The young knight bristled. “Of course not. I would have insisted—”
Erik laughed at his naivety. “You could have insisted all you like, but the lass would have had her throat cut the moment we pulled out of the cave. I got her out of there the only way I could.”
Randolph flushed. “If we can’t take her back, why not drop her ashore somewhere else? Let her find her way home.”
“Believe me, if I could I would. I’ve no more interest in dragging a lass around with us than you do. But I’m not willing to jeopardize our mission and your uncle’s chance to reclaim what has been stolen from him for the sake of one lass. Are you?”
“She said she didn’t hear—”
“I know what she said, but what if she is lying?” Erik let the question hang, then shook his head. “I won’t risk it.”
“So what do you plan to do with her?”
Hell if he knew. He was supposed to meet Bruce and the others at Finlaggan, his cousin’s castle on Islay, report on his meeting, and begin to prepare for the attack. But if the lass was truly ignorant of their plan, she wouldn’t be the moment she saw Bruce. On the other hand, if he took her to the king, Erik could get her off his hands all that much sooner, and right now that sounded very appealing.
He scanned the seascape ahead of him, seeing nothing but mist and darkness. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. The English boats were out there somewhere. “Right now all I’m thinking about is keeping us out of the path of the English patrol. Then, I’ll worry about the lass.”
“I don’t like it,” Randolph said stubbornly.
Erik glanced over at his unwelcome passenger, her slender form completely enveloped in the fur brat he’d given her. Her appearance hadn’t improved much on further study. Not plain, but not beautiful either—somewhere in between. Definitely not the type of woman to usually get a rise out of him. That she had, he supposed, was only natural with her half-naked body pressed against his. For such a skinny thing, she’d been surprisingly soft.
Looking at her, he felt a strange tingling down his spine and prickling of his skin. He frowned, realizing the same thing had happened when he’d held her against him.
And perhapsthatwas the reaction that bothered him most of all. He didn’t like it.
For once, he and Bruce’s young nephew were in agreement. “Neither do I, lad, neither do I.”
He liked it even less a short while later.
Erik had just given the order to turn east toward Islay, having decided to blindfold the lass and leave her aboard thebirlinnuntil he could report to Bruce, when he caught sight of a sail behind them.
But that didn’t worry him. With their sail lowered, his boat was nearly invisible in the heavy cloak of darkness and mist. If the other boat did happen to catch sight of them, Erik could always raise the sail and outrun them.
Nay, the single sail behind them didn’t worry him at all. But the three white dots that sprang out of the night ahead of them, running parallel to shore and barreling down hard toward them—thathe couldn’t ignore.
He groaned. This long night was about to get even longer. Did the blasted English never sleep? A damned hornet’s nest, he thought again. Despite the promising beginning, this “wee” trip to Dunluce was turning into a real pain in his backside.
With three boats ahead of him, one behind him, and the Irish coast to his right, he had no choice but to turn due north—straight into the wind—if he was going to avoid them.
He eyed the sails just visible ahead. There was still time. As long as they stayed quiet, they would slip away—
Quiet.Oh, hell. His gaze shot to the lass one second too late. He heard Domnall’s startled oath, followed by a soft splash.
Erik didn’t think, just reacted, and dove in after her—fully clothed and armed. He didn’t fight against the hard drag downward as the water took hold of his armor, instead waiting a few seconds for it to balance out. He barely noticed the shock of cold water that cut through him like icy spikes, penetrating to the bone. His only thought was to reach her before she could cry out and alert the English to their presence.
He followed the path where she’d gone in. When he didn’t find her right away, he shot back to the surface. The waves bobbed up and down, but he couldn’t see any sign of her. Where in Hades was she?
The troublesome lass was quickly making him regret his spurious act of gallantry in saving her skinny neck. He just might have to wring it himself when he caught up with her.
He looked at his men hanging over the boat, peering into the darkness also trying to find her. “See anything?” he whispered.
They shook their heads.
He swore and dove back under. The fool lass was going to drown herself. Why hadn’t she listened to him?
Because she’s scared.
Of me.
