Page 30 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERELEVEN

The moon, heavy and ripe, hung low in the ink-black sky as Darragh MacDonald and Lara MacLean crept stealthily toward the rugged coastline. Tall grasses whispered against their legs, a sharp contrast to the deafening silence of the night. Their eyes were drawn to the wealthier-looking ship among smaller vessels, an imposing boat docked just outside.

"Are ye certain about this?" Lara's voice was as soft, her blue eyes searching Darragh's for any sign of hesitation.

"Och, it’s the fairest way," Darragh replied, his black eyes reflecting the weight of countless battles fought and lost. "We need the boat, and those with more can spare it." His hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm.

Their intentions weren't entirely unkind; they planned to leave their trusted steed and some coin behind, hoping it would cover the cost of the vessel.

They moved quietly, sticking to the shadows like phantoms in the twilight, reaching the boat without arousing any suspicion. The soft lapping of the waves against the hull was a soothing balm to Darragh's frayed nerves. They began loosening the ropes, their breaths shallow and measured, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the owner of the house step out.

"God's teeth," he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum as fear coursed through his veins.

"What? What is it?" Lara whispered, her eyes wide and questioning.

"The owner. He’s come out," Darragh responded. His mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, as he tried to think of a way to keep the man at bay without arousing suspicion.

"Keep working on the ropes, Lara," he instructed, his voice commanding yet gentle, as he attempted to remain calm for her sake. "I'll figure something out."

As they worked in frenzied silence, the dark clouds above seemed to mirror the storm brewing within Darragh's soul. He knew that one misstep could send them both spiraling into danger, and the thought of losing Lara—was too much to bear.

The man's silhouette seemed to merge with the darkness as he surveyed the land, his gaze fixed on some distant point far from where Darragh and Lara crouched by the boat. The moonlight glinted off the man's silver hair like a beacon in the night, and Darragh's heart thrummed an uneasy rhythm that echoed through his veins.

Panic clawed at his insides, splintering his thoughts into a thousand shattered fragments, none of which formed any coherent plan. He needed a distraction, something to keep the man's attention away from them, but his mind was as dark and impenetrable as the shadows that enveloped them.

"Almost got it," Lara breathed, her slender fingers working deftly at the knots. "Just need a bit more time."

"Time's nae something we have in abundance," Darragh muttered, his eyes never leaving the man who seemed to be oblivious to their presence. But for how long?

"Just think, Darragh. Think!" he silently urged himself.

"Got it!" Lara exclaimed triumphantly, the last knot finally giving way.

"Good, now let's—" Darragh began, only to be cut off by the sudden tightening of the ropes around his chest, while he tried to push them away. His breath hitched in his throat as they ensnared him like a noose the more he pulled at them, binding him to the very thing he sought to escape.

"Christ," he hissed, a quiet curse slipping through his teeth as he fought against the unyielding ropes.

"What happened?" Lara asked, concern etched into her delicate features.

"Ropes got me," he growled, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Help me get untangled."

"All right, hold still," she said, reaching for the rope that held him captive. Together, they struggled against the confines of their situation, each movement deliberate and precise, as if one wrong step could spell disaster.

"Damn these ropes," Darragh hissed, the tension mounting with each passing second. Would they be able to escape undetected? Or would the man's gaze finally fall upon them, sealing their fate in an instant?

"Almost there," Lara murmured, her words a balm to the storm raging within him. "Just. A little. More."

"Just stay calm," Darragh managed to grit out through clenched teeth, his muscles straining against the ropes. "Keep yer wits about ye." His eyes darted frantically around the scene, searching for a solution to the predicament they'd found themselves in.

"Go and find something tae distract him," Darragh murmured to Lara, the urgency in his voice palpable. Time was slipping through their fingers like water as the man drew closer, unaware of their presence. As yet.

"What?" Lara's voice trembled, her blue eyes filled with uncertainty as she struggled to take in his command.

"Trust me, Lara. Just go."

"All right," she whispered, nodding in determination. She moved away from him, her steps as light as the breeze that caressed the night air. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. In her haste, Lara's foot caught the hem of her dress, entangling itself in the folds of fabric as if ensnared by a web of silk and cotton.

"Ah!" she gasped, a soft cry echoing through the still night, a beacon for all those who sought them. The sound sent shivers down Darragh's spine, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, a relentless drumbeat heralding danger. His eyes darted to Lara as she frantically tried to free herself, her movements frantic and uncontrolled.