Page 13 of The Lyon’s Lass

The sun was casting streaks of pink light across the sky as they trailed out of the carriage. A number of rough-looking men came up and removed their things, leading them off into the busy port. Abigail and Jack followed behind them with Maisy and Iain taking up the rear.

Maisy hadn’t eaten much that morning, her stomach abuzz with nervous excitement for the day. But as they turned and the ship came into view, the nerves overpowered the excitement.

She knew right away which ship was his. The wood was a bright green. The name The Rue was scrawled elegantly across the stern with stringy, yellow, flowers laced on either side.

Two straight masts rose out of the middle of the ship reaching into the sky, white sails lay rolled and ready at the base. Everything onboard was gleaming, clean wood.

Jack ran ahead in excitement. And it seemed like time stood still when Maisy saw what was about to happen. Iain, beside her, yelled out.

“Jack, get down.” But of course he didn’t obey. Instead, the crew member barreling toward her brother from a line continued on his path and knocked Jack right off his feet. He seemed to bounce once before becoming still. Too still.

Iain rushed to the lad lying motionless on the deck.

“Jack!” his wife yelled and pushed in front of Iain to get to her brother.

“I told him to get down. Why didn’t he listen?” But his wife didn’t answer. She was on her knees beside the boy shaking him and tapping his face.

From where Iain stood he didn’t see any injury. But wounds about the head were often a mystery. He’d seen many men killed in battle, with no mark upon them. No blood didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t any damage.

Eventually the boy’s eyes blinked open and he sat up on his own. The siblings sat face to face using their hands to make those sharp motions.

“He can’t hear?” Iain said, having figured it out. The way he’d not responded when Iain shouted at him, and the language they used without words. The way his wife was intent on taking her brother with her and the older arse had made out that something was wrong with the lad.

“There’s nothing wrong with him otherwise,” she snapped defensively. Oddly Iain felt a pang of jealousy that he had no one to come to his protection so fiercely.

“I didn’t say there was. I only just realized.”

“You agreed to bring him with us. You can’t go back on your word.”

Iain held his hands up as if settling a skittish horse.

“I have no intention of going back on my word. I’ll not throw him off the ship because he can’t hear. I’m just surprised is all. The way you… speak.”

“He can read lips, but after being knocked off his feet I couldn’t be sure he’d understand.”

As she explained, Jack got to his feet and shook his head as if clearing it. Madalene spoke to him with her hands and he nodded emphatically and put his hands over hers in a way that didn’t need words to explain.

He didn’t want his older sister fussing over him.

Iain smiled for having been right when his wife sighed and frowned after the boy who was back in motion and taking in the sights.

Hodge came up.

“We’re ready to set sail for Aberdeen, Capt’n.”

“Very well. Get us underway while I show my wife to our quarters.”

He shared a look with his first mate before Hodge walked away and started yelling orders to pull up the anchor and lift the sail.

“This way,” Iain said to Madalene.

She looked at Jack again before nodding. She followed him to the quarterdeck and the door under the stairs that led to the captain’s quarters. Windows along the stern of the ship let in a fair amount of morning light, making it appear bigger than it was.

The table in the center of the space was covered in maps and a few empty tankards. It was where Iain planned their journey and ate his meals. On the same wall as the door there was a roomy closet and then there was the bed. Large enough for two, but not as big as his bed had been at Kesson House. He’d miss that comfort.

Not that this bed didn’t suit him better. He’d lay there many a night, staring at the moon and stars out the porthole window that sat level with his bed.

“This is our room.”