Deeper.
“Come on,” he murmured. “There’s another crossing.”
The next boat was larger, broad-bottomed and solid. Two men stood ready, white-faced at the sight of Dubh.
“You expect us tae take that?” one stammered.
“Aye,” Harris said with a nod.
“Alive?”
Fiona rubbed her temples. “He’ll stand quiet.”
Dubh immediately shoved Harris, nearly sending him overboard.
“Eventually,” she amended.
It took three grown men and enough profanity to scorch the sea air, but Dubh was finally convinced aboard—legs braced wide, murder in his eyes.
When the boat pushed off, he pressed his face into Fiona’s shoulder, anxious as a child—though significantly heavier and smellier.
“Aww,” she murmured, stroking him. “Ye big bairn.”
Harris stared. “He’s never done that with a soul.”
Dubh pressed harder, nearly knocking Fiona sideways.
“It’ll be alright,mo leannan,” she said softly, trying to convince herself just as much as the horse.
The boat rocked. Fiona steadied Dubh, and her hand brushed Harris’s chest.
He inhaled sharply.
Like he felt it in his bones.
By the time they reached mainland earth, Fiona’s cloak was soaked, Dubh’s mane was a disaster, and Harris looked like a man fighting a smile he didn’t want to explain.
Dubh stomped ashore with righteous fury—
shook again—
and soaked everyone a second time.
“OH,HELP MA BOAB!” the fisherman wailed. “The beast must hate us!”
“No,” Fiona said, wiping salt from her lashes. “That’s affection.”
Harris looked at her with affection.
“Aye,” he said softly. “It is.”
Chapter 34
Heather—Present Day
Blue lights splintered across Glenoran’s wet stone.
The storm had moved East, leaving the air raw and smelling—ironically—fresh. Officers fanned through the yard, boots sinking in churned mud, radios crackling. Kerr and the crowbar-man were loaded into separate vans—alive, restrained, and silent.
