“Aye, ye must,” her maid admonished. “Ye canna let yon Robson think there’s aught amiss. Where’s yer MacCray backbone?”
Teagan inhaled deeply, feeling ashamed of her cowardice. “Ye’re right. ’Tis time to face the future with grace and courage. I’m embarking on a new adventure.”
“Aye, and it begins with a voyage.”
The specter of yesterday’s accident surfaced, pouring cold water on her newfound optimism. “A voyage?”
“Ye’re off to Wick. Our laird wants to sail in Robson’s birlinn.”
Teagan could only nod, hoping, as Katie laid out her clothing, that she wouldn’t have to be dragged aboard Marshall’s boat kicking and screaming.
*
When Teagan arrived in the crowded dining hall, Marshall resisted the temptation to rush to explain he hadn’t intended to have feelings for her. She would think he’d lost his wits. Her brothers would wonder about a man who propositioned his brother’s fiancée. He resolved to treat her like the sister she was about to become. “Good morrow, Lady Teagan,” he breezed, rubbing his hands together. “I trust ye’re ready for the journey to yer new home.”
“I’m very much looking forward to it,” she replied, though her eyes held no hint of enthusiasm. “I canna wait to meet yer brother.”
The lead weight in Marshall’s belly grew heavier. He’d have to somehow ensure Elgin bathed before being introduced to Teagan.
“Be assured,” he declared as she took her seat, “ye’ll be perfectly safe in my birlinn.”
He wished the words unsaid when the color drained from her face. He’d stupidly reminded her of a terrifying experience she’d likely prefer to forget.
“Dinna fash,” she retorted with her nose in the air. “We MacCrays are nay afraid of the sea.”
He couldn’t tell her he’d sensed her affinity with the waves because he’d watched her from afar for weeks. He decided to risk Beathan’s anger. “If yer laird agrees, I’ll mayhap let ye take the tiller for a wee while.”
Challenges
As they set off, Teagan pondered how drastically her life had changed since she’d first ridden the trail to Wick. Just ahead of her rode a man she’d met only yesterday—a man who’d saved her life and insinuated himself into her heart. Yet, she was fated to wed his brother—a circumstance Marshall Robson himself had orchestrated. It was a mystery why Bo trotted along by his side. Did the hound not realize…?
She clenched her jaw, annoyed by her own nonsensical thoughts.
Beathan led the party and Seth brought up the rear. There was little point in taking an armed escort with a Robson in their midst.
The narrow track provided no opportunity for conversation, and she was glad of it. Too many daunting challenges loomed, so she concentrated on filling her lungs with the salty air in an effort to settle her frazzled nerves.
For years, she’d yearned to sail in one of her family’s birlinns. The first adventure had turned out to be a disaster. She was still uncertain how she felt about boarding another boat, for a longer voyage this time, and with Marshall in command.
At journey’s end, she would enter Castle Robson, a prospect that filled her with dread. Would the place be as forbidding inside? There, she would meet her future husband. Would Elgin like her? Would the people of Clan Robson accept a MacCray as their lady?
As they descended the steep incline into the village, she looked out at the bay and the boats anchored in the harbor. Her heart began to race, but she clenched her jaw and resolved to quell the fear. She surely wasn’t the first MacCray to survive a dunking. A lass who lived by the sea and belonged to a seafaring family couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated by it.
She hadn’t paid much attention to Marshall’s boat during yesterday’s near-disaster, more taken with the man who’d saved her than with his vessel. Dismounting on the dock, she saw it was indeed a fine boat—bigger than any of the MacCray birlinns—and there was a weapon mounted on the prow. “A cannon,” she exclaimed.
“Aye,” Marshall replied. “Smaller boats can maneuver out of danger more quickly. I depend on my wee cannon. The mere sight of it is often enough to deter pirates.”
“Makes sense,” Beathan agreed. “Especially on longer voyages.”
Her mind filled with an image of Marshall resolutely fending off anyone who dared attack his vessel. She grinned, relieved when she realized she couldn’t wait to climb aboard.
*
Marshall chuckled as Teagan followed her dog and boarded his birlinn. “The lass has spunk,” he muttered under his breath. He’d feared yesterday’s accident might have put her off going to sea, but she clearly relished the voyage they were about to undertake. “Brave lass, yer sister,” he told Beathan.
“She’s always loved the sea,” Seth replied.
The MacCray laird arched a brow, evidently surprised by the news. It appeared the brother who seemed to be slow to grasp things knew his sister well.
Brosnan and Connor looked none the worse for having been forced to remain in Wick. They bowed politely when introduced to the MacCray laird and his siblings, then pointedly avoided Teagan’s gaze as they hurried to obey Marshall’s commands to get underway. He knew they were sheepish about the part they’d played in the collision, but it didn’t hurt to have a crew who gave the impression of being capable and willing.
After the horses were coaxed aboard, he wasn’t surprised when Beathan joined him at the tiller as his crew rowed them away from the dock. His heart leaped when Teagan followed her brother, refusing his offer of a steadying arm.
She might be promised to Elgin, but Marshall saw nothing wrong with showing off his skills as a captain. The sea was in his blood too.
He filled his lungs, lifted his chin and let the wind play in his hair. He smiled when Teagan whipped off the contraption confining her glorious tresses and turned her face to the adventure ahead.
*
Teagan had thoroughly enjoyed yesterday’s outing in Lachlan’s birlinn—until the collision. Sailing in Marshall’s vessel was a completely different experience. Enjoyment couldn’t begin to describe the exhilaration she felt as the boat sliced through the waves at a speed she hadn’t known was possible.
She’d fretted about Geal, but Marshall’s young crewman seemed to have a way with the horses.
This was what she longed to be part of—sailing the seas with a captain clearly in complete control of his vessel. He didn’t hesitate to bark out orders to Beathan and Seth. Nor did they hesitate to obey, respecting their former enemy’s obvious skill.
Marshall was truly a sight to behold with the wind in his long, dark hair, his wind-bronzed face lifted to the far horizon, strong legs braced against the boat’s movement, muscled arms keeping the tiller steady.
How could a lass fail to admire such a man? On terra firma, he was impressive; riding the waves, he was every inch the descendant of Viking warriors. Even Bo stared at him open-mouthed, tongue lolling.
She ached to assist in some way, but didn’t know how, and the men wouldn’t appreciate her willingness to learn.
All too soon, they entered a wide bay. “Sinclair Bay,” Beathan shouted to her over the snap of the sail, pointing to a hamlet in the distance. “We’re bound for Cèis. Hold on. ’Tis tricky.”
The Teagan who’d been afraid to board a boat ever again smiled, confident Marshall would get them safely to shore.
She sprang to her feet, her heart beating wildly when he yelled, “Lady Teagan, when I give the command, help Seth take down the sail.”
She knew in that moment she could never love another.
*
At a Loss for Words
Marshall had been navigating the shifting sandbanks of Sinclair Bay his whole seafaring life. Bringing a boat safely to shore was never guaranteed, as evidenced by the clan’s recent disaster. Today would be no exception, though Brosnan and Connor knew these waters as well as he did. In addition, Beathan and Seth were clearly capable mariners.
; As he expected, Teagan jumped at the chance to assist with the sail, despite her laird’s scowl. However, she’d proven to be a quick study under Seth’s guidance, and had no trouble keeping her balance as the birlinn careened towards the shore. Indeed, the grin on her face assured him he’d made the right decision. Teagan MacCray belonged in a boat. If she was his wife, he’d take her out on the waves every chance he got.
The thought sobered him. Elgin wasn’t confident in his seafaring skills, usually deferring to his brother or another captain. It was doubtful he would even allow her aboard any birlinn he sailed in. Marshall foresaw a bleak future for her as Lady Robson, fated to gaze longingly out at the sea from her clifftop fortress in the wilds of Caithness.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, breathing a sigh of relief when the birlinn merely grazed a sandbank or two before coming alongside the dock.
He grinned when his whole crew whooped their exhilaration at the successful docking. Bo barked frantically. Marshall’s pride in Teagan knew no bounds when Beathan lifted his sister and twirled her around, declaring, “Ye truly are a MacCray.”
*
Teagan was rarely at a loss for words but her heart was so full, she feared she might laugh hysterically if she tried to voice her joy. It wasn’t just that Beathan had at last recognized her value to the clan. Nor was it the euphoric elation of plying the waves and assisting with a challenging mooring.
Marshall had shown confidence in inner strengths that her brothers didn’t even realize she had. He’d sensed her longing. They were intimately connected in a way she couldn’t begin to understand. He knew her.
And she knew him, knew his love of the sea, his skill as a captain, his worthiness as a mate.
No matter what happened, whether Elgin proved to be the perfect husband or not, she and Marshall would always have this day when they were one.
She grinned when Beathan finally stopped twirling her about, though she wished the rare moment of closeness with her brother might never end. “Ye’re making me dizzy,” she accused.
“Minx,” he retorted.
Their eyes met and she realized she’d seen a different side of her laird this day too. The lines of worry that marred his handsome face disappeared out on the waves. She’d never given much thought to the heavy responsibilities placed on his young shoulders by their father’s death and had done little to help ease his burdens.
He and Seth clearly relished helping Marshall crew his birlinn. A potentially dreadful voyage turned out to be a unifying adventure. Former enemies acted like brothers, slapping each other on the back and delighting in retelling the tricky landing over and over. And she’d played an important part.
The two crewmen from the Robson Clan gaped in astonishment, as well they might. The sea had wrought a miracle.
*
Relieved there was still no sign of wreckage in the waters of Sinclair Bay, Marshall strode over the side of his boat, shaking his head at several of his clansmen who’d rushed to see what all the noise was about. “Naught amiss,” he reassured them. “We’ve made an alliance with Clan MacCray.” He gestured to Beathan. “Their laird and his kin are here as a sign of good faith. From henceforth, we’ll be able to use the docks at Wick.”
Grins and loud cheering greeted his announcement.
A flurry of activity ensued. Connor was immediately dispatched to forewarn Elgin of the new alliance, and to let him know his future bride was on the way. The horses were quickly unloaded. Brosnan and the rest of the clansmen stationed at Cèis were charged with packing up everything stored there and sailing the two Robson birlinns to Wick. Marshall’s horse was fetched, saddled and ready to ride. “Ye can dismantle the sheds,” he yelled. “We dinna want to keep paying the Sinclairs for storage we dinna use.”
Loud agreement greeted his orders.
“All’s weel with the world,” he thought as he mounted Beau, ready to embark on his last tedious ride from the hamlet to Castle Robson. He was in the company of strong, like-minded Highlanders he could easily consider brothers, his faithful steed beneath him. He was bound for home, his mission to improve his clan’s prospects accomplished.
His mind reasoned he should be content, but his heart was weary. When the MacCrays met Elgin, any newfound respect and camaraderie would likely sink like a stone in the murky waters of disappointment and outrage.
He could live with angering Beathan and Seth, but losing Teagan’s regard couldn’t be borne.
Strange Welcome
When everyone was mounted and ready to begin the journey from Cèis to Castle Robson, Teagan saw no reason not to join the conversation. “Avoiding speaking to Marshall will be impossible in the long run,” she whispered to Bo. “I’ll need his friendship if I’m to succeed as the lady of his clan.”
Her hound woofed his agreement.
She overheard Marshall explaining to her brothers the long, circuitous journey the Robsons had been obliged to make with their goods because Wick was closed to them. Mounted on Geal, she scanned the steep trail ahead. “Just proves what I’ve always maintained,” she declared. “Feuds benefit no one.”
Jaw clenched, Beathan glared at her.
Seth nodded.
Marshall merely shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll lead the way,” he told them.
“I’ll bring up the rear,” Beathan replied.
Teagan nudged Geal to fall in behind Marshall; Seth followed.
At the crest of the hill, Marshall looked back over his shoulder.
She had to admire the strides he’d made for his clan. “Ye willna miss the place,” she said with a smile.
He returned her smile. “In a strange way, I will. ’Tis exhilarating to ride the sandbanks in a birlinn.”
“Aye, the only danger sailing into Wick is the possibility of colliding with another boat,” she countered.
Chuckling, he turned his attention back to the trail.
Confident Geal would follow, she tried to concentrate on the dark outline of Castle Robson, already visible in the distance, but her gaze kept returning to Marshall’s broad back. She could only hope the intimate longing caused by his smile would eventually wear off.
*
Marshall felt Teagan’s eyes boring into his back as they rode. Knowing she was watching him made it difficult not to think lusty thoughts about her, which rendered riding uncomfortable. He wondered what was in her heart when he called a halt within sight of Castle Robson’s gates.
It was vital he make sure Elgin had bathed and was suitably dressed when he met his future bride. Connor wasn’t the most reliable of messengers. Hoping his voice didn’t betray his anxiety, he said, “With yer permission, Laird Beathan, I’ll enter first and make sure all is in readiness.”
The MacCray chieftain frowned, but nodded his agreement. “Whatever ye think best.”
“’Twillna take long,” he assured them, unable to bring himself to look at Teagan. He doubted they would ever again share a jest, or even a friendly nod, after she met his brother.
A red-faced and breathless Connor rushed to greet him when he rode through the gates. “I delivered the message to my laird exactly as ye told me, but I’m nay sure he understood what I was saying.”
Marshall’s hopes fell. Elgin was apparently already three sheets to the wind. “Make haste to the kitchens. Tell Annie Cook we’ve important visitors coming for luncheon, one of them the future Lady of Castle Robson. Where is my brother?”
“In his chamber,” the lad replied.
“Organize the scullery lads to fetch a hot bath there, and find Lady Moira.”
Connor scurried away.
A short walk down the main hallway took Marshall to his brother’s chamber. He entered without knocking, not surprised to find Elgin sprawled on a chaise, still in his grubby nightshirt. He lifted the tumbler he was nursing. “Ye’ve returned, Brother. Here’s to ye.”
The last drops of whisky spattered when Marshall yanked
the tumbler out of his hand.
“Hey,” he exclaimed, holding on to the chaise after struggling to his feet.
Tempted to hurl the tumbler against the wall, Marshall asked, “Did ye nay heed the message I sent?”
“Aye. Something about an alliance. Good. Weel done. So, we can dock at Wick now?”
“We can, but that’s nay the most important thing. ’Tis agreed ye and Teagan MacCray will wed.”
Elgin sat abruptly, wrinkling his nose as if detecting some obnoxious odor. “Wed? But I havena even met the lass and, besides…”
Marshall took hold of his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Yer bride is waiting outside the gates as we speak, and a sorry sight ye are.”
Pouting, Elgin shook his head vigorously when Connor dragged in a cast iron tub, followed by two lads toting pails of hot water. “Nay.”
“Aye,” Marshall insisted. “Laird MacCray and one of his brothers have accompanied their sister on this first visit. I’ll nay allow ye to embarrass our clan by appearing in yer current state. Ye reek. Sober up and wash off the stench. I’ll keep them entertained until ye arrive.”
He hesitated to leave, still uncertain if his intoxicated brother fully understood the importance of what was happening. It came as a relief when his Aunty Moira arrived, though he could never be quite sure these days if she was fully in possession of her wits. “Make sure he washes his hair too,” he said, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. “His future bride awaits outside our gates.”
“I heard,” she replied, rolling back her sleeves. “Dinna fash. Ye willna recognize him when we’re done.”
Feeling a bit more optimistic that she seemed lucid, Marshall rode back through the gates. Seth had dismounted and was gazing out to sea. Beathan and Teagan both looked irritated. Bo was chasing his tail.
He pasted a smile on his face. “All is in readiness,” he declared, hoping it was so.
Kilts Ahoy! Page 7
