After about half an hour, Iain peered at their destination. His island only appeared slightly closer.
He held out his hands. “I’ll take over now.”
They swapped places, and Abigail shook out her hands in much the same way as Iain had earlier.
The orb in her lap taunted him over his thoughts, and again, the idea of her disappearing from his life for all time had a brick growing in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
His jaw hardened. He kept rowing, kept getting nearer to their destination. He refused to think about losing his lifeblood, the angel of his heart.Oh, God. Why did you send her to me only to take her away again? Why? Why?
Chapter 21
Abby wiped her wet face with her even wetter skirt as Iain moored the boat. Once her feet found solid ground, she didn’t know if her legs still thought they were at sea or if it was the three riders galloping toward them that made her legs shake. She stumbled forward, but Iain caught her up before she fell face-first into the wet mud . . . again. He held her under his arm and waited for the riders to slow and then stop.
A great red-haired thing spoke in Gaelic and laughed loudly as he leapt to the ground.
Abby couldn’t work out where his beard finished, and is hair began as both sets of locks entwined in the wind.
Iain and Big Red clasped their forearms, pulling each other close in a manly embrace. Iain also spoke in Gaelic, so Abby had no idea what was being said.
Iain looked at the other two brutes, one with brown hair and a short beard and a younger one, clean shaven, with light-brown hair, and nodded.
The smooth-faced man said something while Short Beard looked Abby over from head to foot.
She squirmed under his gaze, stepping in closer to Iain.
“Do not worry yer heart over Callum. He can’t keep his eyes off a beautiful lass.”
Short Beard slid from his horse and clasped Iain’s arm in another forearm shake. Whatever he said had the other two bending over in laughter. He had obviously made a joke about her.
Abby straightened her back and, looking down her nose, cast her eyes over his form. She would ask Iain what the joke was later.
“Speak English,” Iain said.
All three men turned their curious eyes to Iain. “Who is she?” the red-haired giant asked.
Iain gave her a one-armed hug. “She’s my angel. She saved me from certain death on the Culloden battlefield.”
He pointed to the red-haired brute. “This be Donal and”—he nodded to Short Beard—“Callum, and the young lad there is Alistair.”
“Ah, I think a story is to be heard this night,” Donal said. “Maeve will be beside herself when she finds you have returned. Alistair, go tell Maeve Iain has returned to us.”
The clean-shaven young man grinned. “Aye,” he shouted and turning his horse, he kicked it into a canter He disappeared over a rise, his long brown hair trailing after him.
Donal waved his arm at Callum then jabbed his thumb in the air behind his back. Callum leapt from his horse, gave the reins to Iain, and jumped behind Donal.
“We’ll ready the keep,” Donal said, kicking his horse into a gallop back the same way they had come.
Abby stared after them. “They work for you?”
“Aye, though ‘work with me’ would be a better way to say it. They are brave and honest men. The best of the MacLaren clan.”
Abby could see by the look of pride on his face how much the men meant to him.
Iain placed his hands around her waist and plopped her onto the front of the saddle before mounting behind her. He drew her in close to his chest. “You are safe here, lass.”
She turned and smiled. She hadn’t meant for her worries to show on her face.
The gate had already been lowered by the time they arrived at the castle. A woman stood on the stairs, and the moment she spotted Iain, she began running toward him.
