“It is likely I will be a hunted man, Isobelle. There will be a price on my head and many a man will try to search me out. Are you certain you’d like to spend your life with a dragon who was once capable of locking you in his tower and demanding your submission? It is a frightening tale for any woman, to have endured it.”
She thought he might go on, but he left it at that. She’d told him she wanted no more apologies, but that was what he was giving her. One last plea for forgiveness.
“I havena seen that scaly monster for quite some time. I am fair to certain he’ll not be back. Misguided beast. But I believe his replacement is a well-meaning lad.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I vow I will never hold you against your will again.”
“Auch, well, the question is, do ye wish to hold me against yer heart? As I wish to hold ye against mine?”
His arms wrapped around her once more. “Do you mean it, Isobelle?” His whisper made her shiver.
“Aye, I do. Over, and over, and over again.”
Takingany gold in their pockets would weigh them down and drown them if they had to swim from the island. But since Isobelle didn’t want Gaspar to leave her often in order to sustain them, wherever they decided to go, she thought they should take a little something along. And that thought led to another, which led them to test the large bench in the water, to see if it might float with both of them and a little bit of coin as well.
It did not. The water seeping between the planks was the problem. So they tried wrapping her Ross plaid around the bench. The wool was woven so closely, it was a great improvement. They assumed the worst, that it would not hold indefinitely, but they decided it was worth the risk. After all, if the odd boat began to sink, they could let the coins go and rely on their ability to swim, a talent Isobelle assured him she possessed when she was not hampered by skirts.
They decided to wait for the tide, which was due to hit the island on the south side in the early morning, and thus push them north, toward the mainland. If they were not pulled onto a boat, they could hope the plaid would hold until they reached the distant shore.
By the time the sun set in the west, they were exhausted. They bathed in the drinking water they’d be leaving behind, dressed for their journey, then ate their suppers on a blanket on the beach. If they slept indoors, they might sleep past the tide, especially with as weary as they were.
Isobelle sat facing the water with Gaspar at her back trying to work a brush through her clean but wet hair. Though the water glowed a lovely pink from the dying sunset, her attention was not on the water, but on a small black speck that appeared and disappeared behind distant waves.
“Do ye see that black bit, on the horizon?” She leaned to the side and pointed.
Gaspar peered over her shoulder and chills bubbled up her spine and spread to the back of her ears. She never wished to be farther away from him than she was at that moment.
“Yes. I see it,” he said. “It is a boat.” He tossed the brush on the blanket and hurried to his feet. “I’ll get a torch. Hopefully, they’ll see it. We may get off the island without getting wet!”
Isobelle strained to keep the black bit in sight as if her concentration might prevent its disappearing. She was pleasedwhen it was still visible when Gaspar reappeared with the burning brand. He carefully waved the fire over his head in a wide arc and she shielded her eyes so the light wouldn’t blind her from seeing the boat.
Then the little spot stopped disappearing behind waves. It remained steady, though it no longer moved to the side.
“It’s coming,” Gaspar said. But there was no celebration in his voice. And he’d stopped waving the torch.
“Are you disappointed we will no longer be alone?” she said with a laugh.
He shook his head, unsmiling. “No, my love. I worry who is coming to our door.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Perhaps it is Icarus?” Isobelle tried to sound more hopeful than she felt.
“It is no boat of mine.”
The dark spot grew into a wide bottomed boat, a smaller rendition of a Viking’s vessel with one oar working at each side. She’d seen a dozen of the same once the carrack had entered the Mediterranean with Ossian and her on board, though she’d never seen one so sparsely manned. This one appeared to be empty if not for those oars dipping into the water over and over again.
A shiver ran through her. “I see no one,” she whispered. She was frightened. Someone should have hailed by now.
Gaspar came to stand beside her and wrapped his free hand around hers, but he offered no assistance as the boat neared his dock. Suddenly, the oars were tucked in and a great beast rose up and lunged out of the center of the vessel, landing smoothly and silently on the wooden planks. It stood on its hind legs andpulled the boat close, then wrapped a single rope around one of the dragon heads carved on the top of a pylon.
Not a beast, but a beast of a man covered in fine furs despite the warm climate. He would have stood head and shoulders, and more, above the guards who had walked those planks earlier that day.
A healthy mane of hair draped from his head in disarray, not unlike her own. When his boots crunched onto the sand, he drew a long-sword as easily as he would an eating knife. He stopped ten feet away and rested the sword on his protected right shoulder. Then he grinned.
Gaspar tensed.
Isobelle could not resist grinning back. He seemed a cheerful sort. Nothing like the sober party that visited that morning.Surely not the enemy.
