“Bram, bring more rope.”
The man hobbled toward them, dragging roping behind him. “Here, Captain.”
He grabbed the rope and began climbing the mast. They must resecure the mainsail or else they’d never move forward.
Land lay just out of their reach in one direction and when he cast his eyes toward the other, he yelled, “Secure the ship, ’tis a storm coming.”
Black clouds swirled toward the Blue Boy. If they didn’t secure the ship quickly, it could be disastrous.
He shimmied down the mast and went to the wheel. “Dougal, secure belowdecks.”
“Aye, Captain.” The man trotted to the hold. “And yer father?”
Groaning, he searched the deck. Where did the man go? “Wee Will, have you seen Laird Ross?”
His mate shook his head. Where had his father disappeared to?
“Come see to the wheel.” He rushed to his cabin. “Father?”
The cabin was empty. He went down into the hull and searched.
“Looking for me, lad?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “A storm is coming. You need to be secure.”
His father scoffed. “Nonsense, m’lad. I’ll help on deck.”
“Nay. You do not have the experience. Or the stomach,” he said wryly. He pointed to the bow of the ship. “Douse the stove and stay secure in the galley.”
“Now, Graeme. I can be helping you.”
“You are not laird here. I canna worry about you while keeping the ship afloat.”
His father paused for a moment. “I was wrong.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”
“You are not a wastrel.” His father grinned and strode to the galley.
The words filled him, washed away some of the bitterness of years past, but he couldn’t take the time to talk with his father. He had to save the Blue Boy.
For without his ship, he’d never make it to MacAlister territory.
He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat, and went back on deck. Waves roared and crashed down on the ship. The sea beat upon Blue Boy. Try as he might, they couldn’t steer the ship toward shore. They slipped farther out to sea, further from Faith.
Bram’s rope came loose and he slid past him and slammed into the bulwark. The poor man couldn’t get up. Wee Will gathered the man and carried him to the Captain’s cabin.
Dear God, let us make it through this storm.
In his years as captain, he’d experienced his share of treacherous weather, but this storm rivaled a beast rising from the middle of the sea, and they might soon find their way to a watery grave.
Lightning flashed and the dreaded sound of cracking, splintering wood exceeded the roar of the wind. The boom smashed unto the deck. Broke through the bulwark.
“Dougal, see to Alec and Colin!”
The men had just vacated the area where the boom fell and he feared the worst.
“They’re safe, Captain.” Dougal dragged Colin toward his cabin and Alec limped after them.
’Twasn’t the first time he was on his own.
Muscles straining as he held onto the wheel, trying to keep the ship upright. “Damn you,” he yelled at the storm. “Damn you to hell.”
Dougal came back on deck and gripped the wheel.
“Grab the sail.”
The damaged boom had sheared the sail. The canvas flapped wildly and the lines snapped like a dragon. One errant thwack and he and Dougal could lose their lives.
“Wee Will, grab the sail with Dougal.”
The man held onto the sail as Dougal tried to secure it. The wind whipped, waves crashed, the ship pitched.
“Captain,” his first mate bellowed above the screeching wind, “Give me a try.” Dougal shoved him out of the way.
“I’ll check on the men.” He lunged toward his cabin just as a huge wave crested above the deck.
The cold, briny water pounded against the deck. He smashed into the cabin door. His head connected with the hinge.
“Captain!” was the last word he heard.
~ ~ ~
“You have to tell Hope.”
She glanced at her sister and continued to sharpen the point on an arrow. ’Twas how she spent her time, stripping the bark from branches and whittling them down to perfect shafts and securing sharp arrowheads. At this rate, she’d have enough made for twenty quivers. “Tell Hope what?”
Honor removed the arrow from her hand and squeezed. “You know to what I’m referring.”
She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face. “I’ve duties.” Since she’d been rescued, thoughts of Graeme and crafting arrows consumed each waking hour. Her lairds refused her request to leave the keep and hunt, so she provided for those who did. How her body itched to be in the forest, searching for prey and nocking the arrow onto the bowstring.
For the last several sennights, the men had trailed into her chamber and grabbed the arrows as if it were the way of things. Tears threated to smart her eyes, but she refused to give them credence.
He would come for her; this she knew in her heart. She now understood life at sea and how precarious the water could be. Swift storms pounding upon the deck, tearing the ship in two. A wretched thought filled her, perhaps he’d been in a shipwreck.
Her heart clenched at the thought. Please, God. Keep Graeme safe.
Her sister started gathering all of the newly crafted arrows, tsking as she did so. “I’ll help.” Words of chastisement remained unspoken. But the tension hovered around and weighted the air in the chamber. “Then we can find Hope—and Aidan.”
She sighed and rubbed her brow. Nerves tightened her stomach. “Nay, not Aidan.”
With an indulgent smile, Honor said, “He’s a gentle lad, truly.”
Gentle? The man who’d come to Wild Thistle to steal their home and her sister’s lairdship? The same man who’d put the fear of God in the Council? The Highlander who dared to fall in love with the stubborn, albeit beautiful Hope? If he kenned the truth, he’d most likely rip her dear Graeme to shreds in an effort to protect her. She loved him like a brother but he could be a formidable man.
“No Aidan,” she insisted. ’Twould be hard enough talking to Hope. Adding her husband into the talk would be torture. The man had watched her at every chance. His inspection made her want to go mad. One would think after all of the time that had passed, he’d give up and bother someone else.
“Fine,” Honor said. “Remember when Mother died?”
She scoffed. How could she not remember one of the worst days of her life?
Her sister shifted her gaze to her hands. She played with the fraying edge of her apron. “Hope was right. We let her shoulder all of the responsibilities of the clan.” The tremble of tears filled her voice.
She contemplated what Honor said, let it set in her mind before she reacted. Her first instinct prompted her to argue. But as she mulled the idea of leaving all responsibility to Hope, and damn if it didn’t ring true. She filled her quiver and stacked the rest of the arrows. “We were lasses.”
Honor shrugged. “I was.”
Frustration flared as she stood. “What do you mean by that, Honor MacAlister?” She took a step forward and pointed her finger against her sister’s chest. “I am but a few years older than you. Mother had groomed Hope to lead, not us.” She pulled back. “Why have you changed your mind? You have always told me Father’s pledge didnae mean we were supposed to lead together.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. I just want you to see what Hope has done for us. She and Aidan.” Honor tipped her chin toward her. “You can trust him, Faith.”
She didn’t agree. Her mind filled with sorrow and grief. Distrust sneaked in, and she didn’t know who to confide in. At every moment, tho
ughts of Graeme filled her mind. Thoughts of him talking with his men and thoughts of him as he ravished her. And the final thought of pain. She hurt to the core, there was no other way to describe it.
“It’s been over two months, Faith.”
At some points, it felt like yesterday and at others, it felt like an eternity. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Honor said as she clapped her hands together. She grunted. “Come.” Her sister grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the keep.
“We dinnae even know where they are.” Most likely they were in their chamber or with their children. Their family, one made and filled with love.
Would she ever find love again? More importantly, would she allow her heart to open, to allow hurt and disappointment to be part of her life once again?
They started at the laird’s chamber.
“Can I help you lasses?” Nora asked as she straightened the room.
“Nay,” Honor said with a giggle. “We are looking for Hope.”
Nora fisted her hands at her waist and looked at them with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “In their chamber with the bairns.”
“Och, ’tis as I thought.”
“Never mind us, Nora. We’ll talk with them later.” She left the chamber despite Honor calling for her to stop. She had to have peace and her sister did her best to ensure she didn’t find it.
She flexed her hands. God, she itched to grab her bow and arrows and set off for a good stretch of time in the wood. She’d walk, climb, and find any prey worthy of a meal for the clan. But until her sister and Aidan deemed her capable of hunting on her own, she’d have to remain in the keep.
If she couldn’t hunt, then she’d practice.
After slipping her quiver onto her back, she moved to the training area. She readied her stance, set her sight on a target, nocked, drew, released. The arrow sang through the air and landed squarely on the target. A few men whistled and called her way. She hid her grin, secretly pleased.
Instead of releasing another arrow, she practiced the steps in her way, her little dance.
“Come, m’lady. Do it again.”
She tipped her head toward the men. When she pulled an arrow, the men applauded. As she nocked, then slipped her fletching along her cheek, more joined in.
Focus.
’Twas important to hit the center of the target with such an audience.
She closed her right eye and peered down the length of the shaft and past the arrowhead. Release, swoosh, the arrow sailed through the air and landed directly on target.
“Hurrah, m’lady.”
“Right on target, Lady Faith.”
The men continued to shout their accolades. She curtsied and went to gather her arrows.
“You are still the best.”
She sighed. “Aye, Hope. I will always be.”
Her sister remained silent, which proved irritating. Finally, she turned toward her sister and said, “What do you need?”
Honor pulled at her sleeve. “Och, Faith. Be nice.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mind your own business, wee sister.”
“If I did that, you’d never tell them.”
Hope picked up one of her arrows. “Still the best hewn arrow I’ve ever seen.”
“No need to sweet talk,” she said trying to steer the conversation away from her. “We all ken I’ve the best hand with arrows.”
Her sister swatted at her. “Humble lass.”
“Och, Hope, that hurt.”
Honor grabbed her hand. “Come.” She then grabbed Hope’s hand. “We have things to discuss.”
“You’re worrying me, sister.”
Her stomach quaked as they moved into the keep and then up the stairs toward the laird’s chamber. Nerves stretched tight, she worried she’d lose her stomach before they reached the room.
Her sisters entered first. She remained at the threshold, saw the hopeful gleam in Honor’s eyes. Eyes that looked like hers, Hope’s and their father’s. Honor sat before the desk and continued to watch her as if she feared she’d flee.
“Sit by me,” she said as she patted the chair beside her.
Hope watched her as a hawk watches its prey. “Aye, Faith, come and sit. Aidan will be here in a thrice.”
The Laird of Clan MacAlister eased behind her desk and steepled her fingers. The actions too calm. Unease skittered up her spine.
“Wife, you have need of me?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. Aidan had arrived.
“Aye, my love. It appears as if Faith has news for us.”
Aidan’s intense gaze met hers. His brow lifted. “Does she, now?”
They sat in uncomfortable silence. After what seemed to be an eternity, Aidan said, “Faith, ’twill be easier if you tell us what’s on your mind.”
“Go on, Faith.” Honor gripped her hand. “Tell them.”
How? She inhaled and slowly released her breath. Aidan’s gaze vexed her so she glanced at Hope. Och, her sister stared at her with almost as much intensity as her husband did.
Aidan patted her shoulder. “Tell us.” When he spoke so softly, ’twas hard not to do as he asked.
After a curt nod, she rose and paced to the window. “I’m expecting a bairn.”
Silence.
Then Hope and Aidan shared a quelling glance.
She turned toward them and still no one said a word.
“Honor actually knew before I did. And,” she said as she wrung her hands, “she said I had to tell you.”
Hope glanced at Aidan. He nodded.
“We kenned as well. By Saint Anne, ’tis obvious.”
She set her hand on her stomach. Her babe grew within. Tears filled her eyes and started to trickle over her lashes.
Aidan rushed to her. “A bairn is a blessing, lass.” He kissed the top of her head. “Something to be joyful about. Hush, hush, dinnae cry.”
A memory tickled in her mind and she remembered Aidan hated to see a woman cry. Not that she could control her tears. She sniffled and accepted a kerchief from his sporran.
He led her toward the chair. “Sit.” He said to Hope, “Fetch her some tea.”
She peeked up at her sister, trying to imagine what message she wanted to convey. Sympathy filled her green eyes, edged out the hard edge that had appeared after their mother’s death. She swiped away her tears and tried to sit up straight.
Hope left to call for tea. While she was gone, Honor kept squeezing her hand. ’Twas soothing and irritating at once.
“We need a plan.”
“Bah, Aidan, if any plan I had worked, I wouldn’t be here confessing my sins.”
She’d be on a ship, sailing with Graeme. Her hand found its way to her stomach once again. How many more times would she caress her babe before he filled her arms? Her heart careened to a place it had never been. Had it been like this for her mother? Had she completely melted when she was expecting?
A bairn, she was expecting a bairn. Just as it seemed impossible, the idea both frightened and thrilled her.
Her brother-in-law dragged his fingers through his hair and released a sigh. The muscles along his jaw flexed as if he were gritting his teeth.
“Did you tell her?” Hope asked as she entered.
Foreboding triggered shivers to run down her spine. “Tell me what?”
Aidan poured tea and handed it to her. “Sit.” When she did, he crouched before her, gathered her hands in his large, calloused ones. “You have to wed. Soon.”
“Nay.” Wed? Whom? “Nay, I will not.” She pushed past Aidan and her sister as she paced toward the door. Panic rising in her throat. “I will not wed.”
“Faith,” Aidan said in a hard tone. “We must discuss this.”
&n
bsp; She clutched her chest as tears scratched at the back of her throat. “He will come for me.” Deep in her heart she felt it, knew it was true.
“We sent word more than a month ago,” Honor interjected.
“What?” Aidan bellowed, then he slid his gaze to his wife.
“’Tis sorry I am, Faith,” Honor said as she glanced up. She turned to Aidan. “Faith sent a letter and he has not come.”
She tossed her hands up in the air. Panic began to overwhelm her, make her succumb to her fears. “What if my missive didnae reach him? He is a captain; his ship could be anywhere.”
“If he loved you, he wouldn’t need the missive,” Aidan said gruffly. “He’d never leave your side.” He gathered her in his arms. “We need you to have a husband before the clan realizes you are expecting.”
Hope came forward and rubbed her back, a worried frown creased her face. “’Tis hard, I ken. You love the man who does not return your sentiment. But ’tis the right thing to do, Faith. You ken this.”
Anger roiled. She turned on her sister. “Would you wed a man you didnae love?” What if Graeme was hurt? Or another storm which pushed him off course. Or worse . . . what if—nay, she would not think of such a tragedy.
Her sister failed to answer right away. Then finally said, “Nay. But this is a different situation.”
Her family gathered around her, each hugging her. Their love was obvious and she appreciated how they cared for her and the welfare of her babe.
Aidan kissed her head and crooned, “I love you like a sister. I will not have you feel shame or your bairn to feel shame. You need to wed.”
Her heart clenched at the decision before her. With one word, she’d be betrothed to a lad of her clan. He’d raise her bairn and mayhap they’d have more. All to avoid shame, honestly, shame she didn’t feel. Her stomach twisted, filled with dread. How could they expect her to forsake her love of Graeme?
“You’ll do the right thing, Faith.” Her sister Hope pulled back and looked directly into her eyes. “Aidan’s man at arms will be a grand husband for you. He’s strong and brave. And isn’t that a fine thing since you canna have the man you wish for?”
Highland Faith Page 18
