by Jackie Ivie
He’d reached them and stopped, close enough she could see a vein pulsing in his throat, which was the level her gaze reached. Then he smiled with such loathing, his upper lip curled with it. Dallis dared not look higher.
“Doona’ bother with a greeting. I can see you’re…occupied.”
“Payton.” The rumble of voice came from the man holding her, making her back vibrate with the name.
“Aye?” Payton replied.
“We na’ got time for such.”
“We’ve got time. I’ll make sure we do.”
His voice was sending cold shivers up her back and nothing about the man behind her warmed them away. It was at his tone, and the hatred it carried.
“Later. We’ve got a rescue on our hands at the moment.”
“’Tis true?” Payton asked.
Dallis glanced up at him. He wasn’t asking her. He was directing his words to the man holding her, as well as his gaze.
“Aye.”
He glanced down at her and then away, gifting her with a fraction of time that imprinted even more cold. Everywhere. She started shaking with it.
“Fair enough. We take her. With care. The spinster first.”
“We dinna’ make arrangements for her.”
“When they find her gone, they’ll do two things, Redmond. Punishment first. Then, the chase. We take the spinster, too.”
“What do I do with the wife while we lower her, then?”
“I’ll handle the auld one. You’ve got your hands full as ’tis.”
“Payton.” The warning tone was back in Redmond’s voice as it rumbled through her again.
Payton didn’t answer. He’d dismissed them and spun around to approach where Lady Evelyn was cowering. Dallis watched as her father’s sister looked smaller and more insignificant than ever. Especially when she was pulled to Payton’s side and taken to the balcony.
The lump he’d tossed there proved to be a mesh sling. Nobody said a word as Payton unfurled it and plucked Lady Evelyn from the floor to bundle her into it. Then he was wrapping a rope about his waist, lifting the bundle of woman and netting and lowering her. Dallis watched his movements with unblinking eyes. He had his back to them in a slanted stance. Red-tinted sunlight was outlining every bit of him, delineating the strength and maleness she’d thought lost to her. She was afraid it would be imprinted on her eyes even when she closed them.
She couldn’t halt the sigh and was afraid the Redmond fellow heard it as he chuckled. That gave her the impetus needed to close her eyes to the sight, turn her head, and lift her chin. Nobody knew. Nobody was to ever know. If she’d mourned the masculine beauty of her husband—and been tormented over it, that was her secret!
With closed eyes she didn’t have to watch anything more of Payton when he’d finished lowering her aunt. She didn’t have to watch his approach, or hear it, since the running water sound in her ears effectively muted all of it.
She still knew exactly when he was standing in front of them. Every bit of flesh on her body was warning her, as the gooseflesh rose, prickling all over her.
“You ready?” Payton replied.
“You asking me or the wife?” The man holding her responded.
“I’ll na’ speak to her again until I have the time. And privacy.”
Dallis jerked. They both knew it. There wasn’t any way to hide it.
“In that event, aye. I’m readied.”
“Bring her. Doona’ over-touch her, but bring her.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Carry her,” Payton replied.
“Nae.”
“What do you mean nae? You canna’ say nae. Bring her.”
“You bring her. You married her. You seeded her. You carry her.”
“I’m na’ certain I can touch her, Redmond.” Payton’s voice sounded unsure. Worried.
“Why na’?”
“She carries my bairn.”
“So?”
“I’m a-feared I’ll hurt her.”
Redmond snorted at that. The rush of breath grazed the top of her head, reminding her of how bare it was. She should have donned a wimple when he’d first appeared, or had the sense to find a cloak. That would have been better than wasting time arguing.
“You canna’ hurt the bairn yet, Payton. It does na’ even show yet.”
“That is na’ what I meant. And you know it.”
The shivers wrought by just his voice were worse than the words. Dallis ignored where they were lifting every hair on her body and tightening her nipples against the fabric of her shift. It wasn’t in pleasure. It was abject fear. She swallowed to still it.
Redmond sighed. “All right. I’ll carry her. For now.”
A stranger had overtaken her body, for Dallis Caruth would never have been so pliant and weak, while a man she barely knew lifted her to his chest and walked across her chamber. She wouldn’t have lain docilely when he placed her into the netting and entwined the top together. She would have done more than untie the gag and hold her hands to her face and suffer the tremors as both he and Payton held to her ropes and lowered her in a spiral of motion down the castle wall.
She would have stopped the tears, too.
Chapter 9
“The wife will be cold, Payton.”
“So?”
Dallis figured it was Redmond speaking on her behalf, since night had descended while they’d been doing the same from her tower window, making it difficult to see. They’d brought a small lantern but it was stingy with its light. Redmond’s words were accurate, for where they’d placed her in the bottom of his skiff was definitely cold. It was wet and lonely, too.
Dallis huddled into a crouch atop the mesh that had been her sling, and tried to keep out of the very bottom where an inch of sea water from the loch, ice-melt cold and smelling of brine, sloshed about. Their rowing motion created more wet from the spray that came over the sides with each wave, too.
“So, give her your cloak.”
“I’m na’ concerned,” came Payton’s answer.
“Well, I am.”
“Then give her your cloak.”
There was lull in their words while those closest to Dallis avoided looking her way, or remarking on the words. They were all more secure on their benches and they were drier. They were all cloaked as well. Even Lady Evelyn sported a large plaid cloak on her frail boney shoulders where she was perched atop a small keg behind the oarlock. She didn’t appear to get a bench either, but she looked infinitely warmer and drier.
“’Tis na’ my bairn she’s carrying,” Redmond replied finally.
There was a heavy sigh, followed by a general shifting feeling over the entire structure as their momentum slowed. The boat rocked from side to side as something heavy skimmed along the middle of it. She knew it was Payton and stiffened for whatever he would do. Then, she felt the heavy wool of his cloak dropping into place atop her. It was a heavenly experience, warmed as it was by contact with his body, and filled with the smell of him. She spent several long moments enjoying it, before lifting her hands to fling the cloak off. It was a satisfying emotion to watch as it landed in the brine water at his feet.
“That was a waste. And now ’tis wet.” Disgust filled the words as he snatched it up. Nobody answered him. The boat rocked gently with the motion of his passage before he was seated again, his cloak back atop his shoulders, and then the rowing commenced again.
“An unwell wench canna’ produce a healthy bairn,” Redmond remarked as the boat got underway again.
“She will na’ take it. You all saw.”
“Payton.” The reply was just one word, and then silence dragged.
Dallis concentrated on counting their movements, filled her senses with the sight of Payton’s broad form whenever the light slithered that way and wished the warmth of emotion from watching him canceled out the elements. He had his back to her and the cloak was a bit wetter than before, since it defined him as he moved. Redmond had the other oar and was facing her.
“She’s going to get ill. And then she’s going to slow us down. And then she’ll be in danger of losing your heir. Is that what you want?” Redmond said again.
“A bit of silence is what I want.”
“Payton.”
“The wife is stubborn. You saw. She did not accept my cloak. I doona’ think her as cold as you say.”
He was wrong. She was much colder than they suspected. If they weren’t moving and if it was daylight, her shivers would be impossible to ignore. That’s what came of nothing but non-nourishing broth for a diet and little in exercise.
“Payton, if you lose that bairn, you’ll have naught.”
“I have the ability to create another. So heave off.”
“Kilchurning has a full two days head start on us, and now you think to saddle us with an unwell wench who is breeding?”
“Would you please cease speaking of my condition?” Dallis spoke up, trying to sound haughty and aloof. That wasn’t what happened. The chattering of her teeth ruined it. There was no hiding how accurate Redmond had been with his observations. It was her own fault, too.
“I forbid you to give her your cloak, Redmond. I dinna’ care how cold she is. She can take mine, or have naught.”
There was a huge sigh happening, and then the boat was changing momentum again. The same rock of movement accompanied a body down the middle of it, and if it was Payton again, she was going to spit at him…after she took the cloak.
“Here, My Lady.”
It was the Redmond fellow. He hadn’t brought her his cloak, after all. That bit of wool was now atop Lady Evelyn’s shoulders. Dallis had possession of the plaid one. She didn’t waste any more time getting the material about her, swathing everywhere except her eyes and nose, and holding it from the inside with hands that shook.
“Redmond…you’re a wretch,” Payton remarked.
“I prefer the word chivalrous. ’Tis much nicer.”
“I hope you freeze.”
“Perhaps we could get the boat moving at a decent speed, and it will na’ be an issue. You rested enough?”
Dallis didn’t know how they did it, but the speed did pick up, and that just had more wave water coming over the side, more wind at her eyes and nose, and more muscle getting moved on the back she was still watching. It also seemed to do what Redmond had said it would, since neither rower looked remotely cold.
They should have planned better, since the loch was leagues wide and it was sheer madness to cross it, when there were so many coves and inlets available. They’d also be at least a half day’s ride from the Dunn-Fadden camp when they made land. Nothing made sense.
Fog settled about them near the center of the loch, where the water was the deepest and coldest. Redmond and Payton didn’t change their rhythm. They’d been matching each other since the cloak episode. They set a punishing pace, more for speed than endurance. And yet, endurance was what they needed to cross this loch. Dallis watched as the other clansmen nodded off and some appeared to be dozing. For certain Aunt Evelyn looked in that state, since she’d pillowed her head on a wad of Redmond’s cloak.
Still Payton and his man rowed, grunting occasionally. The fog thickened to the point the men were mere blobs of constantly moving darkness, ceaselessly pushing and then pulling, their energy creating a fog of its own about their forms with released heat. It was a mostly cloudless night. The moon-touched fog about them proved that, making the lamp they’d mounted on their pole useless and superficial. It also made the scene surreal.
Dallis watched them the entire time, marveling in the strength and power they were both exhibiting. She watched even as her eyelids drooped, her belly rumbled with emptiness, and her legs cramped from sitting atop them. Such discomfort was as nothing in comparison. And then they scraped something.
The other clansmen moved as if they’d been wide awake the entire time, leaping into the water to haul the boat in, while Redmond and Payton sat, slumped slightly as they heaved for breath, their oars dangling above the water. Dallis stretched slightly, and then yawned and watched her aunt do the same. She probably should have spent some of the crossing in sleep. That way, she wouldn’t be feeling so out-of-sorts and odd.
“Dugan! Seth! Call Martin. Get dried off. And get the horses.”
Payton had recovered from the row if his voice was any indication. He was moving as well, with his man right behind him. They didn’t leave the boat as much as fall over the side of it. Dallis’s lips curved as she watched that.
The ice sting of the water was reviving. As was the feel of land beneath his boots. Payton pulled himself out of the water with sheer willpower and a hand-hold of water-sculpted rock. The pace they’d set was stupid. And wasteful. They still had a half day’s ride to where he’d told the others to pitch the tents. It was going to be harder to sit a horse if both arms were shaking over the exertion of the row they’d just done.
It was Redmond’s fault, he decided, and narrowed his eyes at his companion.
“Cease willing it had gone different and order the women fetched from the skiff,” Redmond said, as if Payton had spoken aloud. “You have the lass. Soon you’ll have the property again. All you have to do is reach Edinburgh and His Majesty’s ear. The keys will be handed over.”
“I have to gain strength enough to turn them,” Payton joked.
“Then find it. We’ve still a ride to make.”
“I ken as much.”
“And a wife to keep seated while you do so.”
Payton groaned. “You take her. I’ll take the spinster.”
“You give tongues too much to whisper of. Estrangement should na’ be one of them. ’Tis your bairn. Your wife. Your property. All of it.”
Payton stayed in the crouch, holding to the rock and welcoming the heat the anger was bringing to him. It felt like the scar on his left temple was thumping in tempo with his heart. She’d tried to kill him. Then, she’d betrayed him. She’d nearly had him killed. She’d made him look an unchivalrous wretch in front of his men. She unsettled the elements about him and made him unsure. Now he had to give her a seat with him on his horse? Within his arms?
“None here would speak. With anyone. At any time.” He reasoned it aloud from his position holding to the black out-cropping of rock.
“Why give cause?” Redmond was pulling himself onto the same rock. He was also breathing heavily from the exertion. “Think, my laird. You’re nae fool. Then, order the woman fetched. Doona’ fash it. I will do as you say.”
Payton watched his man climb past him and disappear in a mess of wet plaid. Then, he was following. Sometimes, he hated Redmond MacCloud.
Payton knew they were to ride double. By necessity. The Dunn-Fadden laird would note twelve horses missing, more than the six they’d filched. If his da had more sense than bravado, he’d have been the one to steal the heiress and be on his way to the king and sure victory, rather than trying to get the Kilchurning laird into a hand-to-hand battle on the field. Payton shook his head. Alexander Dunn-Fadden was a hard man. No sense trying to change him now.
So be it.
Payton had selected the stallion he’d bred and raised, the Clydesdale named Orion. The stallion already had a long saddle on him making it easier to sit two. Payton had prepared a bundle of dry clothing, spare plaid, and hard bread. He knew he had to take another with him, riding pillion. At least for this portion of their journey. He just hadn’t thought through that it might be her.
He shoved it all aside and climbed to the paddock Martin was guarding.
The volume of horseflesh, milling about as they had, was putting steam into the air, making the mist sparkle with what light the moon would part with. That made it easy to spot where Martin held them. What was harder was getting Payton’s legs to climb to the small, flat meadow atop a bluff, open to the elements and brushed with a winter breeze that frosted clothing and chilled limbs. Payton was cursing silently when he reached the snow-flecked heather and stood, searching for Orion through
the opacity.
As always, he felt the pride from owning such a magnificent creature, since his Clydesdale stood a half-hand taller than anything else they had. He was also nearing. The misted light was weak and fog grazed as it stirred with the passage of the horse as Seth-the-Silent led him.
The mute clansman handed Payton the reins and waited, as if he already knew. Payton pursed his lips in thought, cursed again to himself, and said it.
“See that the wife is escorted here. To me.”
The man’s face broke into a grin before he left.
While the man went for his burden, Payton opened his bags to pull out dry boots of a soft leather so they’d fold easily, and then he had another feile-breacan unfurled before his fingers grew too iced for the movement. Already the leather of his boots seemed melded to him and the clasp of his belt gave him trouble. As did the brooch at his shoulder. Frozen fabric dropped to his feet, and then he was rubbing briskly all over his body with the dry plaid prior to donning it. Then the spare length of wool. Then he was munching on a hard biscuit. He had time. On the other side of the horses, he could sense Redmond doing the same.
He was in the saddle and feeling surprisingly content, when Seth loomed from the whiteness, holding Dallis by her arm. It didn’t look like she’d come easily, if the angry sound of her words and sodden look of Seth were indicators.
“I am na’a sack to be handled so roughly! And unhand me!”
“Seth?” Payton asked.
She stopped her tirade at his voice. It looked like she even slowed her step since Seth had to resort to pulling at her. All of which was satisfying. He couldn’t tell what expression she had on her face when she neared his side, since she had the plaid cloak swathing all of her, but he could hear the disdain well enough.
“I am na’ riding up there with you,” she announced, as if it were so.
“You are,” Payton replied.
“You’re soaked through and iced. It will hurt your precious bairn.”
Payton grunted. “Hand her up, Seth.”
“Aside of which, this Seth fellow is na’ capable of lifting me. He near dropped me getting from the boat.”
