Ames was an older man, barrel-chested and paunchy. His craggy features were every bit the weather-beaten fisherman. Slade inquired about passage to Beinn na Faoghla.
Master Ames raised his eyes, disbelief in his unshaven oval face as he pointed skywards. “Haven’t you noticed the black clouds?” Ames asked.
Clouds had indeed blanketed them in an unusually eerie darkness, yet it was still day. Sunset wouldn’t come for another three hours.
Before Slade could respond, Fifi spoke. “Please, sir, it’s a matter of great importance. You did come with high recommendations from Minister Edwards.”
Ames pulled himself up to his full height, his chest puffing out in what looked like self-importance. “The minister sent you to me? Well then, I suppose I can take you. But we must be quick about it. Where on the island are you heading?”
Fifi leaned in closer to Ames as if revealing a secret. “We’re going to Saint Mary’s. Do you know of it?”
Ames nodded. “Aye. It’s on the east side of the island. Lucky for you, because I hate going to the west side. The redcoats are garrisoned there, and they ask too many questions.”
Fifi’s shoulders visibly tensed at the mention of redcoats. “Yes, lucky indeed.”
They boarded Ames’ jolly boat, just as the rain started to drizzle.
The journey to Beinn na Faoghla took just shy of an hour. As they neared the wooden jetty stretching over part of the sandy shore and the water, the rain turned from a drizzle to a heavy downpour. Slade’s hair was soaked. Cold rivulets ran down the back of his neck, dampening his cravat.
Despite the gusty winds and thick fog, Slade managed to make out a pair of short birches not far from the shore on a mostly treeless isle, the wind violently tossing their branches. The only sign of human habitation was an empty wooden canoe bumping up and down in shallow water tenuously tied to the jetty.
Slade reached into his pocket, took out a few coins, more than the price Ames had quoted, and handed them to Ames. Slade then grabbed their saddle bags and helped Fifi from the small boat onto the wet sand of the shore. He thanked the Lord she had a hood, for it seemed to be protecting her from a complete drenching. Slade was starting to think it was not only ill-advised to come to the isle, but doubly so in a storm. But Slade had done it for Fifi. He suspected if she had to go to the moon, he’d find a way to do that as well.
Slade stood next to Fifi a few feet in from the rolling waves and turned back to Ames.
“How far is the church?” He had to shout above the gusts of wind and pelting rain.
Ames remained standing next to his boat on the wet sand and pointed west. “Straight inland, about an hour’s walk.”
Slade eyed Ames, raising his brows in question. “Will you wait for us?”
Ames shook his head. “I can’t. I have to get back to my wife and bairns.”
Slade swore under his breath but cocked his head at the man. “When can you come back?”
Ames patted his pocket where he’d deposited the coins and smiled. “I’ll return a couple of hours after dawn. You can wait for me in Glenn’s cave.”
Slade looked around with uncertainty. “Where is Glenn’s cave?”
Ames pointed to their left, past the sandy shore, where weathered slabs of limestone stood atop a hill behind the twin birch trees.
The fisherman then pushed off his jolly boat, rowing back in the direction they’d come from.
The whipping wind was now causing water to crash violently against the jetty. Slade tasted the salt of the sea on his lips.
He turned to Fifi. “Can you run?”
Fifi’s rain drenched face was half covered by her hood, but she readily nodded. “Of course.”
They made a mad dash for the trees. Then Slade guided them around the thick trunks, where for the first time he noted a narrow, almost hidden vertical opening in the limestone. They slipped through and found themselves standing inside a cave.
It was wider than it was tall, the floor sandy and about twenty paces across and half that in height. But because of the angled entrance the interior was mostly dry. It smelled of musty earth, briny sea, and fresh rain. He leaned back against the cold rock wall not far from the entrance to catch his breath after their exhilarating sprint.
A smile tugged at the sides of his mouth as a soft laugh escaped Fifi’s lips. She’d enjoyed their little charge through the rain as much as he had.
Her hood was swept back revealing lustrous hair which had come undone from its pins, its wet fiery tendrils clinging to the sides of her freckle-kissed face. Fifi’s hazel eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed with moisture, even in the dimming light. Her long, thick lashes seemed darker, a few clumped together with rain drops, one such drop hanging precariously off the tip of her nose. Slade couldn’t resist the pull to close the distance between them and kiss her nose’s tip. His mind fixated yet again on the previous night when she’d been wet and naked. The stiffening beneath his breeches caused him to pull back.
She smiled intimately at him but also hugged herself.
