“You cannae leave.” He grasped her arms.
“I can and I am.” She cleared her throat, pushed harder with her voice to raise it higher and prayed her compelling tone would come forth. “You will allow me to leave without any hinder.” Her voice rang with authority, with an unmistakably hypnotic demand. Thank goodness. “I will always be an annoyance to you, until you choose to see the truth about our bond and accept it.”
His blue eyes clouded over under her compulsion, one he couldn’t fight.
“Close your eyes, Duncan, then count to one-hundred, nice and slow, and once you’re done you may open your eyes again.” His long lashes fluttered down and carefully, she slid her arms free of his tight grip, kissed his cheek and murmured, “I wish you a safe journey. You may begin the count.”
“One, two, three...” Hands fisted at his sides, he rocked where he stood, the burnished hilt of his massive two-handed claymore glinting at his side.
She shoved her skiff deeper into the water, clambered on board and with the oars in hand, rowed from the center seat. Once she’d cleared the surf, she raised the sail and took one last look at her chosen one still standing on the beach, his eyes closed and teeth gritted.
Hopefully, he’d forgive her for what she’d just done, would come to his senses afore too long as well. Aye, leaving him right now was her only option, no matter doing so pained her to the very depths of her soul.
Chapter 4
“Four, five, six.” Eyes shut, Duncan growled under his breath. Counting was the last thing he wished to do when all he wanted was to chase Ella and bring her back to his side, only breaking her compelling demand was damn impossible. “Seven, eight, nine.”
“Duncan?” Hamish’s voice wafted over him.
“Give me a moment.” What blasted number was he up to? “Ten,” he muttered, eyes still squeezed shut, the compulsion to count overriding all else. “Eleven, twelve…” Endlessly, he continued on. “Ninety-nine, one-hundred.”
He reached the magic number and opened his eyes, dragged in a deep breath then growled at his second-in-command. “Speak to me.”
“Are you feeling well?” Hamish stared at him as if he’d grown another head.
“Ella wanted to leave, so I let her.” His gut roiled into a seething mess. Out at sea, she’d already rounded the tip of the bay and disappeared from his sight. “She insists one of my men tossed her overboard and that she’s safest away from me.” Around the fire and along the grassy verge, his men broke their fast. Each and every one had stood staunchly at his side during the war that had raged these past years. He couldn’t separate any one of them out as the possible culprit.
“I never saw anyone wish her any harm, but right now we need to focus more on what she’s clearly compelled of you. If you wish to fight her compulsion, then you must look inside your heart for the truth.” Hamish grasped his shoulder. “How do you truly feel about her?”
“She’s forced our separation.”
“You have no’ been forthcoming with her. Mayhap ’tis time you shared the knowledge of how you came to hold fae blood with her. She is blood kin to me and I can assure you, she can be trusted.”
“No one knows about my fae blood other than you and those I trust implicitly.”
“Do you no’ wish to claim her as yours?”
“How can I when that would release my secret?” Even he could no longer ignore the signs that they were soul bound, but that made little difference when he had kin to protect. He expelled a long breath, tried to calm his aggrieved thoughts. The surf washed into shore and the sun rose higher and glimmered over the blue-green surface and as it did, his mate sailed even farther away from him, so far now beyond his reach.
“You are the son of a chief, and none would ever dispute your decision to take her for yourself so you might ensure her strong fae blood flowed directly within your line. You could easily keep the truth of your fae heritage to yourself and simply weave the story you wish to tell.” Hamish leaned against the galley, tapped the heel of one booted foot in the sand and waited.
“You mean speak a mistruth?”
“I mean you should omit the truth, which you currently do regardless.”
“And what of her close ties to the MacDonald? That I cannae allow to continue.”
“There is no halting a compeller.” He grinned. “She’ll be a handful your mate, but she’s still yours all the same.”
“I cannae lose her, no matter the secrets I hold.”
“Your need to protect her rages just as strongly as her need to protect you does.”
“She sails through dangerous waters.”
“I take it then ’tis time for us to set sail as well.”
“Aye, although I will have a lot of explaining to do with her when I find her. Rally the men.”
“’Tis about time you issued that order.” With a look of satisfaction, Hamish pushed off the galley, his black leather vest pulled tight across his shoulders and his sword gleaming at his side. He trekked across the beach and yelled to the men, “Extinguish the fire! Our laird wishes to set sail after the lass who’s left. We have plenty to do this day, to find her and then to hunt down Gavin MacDonald.”
* * * *
With the wind filling the sail, Ella cruised alongside the coastline of Scalpay, the isle almost perfectly round and easily navigated. She searched for any sign of Ethan and Gavin, from the smallest inlet to the wide bays where the forest butted right up to the edge. Finding them was imperative, and preferably before Duncan did too.
As the morning passed and the afternoon wore on, heavy gray cloud swept in across the skies and the waters swelled, the wind whisking through with chilling intensity. Up ahead and set a hundred feet back from the water’s edge, smoke curled into the air from the thatched roof of a wattle and daub inn, while a half dozen skiffs sat beached on the pebbly shore before it. She scanned the vessels, although none appeared large enough to hold seven hefty men.
Ropes firm in hand, she turned the sail a touch and with her booted feet braced along one side, crested the waves rolling into shore. She’d seek shelter at the inn for the night. She could do little more this day with the encroaching dark.
As her skiff cruised into shore, she dropped the sail and bounded into the knee-deep waves. With her breeches plastered to her legs, she pulled her boat up onto the curve of the bay and secured it to the closest boulder where it would remain out of reach of any incoming high tide.
The wind blasted through swifter and stronger. Thunder rumbled and lightning speared the sky, a jagged bolt of sizzling yellow. The ever-darkening clouds burst open. Rain pummeled down, pinged off the boulders and slammed into the sand.
Bag in hand, she raced up the broken-shell trail as a lad darted from the inn’s side door and bounded over a rail into the corral. He caught the reins of a horse and urged the big black beast inside the stables. The rain beat down harder and drenched, she halted under the protection of the inn’s overhanging eaves and dripped water everywhere.
Candlelight danced from behind the latticed windows to one side and the planked front door with its cast iron door knocker, beckoned. She lifted the rapper and knocked.
The front door swung open and a crinkly-eyed man wearing brown trews and suspenders over his cuffed shirt waved her in. “Come inside out of the wet, lass. The wife has mutton stew cooking if ye wish some.”
“Thank you.” Mutton stew. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips. “The storm hit so fast.”
“Aye, storms blow in quickly in these parts. We’ve travelers aplenty who’ve sought shelter here this night, so join in the merriness.”
“I’m looking for my brother, Ethan Matheson. Might you have seen him?” She stepped inside, stamped the sand from her boots on the thick matting of rushes. “He’s been sailing with Gavin MacDonald and his men.”
“My wife is the one ye need to ask since she tends to the guests, but I’ve no’ seen any Mathesons or MacDonalds in a good week or two if that’s
of any help.”
“Oh my, the lass is wet through.” A flush-faced woman with strands of gray hair trickling free of the knot atop her head, bustled past the man and wiped her hands on the loosely-tied brown apron covering her ample waist. “I’ll secure ye a chamber and find ye something dry and warm to wear, lass.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She followed the woman up the stairwell leading to the top landing. Doors led off either side of the darkened corridor lit only by the odd candle in an iron wall sconce. At the far end, a young maid of mayhap two and ten swept the floorboards, her brown kirtle too long by an inch and almost tripping her up.
“Lizzie,” the matronly woman called. “Did ye change the linens in the burgundy chamber?”
“Aye, Mama.”
“Good, lass. Fetch me the lacy blue gown from the spare trunk in my chamber, the matching slippers too, then come and light the fire. Hurry, child.” The woman opened a door halfway down the hallway and Ella followed her inside. “This burgundy chamber is all yours, for as long as ye need it. It overlooks the sea and the mainland in the distance.” The woman ambled across to a chunky trunk sitting at the end of a large four-poster bed, the burgundy canopy sweeping down to the floor. She pulled out a drying cloth and a clean shift, nodded at her. “I’m Miriam. Do ye wish for aid in undressing?”
“Aye, Miriam, please. I’m Ella, from the House of Clan Matheson.” She shrugged off her wet coat and draped it over the wooden rack near the hearth.
“Did I hear ye say to my husband that ye were looking for your brother?” Miriam hunkered down, unlaced and plucked her boots free then propped them to one side.
“Aye, his name is Ethan and he’s been sailing with Gavin MacDonald and his men. Seven of them altogether. Have you seen either him or Gavin by chance?” Shivering, she eased her damp cream shirt over her head and laid it over top of her coat.
“I’ve no’ seen those whom you speak of, but I’ll keep an eye out and be sure to holler if they arrive. Let me get your breeches for ye.” Miriam loosened the ties of her breeches and helped shimmy them down her legs before adding them to the rack. “Being a Matheson, do ye hold the skills of the fae?”
“I’m a compeller.”
“Oh, ye dinnae say.” Eyes wide, she beamed as she flapped out the drying cloth and wrapped it around her. “Then ye must be the lass we’ve heard about, the one that’s said halted the last battle between the MacDonalds and the MacKenzies at Dunscaith Castle.”
“Aye, I did.”
“Some dinnae believe the tales told about your clan, but I surely do.” Miriam circled her, patted her dry then lifted her dripping hair and rubbed it with the cloth. Done, Miriam slid a shift over her head and the soft white cotton slithered down and brushed the polished floorboards.
Cold air whooshed into the chamber as Lizzie arrived and the lass shut the door behind her, a blue gown in her hands. She handed it to Miriam then knelt at the hearth to light the fire. She pulled husky bark from a log, struck flint with a dirk then once the sparks had caught, laid twigs over top and added a block of peat. The fire crackled and flames sizzled an orange-red hue, an additional welcome heat Ella desperately needed.
“Arms up, if ye will.” Miriam lifted the gown to her head and she raised her hands and sighed as Miriam slipped the soft fabric over her then shuffled in behind. Such warmth encased her, the blue velvet swishing to her ankles. Lace edged the sleeves as well as ran down the front and ringed the hem.
At her back, Miriam cinched the bodice in tight and laced the stays then came back around in front and adjusted the low neckline, which sat all scalloped with the sleeves draping half off her shoulders. Never had she worn such a revealing gown that showed so much cleavage before.
“Och, ye look stunning, and the gown is a perfect fit for ye lovely curves.” Beaming, Miriam knelt with a pair of matching blue slippers in hand and slipped them on her feet.
“You’ve been so kind.”
“Think naught of it.” Miriam opened her dripping satchel and hung her damp clothing from within over the remaining slats in the wooden rack. Her belongings would dry soon enough and she could don her beloved breeches again once they had.
“Take a seat and I’ll fix your hair. You’ve got it into an awful wind-tangled mess.” Miriam picked up a brush from the side table.
“I’ve been out on the water all day.” She perched on the chair while Miriam swished in behind her, separated each section of her hair then mindful of the tangles, took care as she brushed out the wet length.
“Lizzie, pop down to the kitchens and bring back a cup of hot tea with a spoonful of honey. Mistress Ella has a raspy voice and the tea will work a treat on it.”
“Oh, I’d dearly love that.” She almost cried at the thought.
“Right away, Mama.” Hands bunched in her aproned skirts, Lizzie hurried out the door.
Ella tipped her slippered feet toward the roaring flames. Out the window, the rain lashed the pane and beyond, the waves crashed in and the skies darkened further as night fell.
She relaxed into Miriam’s gentle brush strokes and when Lizzie returned with the promised tea, she sipped the soothing sweetness which trickled down her parched throat and made more tears spring forth. The worry she’d carried for days now pummeled through her, as did her decision to leave Duncan this morning. Mayhap she shouldn’t have compelled him, but he’d truly left her with no other choice.
Aye, she wanted her mate, but only if he could be as committed to her as she wished to be with him. Certainly she desired the relationship her parents had been gifted with during their time together, a deep love than no one could ever tear apart.
“Are ye all right?” Miriam patted her shoulder.
“I’m fine.” She wiped her tears away.
“Ye are without your brother and have been searching for him. Such a thing can wear a lass down. I certainly wouldnae wish to be without my kin.” Miriam set the brush down on the side table and crossed to the door. “Come downstairs once ye’ve finished your tea. A hot meal awaits and I’ll bring ye some bread and stew to fill your belly.”
“You’ve been so kind. You have my immense thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” With a soft smile, Miriam left with Lizzie.
She sipped her tea and once she’d finished the sweet brew, to the very last drop, she rose and walked downstairs, her skirts tickling her legs. It had been a long time since she’d last donned a gown and she fidgeted with the low neckline and tried to lift it a touch, only it budged not one bit.
At the edge of the main room, she halted where the tall screens separated the tables and on her toes, searched amongst the patrons. At the far table underneath the window overlooking the mist-shrouded forest beyond, two warriors sat on the benches with two young women seated between them. In the center of the room, families with small children chatted as they ate.
She stepped closer to the roaring fire and embraced the warmth as it radiated over her. Miriam had left her hair lying loose and long and it blew about her face as the front door opened and the stamping of booted feet resounded toward her.
Two towering warriors shook water from their hooded cloaks, the black folds over their heads hiding their identities from one and all, although there was something about the way the tallest of the two warriors stood that made a shiver chase down her spine. She ducked behind the closest screen and crouched.
“We need to remain on guard while we’re here.” The tall warrior slid his gaze about the room, his beady black eyes unmistakable. ’Twas Gavin.
She shuffled a little farther back out of sight.
“If Duncan MacKenzie or any of his warriors arrive, we leave, immediately. I cannae see him giving up his chase, no’ after we set fire to Inverarish.”
“Aye, Captain. I’ll keep a watch out.” Hood still pulled low, Gavin’s man walked toward the screened table in the darkened corner not far from the front door.
“Gavin, is that ye?” A barmaid flounced toward G
avin, set a tray of tankards down on the corner table and with her lush breasts nearly spilling free from her green kirtle’s low neckline, her hips swinging wide, she brushed her chest against Gavin’s chest.
“Effie, my sweet. Just the lass I was after.” Gavin shoved the wench into the darkened niche under the stairwell.
Giggling, Effie hooked a finger in his belt. “’Tis been far too long since your last visit.”
“Aye, and I’ve a great desire to spend some time with you this night.” He grabbed her breasts and squeezed them. “You’ve a ripe handful here that needs plucking.”
“Ye know the way to my chamber.”
“Aye, I do.” With a leer, he scooped the lass up, tossed her over his shoulder then clomped down the gloomy corridor, one hand sliding under the lass’s skirts. He pinched her bottom and Effie giggled anew.
Drat it. She needed to catch Gavin alone if she wished to compel him, that’s if her voice remained strong enough to do so. She’d successfully compelled Duncan this morning, so hopefully she’d have no issue with raising a hypnotic tone with Gavin.
The wench’s chamber door banged shut and she heaved to her feet, brushed her skirts and snuck down the passageway in their wake.
Outside the lass’s door, she gripped the knob as thumping sounded within. More giggles and a man’s deep growl echoed toward her.
“Ella, wait.” Ethan stepped out of the shadows behind her, his wet hair plastered to his head and his blue gaze alert. Water dripped from his shirtsleeves and glistened on top of the bits of steel studded within his brown leather vest.
“Ethan, where did you come from?” Gasping, she bounded into his arms and hot tears surged forth. Clinging to him, she whispered raggedly, “I’ve been searching for you for nigh on a sennight, almost caught up with you on Raasay.”
Highlander's Caress: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 2) Page 7
