“Gods, nae.” Callum stood and strode a few oar-banks up the ship’s aisle, bent to pull two rolls of sailcloth from a storage chest. Returning to the lass, he rigged the waterproofed cloths into a quick shelter for her and her cat.
That done, he dropped down on the bench beside her. “You should have some privacy to sleep,” he said. “And the spirits I promised you at the farmhouse.” He pulled a flask from his belt, handing it to her. “Take a few gulps, and then we’ll speak.”
“Thank you.” She unstopped the flask and lifted it to her lips, taking a few good, long gulps. “I needed that,” she said, her eyes bright as she thrust the whisky back to him. “It is strong.”
As are you, my heart.The words echoed in his mind. No, his memory, though he couldn’t recall having ever said them.
Hoping he wasn’t going addled as sometimes happened to men who spent too much time at sea, he pinched the bridge of his nose, tight enough to hurt. A nudge he needed to chase the foolery from his head and think clearly again.
“You will hang,” she said, and hiccupped.
“Nae.” Callum looked at her, her great blue eyes and silky moon-spun hair making his damned heart beat too fast again. Her breasts, full and round…
Ula was right, she did look like a Valkyrie.
And somewhere on her, she had a stony heart.
Pushing that thought from his mind, he fixed his gaze on a line of freezing fog along the horizon. “King Robert knows the kidnapping wasn’t real. He ordered it, I told you. He’ll no’ be hanging anyone for following his own command.”
“Of course, he won’t. Not for that.” She paused, drew herself up. “You’ll hang for killing an earl. He may even have you drawn and quartered, send parts of you all around Scotland to land on stakes, warning others not to-”
“Och, nae.” Callum took a swig ofuisge beatha, refastened the flagon to his belt. “Dunwhinnie is fine. I didnae kill him. The fight was planned. He had sacks of chicken blood under his mailed tunic – mail lined with thickest leather. All I had to do was press the flat of my blade against him a time or two, and the blood flowed.
“Lovat and his retainers were sent by the King to lead the search for your enemy.” He paused, glad to see her cat lumber out of his sack and curl into a huge ball on her lap. “After I left with you, the earl will have moaned and groaned, feigning an injury. A flesh wound no’ serious enough to slay him, but bad enough to require a bed and recovery time at Seacliffe. His men and a good number of the guisers belong to the King’s most elite guards.”
Lady Alanna blinked. “The earl is not dead?”
“Nae.”
“But…” Her brow pleated. “He was there to meet me. He seeks a new wife and-”
“Nae, lass.” Callum fisted his hands on his thighs, fought the urge to stroke her hair. “I have it from a good source that Lovat’s recently betrothed to a French heiress from Edinburgh.” He tossed a look at Grim, wished the lout had told him everything sooner. “’Tis a match arranged by the Crown. Lovat is at your keep solely to end the trouble there.
“Dinnae fret.” He leaned in, the fieryuisge beathaperhaps loosening his tongue a bit too much. “The man’s a fine earl, but no’ so fine a husband.”
“So I have heard. Still…” She shivered, rubbed her arms against the cold. “My aunt sent him an invitation to our Yule feast. He accepted.”
“Ah, well.” Callum reached over to pet her cat. “He would’ve gone anyway. Like as not, your aunt meant well and he was glad to oblige. She made it easier for him and his men, didn’t she?”
She considered, her hand bumping his as they both sought to stroke Gubbie’s head. “She will be stricken with worry.”
“My sorrow for that, lassie.” Callum meant it. Damage to innocents was a reason he disliked trekking off with his cousin whenever he needed an extra sword-arm on such missions. “Now that Lovat is at Seacliffe and with Grim and his men heading back there shortly, this’ll be over soon.”
“I hope so.”
“As do I.”More than you ken, sweeting.
The last thing he needed was a lady underfoot at Skerray. For sure, not one who minded him of a Norse princess and caused his heart to thump so hard. Worse, she stirred trouble lower down, setting off all kinds of nuisances.
Matters plaguing him even now, just sitting beside her as she pet her aged, stinky-breathed cat.
And that bode ill.
Truth was, he may not have truly kidnapped her, but already, he didn’t want to let her go.
Chapter 13
Hours later, Callum left the steering oar and returned to the bow, thinking to relieve Grim, even more eager to gain a ship’s length distance from Lady Alanna and her cat.
