sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  Murtagh tried to tuck in his shirt, before he gripped onto the rail as well. He took two big gulps of air, but immediately seemed better when he spotted the coast. "Thank God above! Deliverance."

  Everyone laughed.

  Then Murtagh turned around. "Jamie, Alec is right. It’s nay time ta be leavin’ the Highlands, we nay should ha’ left."

  Jamie shrugged. "There’s no need for worry. Robert is a good leader. He took excellent care of the clan after my father died, and before I returned from America. I have complete confidence in him. Besides, I have a promise to fulfill, and whether this is the best time is unimportant."

  Alec grimaced. "Weel, I dinna’ trust Robert. He disagrees wi’ the idea ta move ta America."

  "America," Iain groaned. "I always wanted to go, but after this journey I dinna’ think I can ever get on a ship again."

  Jamie laughed, "Well think again, because we’re going, and that includes you."

  Murtagh shook his head, the dark hair damp with sea spray, "Nay, not all, some of the clan want ta stay, and Robert’s one o’ them."

  "They wish to stay knowing full well of our hardships? Do they understand that the English mean to have our land, and don’t mind starvin’ us to death to get it? They increase our taxes more than we can pay, and soon the land of the MacQueen’s will be theirs."

  Murtagh nodded. "Where will we find the gold for such a venture?"

  Iain looked agitated. "Aye, we have nay money, but how much longer can we wait? I would rather stay and fight the English anyway."

  Alec drank the last sip of tea, then turned and walked away, disappearing below deck.

  Jamie shrugged. "Until we get the passage we will hold on."

  They were all silent until Alec returned. They stood in a row, leaning over the rail, simply watching the approaching land.

  Alec laughed loudly, standing behind them. "Ye look like a bunch o’ mourners, the lot of ye going to a funeral, grieving’ and bemoaning’ yer fate. Ye have to admit Jamie that a wedding and a funeral are nay much different in my eyes."

  Alec gave Iain, and Murtagh cups, then poured them all tea from the pot he had brought with him. He sat on the deck leaning his back against the wood of the hull. He held the warm pot within his crossed legs.

  Murtagh snorted. "A funeral, and whose might it be, the bride’s or Jamie’s? Doesna’ this woman know what trouble she’s gettin’ by marryin’ the MacQueen?"

  "And why should she think anything of the sort. I’m thinking a woman might be delighted to be my wife. There’s plenty at home who have vied for that honor."

  Alec laughed, "Aye, and I’m thinkin’ yer wrong. She’d need the heart of an angel ta abide the ways of the Laird of the MacQueen’s." He poured another round of tea, then whispered, "Jamie, that’s another demon ye must put ta sleep before ye marry. I remember ye father sayin’ those words ta yer mother as weel. I’m sorry ta remind ye of her, but your mother loved ye, Jamie, that’s what ye must remember, nothin’ else, just that she loved ye."

  Iain moved toward them with a tentative smile on his face, "Alec, and what are you sayin’ in such a low voice? You are wrong to tease Jamie. I’m sure his future bride wants this betrothal. What woman in her right mind wouldna’ want ta marry the Laird o’ the MacQueen’s."

  Murtagh slapped Jamie on the back. "Dinna worry Jamie, I’m sure nothins’ wrong. It canna’ be that none will have her save ye, can it?"

  Alec laughed again, "Aye, I’m sure there were nay so many suitors. Why else would the Marquis send a ship to insure that Jamie come to France. Mayhap he didn’t want another one to get away."

  "Enough, Alec. I am honored to marry the girl. You’re simply jealous because no one would send a ship for you to do anything!"

  They all laughed then, even Jamie.

  "Just you wait, you’ll all want to marry some day, and then I will have revenge."

  Iain smiled. "Aye, and we all know how much ye believe in revenge, so our lives will be a livin’ hell then."

  Alec jumped to his feet. "Look! There’s the dock! I canna wait ta get off this deathtrap. It’s time to pack."

  ~ * ~

  The deep blue lake sparkled like diamonds in the early morning sun, and soon the lure became irresistible. Nicolette undressed, then ran to the edge and dove into the cool water, swimming briskly across and returning. A few minutes later she stood, then slapped the water with the flat of her hand, and giggled as it splashed.

  "Take that, Laurent! You will threaten me no more. I prayed for a miracle and it happened!" her voice rang out into the silence. For a moment she felt foolish, then she smiled and shrugged, "Philippe has asked me to marry him." She walked to the grass and took soap from the pocket of her riding skirt, then returned to the water, "And Philippe’s estate borders ours, so I can keep my promise to Father and stay here forever. Soon, Laurent, I will tell you my secret. Perhaps then you will stop this foolish talk of sending me away."

  Nicolette smiled as the sun kissed her face and suddenly realized that the day was far too splendid to spend it agonizing over Philippe. Peace seemed to flow into her very soul and she began to sing. A few minutes later she glanced at the crumbling stones of an old cottage hidden in the tall trees across the meadow, where she and Marie had once played.

  "How many times have I pretended to live there, with a brave knight for my husband?" She felt her face flame when she remembered the fantasy, and a vision of the tall, handsome man with deep blue eyes darted quickly across her mind. Then she remembered Philippe’s eyes were gray. Nicolette sighed. No, he could not compare to her dream, but the time had come to put away childish thoughts and become a woman. "After all, Philippe offers me what I want most, does he not?" she whispered.

  ~ * ~

  "We’re near Alec. Only a few more miles." Jamie glanced behind him. "Look at Murtagh. He is barely awake. We will be lucky if he does not fall from his horse."

  Abruptly, Jamie came to a halt beneath a large oak tree and burst out laughing.

  Alec grinned. "Have ye lost yer mind Jamie or is the bold leader of the MacQueen’s amused at the loss of his freedom?"

  "Nay, not my freedom, but I will not share this story with you," Jamie sighed. "I am a wee bit weary."

  "Ye must be tired Jamie, or has the fear of yer betrothal caused you to become a bit daft?" Ian sounded worried.

  "He is afraid of what she might look like," Alec winked at his cousin. "Perhaps she will be a wretched dragon leddy and burn him each morning wi’ her scaldin’ words."

  "I fear nothing of the sort. This betrothal will be good for the clan. The dragon lady is an heiress if nothing more."

  Alec feigned anger. "Auch! I knew when we left America that I should ha’ come with ye to France. Unsightly or nay, perhaps the heiress would now be my wife."

  "She would not! She was but a child then," Jamie rubbed his temples. "Now cease this idle chatter. You and the others go ahead, follow this road to the chateau. I remember a stream nearby, I shall wash then dress. I wish the lass to understand that she comes to a man of ancient tradition. I may have no riches to offer, but I will not have her be ashamed."

  Alec nodded, "Aye Jamie, we willna’ disgrace ye. Shall we play the pipes upon your approach?"

  "No, man! You’ve been ill, go to your rooms when you arrive."

  As he watched them ride away, memories returned. He had been under this very oak when he first met the little imp who would soon be his bride.

  "Betrothed," Jamie whispered. His duties to the clan had left little time to think of his future. Now he wondered about Alec’s words. Perhaps she really was a dragon lady, ugly and snaggle-toothed with a nasty disposition. Could that be the answer? He shook his head in bewilderment. Why else would Laurent ask him to marry his sister? He shrugged. "It matters little, Jamie boy. The time has come for you to fulfill your vow, regardless of the consequence."

  ~ * ~

  The song of the siren called to him on the wind. He stopped, turned in the saddle, and l
ooked around, but heard nothing more, then smiled at his wild imaginings. "You have lost your mind!" he whispered, "or perhaps it is time for some rest." He patted the stallion, then dismounted, untied his bag, and walked into the forest hoping to find a stream to bathe the dust from his weary body. Deep into the woods he heard an intriguing melody, and followed. The trees gradually gave way to a clearing, where he found his songbird. Her voice was incredibly beautiful, each note so perfect that he was drawn to listen.

  The young woman frolicked in a lake. Her slender back faced him. Jamie could see only the merest hint of gently flaring hips before the rest of her body dipped beneath the water. Red-gold tresses flowed down her back, and gracefully about her shoulders. Fascinated, he moved closer. He realized that he had been holding his breath and unleashed a long, wistful sigh. He leaned casually against a tree, crossed his arms, and continued to gaze at her, as if in a trance. He yearned to see her face and body, and a fierce, sharp desire overcame him. "Is she worthy of worship?" he whispered. Then remembered his betrothal. Again, he looked toward her perfect loveliness and the sharp contrast of her pale body against the deep blue water. He had never seen such a beautiful woman.

  The battle is already lost. Jamie smiled when his better judgment told him to turn and leave, but he could not. His longing to know her, to speak to her, to touch her, overcame him. He would have this last flirtation before the chains of marriage closed about him.

  Who was this charming waif, a servant, or the daughter of a tenant? He scanned the clearing and found her completely alone, with no guardian or companion to protect her, and fear for this trusting innocent shot through him. If he were a rogue, the consequences could be damning. The sprite recaptured his attention when she began singing once more. She leapt into the air and splashed as if playing some sort of game. She threw her arms aloft. The clear liquid arched high above her, causing hundreds of tiny circles as the drops fell back into the lake. She laughed. The joyous, infectious sound echoed around them, and Jamie nearly laughed with her.

  His eyes widened. Suddenly, God above granted his earlier wish. As she rose from the water his breath caught in his throat. He was wrong. She was not a sprite after all, but the Goddess of the Dawn, with fiery golden curls floating about her as the breeze gently caressed her hair. Earlier her beautiful voice had been a siren song, drawing him near. Now her perfection beckoned him.

  Water glistened like crystal snowflakes on her nearly naked body. A wet chemise clung, emphasizing rather than concealing, each lovely curve. Glowing skin, a warm golden peach in the early morning sun, looked as smooth as velvet.

  The sheerness of the pale cream silk chemise allowed him an alluring glimpse of full breasts, tipped with dusky rose. Her tiny waist flared to full rounded hips, tempting him to glance even lower to the juncture between her thighs, where he found the merest hint of fiery golden curls.

  Her beauty caused a sharp, instant response. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his desire.

  She was perfection itself, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. He smiled at the thought. His longing overwhelmed his better judgment and he slowly walked toward her.

  The nymph bent to dry her leg, giving him a full view of her luscious breasts, and his desire intensified to a raging passion.

  "Good morning, sweet Goddess."

  His deep voice startled her. Her tumultuous gasp echoed across the meadow as she turned to face the man.

  "How did you find this place?" she whispered.

  He did not reply.

  Breath caught in her throat at her next thought. Were there others? Nicolette glanced quickly around, but saw no one. She stepped backward, took a deep breath, and watched as prey observing the predator. He approached slowly and did not appear threatening, yet she remained terrified.

  He stood only a few feet from her. His gaze traveled slowly over her body then back to her eyes before he spoke, "You are so very lovely, lass. Your hair is like molten fire, your eyes like emeralds."

  She could almost feel the heat from his gaze sear through her body, and clutched the drying cloth to her chest until her fingers turned white.

  "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Nicolette took a step backward. Dreadful thoughts surfaced, and the desire to plead for mercy nearly made her cry out. Hating herself for cowardice, her chin shot up. She brushed the hair from her eyes with a shaky hand, and fought the urge to turn and run with every ounce of strength she possessed as she took several more unsteady steps backwards.

  The man remained perfectly still, and did nothing more than gaze at her. Suddenly, Nicolette realized he meant no harm, and relief flooded through her.

  She glanced toward the copse of trees where she had left her mare, but she could not take her eyes from the man’s intimidating gaze for long. She looked down, and found her things nearby. When her eyes snapped back to his, she realized that it would be impossible to run. He could undoubtedly out-race the wind.

  Oddly, Nicolette found she could not break the hold of his gaze. It was as if she were under a spell that caused her own will to vanish. Remarkably, her earlier fear changed to curiosity as her gaze swept over him.

  He was commanding in appearance, tall and ruggedly built. His white unlaced shirt fell open to the waist, buckskin trousers stretched tightly over bulging thigh muscles, and knee length shiny black boots glinted in the sunlight. His dark hair glistened, and was a deep burgundy, falling loosely about his wide shoulders. His features were most pleasant, chiseled, and perfectly sculpted, with an aquiline noise and a strong jaw.

  He is handsome. Stunned by the thought, Nicolette gasped. I wonder what color his eyes are? Again, her mind betrayed her will and she cringed. Her gaze once more swept over his magnificent body. A current of lightning raced through her. Had her childish dreams been made flesh? She shook her head, trying to deny the illusion.

  Suddenly, the man stepped forward and she snapped back to reality with a jolt. Nicolette took a deep, ragged breath, and struggled for composure. Confusion quickly replaced her fanciful dreams. Only moments before, she had felt a sense of panic, now a feeling of wild excitement raced through her.

  Perplexed, she reached for a curl, twisting it until it became one long ringlet. "No!" she whispered more to herself than to him, then raised her eyes and was once more held in the spell of his seductive gaze. She glanced at his lips when he spoke.

  "No? No what, Goddess?"

  She gasped, surprised that she found his deep voice disturbing. A shiver of pleasure moved down her spine as she watched the searing touch of his gaze wander leisurely over her body. His gaze moved back to hers and held her prisoner once more.

  "You, Monsieur, are a voyeur! No gentleman would have remained to watch me bathe."

  "A voyeur?" he smiled. "I am sorry, Goddess. I did not intend to stay, yet I could not force myself to leave. Your beauty has taken my breath away, as well as the few French words I know. Tell me, do you feel it too?"

  Nicolette shook her head trying to deny her attraction.

  "I do not mean to frighten you, lass. Believe me, I’m no savage rogue. I promise not to hurt you. Speak to me! Tell me of yourself. Do you work at the chateau?"

  His voice sounded light, conversational, but the look he gave her burned hotly, sweeping over her body before once more capturing her gaze.

  Nicolette fought spiraling feelings that she could not explain, and did not understand. Her voice quivered, not from fear, but from the confusion she felt.

  "Monsieur, why do you wish to know of me? I will tell you nothing. I cannot, so I beg you, leave this place."

  Nicolette’s voice remained cold, yet her body felt on fire. As if compelled, her gaze moved to the profusion of dark curls peaking through the open laces of his shirt. Unexpectedly, a tremor raced through her. She looked into his eyes but he had not heard her. He did not speak and his gaze did not move from hers.

  Panic rose within, as the confused response she felt seemed to revolt against the voice of reason. Nicolette scol
ded herself for foolishness and fought to maintain dignity, but as a rush of emotion again washed through her she felt that slip into oblivion. She surrendered to her feelings, scanning the breadth of his wide shoulders and muscular frame.

  Powerless to control her reaction, a peculiar sensation began to build deep in her abdomen. She dismissed the reaction as fear, yet guessed it not fright, nor panic, but something totally new, and she wanted to bolt before being swept into the unknown.

  Nicolette’s quiet voice began to shake, "Monsieur, leave me." She stomped her foot defiantly.

  He smiled. "I refuse, Mademoiselle, at least for now. Indeed, I do not intend to leave before you give me your name. Otherwise, how would I be able to find you?"

  She felt sudden anger and was thankful. It seemed to ease the rising tide of unfamiliar emotions. Nicolette looked down as his gaze swept over her again. Embarrassment flushed through her and she felt her cheeks grow warm. The reality of her situation returned in force.

  What had she been thinking? "Monsieur, I beg that you reconsider. You can’t possibly expect me to give you my name! I refuse to give you anything but contempt."

  He said nothing, simply continuing to lock his gaze with hers, then a smile lit his lips, "You little wild cat!"

  "Wildcat!" Nicolette’s voice rose with fury, "Mon Dieu! If you mean no harm, then why are you here? You have already caused me great embarrassment. What more do you intend?" Fear mingled with excitement as she waited for his reply.

  He stood with his arms across his chest and his eyes narrowed. "Indeed, I mean no harm. I only wish to pay homage to your beauty. I request a simple introduction that is all. I am alone and I promise that you are completely safe."

  Nicolette found his soft voice strangely disturbing. His words were different somehow with a lilting, almost musical sound.

  She took a deep breath, and considered giving him her name, but then she grew furious again at the thought of his outrageous behavior. "If that is true, and I am completely safe, why have you been watching me? And why do you remain?" Nicolette tossed her head, her hair floating back over her shoulders. "Leave me now!"