The question was bland, as if she were merely curious, but he could hear her worry, and it threatened to break him.
“Nay,” he whispered. Then, without fully realizing what he was doing, he glanced down to find his hand had covered one of hers where it rested on her lap. “Together, I believe we can do aught.”
Obviously startled, she dropped her gaze to their hands. She didn’t react to his boldness, but she didn’t pull away either.
“Isabel, I want ye to ken ye can trust me. Ye can let yer guard down around me; I willnae judge ye poorly for it.”
He realized he was holding his breath, and he wasn’t certain how he felt about that. Why did this woman’s responses matter so much to him? Was it pity, imagining her pain? Or just a reaction to her beauty?
After three more dips of the oars, it became obvious she wasn’t going to accept his suggestion to allow herself to relax. She was looking at the quay, and at the water of the River Clyde, still high, and at the back of Dane’s head. She was looking everywhere but at him.
But on her lap, her hand turned over, and she twined her fingers through his, her grip as tight as a drowning man’s.
It was enough.
Chapter 5
They didn’t make it farther than the Isle of Arran that day. Isabel chafed at the delay, but she knew she couldn’t expect the crew to sail the birlinn through the night. Besides, the stop was…interesting.
‘Twas clear the men were used to camping on beaches, but ‘twas a first experience for Isabel. There was much laughter and joking and general jolliness, aided by the flasks of spirits passed from one man to another.
Isabel sat within the shadows on the sand, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees, and thought how much Alex would love this. He’d laugh at the way Tosh—who was one of the biggest men she’d ever met—capered joyfully as he told a tall tale, and the way RobRob fell over sideways whenever he laughed.
The lad Tavish called Wee Robbie wasn’t much older than Dane, but ‘twas clear the men accepted him as one of their own. Alex would have been asking him a million questions, Isabel was certain.
And as for Dane?
Well, Tavish’s son impressed her. He was kind and thoughtful, and obviously used to being around adults. But she could see what his father had been saying about being around other children.
What kind of childhood did the lad have, surrounded by burly, course sailors with adult senses of humor?
Aye, Alex would likely latch onto Dane and treat him with a sort of hero-worship.
Silently staring at the fire, Isabel vowed to give him that chance.
“Ye did well today.”
Tavish’s voice, coming out of the darkness as it did, startled Isabel. But when he sank cross-legged onto the sand beside her, she relaxed. Having him near had that effect on her, and she wasn’t certain why.
“ ’Twas a hectic day,” she offered.
Humming, he took a sip from the flask he carried. “Aye, but I was speaking of ye onboard. Many travelers grow ill on their first day on a ship, but no’ ye.” He offered her the flask, and she hesitantly took it. “I was impressed by yer sea legs, the way ye learned so quickly to move with the sway of the birlinn.”
She wasn’t sure if ‘twas the whiskey or his praise which warmed her, but she felt herself flushing proudly. “I’ve always loved the sea,” she confessed as she passed the flask back.
“And how about Alex? Does he love to sail as well?”
Please, Almighty Lord, keep him safe so we will have the chance to find out.
But Tavish was still waiting for an answer. “I would like to take him sailing one day. He’s never been on a boat.” Although, if his kidnappers had taken him to Barra, by now he would’ve experienced his first sailing.
With a grunt, Tavish repositioned himself on the sand, drawing one leg up and resting his elbow on his knee. “Why no’? He’s the Earl of Carrick, and Carrick is on the sea, is it no’?”
“Aye, but we spend our time at court.”
“Well, he’ll need to return to Carrick at some point. The lad needs to learn the ropes.”
The odd phrase had her glancing over at him. “What?” In the firelight, his profile was strong and certain, and rather too handsome than it had a right to be, especially when his grin flashed as it did now.
“Sorry, ‘tis a sailor’s expression. It means he’ll have to learn to be the earl. He’ll have to learn to lead.”
Ah.
Well, she’d known that for years and had been avoiding it for just as long.
“I suppose—” She shifted awkwardly. “I suppose I’ve been afraid.”
“Of what?” he asked quietly.
He was looking at her now, but she kept her attention on the fire, not wanting to see whatever ‘twas she’d see in his expression. She wasn’t certain if ‘twas fear or hope which kept her from looking; hope she’d see caring there, or fear she’d see naught.
“Of course, I ken life well enough to keep him safe,” she finally admitted in a whisper. “I can guide him through almost aught, but…”
Tavish was quiet long enough she thought he might let it go. He lifted the flask and began fiddling with the stopper. Finally, he hummed. “I think I understand. Ye’re concerned ye dinnae ken how to teach him to be an earl and how to care for his land and people?”
“I dinnae have the leadership skills he needs to learn. I suppose the steward could show him what he needs to ken, but I havenae been brave enough to take that step.”
He moved so suddenly she didn’t have time to react. One moment, he was beside her, holding the flask. The next, he was on one knee before her, reaching for her. She stiffened, but he only placed his finger under her chin, turning her gaze to him fully.
“Ye’re wrong.”
She blinked at his certainty. Wrong about being brave?
“Ye’re a strong woman, Isabel de Strathbogie, and one I admire verra much. Ye can show him the ropes.”
She shivered at the intensity in his words. “I’m nae leader,” she whispered.
“Because ye’ve never given yerself a chance to be,” he immediately returned.
His smile flashed again, quick in the firelight.
“Now, get some sleep,” he commanded. “We have another long day on the water tomorrow.”
* * *
Just like the night before, Isabel awakened cocooned in the most wonderful sense of warmth and safety. Had she ever awakened like that before? Not since she was a little girl at Atholl, certain in the knowledge of her father’s strength. Her life, since she’d come of age, had been one of uncertainty and worry, which had only gotten worse since Alex was born, and she had a new life to fret over.
But Tavish MacLeod made her feel safe and powerful, which was a heady combination.
She’d lived at court long enough to know she was beautiful—at least, enough men had told her that over the years—but when Tavish looked at her admiringly, she got the impression he was seeing past her hair, face and form and was instead seeing the woman underneath.
And lying in his arms felt right.
Later that day found her standing at the bow of the birlinn, gripping the rail, as she watched the blue waters stretch for what seemed like forever. On her right, in the distance, the hills of Islay were green and brown. Tavish had told her they rarely sailed out of sight of land, and rarely needed to, and as much as she liked the feel of the waves beneath her feet, she had to admit ‘twas a comfort to be able to see land.
Behind her, the men lounged on rowing benches, some sleeping under the autumn sun. Yesterday evening, she’d been amazed by how quickly the crew could pull down the sail and “ship the oars,” the command Tavish had called which caused the men to slide a dozen huge oars out and row the birlinn onto the beach. Every hand was needed for that maneuver, but when the winds were strong, the sailors could relax a bit.
Dane was keeping them amused with his renditions of various songs on the pipes. She recognized a few of
the naughtier tunes, but then he switched to a hymn and she had to smile. When he strolled up beside her and held the finishing note, she offered him a nod of approval.
As he removed the reed from his mouth, she shot him a grin. “Ye are verra good at that, Dane.”
When he smiled and flushed, he looked remarkably like his father, and she knew he’d grow to be a handsome man. “Thank ye, milady. Da only lets me practice the pipes when we’re at sea. He says that way, I willnae disturb anyone with my caterwauling.”
“Impossible,” she scoffed. “Ye are a talented musician, and any land-dwellers who heard ye would count themselves blessed.”
“Aye, ye say that now, but ye didnae hear him a few years ago when he was learning.” Tavish stepped up on her other side, smiling fondly at his son over her head. “I can remember one village who was certain their beach was possessed by a vengeful spirit, remember?”
Dane rolled his eyes. “Ye’ll never let me live that down, will ye?”
“ ’Twas horrible,” his father mock-whispered to Isabel.
She hid her smile at his teasing and patted Dane’s shoulder. “I’m certain ‘twas no’ all that bad.”
The lad grinned sheepishly and ducked his head. “ ’Twas fairly terrible.”
She chuckled and pulled him toward her for a quick squeeze. “Ye were learning, and ‘twas necessary to reach the talent ye have today.”
The advice was meant to comfort him, but when the lad turned incredulous eyes up at her, she was confused by the look of awe on his face.
‘Twas only then that she realized she had—without thinking—hugged him. She’d only met Dane a few days ago, and now she was hugging him? But he’d needed the comfort, and she’d been happy to give it, so she squeezed him again and offered an encouraging smile this time.
“Ye really are a good piper, lad,” she assured him with a smile.
“Th-thank ye.” A flush accompanied the stammer.
Still behind her, his father cleared his throat. “ ’Tis yer turn to oil the oarlocks, laddie. Dinnae fail us.”
“Nay, Da. I mean, aye, Da.” He slid from under her arm. “I’ll grease ‘em up good.”
Isabel stood in silence after Dane’s departure, suddenly aware of the man now at her side. His hand joined hers on the rail, and when she glanced down at them, side-by-side, she was struck by the differences.
His knuckles had a sprinkling of fine hair across the backs, and his hands were big, strong, and callused. The hands of a sailor, not a laird’s brother.
But she couldn’t deny their hands looked right, lying next to each other.
Tavish cleared his throat. “The lad doesnae get many hugs.”
“Ye dinnae hug him?” She’d blurted the question before she could think better of it, then realized it sounded as if she were questioning his parenting. “I mean, I’m certain ye ken yer own son best—”
“I used to hug him often when he was a wee lad, but as he’s grown, I’m no’ quite certain where I stand with him.” He paused thoughtfully, and Isabel searched for a way to reassure him.
“ ’Tis a mother’s place to hug an aulder lad, I suppose.”
He hummed in agreement, but one side of his lips curled wryly. “Dane doesnae have a mother. He has me, and a crowd of unruly men who love him in their own ways.”
But nae mother.
When Tavish cleared his throat and shifted his weight, ‘twas clear he wanted to change the subject. She blurted the first thing which came to her mind.
“We’ll be there tomorrow, aye?”
Was it her imagination, or did he look grateful when he nodded?
“Aye. Tonight, we’ll reach Mull and should be near Barra by midday tomorrow.”
“And then what? What is the plan once we arrive?”
“The plan?” he repeated.
Impatiently, she waved a hand toward the distant island as the other curled tighter around the rail. “Are ye and yer men going to charge in, waving yer swords?”
Putting Alex and Margaret at risk?
He snorted and turned to prop his hip against the rail and fold his arms across his chest. “Such a plan could be dangerous, if MacNeil really does hold the princess.”
Pleased he understood that, at least, Isabel forced her shoulders to relax. “So what are ye going to do? Charlotte gave this mission to ye.”
To her surprise, he shrugged. “I’m giving it to ye.”
“What?”
When he grinned, he no longer looked like the unshaven sailor he was, but the teasing lover he could be. “Ye’re the Angel, Isabel, and Alex is yer son. What do ye think we should do?”
Had a man ever offered her power like this? She couldn’t recall a single instance.
Her pulse beating loudly in her ears, Isabel rubbed one hand over the other where they rested against the rail and considered his question.
She wasn’t a warrior, and despite her training, she wasn’t much of a spy. But she had spent years at court, and she understood the power of diplomacy.
“I think…I think we should request an audience with Laird MacNeil. If he really is holding the princess and my son, I want to do naught which will endanger them.” As she spoke, a plan formed in her mind. “If Murtaugh and Tearlach were mistaken, and MacNeil wasn’t the one who took them, he might be able to give us some hints.”
“And if he is guilty?” Tavish asked quietly, barely heard over the wind.
“Then we need to ken why he took them.”
His hand dropped to his sword hilt. “We need to retrieve them.”
Taking a deep breath, Isabel forced down her own panic when she thought of Alex in another’s clutches and turned to face Tavish directly. “I want naught more in the world than my son safe in my arms again. I want—need—to hug him, to ken he’s safe. But…”
She watched the effort it took him to unclench his hand from his sword’s hilt. He exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “Aye,” he finally agreed. “We need to ken why MacNeil took the bairns. If ‘tis a conspiracy against the Crown, we need to return with word.”
Isabel nodded jerkily. “Thank ye for understanding.”
He snorted, then moved faster than she could comprehend. One moment, she was standing in front of him, but the next, he’d pulled her into a comforting embrace, resting his chin against her temple.
“Thank ye for the reminder to use diplomacy, Isabel. ‘Tis a good plan.” When he exhaled, his breath ruffled her hair, and she felt herself shiver. “See? Ye are a leader.”
The reminder of yesterday’s conversation startled her.
A leader?
Or at least, a mother who could mayhap teach Alex how to be a leader?
Gently, he loosened his hold so he could turn them both to face the horizon. “We’ll get them back, Isabel. The two of us.”
“Partners,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he murmured against her skin. “Partners.”
Chapter 6
Barra was just as desolate as he remembered, but the island shone with that same harsh beauty as Tav’s home of Lewes. The weather had already turned cold, although ‘twas barely autumn, and he was suddenly glad he and his men no longer had to worry about sailing these waters regularly. The Black Banner had terrorized the Isles and the Minch regularly, but now he worked for the Crown.
Castlebay was aptly named, seeing as how Kisimul dominated the bay, perched as it was on that imposing rock. The fortress seemed to rise out of the sea, and the only way to approach it was by water.
Guilty or nay, Tav was certain MacNeil had men watching their every move from those tall parapets.
He arranged a small transport to the castle’s island, and Tosh agreed to row them out. Tav was grateful, because it meant, although he and Isabel didn’t have complete privacy, at least they could speak of their plan without fear of betrayal.
He sat beside her on the stern bench, the size of the skiff forcing them close. “Isabel,” he began, keeping his expression light for any distan
t watchers, “once we’re inside, I will let ye do the talking. Ye will be in command.”
She didn’t look at him, although he could see her pale even further as she studied the stone walls of Kisimul. “Are ye certain?”
“Ye’re strong, Isabel, a leader. Hold on to that thought.” She glanced at him, and although it wouldn’t do to allow MacNeil to suspect he was aught more than a simple sailor, Tav took a moment to allow his approval of her to show in his expression. “Ye can do this.”
Swallowing, she forced her gaze back up to the castle. “If MacNeil really has taken Alex…”
“If he’s taken yer son and the princess, ye are the logical negotiator, no’ I. Ye’re the lad’s mother, so ‘twould make sense for ye to be here. Better to allow him to think I’m just here because I am in command of the ship ye took to Barra.”
Of course, that is the reason ye’re along.
She seemed to guess his thoughts, even though she wasn’t looking at him. Under the cover of her skirts, she reached for his hand, and he was happy to twine his fingers in hers and lend her some strength.
“Ye’re here because someone has to hold me together,” she admitted in a whisper.
His lips twitched in response to her bravery. “And to remind ye ye’re stronger than ye ken.”
They fell silent as the walls of Kisimul blocked out the sun above them, but she didn’t release his hand. If anything, she gripped him harder, and he could feel her terror, not knowing what they’d face inside those walls.
But once the bow of the skiff bumped against land, Isabel released him and stood, as regal as Queen Elizabeth herself. Tav was so damn proud of her, his chest ached. She stepped into her enemy’s territory boldly, despite her inner turmoil and pain.
As he’d guessed, there were guards everywhere, some fingering their sword hilts while they eyed him. Tav kept his attention on Isabel, and when she ignored them all, he had to grin.
The door opened before them, and she needed no help climbing up the stairs to the great hall. There, in the middle of the damp, echoing room, stood a man with a thick beard. Older than Tavish, but not an old man, dressed in MacNeil colors and draped in finery.
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