Highland Faith

by Hill, Madelyn

  “Hope,” Aidan chastised.

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “Och, Faith, ’tisn’t what I meant. I . . . I only meant ’tis a compromise. And a man at arms is a man you can be proud of.”

  “You’ve already picked a man?” An eerie chill raced down her spine. Bryce, the man at arms. He’d be her husband. Aye, he was strong, but he wasn’t Graeme. She’d barely said three words to the man and they wanted her to marry him?

  Hope shrugged. “We kenned this may be the circumstance.”

  A thousand excuses came to her, yet failed to take hold of her tongue so she could express them. They all kept an eye on her. Honor with her soulful eyes. Hope with impatience. And Aidan with a deceptive calm which meant he wasn’t calm in the least.

  “I dinnae ken if I can do it.” Tears raced over her face as a torrent of emotions filled her. The room seemed small, lacking of air. She glanced at the window and wished she was outside so she could breathe. “Please dinnae make me.”

  Dear God, where had that whiny voice come from? She straightened her shoulders. She’d not beg. She’d barter.

  “What?” Aidan asked as he fisted his hands at his waist and cocked his hip. “I dinnae like the smirk on your face.”

  “Me?” she said as she clutched her chest. A bit of bravado filled her, reminded her she was Lady Faith MacAlister. A huntress, one with braw skill. And her father would frown with disappointment to hear her whining like a spoiled lass who didn’t get her way. For him, she’d do anything—even if that meant agreeing to wed a man she barely knew.

  “I’ll need time.” She gripped her hands and prayed. “Time to get to know Bryce.”

  Hope shook her head. “Nay. Too much time has already passed.”

  She pinned her sister, her laird, with a challenging look. “I’ll loosen my clothing. No one will be the wiser.”

  Aidan rubbed his chin. “’Tis her first, she’ll most like hide it well.”

  “Och, Aidan,” Hope said with the tone that meant she was vexed with him, but would still give him his way.

  Honor came close and laced her arm through Faith’s. “I’ll watch over her. Make sure she eats well and rests often.”

  Hope sighed and leaned against the desk. “And when she gives birth and the babe is fine and healthy. ’Twill be questioned how a bairn born so soon after a wedding is so braw.”

  Aidan chuckled. “Bryce is a giant of a lad. None would question anything about his wife or his bairn.”

  Her barter was going to work. ’Twould give her time. Not to get to know her betrothed, but to wait and watch for Graeme. She’d have to be careful not to let the others know her plan.

  “Surely, you canna expect me to marry a man I do not ken?”

  “One month,” Aidan said before he turned and left the chamber.

  “One month,” she whispered. Please God, please send Graeme to me.

  Hope smoothed her hand along her arm. “No longer, you ken. No matter how much you raise your ire.”

  Her sister followed her husband. She wondered when they’d announce the betrothal to the clan. How was she supposed to pretend she was pleased when she was anything but?

  “All will be well,” Honor said from behind her. “Go and rest. The bairn needs a healthy mam.”

  She kissed Honor on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Her heart filled with joy. She had a month. A month for Graeme to come and proclaim his love.

  And the man had bloody well make haste.

  Chapter 18

  He tried to open his eyes. Sandy grit kept them shut. He groaned as he lifted his head.

  “Father?” croaked from his mouth. He reached for the man beside him.

  Dear God, was his father dead?

  “Not now, lad. I’ve a bit of an ache about my head.”

  As did he. Truth be told, his entire body ached. But he had to see to his men and his beloved Blue Boy. His gut told him the ship would be in worse shape than his men.

  Forcing himself to rise, he stood and held out a hand to his father, all the while keeping his gaze from the deck of the ship so he wouldn’t see the destruction. She no longer rocked, which meant they’d struck land or worse yet, hit a sandbar. ’Twould take more than his crew to get them off a bar.

  As if nature were laughing at them, the sun rose brightly and the wind barely blew. Not like the ungodly ruckus of the eve before. Gulls screeched as they dove for the fish swimming close to the surface. Early dawn meant they’d have a plentiful hunt.

  Damn, the hungry gulls reminded him of Faith and her brilliant fishing with her bow and arrow.

  “Och, Captain,” Dougal said with a grim look upon his rough face.

  He steeled himself as he glanced about. “Bollocks.” His gut clenched at the sight before him. ’Twas disaster.

  The boom, sheared at its base, still hung over the edge of the ship. The bulwark was smashed, its splintered pieces gnarled like jagged teeth. The top of the mast remained intact, thank God.

  Bram tried to move forward, kicking shreds of the sails out of his way. “’Tis a hole in the side, Captain.” He shook his head in dismay. His mouth pulled into a frown. “We’ll never get to Lady Faith.”

  Lady Faith.

  He had to get to her.

  A long, steady look at the ship revealed shattered glass, torn sails, and splintered wood. The path to the Captain’s cabin was barely passible and broken bits crunched beneath his feet as he headed toward a bottle of brandy.

  ’Twould be needed for any injuries and to fortify the men for the task at hand. “Where are the rest of the men?” he asked as he stepped through the rubble.

  “Belowdecks,” yelled Dougal as he tried to move the mast.

  “Get them to help, mate. You’ll kill yourself.”

  Bram headed toward the hull. “I’ll gather the rest of the men.”

  Since the door of his chamber had been torn from its hinges, he entered and kicked a piece of wood out of his way. The bed and desk remained nailed to the floor, but everything else was littered across the room.

  With a sigh, he stared at the room as if he looked long enough, it would magically change.

  Luckily the brandy was still secure in its case. He grabbed it, removed the cork with his teeth, and took a long draw. Luckily, two other bottles survived. The men would appreciate a dram, as well as using it to prevent infection in any cuts or scrapes.

  As he left his cabin, or what remained of it, Dougal led the men from the hull. The lot of them were tattered and bloodied. Och, his poor crew.

  His father sat on the deck; how very unlike his character to be so relaxed. Wee Will sported a gash along his back that had bled through his shirt. Colin and Alex had bruises and cuts about their faces and chest. Amit appeared unhurt, but seemed as rattled as the rest of them.

  Their fortune was good—they all lived and would survive their wounds. Mayhap not the Blue Boy; he’d yet to access the damage.

  “First things first, mates. Have a wee swig before we look about the ship.” He handed the brandy to the men.

  “To surviving the storm,” Dougal cheered as he raised the bottle.

  “Aye,” Amit said as he refused the spirit. “I’ll see if I can mend the sails.”

  “Wee Will, help me check the hull.” They climbed down the side of the ship and to his dismay, the ship had run aground.

  His mate pointed to the jagged hole along the starboard side. Bollocks, ’twould be a bastard to fix. They’d have to patch it with furniture and scrap in the hold.

  “Go and gather materials.”

  Colin peeked over the railing. “Need me help, Captain?”

  “Aye.”

  The man clambered over the side like the monkeys climbed trees in India.

  “’
Tis a grand mess, Captain.”

  He stepped back and fell into the water. Frigid, but it cleared his mind.

  Colin scrambled to help him and they waited for Wee Will to bring the needed materials.

  “Captain, the galley is in fine shape,” Bram yelled. “But we’re in need of game.” He nodded and disappeared. He reappeared after a few moments. “Your father won’t rest, Captain.”

  Damn, he wasn’t a nursemaid.

  Now his father leaned over the side and yelled, “Dinnae listen to the lad. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  He chuckled, and then laughter bubbled up and he couldn’t stop. ’Twas a calamity, to be sure. And he missed his darling something fierce.

  He’d scale heaven and earth to get to her and a small rend in the side of his ship wouldn’t deter him.

  “He’s lost his mind,” Dougal said as he tossed up his hands.

  Nay, just clearing his thoughts. They’d fix the ship, somehow get the blasted thing off the bar, and make their way to Wild Thistle Keep.

  “Nay, Dougal. Get the men working. We’ll need tools and find some sails in the hold.” He thought for a moment before continuing, “Alex and Colin can fish.”

  “’Tis a shame Lady Faith isn’t here!”

  Indeed. They’d lost a mate, a member of their crew, and the holder of his heart.

  Alex and Colin climbed down the rope ladder with their fishing gear.

  They talked and readied. Then Colin started moving about as Faith had done when she practiced with her bow. The man looked a fool.

  “What the devil are you doing?” Alex asked him.

  “I’m practicing.”

  “Are you daft? We aren’t using a bow, but a rod.”

  The lad’s face turned dark red as he sputtered, “I ken as much, but I thought ’twould give us good luck.”

  Graeme grinned as he watched the men. Wee Will had yet to return with the materials and tools. If he continued to wait for the man, ’twould be a fortnight before they made the repairs. And the hole needed to be fixed before evening tide raised the water level and it seeped into the hold. Or if the tide was strong enough, it might push the ship off the bar and they’d be sunk.

  Determined to finish filling the rend today, he climbed back on board to aid Wee Will. The man worked in the hold, battling an old chest of draws for pieces of wood.

  The sight earned a chuckled. “I’ll get the caulking.” He picked up pieces of oakum and pail of pitch. ’Twould help seal the cracks between the new wood and the old.

  “Son?” his father called from above. “The men won’t allow me to help.”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward. What could the old man do? He was still recovering from his time in the gaol and Graeme didn’t want to tax him.

  “Son?”

  “Aye, m’laird. The captain’s cabin is in shambles.”

  “Grand idea. I’ll see to it.”

  Wee Will patted him on the shoulder. They secured a rope around the boards, then heaved them onto the deck and over the side of the ship.

  The men worked from morn to early eve. The hole was patched and hopefully enough time had passed for the pitch to harden a bit and keep the hold safe from the rising tide.

  Alex held up his bounty of fish. Colin groused behind him.

  “’Twas all of your practicing and no’ enough fishing.” Colin punched at him until both of the men were in a scuffle.

  Such actions helped relieve tension, which he supported. If he saw them getting out of hand, he’d step in or send Dougal to do the duty. His first mate did love to put the men in line.

  Bram made meals of what he’d found in the kitchen, which led to a mishmash of food, but the hungry men didn’t complain. In fact, a hard day of work had them satisfied and hopeful for the next day.

  Amit finished eating and was sewing a sail. “What are your plans for the morrow, Captain?”

  He leaned against the back of the chair. “Finish the repairs, hang the new sails, and head toward Wild Thistle.”

  The man nodded.

  “Did you have something on your mind, Amit?”

  The man looked down as he stitched. Dougal mended the other end and glanced up with a curious gleam to his eye.

  “’Tis been some time since we’ve seen Lady Faith. Do you think she’s waiting for you?”

  He’d wondered the same thing as well. “I pray she is, Amit. I pray she received my letter.”

  “And her family? How do you plan to get past the guards?”

  Dougal barked a chuckle. “Grand question, Amit. Do you have an answer, Captain?”

  “Nay.”

  The men laughed.

  Dougal said, “’Twill be another hurdle when we reach the keep, but I reckon the Captain will charm his way through the gates.”

  “Charm his way? We’ll have to battle, I’m certain with a treasure such as Lady Faith.” Amit gave him a warning glance. The man had a keen sense of things, but on this, he hoped Amit was wrong.

  The one vision he held dear was the promise of Faith on the other side of the gates.

  She couldn’t have forgotten him—but had she forgiven him?

  For if she hadn’t, he’d ken not what to do.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Lady Faith.”

  Bryce, Aidan’s man at arms, stood before her. She’d promised, an impossible promise, to be sure. He was a fine man. Tall, with the strength Aidan demanded of his men. His stern brow held no humor or even a hint of flirtation.

  Not that she expected as much. A forced marriage and the man knew her situation.

  Och, her situation. She rubbed her stomach and smiled. She was having a bairn, Graeme’s bairn. While the ideal pleased her, fear danced about her mind, filling it with doubt she’d be able to wed the formidable man before her. She’d accept the shame. A shame she didn’t feel, not one ounce. She proudly carried Captain Graeme Ross’ babe.

  And surely, they’d not fool the clan. Not that any would call her out. But there’d be suspicion, to be sure. For the most part, they would be pleased another MacAlister babe would join the clan and one more of the MacAlister lasses would be wed. Discussion of the lasses’ marriages wagged the tongues of the clansmen since her mother’s death. Nothing made a clan happier than a rousing wedding and the four-day celebration it entailed.

  While the formal announcement hadn’t been made, nor the banns read, others saw Bryce’s sudden interest in her. The chatter over the morning meal spread news of a brewing courtship, no matter her attempts to stop it. Nora had pestered her with questions and a sly grin. Truth be told, the woman knew of the plan. Hope and Nora were thick as thieves and nothing of consequence happened in the clan about which Nora wasn’t aware of every detail.

  When the woman began holding up material to see if it suited her complexion, she sent her away and asked for peace. And what did the woman do? She chuckled and mentioned an old wives’ tale about a breeding lass needing warm milk and a nap each day.

  A throat cleared. Och, she’d been gathering wool.

  Aidan’s man, as she’d come to calling him, offered his elbow. Throwing caution aside, she sighed and accepted. Together they entered the main hall.

  Silence. Then a cacophony of voices nearly raised the rafters.

  Heat rushed to her face. Not a shy lass, but one who didn’t like the attention now shining upon her and . . . and the man Aidan and Hope wanted her to wed.

  She glanced at the dais and saw Hope and Aidan raise their glasses in a toast. Aye, they were content with the situation. Blast their hides.

  Bryce remained silent as they strode down the middle of the hall. She tried to keep her focus, but it wandered as she gazed with pride at her home. A lovely keep and the main hall a magnificent chamber large enough to ho
ld the clan and any visitor whom happened by. Tapestries and weapons flanked the huge fireplace. Candles dripped from sconces and the chandelier hung dead center. Many a reel had been danced across the limestone floor. And many a lass enjoyed being wooed during an evening of song and Nora weaving stories.

  When they reached the main table, he pulled out her chair.

  Once she’d sat, he nodded and made his way to the rear of the room and the table filled with raucous men. They patted his shoulder and laughed. Such lads they were.

  Hope leaned toward her. “He won’t sit next to you until the banns are read.”

  She’d suspected as much, but she didn’t want her sister to think the rift between them over. Och, ’twas quite the opposite. While she was to blame for her troubles, Hope and Aidan were to blame for their lack of trust in her convictions.

  For still, she felt it to the very marrow of her bones; Graeme would come for her. If only he would send a message, let her know how he felt.

  Graeme loved her.

  She felt it so much she could barely breathe. The way he looked at her with that lazy, sensual glance which warmed her as if a fire lit in her belly. And the way he told of his troubles with his father showed his growing trust. But nothing told her of his love more than when he stirred her passion with his gentle touch, attentive hands, and bone-melting kisses.

  “Eat, sister,” Honor whispered, interrupting her thoughts. “The babe needs to be nourished.”

  She obeyed, for she knew Honor was true and wouldn’t hurt a flea if she could help it.

  She took a bite of a biscuit. “Happy?”

  Her wee sister grinned and nodded. “I’ll send some warm milk when you go up to bed.”

  “I’m not a bairn.”

  “Nay, you’re having a bairn and need to keep your strength about you.”

  “Hush,” Hope said with a scowl.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Aye, m’laird.”