The Intended

by May McGoldrick

  “Jaime Macpherson, do not think that anyone here is about to accept this motherly admonishment. Do not forget that you are much younger than me and...”

  “Four years, my piratical cousin,” she corrected, jabbing Alexander in the chest. “But knowing your dull-witted lack of good sense, I figure though you are four years my senior, I am still twelve years your superior in wit and in wisdom.”

  “Are you saying that I have only a fraction of your reasoning abilities?” he asked, towering over her.

  She nodded sweetly as she moved snugly into Malcolm’s protective embrace. “But I will admit that your skull is four times thicker than mine.”

  Alexander feigned a menacing look at the young woman. “You can’t hide by the Giant’s side forever, lass.”

  Jaime laughed. Giant...that was what the children used to call Malcolm when they played so many years earlier. Wrapping her arm tightly about his waist, she looked up into her intended’s loving gaze.

  “But that is exactly what I plan to do.”

  Malcolm followed the direction of Alexander’s gaze to the galleon that had appeared in the distance.

  “The men spotted him on the horizon about three hours ago.” Alexander’s expression told of his concern. “Now here is sunset, and the blackguard is ready to bugger us.”

  “So you think he is following us?” the Highlander asked.

  “With the wind blowing steady from the north, it just might be that he is tacking the coast, the same as we are.” Alexander beckoned to his ship’s mate. “But then again, it could be that, whoever it is, he’s decided to take us.”

  “Can we stay ahead of him, Alexander?”

  “Well, our wee barque hasn’t the sails that the galleon has, but into the wind we’ll give him a run for his money...and we are not about to lie down if he catches us.” Alexander gave him a wink, and Malcolm knew that he was talking about the cannons that all the new Macpherson ships had been fitted with.

  Malcolm watched the young mariner begin to give orders for changing course and knew he was not needed on deck. Remembering the promise he had given Jaime of checking on her, though, he turned and started for the cabins belowdeck.

  “Let me know if I can be of help,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Aye,” Alexander replied. “But they will not try to get any closer till dawn. That you can be certain of.”

  When Malcolm had last gone below, Caddy had been a pale shade of green from the turbulent motions of the sea, and Jaime had been seeing to the older woman with all the care of a loving daughter. But now, the Highlander knew that he had to convince Jaime to leave Caddy in his care and take a rest herself. With all that had occurred in the past few days, he knew that the young woman had not so much as closed her eyes since they’d left Kenninghall.

  He caught up to her right outside Alexander’s cabin. One look at her weary expression and he knew, whatever argument she might put up, he would force her, if need be, to take a rest.

  “She is sleeping peacefully in the mate’s cabin,” Jaime said.

  Malcolm pulled her into his embrace and warmed with satisfaction at the way she buried her face against his chest.

  “When Alexander came down to check on you both,” he asked wryly, “he didn’t poison the poor woman?”

  Jaime giggled softly but didn’t release him. “Why, did you ask him to?”

  “Now, why would I do such a thing?”

  “To be able to have some time alone with me,” she teased, squeezing him tighter.

  His hands caressed her hair. His mouth placed a gentle kiss against her soft, black tresses. “You are falling asleep, standing here in my arms. Why not go to your room, lass, and rest a little...while you can. I’ll keep an eye on Caddy for you.”

  She slowly pulled away and took hold of his hands. “She should sleep the night away. The poor thing gets sick the first day of every voyage, but she mends after that. She was exhausted, but feeling better when she dropped off tonight. Come with me, Malcolm” she said softly, opening the door of the cabin.

  He lifted her chin and looked gently into her face. “You need to rest.”

  “Aye, so come and help me get ready.” Jaime smiled over her shoulder as she drew him into the room. “Unless you want me to ask Alexander find someone else to come and help me undress. For with Caddy sleeping...”

  Malcolm growled at her teasingly as he closed the cabin door behind them. A small wick lamp swayed and flickered from the bulkhead by the bunk. “No one but I will help you with that task. Do you hear me?”

  The smile that brightened her face was brilliant. “I was hoping you would say that.” She reached behind him and latched the door and, drawing him to the middle of the cabin, she turned her back to him. “Will you help me undress?”

  Malcolm stared at her beautiful profile. At the straight, perfect nose, at the tantalizing smile that was daring him to resist. “You will rest...first,” he said as she unhooked the cloak that covered her. But as the cloak came away in his hands, he stared at the solid back of the dress. “But there are no buttons to undo.”

  She turned around slowly and gave him a view of the laces that held together the front of her dress.

  “But you don’t need my help with...” His words trailed off as she lifted his hand and placed it on the knot at the top of the laces.

  “I believe I do.”

  The muscles in Malcolm's jaws clenched as he struggled to control his desire. She was tired. And, well, the knot did look somewhat difficult. And, after all, it is only a wee thing she was asking.

  His fingers pulled slowly at the lace of her dress as his eyes gazed deeply into hers. He could see the vulnerability in their depths and he thought of what she’d gone through only two nights earlier.

  “Are you afraid, Jaime?” he asked gently.

  “I am afraid of being left alone,” she whispered. “I am afraid of falling asleep and having the nightmare of him coming after me again.”

  His hands slid the dress off her shoulders to her waist. She herself pushed it down over her hips and stepped out of it. Malcolm took her hand and brought her palm to his lips. Once again, their eyes locked.

  “We are going home, my love,” he said huskily. “To where you will be safe. And I swear to you, I’ll give my life before...”

  “I know,” she whispered against his mouth, brushing her lips softly against his.

  No longer could he hold back his fiery desire, his blazing love. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her with all the passion that burned within him.

  A moment later, as he ended the kiss, she sank against him. “Stay with me, Malcolm,” she asked. “Hold me and keep me safe.”

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the small bunk. Pulling back the blanket, he placed her in the middle, his eyes never leaving her. He stared at her ebony hair, spread across the ivory skin of her shoulders. At her face, glowing like the light of the moon. At the curves of her flawless body, firm and womanly beneath the thin chemise.

  She watched him with a loving eye as he straightened up with a deep breath and moved busily about the room. Seeing him now, dressed in a kilt, a borrowed Macpherson tartan about his shoulder, she was reminded of all the longing, all the anguish she’d suffered for him through the years of growing up. But all that pain was nothing compared to the yearning she felt for him now.

  Her eyes drew his gaze to her. Slowly, she raised herself up and reached out a hand to him. He sat beside her, his lips grazing against hers as she pulled at the brooch holding his tartan.

  A moment later, as the two of them—relieved of their clothes—lay down on the bunk, it was their love and a desperate need for healing that set their pace. She caressed his body—her hands learning, her heart soaring—as she grew in the knowledge of his love. His mouth played on her skin, drawing out her essence—giving her pleasure—making her see the beauty, the sureness of their love, as he hoped all the while that he might somehow blot out the brutality of the past
.

  When she guided him into her, it was the joining of their bodies—and two hearts beat in flawless symmetry. But when they climaxed together, it was the union of their souls—and two spirits sang in everlasting harmony.

  Malcolm's hand caressed her silky hair as he continued to gaze at his angelic, yet sleeping lover. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been watching her this way. As tired as she had been before their lovemaking, there had been so much they had wanted to say to each other, and they had lay awake for quite a while. He had told her about Catherine and her presence in his chamber when he’d returned that night. And Jaime had told him of her visit with Henry Tudor, her father, the same night. Only two nights had passed since then, but it all seemed so long ago to them. They’d already set their minds on the future and the happiness that surely lay in store for them.

  The future was all that mattered now.

  Jaime opened her eyes and looked around sleepily as the sound of the men shouting above made Malcolm sit up in bed. He touched her cheek and pushed aside the covers.

  “Wait for me,” he said. Donning his kilt and his shirt, the Highlander yanked on his boots, grabbed his sword, and reached the door just as Jaime pulled her chemise quickly over her head.

  She knew it was only a short time that he was gone from the cabin, for she had barely gotten herself dressed, but to her it seemed like an eternity.

  “What is wrong?” she asked, as he knocked and pushed open the cabin door.

  “They have a small fire on deck. Some cannon powder had sparked.” He picked up his tartan and draped it from one shoulder across his chest, and buckled on his sword. “I am going on deck.”

  “Is the ship in danger of burning?” Jaime reached for her cloak. “I have to go to Caddy!”

  Malcolm put his hands on her shoulder and held her in place. “The fire was nearly under control and may, in fact, be out by now.”

  “But still I have to check on Caddy.”

  “I’ve seen Caddy,” Malcolm replied. “And she is bringing down some breakfast for the two of you. Jaime, I want you to stay here and latch the door.”

  “What is wrong?” she interrupted. “There is something...”

  “‘Tis nothing, lass. ‘Tis just that there’s a ship that has been following us, and with this fire, now...”

  “A ship?”

  “Aye, Jaime, a galleon. ‘Tis probably nothing. A merchant ship, in all probability. But if there’s trouble, I’ll come and take you forward.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  “Don’t, Jaime,” he said, cutting her short. “Please do this for me.”

  He took hold of her chin and raised it until their eyes met. “Please, my love.”

  She nodded and stretched up to give him a quick kiss, but he took her in his arms until they were both flushed with the embrace.

  “Soon, my love,” he whispered, making his way out of the cabin.

  Jaime pushed open the broad shutters at one end of the cabin. A small launch was secured just beneath the portal, but when she leaned out, Jaime could see the larger ship sailing not a league behind them.

  Turning back to the cabin, she spotted Malcolm’s dirk on the table, and frowned. Donning her cloak, she slipped it into the inside pocket as a knock sounded at the door. Either he remembered the dagger, she decided, and was returning for it, or her dear Caddy had made her way below.

  But as she swung open the door, the person awaiting her in the narrow gangway was neither Caddy nor Malcolm.

  The Highlander ran the back of his hand over his face, wiping the soot and sweat out of his eyes. “You do not like the looks of it, do you?” he asked.

  “Nay, Malcolm,” Alexander responded, looking about at his sailors, who were securing the barrels and buckets they’d been using to quell the fire. “I don’t.”

  “You think someone started it?”

  “It is possible,” he replied.

  Malcolm shook his head and glanced at an aging sailor working by the railing. But as he did, the sailor turned his gaze to him, and something in the old man’s look sent cold waves of fear deep into his soul. Stepping back, he suddenly felt as if the ground had opened beneath him. Within the depths of those blue eyes, he felt the power, he saw the reflection of the seer James. The ancient one who had come to him in his dream.

  “JAIME!” Malcolm turned and shouted, running like a madman toward the door leading below.

  But he never reached the door, for Caddy burst through onto the deck, her eyes wild with worry.

  “My mistress is gone!” she cried, her arms flailing.

  Malcolm grabbed her by the hand.

  “Longboat away!” came a shout from high in the rigging.

  Every eye on deck turned upward toward the lookout’s perch.

  “Away to the stern!”

  The Highlander bounded onto the stern deck of the ship with Alexander at his heels. There in the wake of the Elizabeth, with the galleon bearing down quickly, the launch that had hung from the stern rode up and down amid the rolling seas. From this distance, Malcolm could see the form of a man.

  And as the launch pitched slightly, he could see in the stern, the bound and gagged figure of Jaime.

  Chapter 45

  The barque Elizabeth came about in a matter of moments, and as sailors swarmed over the rigging, setting sails for a run before the wind, Malcolm watched in agony as the galleon’s master pointed her directly into the wind. The great ship slowed to pick up Jaime and her kidnapper.

  The Highlander felt the barque surge ahead as the billowing white sails snapped taut above him.

  “They’ll not turn to in time,” Alexander said with certainty, squeezing Malcolm's shoulder with a callused hand.

  The Highlander nodded at the young Macpherson and glanced about him. As the ship cut through the water, sailors scurried about, clearing the decks for battle. All along the sides of the barque, portals opened and the mouths of cannons slid into view.

  “We can’t fire on them, Alexander,” Malcolm said. “We can’t take a chance of hitting Jaime.”

  “We must!” the young mariner argued. “If we don’t cripple the galleon in the first pass, she’ll set her sails and be away like a bird before the wind. We’ll never catch her.”

  “Do what you must, but I am going aboard that ship.”

  Alexander turned and barked at his ship’s mate. “Prepare the grappling lines, and tell the gunners to fire into the rigging.”

  “How close are we going in, m’lord?” the mate responded.

  The young mariner whirled and faced the crew. “All hands arm yourselves. Prepare to board the galleon. We take her now, lads!”

  As the shout went up among the crew, Malcolm watched as Alexander ran aft to direct the helmsman. Then, without another word, he turned and searched for Jaime as the galleon’s sailors began to hoist their sails.

  Jaime twisted and kicked like a she-devil against the grip of the men dragging her over the railing of the ship. But the sailors used the rope that bound her hands behind her to control her, and without ceremony threw her facedown on the deck beside a door leading below.

  She grunted, trying to regain her breath, the scrape of the wood decking against her cheek stinging her skin. As she rolled to her side her eyes glimpsed the thick-soled boots coming out of the dark opening of the door.

  A rough hand yanked her up by the hair, the other grabbing her cloak between the shoulders and twisting the material for a grip. As she felt herself being dragged to her feet, a burly, foul-smelling man in the boots stood right before her. Reed, the jailer from Norwich Castle.

  The ship lurched as cannons in the ship’s stern boomed out. Not far away, the Elizabeth’s guns answered, and Jaime felt the man’s grip on her ease as all eyes jerked upward. The mainmast--demolished by the ripping force of the first Scottish cannon shots—came crashing down in a thousand pieces, lines and sails with it.

  Seizing the moment, Jaime kicked with all her strength at the groi
n of the foul one.

  Reed doubled over in pain, gasping for breath and cursing as he grabbed his crotch with two hands, and Jaime broke loose, dashing away in the only direction that lay open to her—through the open door.

  “Leave ‘er to me.” The sound of the jailer’s rasping shout chilled Jaime to the bone as she stepped into the gloom of her nightmare.

  The cannonball skipped along the water and glanced off the Elizabeth’s hull in an explosion of splintering wood and a jolt that nearly knocked Malcolm to the sand-covered deck.

  The enemy vessel’s two stern guns continued to fire away at them, but the Scottish bow gunners were clearly doing the greater damage. The rigging of the larger ship was in tatters—the mainmast cut in two and the galleon’s lines and sails a tangled web of rope and rag. Relentlessly, the Elizabeth continued to close with the galleon, and the two ships were so near now that Malcolm could see his foes’ faces clearly.

  Rage burned within him. If even a hair on her head had been disturbed, he swore...

  They were so close now that the Scottish sailors stood ready with their grappling lines. There would be no chance for a cannonball to skip by now, but the opposing stern gunners had no time to fire another round as Alexander brought his ship alongside the enemy vessel with a scraping, shuddering crash.

  Hell’s gates opened as the shouts of warriors combined with the clash of steel, and Malcolm leaped across the divide onto the galleon’s deck.

  Jaime moved further back into the murky shadows of smoke and darkness, twisting her arms around her and struggling to pull Malcolm’s dirk from the inside pocket of the cloak. Finally, pinning the weapon between her hip and the bulkhead, she managed to pull the dagger from its hiding place. The confused shouts of men outside, the sudden, jarring blasts of cannon fire, and the lurching movements of the ship all served to steel her nerve—her survival depended on this, she knew. With fierce, awkward jerks, she cut away at the rope binding her hands.