by Alisa Adams
“Aye, this is true,” War said, noting that Lawrence had called this woman by her first name. He kept that to himself, however. “Law can hold his breath longer than anyone I know. Remember that time off the coast of Castile when he dove in after that woman that he—”
Lawrence growled loudly again to interrupt War.
His friends burst out into laughter at the embarrassed look on his face.
Sandolf tapped War’s shoulder. “Remember the time off the coast of Corsica when he threw his clothes off onto the ship's deck and jumped into the sea for a swim? The anchor had not been let out and we sailed away with him swimming after us with nary a stitch of clothing on! The Corsican pirates picked him up before we could get to him. Kept him in their dungeon for days before we found him.”
Lawrence rolled his eyes.
Darling listened to them with her lips open. “Shame on you! You, you...pirates! He is hurt!” she said loudly as she patted Lawrence’s shoulder soothingly. “Put those teasing stories away in a box. You can think about them another day!” She missed their stunned faces as they stared at her, unsure of what to say to this woman.
Flain knelt back down next to Darling and cleared his throat. “Miss Lion, I can help,” he said.
“Dios mios, I think not,” she said huskily. “Look at your hands, Mr. Flain. Is that fish blood? And dirt?” She shook her head and made a tsking noise at him.
“Si, miss, I have been catching fish for our supper, and before that, I was burying our dead.”
“Flain…” Lawrence groaned. He repeated Flain’s name again in a commanding, warning voice when he saw him open his mouth to say something more. He had a feeling that mentioning burying the dead would upset her, and looking at her face, he knew he was correct.
Darling’s face froze, and her eyes filled with tears again. She lowered her head and nervously fretted with part of the strip of cloth that looked loose on Lawrence’s bandage. “And where is your hat, Mr. Flain? I worry you are turning even redder, and it is dangerous to have too much sun with skin such as yours. In my country, there was a man who got so burned—” Darling pointed at Flain as she started telling her story. Her words came rapidly as she shook her finger at him and started speaking all in Castilian to the man.
Warwick and Sandolf were on the other side of the captain, watching with wide, fascinated eyes as the woman berated Flain. They looked back at their friend with a question in their eyes.
“Law?” Sandolf asked quietly while Flain had Darling's attention.
Lawrence held his hand up to Sandolf and War. “I am fine. It pleases her tae do this,” he said in a low voice. “Let her. She is upset.” He looked up at Warwick Ross. “’Tis guid to see ye, War. Any news about Kinloch?”
War nodded. “’Tis empty. Falcun and the men of the Lion and Lioness are doing what they can tae make it ready.”
Law nodded firmly. “That is guid,” he said in a stern voice.
“She saved ye, Brother. ’Tis the wolf’s troth,” Sandolf said quietly.
“Aye, Law. Ye owe her yer life,” War added.
Law looked over at Darling DeLeon. “That may well be true. But dinnae let her know this. I will never hear the end of it, I am thinking. Besides, she has been through enough with her mother being murdered at the hands of someone she claims was on my ship, and now she is determined tae sit on the beach, waiting for her father tae come rescue her.”
Sandolf and War glanced at the woman still speaking rapidly to Flain Aroya.
War looked back at his friend and whispered, “And if the pirate DeLeon comes?”
“We will be ready,” Lawrence said. “Though I dinnae believe any man would come to rescue a woman, be she wife or daughter. He may try to come in search of his ship and his treasure. If or when he does, I will kill him, as the king has bid me.”
“I think ’twill be a problem. She thinks we are pirates, but she doesnae know that her own father is one of the most evil pirates on the sea. We sail under the Scottish crown,” Sandolf said in a hushed voice.
“How can it be true that she doesnae know about her father?” War whispered. Then he scowled. “She called us pirates?” War asked indignantly in a whisper.
“I dinnae believe she knows who or what her father really is.” Lawrence looked at the men he called his brothers. “Well?” he questioned them in a low, tight voice. “What would ye call us? Merchant sailors, who are also sanctioned to fight and take or rob other ships for the king?”
“How about sailors for the king?” Sandolf asked.
“Warriors of the sea?” War suggested.
“Privateers,” Lawrence said firmly in a gruff voice. “Not much different than a pirate in most eyes.”
Sandolf started to argue that point just as Darling turned back to minister to his friend’s injury. She was murmuring in Castilian something about the foolhardy stubbornness of men. Sandolf closed his mouth and looked at the other men.
Lawrence looked at Darling. He was watching her lips as she spoke in her melodious language as she softly cleansed the rest of the blood off his arm.
Darling stopped, her eyes captured and held by the look on his face.
Lawrence’s gaze went from her lips, up to her eyes.
She froze, and her breath caught, for it was as if his hands had stroked her face.
Lawrence stilled as he looked into the mysterious depths of Darling’s eyes. He watched as she gasped softly and leaned in closer to his face.
He did not retreat.
For just a moment, the world seemed to stop around them. The feeling of the breeze on their skin stopped, the sound of the murmuring of the waves stopped, the cry of the seabirds overhead was silenced as the world shrunk to just the two of them.
Lawrence struggled to regain himself after the new and sweet feeling of her tender touch against his skin. Darling reached for his face; he held her wrist.
“What are ye doing, lass?” he asked.
“There is blood on the side of your forehead,” she whispered.
He stilled, softening his hold on her wrist. “Leave it,” he said gruffly, breaking the spell as he moved her hand slowly away from his head and placed it in her lap. He let go of her wrist and cleared his throat as he looked away from her with a cold, stony face.
“Very well,” Darling said as she clutched her hands together in her lap. She could still feel the heat of his touch. “Then I am finished seeing to your injuries, MacLeod,” she said in a trembling voice as she continued to kneel beside him. Her face was bright pink with embarrassment. “I will just tie off this piece of bandage and then I shall leave you.”
Warwick and Sandolf studied their friend and the woman who seemed to be affecting him in ways they had never seen any other woman be able to.
War cleared his throat. “Ye need tae thank her, Law,” War said softly as he watched her make one final adjustment on his friend's bandage.
Law gritted his teeth and looked at him. “I already did, War. Stay out of it.”
Darling stopped fixing his bandage and looked at him.
“Did you? Was that when you said you did not need a woman to save you? Or that I was foolish? Does that also apply to my female horse, who also helped get you and I to shore?”
Darling threw down the final piece of bandage onto the sand and stood up. She shook out her still damp, sand-covered skirts, sending sand flying at the men who leaned away from the spray of salty crystals. She scowled down at them and put her hands on her hips. She was not through with him. “I do not think this coldhearted, unfeeling capitan knows how to apologize!” She spun away from them and hurried down the beach to her horse.
The men watched as she and her horse went around the jutting rocks to the other beach.
Her beach.
Lawrence stood up and watched her go with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. “Of course it doesnae apply to the horse. That woman needs tae put her emotions in a box,” he added in a curt voice. He ignored his friend’s questioning looks
as he strode back towards the caves.
“We need rope,” Lawrence called back. “Let’s tie all the crates together and pull them tae shore!”
6
Darling sat on the beach for four more days.
Men came and went that first day, openly staring at Darling, curious after their captain was rescued by this woman. They were collecting the crates of chickens while taking surreptitious glances at her. They had heard she was determined to sit on the beach to wait for her father. They had also been told that she was nothing like her father. Lawrence had been very stern about this.
Flain and Oger came later that day to check on the men’s work. They were riding their little grey Highland ponies. When the two men got off, the ponies immediately closed their eyes to sleep in the sun. Darling shook her head, still trying to picture these ponies as warhorses. Flain politely and with great importance introduced each of the men to Darling.
The day after the men had collected the chickens, they came for the cow and her calf.
Cristianna came as well, bringing with her one of the other women by the name of Serena. They came down the beach with the men and sat with Darling for a nice visit after giving her some more cider and food. Serena was quiet, and Darling understood from Cristianna’s comments when she first met her that Serena, too, had been through a terrible ordeal. Cristianna was more at ease this visit and chatted away about the goings-on at the cave. Darling thought she was a strong, outspoken woman who had busied herself by organizing the women at the cave with all kinds of tasks and chores. Many of the women did not appreciate this, but it seemed with Serena at her side as a quiet peacemaker, all was going smoothly.
Every day the men had stared at Darling when they came, seeing her sitting there day after day, looking out to sea. Each time they came, they joined Flain and Oger in imploring her to come back to the caves for shelter with the other women and the crew.
Each time she thanked them and told them she would wait where she was for her father, explaining how much he loved her and that he was sure to come. He would see the wreck of his ship and know she was here. The men would walk away, leaving her there. Their faces showed curiosity and concern at leaving this woman alone, day after day, to sit on the beach and wait for a ship to come for her.
On the third day, they herded the little goats away.
Finally, they came for the horses who nickered and called out to Tommy as they were led away down the beach by Flain and Oger on their ponies. One last time they asked her again to return with them.
Once again, Darling said no, that she would wait for her father.
On the fourth day, there were no animals left, save Tommy.
It was just Darling and her horse. She had food left. And there was the cool water and the small waterfall above the beach to wash the sand from her skin and hair. She had the woolen tartan, which she pulled around her shoulders or over her at night.
Late that fourth afternoon, when the animals were gone, she sat staring out to sea—still waiting for her father to come.
When darkness came, she walked to the top of the beach to the flat place in the coarse grasses where a group of rocks offered a windbreak. She lay down and pulled the tartan over her, stared at the stars, and listened to Tommy contentedly chomping the grass.
She wondered where her father was and had to finally admit to herself that he probably did not care where she was. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep to come, but it was memories of her absent father she was remembering. He had not lived with her and her mother. He visited, rarely, now and then. And each time he left, her mother would cry for days, completely forgetting about her young daughter. It had been up to Darling to make sure there was food in their house and that her mother ate. She had also learned how to defend herself. The man who sometimes served as their groom taught her how to protect herself as she got older. Two women living by themselves attracted too much attention in the part of Castile where they lived. Darling had learned at an early age to depend on herself, but she had failed her mother and now she was dead.
She turned on her side as a tear rolled down her cheek from the corner of her eye.
Finally, sleep found her.
Darling had been lucky so far in the Highlands.
She began shivering in the middle of the night, however, for that evening the rains began.
“Ye cannae leave her there, Law,” Warwick said to his friend as he stared at him over the fire in the cave.
Sandolf nodded in agreement and frowned at Law from where he sat. They were gathered around the fire, eating the fish that Flain and MacDuff Gunn had caught that day.
Lawrence narrowed his eyes at them and then ignored them both. He sat tiredly in front of their fire, his arms resting on his thighs. He glanced around the firelit cavern to check that his crewmen were all present and had food. Each was gathered around individual, small fires within the large cave. All were eating and getting warm, their hair and clothes drying from getting caught out in the terrible nighttime storm that was pelting thick sheets of rain sideways outside the cave.
He glanced at the group of women around their fire. They were chatting quietly as they ate. All but two—Cristianna and Serena, who were frowning at him.
Lawrence narrowed his eyes at War’s sister, wondering why she was frowning so. He was soon to get an answer as Cristianna rose from the fire and walked over to him with Serena right beside her. Immediately Jamys Gunn, Mery Munro, and Charlotte Lynn MacNuviae jumped up and joined them.
Lawrence schooled his face to be pleasant. These ladies had been through an ordeal, though they were safe now. What do they have to be frowning so angrily at me about? he wondered.
“Ladies?” he said tightly when they stopped at his fire and gathered around him. He looked over at War and Sandolf, who seemed to be just as curious as he was about the ladies’ arrival at their fire.
Serena spoke first. She was a stunning woman who had been among the captives in the Castilian prison with Cristianna. She had long, blonde hair and intense pale green eyes. She was painfully thin, having spent the longest time in the prison.
“You cannot leave her out there, Captain MacLeod. She is all alone on that beach,” Serena said softly with concern in her eyes.
Lawrence frowned and looked away. “She has her horse.”
Warwick looked from Lawrence to the thin young woman who was staring down at the stern captain, trying to be brave. She looked like she could be blown over in the slightest breeze. He stood up. “Please, Lady Serena, have my seat. Though it is but a humble rock, it is a comfortable one.” He ignored Sandolf’s strangled laughter, and added, “We have plenty of fish if ye would care for some?”
Serena looked at the three men; they were all captains. They had rescued her. She knew them to be honest, genuine, good, strong men. Her eyes settled on the one called War who had offered her his seat and more food. His silver-grey eyes stared openly at her and she had to look away. She shook her head as she looked at her folded hands. “Nay, but I thank thee,” Serena said quietly.
Cristianna looked at Warwick and rolled her eyes. She glanced at Sandolf, who she could tell was trying not to laugh at the rock comment. She gave the handsome captain a stern glance. The man is never serious! she thought as she shook her head at Sandolf.
Sandolf cleared his throat and straightened his spine at Cristianna’s chastising look. “Law,” he said in a deep voice, “Miss Sevilla has a right tae be concerned aboot the lass. We owe her a debt of gratitude. ’Tis the wolf’s troth and ye well know this.” He glanced back at Cristianna to see her spectacular silver eyes on him as she nodded once in agreement.
“Ye must go get her and bring her here tae the caves,” she said fervently. “She has nay protection from the storm, sitting out there on the beach!”
The other women nodded adamantly, save Mery Munro. She came closer to the firelight. Her long skirts had been turned deep scarlet with the rain. Her hair was still damp. She rubbed her arms against t
he damp chill.
“She sounds tae be a most strange creature,” Mery spoke up as she briskly rubbed her hands up and down the skin of her arms.“Leave her be, I say. Besides, I have heard that she is the daughter of that pirate, the man named DeLeon whose dungeons we were kept in. Why would ye bring her here?” she said vehemently.
Charlotte Lynn MacNuviae stepped up beside Mery, placing her hand gently on the smaller woman’s shoulder before removing it to take a step closer to the men and into the brighter light of their fire. Charlotte Lynn whisked the fine strands of her still damp, dark hair away from her face as she looked at the three captains. “I suppose it may be best if she doesnae come,” she said slowly as she shivered. “If there is any chance she may be as dangerous as her father, well....” Her eyes slid to Lawrence, who was staring into the fire with a look of annoyance on his face. “Surely ye can see this, Lawrence?” she asked him as she lightly touched his shoulder.
Lawrence stared at her with an arched brow as he dismissively moved her hand off of his shoulder. “I didnae give ye leave tae address me as anything other than Captain MacLeod,” he said in a clipped, curt voice. “I realize ye were treated...poorly...by DeLeon, but ye cannae judge the girl by her father, Miss MacNuviae,” he said, putting an emphasis on calling her Miss. He did not like her calling him Lawrence.
Charlotte Lynn backed up quickly, lowering her head. “Of course, I meant ye no disrespect, Captain. I have been away from real society for tae lang and overstepped myself,” she finished in a broken voice. Her hands dropped to her brown skirts as she clutched the damp material in her hands.
Jamys and Mery put their arms around the taller woman as they looked at her sympathetically.
Jamys turned back to look at the captain with a fearful expression. “What if Mery and Chari Lynn are correct, Captain?” Jamys demanded in a loud voice. “I agree with them. The DeLeon woman cannae come here.”
