Page 4 of Seduction in a Kilt

CHAPTER ONE

February, 1587

The shore of Clan MacAlister

“Ach! I’m gonnae suffocate if I dinnae get out of this blasted wedding gown right this instant!”

Ivy MacAlister cursed under her breath in frustration, her arms straining to reach behind her back, fingers numbed by the cold, tearing impatiently at the fastenings of the elaborate gown. The delicate material of her copious skirts was already damp from the cold, sea-laden night air, and the expansive folds were clinging to her limbs, hampering her movement as if they would consume her.

Hurry, hurry! They must be after me by now! I need tae get on the boat and be gone!

The gown seemed to her the perfect symbol of the cruel fate awaiting her if she failed to get to the opposite shore, the lights of which beckoned in the distance across the water, as soon as possible.

Get on with it, they could be here at any moment!

“Finally!” she hissed to herself, managing to get enough of the fastenings undone behind her to gradually manhandle the gown, with its tight bodice, down over her hips. It fell like a puffball around her ankles. She kicked it aside with a sigh of relief. It lay on the sand next to the sword she had brought with her, strapped to her leg beneath her skirts, her only form of protection.

Shivering in the cold wind, she hurriedly got out of the rest of her bridal finery—her stays, her embroidered petticoats, her beribboned garters, silk stockings, satin slippers, and the strip of ribbon tied around her wrist for the handfasting at the ceremony—and rapidly pulled on the set of clothing the boatman had just given her.

She held her breath as she slipped into the rough, homespun outfit of a lad, complete with a worn pair of boots and a large cap and kerchief. These last two Ivy hoped would be useful in hiding her true identity from prying eyes, thus increasing her chances of getting away successfully. The disguise would buy her time to be thought a lad and not a young woman at all.

As she changed, every now and then she would peep above the rocks to make sure the boat was still there, pulled up on the beach, waiting for her. It was, but she knew that if she did not get a move on, the boatman was likely to leave without her, and people would already have begun searching for her.

On the way to her own wedding ceremony, she had insisted on stopping her retinue and disappearing into the forest to “answer a call of nature.” Her loyal maid Amy had promised to delay them for as long as she could, saying her mistress had likely lost her way among the trees. But the fact remained that at any second, guards could appear, grab her, and haul her back to face her horrible fate.

The strain of being under such terrible pressure was already showing on Ivy, making her trembling and breathless. She was flustered, for it had taken all her powers of persuasion to get the boatman to give her the clothes as part of the price of her passage. The day before, she had bargained hard with him to meet him here at this time and row her from the MacAlister lands to the safety of the opposite shore, paying a hefty sum.

Today, she had arrived on the beach at the hidden inlet at the appointed time, panting, out of breath from running down the embankment through the trees in her heavy, cumbersome wedding gown. When she saw the boat and raced down to the waiting boatman, her heart full of hope, she was horrified to discover he had gotten cold feet.

“I dinnae think I should have agreed tae take ye,” he had grumbled from

beneath his grizzled beard, “I mean, comin’ down here in yer weddin’ dress? It all seems very fishy tae me. I have the feelin’ I could get intae a lot of trouble over this. Nay, ’tis nae worth the risk.”

“But I’ve paid ye well!” Ivy had cried, terrified she would be unable to change his mind. “Ye havetae take me!”

“’Tis me boat, lassie, and I dinnae havetae take ye if I dinnae wish it.”

Ivy had to think quickly. “I’ll pay ye more,” she had offered. “Here, take this.” She took off the pearl necklace from around her throat and placed it into his large, grubby paw. “That’s worth more than ye’ll make in a month of Sundays,” she argued, desperate to be gone.

Yet he still shook his head dubiously as he looked down at the expensive item.

“I’m nae sure I should be helpin’ ye at all. A runway bride? What if the groom comes lookin’ fer ye, askin’ questions and pokin’ his nose intae me business? I could get in trouble with the laird and have me license tae fish revoked. Why d’ye ye nae just take a horse and go overland if ye’re in such a hurry tae get away from yer man?”

“Because speed is of the essence, and he’ll be lookin’ fer me tae go by horse. This way buys me more time tae get away,’tis far quicker!” Ivy almost shouted, her fists clenching as she struggled to keep her panic from overwhelming her. She felt like hitting the man and stealing his boat! But she knew she would never make it across the choppy waters alone.

“What are ye so set on runnin’ away from?” he had asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“A fate worse than death!” she had exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see the guards appear at any moment. “Ye’ve been well-paid, and if ye get me safely tae the other shore, I’ll gave ye these too.” She pointed to her pearl earrings, praying it would do the trick. To her utmost relief, it worked.

“All right then, but hurry up,” he had grudgingly agreed with a scowl. “I’ll nae wait longer than five minutes.”

“Thank ye, I’m very grateful.” She had snatched the pile of clothes he handed her and rushed behind the rocks to change.

As soon as she had assumed her disguise, she stuffed her long, dark hair under the cap and pulled it low down over her face. Then, she tied the kerchief over the lower half of her face, sure no one would be able to tell she was a female. Next, she rolled up all the wedding finery into the gown and tucked the bundle beneath her arm. She picked up the sword as well and ran to the boat. She threw the bundle into the boat and paused to secure the sword in its scabbard around her hips.

“Are ye gettin’ in then? If ye wantae go, we must go now, while the tides goin’ out,” he urged her gruffly.

“Aye, I’m comin’,” she replied, gingerly climbing abord the fishing boat and finding a place to sit among the folded nets and crab pots. The boatman took his seat by the rowlocks and took up the oars at last. With powerful, practiced stokes he pulled them out on the rushing tide to the sea. As they slowly left the shore behind, Ivy looked back at the looming castle and the lands that were her heritage. She felt no sorrow at leaving them behind, each pull of the oars that took her further away from the promise of a lifetime of misery mentally adding to her strength.