Sapphire Dream (Berkley Sensation)

by Pamela Montgomerie

  Brenna wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then ducked into the waving laundry. That might be his game, but she wasn’t playing. Instead, she followed him, staying behind the laundry as far as she could. She figured she had two choices: either wait where he’d told her to, which she’d already decided against, or keep him in sight. Anything else and she might lose him for good.

  She hated this feeling of utter dependence.

  When the laundry line came to an end, she kept to the shadows, head down so as not to attract undo attention, and followed him into town. As he rode into what appeared to be a stable, she ducked into a narrow alley across the street to wait for him. The sun had broken through the clouds again, but the alley was shaded and cool even if it smelled like an outhouse.

  From the relative safety of the shadows, she watched the people pass by. A woman in an outfit similar to the one Brenna wore, her feet bare, walked side by side with a little girl dressed much as her mother. Around the two of them scampered a boy of maybe three or four, circling them, squeezing between them, then darting off to explore a weed growing between the cobbles at the side of the road.

  “Duncan!” The woman’s scolding was tinged with laughter. “Get back here, ye wee scamp.”

  The little boy grinned and ran back, his chubby hand clinging to a small wildflower. He thrust it at his mother and was gifted with a smile filled with such love it made Brenna’s heart ache.

  She’d been loved like that once. She knew she had. Sometimes she thought she remembered a woman singing her to sleep at night. A woman who wasn’t Aunt Janie. Could she have been her mother? If only she could remember. If only she could get back to her time to find out.

  The pirate emerged from the stable with a different horse, shielding his eyes as he looked around. With a smooth, practiced move, he mounted and turned the horse down the cobbled street, away from her.

  Brenna remained where she was until he turned the corner, afraid he’d look back and spot her, then hurried after him. She heard the loud clank of a hammer striking metal as she neared the corner. A flash of sparks caught her eye. The village blacksmith.

  She picked up her skirts and leaped over a puddle just as a figure stepped into her path on the other side. She collided solidly with the young man.

  “Whoa, lass!” He grabbed her upper arms and steadied her when she would have fallen. He was tall and lanky, his skin freckled, his eyes friendly. “Are ye hurt?”

  Brenna shook her head and stepped out of his reach with an apologetic smile. “No. Sorry. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She turned and dashed the short way to the corner.

  She peered around it, praying the pirate was still in sight. To her vast relief, she spotted him immediately, tying up the horse. He climbed the stairs of one of the buildings with an air of total confidence, as if he owned this town. Powerful, strong, arrogant as hell. Why did she find that so darned sexy?

  As she watched, he entered a door with a sign swinging over it: Alex. McDonald, Merchant.

  “Are ye lost?”

  Brenna jumped and swung around.

  The young man she’d run into grinned apologetically. “Och, I didna mean to scare ye.”

  Brenna returned his smile ruefully. “Sorry. I’m a little jumpy. And no, I’m not lost. I’m waiting for my . . . brother. He had to meet someone and told me to wait by the creek . . . the burn.”

  “Och, aye. And ye fancied ye’d see what he was up to, eh?”

  Brenna raised a rueful brow. “Something like that.”

  “Yer not from around here. Yer not Scottish.”

  “You know, the funny thing is, I am. Or at least I used to be. I’ve been living . . . away.” Way away. Other side of the world and about three centuries to the right.

  “If ye be needin’ anythin’, I work at the smithy’s, there.” He motioned to the building behind her where all the clanking and hammering was coming from. “Come find me, eh? I’m Rabbie.”

  Brenna smiled warmly, then froze as she heard a low rumble—a rumble she was starting to recognize. Horses. A moment later, she saw them. Bluecoats entering town, riding a wave of dust.

  Her mouth went dry, her heart pounding in her chest. Rourke. She had to get to him, warn him. She ducked her head, wishing she had a wide-brimmed cowboy hat to hide beneath.

  Rabbie made a growling sound deep in his throat and stepped in front of her, his lanky height shielding her as the riders approached.

  Seconds felt like hours as the pounding hooves tore up the road, pelting her with bits of mud and pebbles. Chills danced over her skin. With every dust-filled breath she feared discovery.

  But the pounding continued past her. No shots rang out. No shouts of her name.

  Rabbie turned to look down at her. “They’re by.”

  She stared at him, head whirling. “You protected me.”

  Rabbie’s lip curled as his gaze followed the bluecoats. “Aye. The Earl of Slains sends his soldiers to one village or another near every month to fetch lasses to entertain his guests. Some little more than bairns.” He held his hand out, hip-high.

  Brenna blanched. “That’s terrible.”

  “Och, aye. Beltane last, one of the villagers was killed trying to stop them from taking his wee daughters. The earl returns the ones who survive the bed sport, but they’re ne’er the same.”

  “Someone needs to kill that man,” she said heatedly, even as she shivered. These were the same men looking for her.

  “Some have tried. But the earl’s too powerful. Two years past, the village of Dunlochy rose against him. He burned it to the ground.”

  “The whole village?”

  “Aye. He claimed they were harboring witches, but all kent the truth. ’Twas retribution, plain and simple.”

  She had to get out of here. Find Hegarty and get out of this nightmare world. But Rourke . . .

  She swung around to see the bluecoats pulling up in the center of town. They dismounted and split into three groups, each drawing their swords and guns and heading toward a different building.

  Her heart stuttered. They’d kill Rourke before he had a chance to defend himself.

  What chance did she have without her pirate? She couldn’t let him die if she could save him.

  Brenna grabbed her companion’s arm. “Those men are after us. I’ve got to distract them before they find . . . my brother. Can you help me?”

  She slipped around the corner and pulled the cap off her head, then began pulling at the laces of her bodice. She turned her back to him. “Untie this skirt, will you?”

  When he didn’t reply, she glanced over her shoulder to find the young man’s eyes had swallowed his face.

  “I have clothes on underneath, Rabbie. Help me, please?”

  He blinked, then nodded, and had her out of the skirt in seconds. Clearly, the guy had had some experience disrobing females. When she turned around, he stared at her Hard Rock tee and torn monkey pants with a mixture of disbelief and dismay.

  Okay, maybe not the greatest clothes.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back. I’ll need your help again.”

  “Ye play with fire, lass.”

  “I know. If he’d just carry a cell phone . . .” She raked her fingers through her hair, digging deep for courage, and met his somber gaze. “They’ll kill him if they catch him.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  Her legs felt stiff as she rounded the corner. The soldiers and Cutter had all disappeared inside the various shops and buildings. The breath caught in her throat. Was she already too late?

  Then Cutter and a bluecoat strode out of one shop and started toward the next. Alex. McDonald, Merchant. Cutter had his back to her. She had only one option and scant seconds to execute it.

  Forcing her legs to move, she ran into the street. “Rourke! Watch out!” She couldn’t have drawn any more attention if she’d run into the street stark naked. Passersby—the few who hadn’t hightailed it out of there at the first sign of the soldiers—stopped a
nd gawked at her.

  “Get her!”

  Cutter. Mission engaged. Now for the hard part—surviving it.

  She turned and ran, her clunky boots tearing at the blisters they’d rubbed yesterday. As she rounded the corner by the smithy’s, she almost plowed into Rabbie again.

  He was waiting for her. Without a word, he threw the skirt over her head, then followed with the top. While he tied the skirt, she tried to pull her front laces closed, but they were stuck.

  Rabbie brushed her fingers aside and tried to make the laces cooperate, but he had no better luck. “They’re tangled,” he hissed.

  She was starting to shake. The bright yellow of her Hard Rock tee showed clearly through the knotted laces. She needed to hide, but where?

  The vibration of booted feet grew stronger. Any second Cutter would turn the corner and find her. Dear God.

  Brenna grabbed the cap out of the dirt, twisted her hair and shoved it inside as she looked up at her companion. He seemed so much older than the men his age she’d known in her time. There was a wisdom and a solidness in his eyes that she’d always thought took years to acquire. But perhaps not so long in this place. Either way, he’d proven himself to her.

  “You shielded me once,” she said. “Will you do it again?”

  Without waiting for his reply, she pressed herself against him, hiding her gaping bodice. “Kiss me and act like you mean it.”

  The young man’s eyes widened, but she saw a grin bloom in their depths as he did as she commanded. His warm mouth covered hers. Sweet, tentative. She reached up and grabbed him about the neck, moaning for good measure. Rabbie followed her lead, turning the chaste kiss real even as he kept a small measure of distance between their bodies.

  This kind of ploy always worked in the movies. Please let it work for real.

  “You there!”

  Cutter. She’d know that voice anywhere. Her heart leaped, then began to pound until she thought she’d have a heart attack. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She kissed Rabbie harder, praying he’d take the hint and ignore the command.

  Rabbie didn’t seem to have heard the command at all.

  “Never mind them,” snapped a second voice. “They didn’t see anything. You two go left. Mr. Cutter, come with me. She couldn’t have gone far. Find her!”

  As the sound of pounding feet retreated, Brenna opened one eye and peaked over Rabbie’s shoulder, afraid one of the men had remained behind. Amazingly, they’d been left alone.

  She pulled back, ending the kiss. “It worked. They’re gone.”

  The young man rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at her with a mixture of dismay and thorough arousal.

  Brenna winced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used you like that. I think you just saved my life.”

  A grin bloomed on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his capable hands untangled the strings of her bodice and put her back together. “Ye may use me any time ye wish, lass.”

  Brenna smiled, then froze as she heard the sound of a horse racing toward them from around the corner.

  Rabbie wasted no time in pulling her back into his arms.

  “Unhand her,” a voice growled as the horse came to a sudden halt beside them.

  Relief turned her legs to Silly Putty. Brenna pulled out of the embrace, then turned and stared at the sight before her. The pirate in a coat and long black curly wig.

  She grinned, then turned and kissed the young man’s cheek. “Thanks.”

  Rabbie eyed the cold-eyed pirate warily. “Ye’ll not hurt her.”

  “I aim to throttle her.” He extended a hand to Brenna, his eyes glittering like ice, filling her with a strange joy.

  She flashed a quick grin at Rabbie. “Isn’t he sweet?” But as she reached for the pirate’s proffered hand, she heard shouts and the sound of horses cutting off their escape.

  Bluecoats.

  Rourke leaped from the horse. “We’ll not outrun them. We’ll have to hide.”

  “Come!” Rabbie yelled, running beneath the smith’s canopy and motioning them to follow him into the brick building behind.

  Rourke tied the horse to a nearby post, grabbed her hand, and pulled her with him after Rabbie. They dove into the sweltering building a second before the soldiers’ horses thundered past.

  For a moment she thought they’d taken the short route to Hades, for the room was hotter than a sauna and glowing red from banked coals in a huge oven standing in the middle of the room. The forge. A broad, muscular man stood before it, heating what appeared to be iron on a long pair of tongs, staring at them.

  “Da,” Rabbie said. “We must hide them. The earl’s soldiers seek them.”

  The older man, whose bald head glistened with sweat in the stifling heat, frowned. “I want no trouble.”

  “Nay, Da. They’ve done no wrong. I’ll not have them killed.”

  “The soldiers . . .” He shook his head. “Ha’ ye no sense?”

  Rourke stepped forward. “Ye needn’t shield me. Just the lass. I shall pay you well.”

  Brenna leaped after him. “Rourke, no. You’re not facing them alone.”

  He turned to her, his expression grim. “Hide, Wildcat, and heed my command this time, aye?”

  “They’ll kill you.”

  “Mayhap. If they do, make your way to the village of Monymusk. Hegarty will find ye. Soon or late, he will find ye.”

  Outside, the sound of booted feet pounded at a small distance.

  “Come.” Rabbie grabbed her arm. “You can hide in the coal bin.”

  The blacksmith grunted. “You’ll be needing to move his mount to the rear,” he told his son.

  Rabbie grinned. “Aye, Da.”

  “Have you a second mount?” he asked Rourke.

  “Nay.”

  The older man turned to Rabbie. “Then ye’ll saddle mine and tether him there as well. They’ll not make it far on one.”

  Rourke gave a nod that was almost a bow. “My thanks.”

  Brenna swallowed hard. That meant she’d be riding alone. Assuming they made it.

  The blacksmith finally looked at Rourke. “Get yourself hid. I want no trouble, but . . .” He shrugged. “As trouble is here, I’ll be helping you.”

  As Rabbie ran to get the horses ready, the blacksmith took the hot ingot out of the coals and went outside under the canopy to hammer.

  Rourke turned and closed the distance between them. He grabbed her waist and lifted her into the filthy coal bin. Oh, she was going to be dirty.

  “Get down,” Rourke commanded. He took off his black jacket and put it over her head. “ ’ Twill cover the brightness of your hair and cap.”

  Then he pulled off his wig and thrust it at her. “Hold that for me.”

  “Aren’t you getting in, too?”

  “Nay. I must be able to fight.” The coldness in his eyes evaporated in a wash of heat. “I could flay you,” he growled. “I commanded ye to remain hidden, yet you disobeyed.”

  “Oh sure, don’t thank me for saving you.”

  He threw her an incredulous look. “We are not saved.”

  “No, but at least you’re still alive. I was afraid they were going to surprise you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “You did not think I could take them?”

  “There are six of them!”

  “So you yelled for me, then found yourself a laddie?”

  He was jealous. “Rabbie helped me get in and out of the dress, then—”

  “He undressed you?”

  Brenna jerked the jacket off her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rourke. I thought they’d kill you if I didn’t do something.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “What if they’d caught you?”

  The raw emotion in his eyes took her by surprise. She’d been nothing but a thorn in his side.

  “Why do you care? Why do they want me, Pirate?”

  His hands stilled. Then he released her and turned away. “Christ, I need to get bac
k to sea. Get ye hidden.”

  “Not until you tell me.” It was a bold threat. If one of the bluecoats walked in now, she was as good as caught. But she had to know what was going on.

  He turned, glaring at her with those cold, cold eyes.

  Brenna stared right back. “I’m waiting.” She lifted the hair that had tumbled down her neck, desperate for some respite . . . any respite . . . from the suffocating heat. Sweat rolled through her hair, making her scalp itch.

  He broke eye contact and turned away.

  “Why are you afraid to tell me?”

  He scowled, the accusation pricking his pride as she’d intended. “I am not afraid.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on, Rourke. They’re trying to kill me, and I have a right to know why.”

  “This is not the time,” he growled.

  “It’s never the time, is it? It’s never going to be the time.” She stared at his strong profile, the stubborn jut of his chin, the line of his straight, arrogant nose. She saw the moment his rigid stance softened ever so slightly, the moment his shoulders seemed almost to droop.

  Turning, eyes bleak, he met her gaze. “He wants you because of the prophecy.” He turned back and started for the door, leaving her staring after him.

  Brenna dropped his wig in the coal and climbed out of the bin.

  Rourke swung toward her, blocking her movement. “Wildcat.”

  “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk away.”

  He glared at her, but with that glint of confusion she was becoming used to when she said something strange. Not too many bombs around here, eh?

  “Hegarty should be the one to explain, not I.”

  “Hegarty’s not here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Aye. I am aware of that.” His words contained a wealth of frustration. “It has naught to do with me. I only know that Hegarty brought you here to fulfill your part, and the Earl of Slains is disinclined to allow it.”

  “Because?”

  He lifted her and deposited her once more into the coal bin, his eyes grave. “Because . . . according to the prophecy . . . ye will destroy him.”