“Cut the lines loose. It matters not how we tangled with the supply ship – cut them loose. It is dragging us to the shore!” They were headed for the shore? “Cut them all directly! We have eight anchors!”
Forget the anchors – was her Aonghus hurt? She eased around to his front. He had a gash above his brow about the same size as her hand; she strained to reach her sleeve to brush the crimson bead from his lash. A nasty bruise lined his upper cheek. All chronicled, he wasstandingbefore her,notfallen on the deck. Pulling upon the tethered rope about his neck, she ground her lips against his, rain and seawater and bloodblending in their roughened kiss. He gave a growl, with his palms tugging her close.
He tasted of life! Her eyes closed, he deepened the kiss. The ship lurched; he unexpectedly broke the kiss to duck low, whisking her with him as somethingwhizzedby their scalps. What was that?!
“Cut the final line!” A voice sounded in the unseen darkness from the direction of King Håkonsson’s ship. “THE BARK SUPPLY SHIP IS DRAGGING US ASHORE!!”
She blinked several times – nope, eyes still blurry from all the violent shadow-glances. “Aonghus?” His name was an ask.
“’Twas the golden dragonhead upon King Håkonsson’s bowsprit, which flew over the deck…” He cut the explanation short to tighten his grip on her, then yelled at Sir Brayden, “Hold tight, Brayden, when they release the final line the dragonhead will…”
SNAP! All went black.
Chapter 38
Second Dawn
Day Two
“Cluaran?” She heard the familiar summons, but Aonghus’s voice was strained. His finger brushed her cheek, the knuckles roughened from warfare…warfare. Northmen!
Her eyes popped open. No. No Northmen, but Aonghus; ohh, his handsome features were creased fiercely from worry. At the sight awakening before him, his mouth broke into a wide grin before her face was covered by rain of a different sort when he began placing kisses.
“Keirah,” he gushed, “you have returned to me!”Always, dearest lad.
Her fingers tightened on his tunic. What…what was the final memory? Aye, the golden dragon’s bowsprit at the front of the king’s ship. After Håkonsson’s crew had cut loose the last line, the creature sprang to life then flew above the waves, crashing directly into the side of the bark supply ship before breaking off, then the gold dragonhead vanished beneath the waves.
The dark brows drew together above her when he asked, “Cluaran, are you well?”
Her head pounded like a demon was stomping her skull. Aonghus looked so fearful.Go with another question to divert his. “Aonghus, how is it we have come to be below deck?”
“Well,” Aonghus began, “after the dragonhead crashed, we struck the shore in the darkness then were all tossed into the passageway, falling down the stairs to wake this mornin’ here. Sir Brayden is checkin’ above deck.”
Her eyes darted about the surrounding area. The casks were tossed like leaves after an autumn gust around the floor harboring ankle-deep water. Her nose wrinkled at the scent from salted rotten meat having broken free from some of the casks crashing – the rats were having a feast over at the far corner.
She tried to sit up. “Mornin’?” Oh, raging hell, her head! She groaned. He pressed her down, cradling her scalp on his lap.
“Keirah, steady, rest a moment,” he warned. “You hit your head. Do not think I have not taken heed you did not answer my query. Are you well?”
She met his eyes with her head cradled in his lap.Try one more diversion– she truly didn’t want to worry him any further nor lie. “Are we safe?” As soon as the question left her lips she inwardly rolled her eyes. Could she be more foolish? No, even if she stood in the bowels of hell shewouldfeel safe with this Scotsman by her side.Answer the query.“My skull pounds in a terrible way near my temples,” she said. “’Tis to be expected for the cost of measure after all the shadow-glances.”
For such a large knight, his touch could be soft as a dove’s wing; it was at that moment. Gently he raised her up to stand, cupping her face in his hands, his brows now one. “Aonghus,”she whispered, her breath brushing his lips, “we are together and still of this realm.”Perhaps a hint of jest will ease his fears.She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Do not be too greedy, my lad.”
A low rumble echoed in his chest before he captured her lips. Salt, but never sweeter! As she wrapped her arms about his neck, a heavyahemsounded behind them.
Sir Brayden stood and gave his words on a long breath. “Providence be praised – if anything were to happen to you, Lady Maise would have taken my balls before we were wed.”Most likely; she is a feisty one.The stout knight’s grin faded as he finished, “Aonghus, the next dark horizon for us lies with a fleet belonging to Northmen headed directly for this ship. I barricaded the doors, but we must have another means to escape.”
She watched his eyes dart over the landscape. “Fetch the axe there used on the cask,” he said, and he leaned down to retrieve Vengeance off the watery floorboards.
“Plan?” she asked.
“Cut our way out from the hull, place a few casks to cover the opening once we are through,” he replied quickly then grasped her hand, tugging her along toward the farthest wall lit by a lone oil lamp. “With a wee bit of luck, we may return to raid the hull with our countrymen this eve.”Ohh, I like that idea!
She pulled her hand free; he looked at her curiously. Leaning over to the closest cask, which appeared to be filled with an ale concoction, she pulled the plug. Aye, beer. Excellent!
“You cut the opening, I will see about commencing on starving the enemy from our shores,” she declared. He nodded, leaned down to bruise her lips with a brisk hard press from his, and charged for the hull.
Just then, a loudbangsounded at the hull’s doors along with a Northman’s voice: “Get more men and release this door!”
