by Aileen Adams
“Aye,” Derek announced with a firm nod. “Or as near to it as possible.”
“What will you do before that?” Hugh prompted, unable to keep from grinning. “Come on. Out with it. I know what you’re thinking, so don’t bother hiding it.”
Derek fumed. “I had planned on going back to the lass—Margery—and bringing her along with me.”
“I thought so. As did Broc.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“Has the lass shown any interest in any such arrangement?”
Derek chuckled. “Did that stop you and your bride?” He emphasized the last word, reminding Hugh of how he’d forced Dalla into marriage on purchasing her from her kidnapper.
“I was trying to save her.”
“And I’m trying to save her.”
He gritted his teeth at the memory of what he’d seen in her little room, and recounted the story to his brother. By the time he’d finished, Hugh looked as incensed as he felt.
“You should’ve killed him.”
“I wish I had.”
“She’s as unhappy as you say?”
“More, I’m certain of it.”
“But she has her own ideas as to her life, you know. Dalla had no such plans, and there was no one waiting for her at home. What will you say to that when your Margery inevitably argues?”
“I’ll tell her we’ll find a way to bring her from her village, but I can’t—I won’t—allow her to stay here another day on her own, nor in any other village or town. She seems to attract ill fortune.”
“By all means, bring her along, then,” Hugh muttered with a roll of his eyes. “The one thing we need on our journey home is ill fortune.”
He pushed off from the wall. “My men and I have made camp outside the village, and I’ll return to them now.”
Derek extended an arm to bar his progress. “I must warn you of one thing.”
“And that is?”
“I won’t leave without her. If she refuses to go, I’ll not leave. You can take Broc back if you wish—I’m certain he would rather go with you than stay here one more day—but I will stay behind. Phillip will know from your report that I’m perfectly safe here in the village.”
“But you aren’t safe,” Hugh argued. “You told me only minutes ago that you made an enemy here.”
“He wouldn’t be the first enemy I’ve ever made, brother, and it’s likely he won’t be the last. I can take care of myself, and anyone else who needs my protection. Or have you forgotten what I did for you and your bride back in Kincarny?”
“No. I haven’t forgotten. How could I?”
“Then you know very well how capable I am.”
“Aye.”
“You’ve nothing to worry about.” He clapped his hand over Hugh’s shoulder. “I’ll send word, no matter the outcome. Whether we stay here or go elsewhere, you will know.”
“But you will try to convince her to come with us, back to Duncan lands.”
“I will. I’ll do everything in my power to make her understand she’ll be safest with me. She belongs with me.”
Hugh chuckled. “You’re in terrible trouble, you know.”
Derek’s smile was grim. “I know.”
21
It was a long night, and a sleepless one.
Instead of spending it in her room, which no longer felt like hers—not that it ever truly had—Margery chose to sit by a small fire in the tavern. She sat, and watched, and waited. Waited for the next threat, the next danger.
Would she ever enjoy a good night’s sleep again?
That was one thing she’d never lacked at home. Beatrice would be sleeping, sleeping her sound, unbroken sleep. The sort of sleep afforded people who worked hard and could feel secure in their safety. Who had never seen with their own eyes the type of evil possible in the world.
Had she ever been that innocent and unknowing? She never would be again. Perhaps that was what hurt worst of all.
But she had Derek. Derek cared for her, protected her. Had kissed her.
She ran the tips of her fingers over her lips, remembering the touch of him. They were still sore from the mistreatment by the brute who’d attacked her, but Derek had been so careful and gentle.
His kiss was the only thing that could’ve soothed her at that moment, something he seemed to know. If anyone would ever know, it would be him. He seemed to see straight through her, straight into her heart.
She loved him. That much was plain.
Why did the knowing of it give her so much pain?
Because she loved another, too. Beatrice. She could never be with Derek without betraying the sister who needed her so.
A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. Just when she was certain of there being no more tears left to cry, she’d found reason to shed even more, certain her heart was being torn to pieces. Derek or Beatrice, Beatrice or Derek. To follow her dreams in one direction meant leaving the rest behind.
What would Beatrice think if she never came back, never sent for her? How long would she continue to wait before coming to the conclusion that her sister had come to some terrible end?
For how long would Margery’s very soul long for Derek if she went home or to some other village? No matter if she managed to send for Beatrice or not, she would never feel as though her life was complete without him. She would never feel safe without him.
But she had loved Beatrice first, and Beatrice was depending on her. Derek didn’t depend on anyone or anything but himself. He would get along.
And so would she. Somehow.
22
“You’re certain of this, lassie?” Hamish looked like a man on his way to his death as he wrung his hands, watching as Margery gathered her few things.
“I am. And I cannot tell you what it means for you to lend me the money for passage to Edinburgh. I promise to pay you back just as soon as I can.”
“None of this makes any sense, if you don’t mind my saying.” He followed her out into the still-dark tavern, the sun far from rising.
It meant everything that she be able to leave before Derek found out she’d gone. The ship was meant to leave at dawn—if she were on it in time, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
“It’s impossible for me to explain. I cannot stay, and my sister needs me to go on. I’ll start somewhere else, somewhere where there are more opportunities.”
“You believe you’ll find that in Edinburgh? Or anywhere else? On your own, lass?”
“Please, don’t try to stop me now. This is difficult enough.” She slid her braid beneath the back of her tunic, which she’d washed and dried after scrubbing the kitchen—as though she knew she would need it again, and soon. It wouldn’t do to travel looking like a woman, even if the costume did little to conceal her womanly figure.
What Hamish didn’t know, but would find out soon enough, was that she’d stolen a knife from the kitchen and stowed it in her pack. She wouldn’t make the mistake of going unarmed ever again.
“It isn’t because of what happened last night, is it? Because I can be sure that sort of thing never happens again.”
“How?” she asked, close to the end of her tether. “How can anyone?”
“There are ways…”
She held up one hand, palm out, taking a deep breath to keep from exploding in frustration. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t, at all. But there is no way to be certain such a thing won’t happen—in the meantime, I would have to sleep in that room. Every night. I would have to serve patrons every day and wonder if one of them were him—I never did get a good look at his face, you know, so I would always wonder. I would never have a peaceful moment again.”
His shoulders fell, his breath coming out in a long sigh. “I understand. I hadn’t thought about it that way, but now I understand.”
“Would you ask your wife or daughter to go through such a situation?” she pressed.
“Of course, I wouldn’t. I understand what you have to do, lass. I
only wish I didn’t feel as though you were leaving because of my failure to keep you safe here.”
She patted his arm. “It isn’t your fault. You’ve been more than generous.” She patted the pouch tied to the belt around her waist. “And I do promise to repay you.”
“I know you do, and I trust that you will do your best. Even if you don’t manage to…”
“I will.”
A glance out the window told her the sky was just beginning to lighten in the east. Dawn was still a way off, but it was close, and she would need to be waiting to board.
“I’ll go alone,” she urged when Hamish appeared to be ready to follow her outside. “It will be easier for me this way.”
“You’ll send word when you’ve arrived?”
She smiled. “You care that much?”
The question clearly left him embarrassed, and he scuffed his toes against the straw-covered floor. “You’re a nice lass. A good sort. I hate to see a good sort get pushed around.”
She shrugged, still smiling. “Perhaps it’s time to employ a young man here? One who can take care of himself while still pouring ale?”
He saw the humor in this and was chuckling as she stepped outside. It was nice to hear his good humor behind her as she walked down the street. Cool, damp air nipped at her cheeks and turned them pink. Likely one of the last truly chilled mornings, she guessed.
All around her, candles and fires were beginning to light the insides of the homes she walked past. That was the way life went here, and throughout Margery’s existence, as well. Up before dawn, the day ending not very long past the setting of the sun.
Life would go on here when she was gone. It would be as though she had never stepped foot off the ship. How many people felt that way, as though they’d been chewed up and spit out like a piece of gristle? As though they might just as well never have existed?
Was this what life would be like in Edinburgh?
It would have to be what it was. She had a responsibility to Beatrice. The sooner she got settled and saved enough money, the sooner they could be together again.
But they couldn’t be together in Kirkcaldy. What a godforsaken place. She hoped to never see it or hear of it again.
Even if it meant never seeing Derek again.
She quickened her step as she passed the spot where he’d given her lessons on how to defend herself. Her heartbeat quickened, too, even though thoughts of him holding her were all mixed up with the memory of how little his instruction had helped the night before.
What would’ve happened if he hadn’t come in?
No sense in thinking about that, or about any of it. It was all in the past, just as memories of endless hours and days and years spent at her mother’s bedside were nothing but shadows of what used to be. They had nothing to do with the present, would do nothing to help her with what she needed to do.
The ship was there, waiting out on the water. Rowboats waited at the dock to collect passengers and any cargo being carried onboard. There were already two boats manned by muscled sailors being rowed out to where the tall, proud-looking vessel waited.
She swallowed hard, hesitating. Why was she hanging back so? Her direction had already been determined, her path set. She would go, she would make a success of her plan. She would not fail. She must not fail.
More than just her future hinged on her success.
An old man with rough hands and even rougher clothing noticed her standing there, alone. “Aye, are ye for the ship leaving for Edinburgh, then?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly found herself without the ability to do so. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. Her heart began hammering in her chest, a sick feeling she wished would go away.
“Lass? Are ye hearing me?” The old man stepped closer, a hat pulled low over his eyes, his torn trousers stained and poorly patched. He rubbed his hands on them as if to clean them somewhat before touching her shoulder. “Are ye well, lassie?”
Did she look ill? She was behaving as though she had some sickness. “Yes,” she managed to croak, “I’m well. Please, excuse me. It’s just that I’m a little nervous.”
She looked down at herself with a laugh. “You knew right away that I’m not a boy? Even with this?” She touched her hand to her hat.
“Aye, but I’ll keep your secret.” He winked. “So? Are you for the ship?”
It was time to stiffen her back as well as her resolve.
“Yes. I am.”
23
“You think she’ll come, then?” Broc sounded less than certain, which was no surprise to Derek.
“I do,” he said, belting his tunic before tying the laces at his chest. “And I’m certain Phillip and the rest will be glad to have her, in the event that your next question was about that very thing.”
“It wasn’t, though I won’t deny it’s another concern.”
“You know as well as I that there’s more than enough room at the manor house, and I’ve known Phillip and Jake since we were boys together. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that they’ll welcome her.”
“What then? And what of McInnis Shipping?”
“We may in time have to sail back to Kincarny in order to settle affairs there, or I could send for the other ships and have them meet us along the western coast. So long as I have the three of them in the same place, I’ll feel safer.”
“And then?” Broc pressed.
“And then, I’m unsure. You know I am. I can’t ask Margery or any woman to marry me when the life I lived was so impossible to predict. More stable than that of your everyday sailor, but far less so than a merchant or farmer.”
“A farmer’s life is stable?” Broc chuckled. “I was of the belief that they were just as beholden to the elements as we always were.”
“You know what I’m getting at,” Derek argued. “In one place. At home every evening for supper. In front of the fire. That sort of life.”
“Aye,” Broc grumbled, jamming his feet into his leather shoes.
This would not be the end of their conversation, Derek knew, but he wished his first mate would stop pressing so hard. They weren’t partners. While Broc’s livelihood depended upon Derek’s decision, he had no real say in the matter. Derek felt this point was forgotten—and didn’t want to voice it for fear of further distress between them.
“I’ll go to the tavern now,” Derek announced. “I know they’re hard at work before dawn.”
“It won’t give you much time to convince her before it’s time for us to go,” Broc pointed out.
“I won’t need much time—but if I can’t, I’ll find you and Hugh outside the village and let you know.” He left the room before another question could be voiced, needed to hear himself think for a minute.
The fact that he had slept at all was incredible, so many concerns at war in his head from the moment he’d stretched out on his bed through the moment he’d opened his eyes again.
Only one thing continued to make sense, no matter how many other questions remained unanswered—Margery, and the fact that he loved her. He wouldn’t leave without her, wouldn’t live without her. She was enough to drive even the sanest man to lunacy, but she was the only woman who’d ever come close to stirring his heart.
He was quick in his walk to the tavern, determined to bring her with him and be well on their way that very morning. Would Hugh be surprised! Well, he wasn’t the only McInnis capable of wooing a woman.
Hamish looked up in surprise when Derek burst through the door. Derek’s first thought was to question why the fleshy, older man was on his knees, scrubbing the floor.
“Where is Margery?” he asked, suddenly filled with dread. Had something else happened during the night?
Hamish nearly jumped to his feet. “She’s running off to Edinburgh, taking the ship which leaves at dawn.”
“What?” He imagined what it would feel like to be run over by a charging horse and couldn’t imagine it being worse than what he felt at that moment. It hit hi
m all at once, the thought that she would be gone forever. How would he ever manage to find her again?
He looked out the door to where it was clear the sun was nearly over the horizon, golden rays stretching their fingers over the sky and water. There was no time to ask further questions, not if he wanted to catch the ship.
Villagers—women, children, even a few men—cried out in alarm and anger when he shoved his way past them, dodging and weaving through the early-morning traffic of the town.
A team of horses stopped dead in the center of the street, forcing Derek to cut around them and lose precious seconds. He couldn’t afford to lose more time.
If only he had walked past the harbor on his way to the tavern! But he hadn’t wished to run into MacBride, and that was the long way to the tavern from the rooming house. If he lost her for such a stupid reason, he’d never forgive himself.
Run! Run!
He could make out the masts of the tall, proud ship as she rose and sank with the gentle waves. So long as he kept his sights on it and it wasn’t moving away, there was still hope.
So he was desperate to believe.
The docks were empty of women when he reached them—even women dressed as lads, which she undoubtedly would be. He looked around wildly, turning in a circle, scanning everything around him for any sign of her.
There. The boat being rowed away from the dock, in the direction of the ship. And the flash of gold hair visible between the hat and tunic.
“Margery!” He ran full-out, his feet slapping against the weathered boards as he flew down the length of the dock. “Margery, stop!”
She looked behind her, surprise and dismay battling for control of her features. “Derek? What are you doing?”
“I’m stopping you, you daft thing! Get out of that boat and come up here, now!”
The old man sitting at the boat’s bow chuckled. “Well, lass? What will it be? The ship or the man hollerin’ at ye from the dock?”
Margery held on to the side of the boat as it rose and fell on the somewhat choppy water. “I don’t understand this,” she said, shaking her head.
