
flailing.

Malcolm grabbed her by the hand.

“Longboat away!” came a shout from high in
the rigging.

Every eye on deck turned upward toward the
lookout’s perch.

“Away to the stern!”

The Highlander bounded onto the stern deck of
the ship with Alexander at his heels. There in the wake of the
Elizabeth
, with the galleon bearing down quickly, the launch
that had hung from the stern rode up and down amid the rolling
seas. From this distance, Malcolm could see the form of a man.

And as the launch pitched slightly, he could
see in the stern, the bound and gagged figure of Jaime.

The barque
Elizabeth
came about in a
matter of moments, and as sailors swarmed over the rigging, setting
sails for a run before the wind, Malcolm watched in agony as the
galleon’s master pointed her directly into the wind. The great ship
slowed to pick up Jaime and her kidnapper.

The Highlander felt the barque surge ahead as
the billowing white sails snapped taut above him.

“They’ll not turn to in time,” Alexander said
with certainty, squeezing Malcolm's shoulder with a callused
hand.

The Highlander nodded at the young Macpherson
and glanced about him. As the ship cut through the water, sailors
scurried about, clearing the decks for battle. All along the sides
of the barque, portals opened and the mouths of cannons slid into
view.

“We can’t fire on them, Alexander,” Malcolm
said. “We can’t take a chance of hitting Jaime.”

“We must!” the young mariner argued. “If we
don’t cripple the galleon in the first pass, she’ll set her sails
and be away like a bird before the wind. We’ll never catch
her.”

“Do what you must, but I am going aboard that
ship.”

Alexander turned and barked at his ship’s
mate. “Prepare the grappling lines, and tell the gunners to fire
into the rigging.”

“How close are we going in, m’lord?” the mate
responded.

The young mariner whirled and faced the crew.
“All hands arm yourselves. Prepare to board the galleon. We take
her now, lads!”

As the shout went up among the crew, Malcolm
watched as Alexander ran aft to direct the helmsman. Then, without
another word, he turned and searched for Jaime as the galleon’s
sailors began to hoist their sails.