by Alisa Adams
She gripped the railing tightly and looked down at the water. She could jump. She could make it to shore. She glanced out to the shoreline.
There was a man there!
Beiste!
He was untying the small wooden boats that Breadalbane’s soldiers had used to get to shore. He was pushing them out past the waves, ensuring that those men would be caught on the land and could not make their escape by sea. Unless they can swim, she thought to herself as she watched Beiste swim powerfully in the water.
“I even brought someone to perform our marriage.” Breadalbane’s voice broke into her thoughts. “He is here on the ship. You will be mine today,” he said with a snide malice-filled grin.
Ina hesitated, watching Beiste.
He was here to rescue her!
She smiled softly and sighed.
She should let him.
He had gone through a lot of effort, after all.
“I shall enjoy breaking you in,” Breadalbane said, interrupting her thoughts of Beiste rescuing her. “In fact I think I want a taste of you first,“ he said as he leered at her and reached out to grab her arm.
Ina didn’t think.
She knew how to swim.
She threw herself over the railing.
Beiste heard her scream.
He looked up quickly at the ship anchored out in the firth. Ina was dangling over the side. Her long pale hair caught in the hands of the man who stood on the deck. He was dressed in bright orange and yellow tartan.
He crouched further behind the small boat that he was pushing out into the firth. He was chest-deep in water now. All the small boats had been let loose. Unless they could swim, none of those men that had attacked Fionnaghall would make an escape out to sea.
Beiste pushed harder, staying low behind the boat. He watched her struggle, reaching up to slap at the man’s hands. But the man did not let go as Beiste had hoped. He could hear the man screeching at her. He was slowly pulling her back up to the ship's railing.
Beiste let go of the boat and pushed off to swim.
He moved through the water effortlessly with huge strokes and great speed. Just as he reached the side of the ship he saw Ina being pulled over the railing. She was screaming and fighting.
Beiste smiled grimly as he grabbed one of the ropes dangling over the side of the ship. He quickly pulled himself up the side and clung to one of the spindles making up the railing. He looked around for Ina. He spotted her being pulled and dragged, kicking and screaming at the man who still had her by the hair and now an arm. She was swinging mightily at him. The man let go of her hair and tried to grab her other arm. Ina stopped swinging at him when she saw Beiste coming over the railing. Breadalbane grabbed her other arm, but Ina did not fight him.
She was going to let Beiste rescue her.
Of course she would help him if he ran into any trouble.
Beiste heaved himself over the side of the ship and stood there, water dripping from his hair as he braced his legs. His arms hung at his sides with his big hands clenched into fists. His shoulders were hunched as he looked on in fury at the man holding Ina.
“You!” the man screamed at Beiste just as Beiste lunged towards him.
The earl shoved Ina away from him and grabbed at his sword but Beiste was quicker. He slammed his fist down on the earl’s arm causing him to drop the sword. Beiste swung another fist into his face. The earl fell backwards from the blow, landing on his backside staring up at the giant of a man hovering over him.
“You’ll not be marrying her Beatlebrain!” he ground out furiously in a low voice.
“I am the Earl of Breadalbane,” he screeched in response.
Beiste growled at him.
The earl just stared up at him, petrified. Beiste grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. He pulled the earl’s arms behind his back and pushed him in front of him down into the galley of the ship.
When Beiste came back up he was alone.
Ina stood there looking at him. She was breathing heavily. Her hair was hanging down around her shoulders and hips in wild disarray as the sea breezes blew around them.
“Ye came to rescue me,” she stated.
“I did,” he said, drinking her in. Her beautiful face was cut and bruised. The breezes coming off the firth were playing with her hair. It was blowing all around her like a soft golden cloud of curls.
“I knew ye would,” Ina said and smiled broadly.
Beiste took a step towards her. “You did, did you?”
“Aye,” she whispered. She took a step towards him.
“How did you know this?” he smiled a crooked grin and took another step.
“Because tis your turn to do the rescuing and ye are me Beast,” she said impishly. A thought ran through her mind. I will not have Crumb. They cannae make me!
“My turn?” he said with a raised brow. Then he frowned. “You cannot keep a beast,” he said. “A beast cannot be tamed, or kept. Tis not wise to toy with a beast.” He took another step.
“But this beast came to rescue me as I knew he would for this beast is a true man, and a guid one!” she said in her lilting voice, her Scottish sounding thicker. She took an eager step towards him, looking up into his face. She saw when his expression changed.
Beiste took the faintest step back.
Ina’s lips trembled just the slightest bit, but she tried to smile bravely.
“If you knew I would rescue you why did you jump over the side of the ship?” Beiste asked curiously.
“Weel now, that wasnnae a good idea. He caught me hair as I went over the side. Me toes didnae even get to touch the water. But I saw ye, and thought I would hasten the rescue by swimming to ye…” She paused and blushed, looking away from him. “But now that I think on it, it was a foolish idea.”
“No,” Beiste said simply.
“No what?” Ina asked, turning back to him hopefully. She stared up into his handsome, rugged face wishing he would kiss her as she so wanted to kiss him.
“No,” he growled softly, “It was not a foolish idea.”
Ina grinned and took a step towards him but saw his jaw harden. She stopped.
“What did ye do with him?” Ina asked, nodding to the stairs down to the galley. Her smiled tipped slightly. She did not want to hear him say that she was almost betrothed or that he may be married, or that they “cannae be.”
“He and two other men I found below are locked up.” He stepped back to her and ran the back of his hand over her face. “He hurt ye,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I could not swim fast enough.” His voice was tortured as he looked over the cuts to her cheek and the side of her neck. His hand dropped and he stepped away.
Ina sighed softly at the loss of his hand on her cheek.
“I am guessing one was the man who brought me here and the other was the man who was to marry me to Beatlebrain.” She shivered in distaste, her arms hugging her waist. “I had no weapons or I could have escaped meself.” She stared up at him. Her eyes were feasting on his lips and his bright green eyes, lit up by the sunlight coming off the sea, that slash of gold within the green was even starker. With his hair wet and his chest glistening from his swim in the firth he looked like a sea god. The wide leather belt around his waist and lower chest just accentuated the breadth and strength there. She couldn’t help herself; she reached up to push away a stray lock of hair that had fallen onto his cheek.
Beiste caught her hand and held it to his face. He wanted to kiss her. So desperately that he could still feel the need pumping strongly through his body. When he had seen her being dragged by Breadalbane he had wanted to strangle the man just for touching her. Beiste let go of her hand and ran a finger gently over her lips. They opened slightly and the tip of her tongue touched his finger. His eyes narrowed, looking down at her mouth. The sight of her dainty tongue made the blood in his veins rush through his body.
“I want to kiss ye,” Ina said in a rush of breath as her eyes gazed longingly into his.
&n
bsp; She had just said the very words that had been going through his mind, his heart.
He shook his head. “We cannae,” he said, his voice filled with resignation.
Beiste’s eyes had a sadness and a longing that Ina could read clearly.
He took a step back. Again.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Ina sighed loudly and dramatically. She moved to turn away from him, but he reached out as if to catch her, though he did not touch her.
“I want to kiss ye as well,” he said gruffly.
Ina half frowned, half smiled at him. “Weel noo, that is something at least,” she said as she huffed the hair out of her eyes in frustration. “Though if Cruim decides he wants to marry me I am to accept according to that mauchit letter he has from the King. So I should not be wanting to kiss ye, but I do.”
Then she did turn from him. She started walking hastily around the ship, searching. She went to a large trunk tied to the mast and opened it. She gave a triumphant shout and started pulling out dirks.
Beiste was frowning furiously at what she had said. He did not like it. Not one bit. He did not want her to belong to another.
His attention was caught by her shout. He watched in curiosity as she filled the leather corset belt at her waist with the small knives. They fit neatly into a slit that ran near the top all around the belt. Only the tops of the silver handles could be seen, looking like a decorative trim to the belt.
Beiste came up to stand beside her and looked into the trunk. “You choose the least of the weapons available to ye?” he asked as he reached for a scabbard. He had tied the huge silver broadsword from Fionnaghall to his thigh, but a back scabbard would be preferable. He took another sword out and put both swords into scabbards at his back. The two swords framed the back of his head in a V.
“That is odd,” Ina said looking at him. But incredibly he looked even more attractive, more commanding, and more dangerous.
“Tis easier to grab for me, and harder to take away for an attacker,” he said and grinned at her.
“Knives are easier and lighter to carry and conceal,” she argued.
“I cannae throw knives,” he said and shrugged.
Ina gasped. “No? There be something ye cannae do? Ye honestly cannae throw a knife?”
“No,” he said and tapped her nose. “Tis a lady’s weapon anyway.”
“No!” she said again, stronger this time. “I shall teach you,” she said as she poked him in the chest with a mischievous grin.
Beiste stilled at her laugh.
Ina froze, held by his eyes.
Beiste swallowed, hard.
Ina could not seem to breathe as she stared at his gleaming green eyes, his beautiful lips.
Beiste looked down at her mouth.
Ina took a step before he could retreat, hooking a finger into the leather around his lower ribs to hold him in place. She stretched up to place a soft kiss on his mouth.
Just one kiss.
Just a whisper of her lips on his.
Then she stepped back. “Dinnae say anything,” she said with a frown. She turned quickly away before he could tell her that they “cannae be.” She began to look back through the trunk.
Beiste cleared his throat, trying not to reach for her, restraining his desire to grab her and haul her back against his chest. He saw her staring into the trunk and he looked at it again. Then it occurred to him. “Did you notice there are no muskets nor pistols in the weapons trunk?” he asked Ina as he scratched his beard.
Ina turned back to look at the trunk. Her eyebrows furrowed. She looked back at Beiste. “This is a Jacobite vessel, isn’t it? Beatlebrain was indeed a Jacobite. His guns have been taken away by the King according to the Act of Proscription. This ship belongs to rebels,” she said quietly.
“Aye, it occurred to me when they attacked Fionnaghal. This is further assurance of who they are,” Beiste said as he frowned deeply. He rubbed the back of his head in agitation.
“Does your head still hurt?” Ina asked as she touched his arm.
He looked down at her and paused. “You worry for me when ye stand there beaten and bruised Ina?”
Before she could form an answer she saw movement behind him. There was a man ready to let fly a knife into Beiste’s back.
Ina rushed at Beiste, crying out. She used both hands to push him aside. It was like trying to push a mountain. He at least took a step to the side. It was enough; the knife went flying past them both. Ina immediately hurled three knives. One knife at the attacker and the other two knives at the two men coming up behind him. Her aim was true, and all three men dropped.
Beiste was staring at her, his mouth in a crooked grin. “Sards! Knife skills…”
She smiled impishly at him with her hair blowing wildly all about her in the sea breeze. “I just saved ye.”
“Aye, you assume I could not have knocked their heads together or thrown them over the boat?” Beiste said drolly.
“Och nay! I had to repay ye. Ye saved me first when ye came aboard this vessel. I owed ye so I saved ye!” she said.
“I think you would have saved yourself, as you said. It was only a matter of finding a weapon for you,” he said with a chuckle.
“No, ye saved me. Just like in a fairy tale,” she said firmly as she stepped up to him and shook her finger at him, then placed her hands on her hips. “Ye were most splendid!”
“But you saved me,” he insisted, stepping up to her with his hands on his hips as he looked down at her sternly.
“No, twas ye first who saved me!” she insisted. The breezes coming off the sea were wreaking havoc with her long blonde hair and skirts. She swiped at her hair to get it out of her eyes.
“Well if you really think about it, you saved me first when I came to Fionnaghal.” His voice was triumphant as he stood there, hands still on his hips, looking down at her with a crooked grin. He reached out and tucked her hair gently behind one ear.
“Och, that doesnae count!” she said dismissively. “Ye came to rescue me. That is what counts. So there.” Her hair blew free again like a living thing as it blew towards Beiste. Strands clung to his damp chest.
“I locked up the men I rescued you from, and they were not going to kill you. You killed those men that were intent on killing me. So yes, I concede you saved me.” He looked down at her hair clinging to his chest and then gave her a grin. “Can you deny those facts?” He grasped the hair that lay on his chest and watched as it curled around his hand.
She had no answer but tugged her hair away from him with a loud huff, one hand still on her hips. Then she threw her hands up in the air and sighed at the mountain of a man looking down at her with his beautiful lips turned up in a mischievous smile. “If ye insist then very well. I saved ye, or ye saved me. I am confused now.”
Ina pushed her wild curls out of her face again but the sea breezes kept blowing her hair around like it had a life of its own. She turned from Beiste and looked around. “We need to get off this boat before any of those men that attacked Fionnaghal come back.”
“Aye,” Beiste said. “Back over the side ye go. We’ll take one of the small boats back down the coast towards your Fionnaghal.”
“And this ship?” she asked him.
“We leave her for the King's men and for the Black Watch Army. But first I will disable her.”
Ina watched as he went up to the ship’s wheel on the helm and squatted down. It took him some time but he finally came back. “Tis done. The tiller ropes are cut.”
She eyed him sharply. “Beiste, how did ye know how to do that?”
He stopped and stared at her. “I have no idea…” He looked around the ship. He could name every part of it.
Ina watched the play of emotions across his face. She lightly touched his arm. “We should go.”
“I’ll go first and bring one of the small boats alongside.”
Before Ina could say anything he had turned to the railing. She grabbed his arm and
pulled. It was like trying to pull an oak tree towards her. She huffed and stepped up to him. She reached up and grabbed his hair and tugged his face down to hers, and kissed him before he could object, catching his growl with her mouth. She kissed him again, stubbornly holding him to her. “Ye are not a man to forget who ye love,” she whispered against his lips and kissed him again, fuller, longer, letting her tongue play with his as he had shown her. He finally gave in with another growl, pressing his mouth to hers and devouring her lips like a starving man. It was fast, deep, full of longing. Then he pulled back, looking deeply into her eyes. “No more of those.” Then he was gone over the rail.
The afternoon sunlight was waning as Beiste rowed the small boat along the shoreline north of where Ina had been taken. He wanted to get her ashore. Her bruises looked worse now that he had a chance to study her. The cut to her cheek and one on her temple had stopped bleeding but her bruises were turning darker. He was rowing along the shoreline which was mostly steep cliffs and then green grass stretching as far as the eye could see to the craggy peaks of the mountains of the Highlands. It seemed like the mountains touched the clouds for their peaks were shrouded in mists.
“Where are we?” Ina asked softly, feeling so tired it was becoming hard to keep her eyes open.
“We are still somewhere north of Fionnaghal,” he said quietly. “Come here and rest against me Ina.”
“No,” she said tiredly. “I’m fine. Tis my turn to row.”
“No,” he said with a soft, deep laugh.
“Yes,” she insisted with a sleepy frown.
“You can row? You can pull this little boat with my big body in it through the waves?”
Ina looked blearily at him. “Ye are rather huge.”
“Huge?” he said with another chuckle. He raised his eyebrows at her. She blushed so he said, “You are just small.” Dainty and perfect, he thought, and brave and fierce all together.
“Guid gear comes in sma’ bulk,” she grumbled with a yawn.
“Aye. Ye are right. Now come rest Ina,” Beiste said in a deep, cajoling, velvety voice. “Come.” He rhythmically pulled the oars through the water.
