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Ruairi was looking forward to spending some time in Spain. His last trip to the Highlands had been months ago. The voyage back had taken longer than usual, as he had made some extra stops in the hopes of earning some more coin, and the men didn’t object as they were all hardy sailors and were used to spending time at sea. They all appreciated the extra wealth they were accumulating as well. Some of them even joked that they could buy their way into the nobility, which made Ruairi smile. Still, none of them had any idea of the life he had given up to be with them, and likely they would look at him as though he was crazy if they did know. He thought this time that Maura would beg him to stay, although perhaps she knew what his answer would be. There had always been a silent understanding between them, as though they always knew what was going on in each others’ minds. After what happened with Monty, there was a part of him that had been tempted to go and see his parents, but no, it was too difficult. There was no point anyway. He knew what would happen; his father would beg him to come back while Ruairi would say that he had found his place out on the ocean. Then there would be an argument, just like last time.

It was better to stay away.

But still, there had been a feeling that came over him while he had been sailing back, a feeling that was carried on the sea breeze. It was more than just the wind, and yet it wasn’t anything substantial. It was almost like a whisper caressing the back of his neck. He smiled because he knew that his mother and sister would both call it the work of spirits, but he was far from his place of birth, and there were no spirits out here.

The world around him was colorful, and the market was filled with lots of different wares and the scents of different spices. Meat hissed as it was being cooked and sold, while merchants spoke in all different kinds of languages as they tried to sell their wares. The Spanish accent was melodic and tuneful, and he enjoyed being in this place, but soon he would be back in his villa where it was quiet and peaceful, where he could be alone for a couple of days before he set sail again. Land was just his temporary home. The sea was where he came alive.

But through the usual noises of the market, a messenger came running up to him. Ruairi looked at him with scorn when he was told there was a Highland ship looking for him. No doubt it was someone else trying to buy the Redemption from him. He scoffed and continued walking, not willing to give this messenger any attention at all. But then he was told that the message was about his father. Ruairi stopped in his tracks, and his blood ran cold. Was this some kind of trick? Why would his father send him a message all the way out here?

He was filled with misgivings and unease, but he could not ignore the message. He commanded the messenger to turn around, and followed him back through the market.

They came to a stall where an older man was with a young woman. They shared meat and a drink, and the woman looked at everything with curiosity while the man’s eyes were narrowed, primed to look for danger. Ruairi didn’t recognize either of them. Behind them was a ship that had been caught in a storm. The restraints holding the mast up were taken away, and it fell like a toppled tree.

“I was told ye hae a message for me?” Ruairi asked. As soon as he spoke, the messenger retreated back to the ship, leaving Ruairi alone with the other two.

The older man studied him. “Are ye Ruairi Calbraith?” he asked. Ruairi nodded, although it had been a long time since anyone had addressed him by that name out there. He glanced around warily, just in case any of his crew should learn his secret. He was still afraid of telling them, as he didn’t want them to treat him differently.

“I’m Cal, and this is Lady Kenna Baird,” the older man said. Ruairi nodded as Kenna curtsied. Their eyes met, and something stirred within him, something strange and dormant. In amongst the wonders of this market, she stood out as one of the most beautiful things. The voyage at sea had done nothing to dull her beauty, and it spoke to her character that she had the resolve to endure such a journey.

“What message dae ye hae?” he asked.

Cal and Kenna glanced at each other.

“I regret tae inform ye that yer da is ill and is dying. Yer sister and her husband came tae Laird Baird tae ask him to relay this message. They want ye tae return home. Yer da wants tae speak with ye,” Cal said.

Each word felt like a drop of rain falling from the sky. Ruairi’s insides twisted. His lips parted, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Nay…” he said.

“I’m sorry, Laird, but it’s true. I dinnae know how long he haes tae live.”

“Dinnae call me that here,” Ruairi hissed. “Cap’n or Ruairi is fine,” he said. He gnawed on his lower lip and stroked his beard. Part of him wanted to believe that this was some kind of trick. Would his father lie about something like this just to get him home? But what if it was true? Would Ruairi really be willing to stay away and not say goodbye to his father? Of course, it was entirely possible that Niall had died in the time it had taken to bring the message to Ruairi. But still… Niall should have had a good few years left in him.

“I’m sorry, Ruairi,” Kenna said gently.

Her voice was sweet, and the way she spoke his name rolled off her tongue in a pleasing manner. Their eyes locked again. Something shimmered in hers, something that caught his attention, but he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling it inspired.

“Ye came a long way just tae deliver a message. Are ye here tae escort me back as well?” Ruairi asked. Cal and Kenna looked at each other uncomfortably, as though they hadn’t been prepared for this reaction.

“Actually, it was a happy coincidence that I was on my way tae Spain,” Kenna replied. “I am tae be married tae Senor Manuel del Rio.”

“Ah,” Ruairi said. “I know the man.”

Kenna’s face lit up. “What can ye tell me about him? Is he kind? Is he—”

“He is ill. And old,” Ruairi said bluntly. “But I will take ye tae him if ye wish. It’s the least I can dae since ye hae delivered this message tae me.”

“But dinnae ye want tae return home?” Kenna asked.

“I shall think on it,” Ruairi replied, and promptly turned, intending for them to follow him. He knew he should return, but it had been so long he was afraid it would be awkward. He had been a bad son. He was a good captain, and it was better for everyone if he stayed at sea and forgot about his place as the son of Niall Calbraith. The clan was better in the hands of Maura and Kevan. But what could Niall want with him? It was as though an old wound had opened in his heart, and he just needed time to think about what to do. Pain and anguish flowed through him, and all at once, the past ten years melted away and he was still that uncertain boy who was unsure of so many things. He was supposed to have grown beyond this by now, curse it!