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Iain continued to plough the oars through the water. Although Thomas had stopped pursuing them, Iain couldn’t be sure no other enemies followed. They had to get south before anyone could capture or kill them.
A smile twitched the corners of his mouth. If Thomas could see himself, he’d realize he had no reason to be furious at Iain. His half ear improved his looks immensely and made him appear formidable. Surely, he could gain some recognition in the French court and mayhap some warm sympathy from the court lasses.
Abigail sat up and asked, “Are you all right?”
He bent and kissed the top of her head.
Her brows drew together, and her eyes clouded with confusion. Mayhap she thought he had been shot.
“Aye, I am well. None of the bullets came near to hitting either of us.” He smiled, trying to allay her fears. “If ye are right and Sir Thomas dislikes traveling on water, he is not going to like sailing to France.”
“Good.”
“Aye, and we should get to Rum in a few days.”
She turned her head, and fire lit Iain’s veins as she kissed his chin. Her lips rested there, and he felt her warm breath from her sigh. “Thank you.”
“Sleep now,” he said. “We have a ways to go.”
“What about you?”
“I will rest on the morrow. Tonight, I want to go some distance.”
Abigail scrunched the roll of blankets under her head and gazed at him, the deep blue of the ocean in her eyes seemingly pulling him under. He looked at her luscious lips, and as if Abigail could read his mind, she opened her mouth in a small smile, and it was all Iain could do not to stop rowing and kiss her.
“If ye don’t stop looking at me like that, we willnae be going anywhere.”
She lifted her chin and shot him her mischievous grin. “Sorry.”
“Liar.”
She laughed and turned her head away.
How he loved to hear that sound. Music floating on water. He frowned. He had to protect her, and he would, with his very life if he had to.
They both must have been high on adrenaline, because their happiness at getting away safely wiped out any of the tension that had grown between them since the lass had told Iain her secret.
He still couldn’t believe her, but a question had thrown his mind into a whirl. His father’s friends were fun people to a six-year-old. He had to get Abigail to agree to go to Dorpol with him. He wanted to show her the board game they had made for him.
Iain peered into the dark and concentrated on keeping a constant rhythm to his rowing.
He glanced down. The moonlight lit the white of something in her hands. When she’d said her treasure was a time-traveling device, he’d never sensed she was lying. She said she never hit her head, but she wouldn’t know if she’d lost her memory and imagined she had arrived in Scotland via time instead of sailing over the sea from America.
“Abigail?”
She peered at him. “Yes?”
“Why haven’t ye used that?”
She held up her egg-shaped keepsake and grimaced. “To tell you the truth, I think I know what I did to make me come back in time; it’s just I’m not sure if the same thing will take me back home.” She smiled, the moonlight catching on her teeth. “I know I have to try, but to tell you the truth, I’m a little scared.”
He nodded and kept rowing. If that was indeed a time device, surely, she could vanish now that she had it in her hands.
But what if she was telling the truth? He squashed down the pain of the thought. He couldn’t lose her now. Now that he had met her, how would he live without her?
As he rowed, his mind kept alternating between believing time travel was possible and thinking himself mad for even considering such a thing.
Some hours later, Iain didn’t know how many, his arms refused to move the oars. Using the last of his strength, he turned the boat into shore and as it bumped against the dirt, he jumped out. He tied the rope to a tree a small way from the water and returned to the boat, nestling behind her, spooning his body into hers.
She leaned back into him and moaned.
His body, now alert, had him nibbling her neck. He couldn’t help it; he couldn’t stay away from her.
She rolled over and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled. “Hi.”
He grinned, but as he raised his arm over her shoulder, he grimaced. Every muscle in his arms cried out in agony with each movement. “Shh, go back to sleep.”
She snuggled into his chest and sighed.
The next morning, Iain awoke with a start. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and when he remembered their predicament, he went through the actions to set them back away from shore.
Stretching and groaning, Abigail awakened. “Ooh, my muscles are so sore.”
“Aye. It will be good to sleep in a bed once more.”
“You’re not joking there.”
Iain chuckled. She had a strange language, but even if he didn’t know what she said most of the time, he still loved the sound of her voice.
She sat up and looked at the sky.
“It’s going to rain, isn’t it?” She faced him, and her luscious lips formed a pout. “It’s going to be miserable, isn’t it?”
He laughed. Wherever she came from, rain must have been scarce. “Aye. But we can collect clean water in that bowl there.” He pointed under the back bow.
Abigail picked up the pot and turned it over, gazing at it. She stared into it. “I don’t want to know what it was used for before now.”
“I think it was used for cleaning fish.”
“I said I didn’t want to know.” She sniffed the pot. “Well, at least whoever had it cleaned it.”
Placing the pot on the floor between her seat and the bow, she said, “You don’t look so hot.”
“I am no’ hot. I am a little tired, though.”
She leaned forward and placed her palm on his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, but you can’t be sitting out here in the rain and cold.”
“We don’t have a choice. We have to get to Rum.”
The rain fell lightly but never stopped the whole day and night. It was a continuous exasperating drizzle. Sometimes it was so light, Iain thought it had stopped altogether, and at other times, enough fell that they were both soaked to the skin.
He used his plaid to keep as much water off Abigail as possible during the night, but during the day, he thought it better to wear the thing, just in case they were spotted by someone from the shore.
By the third morning, Iain spotted Rum appear and disappear through the gray mist rising from the ocean on the horizon.
Abigail awoke coughing. Iain bent to feel her forehead before she could get to his brow. She wasn’t feverish. “Ye are unwell.”
“Nah.” She smiled and swatted his hand away. “It’s just a bit of a cold, that’s all. I’ll be right as soon as I’m dry, warm, and fed.” She gazed at the wet dressing. “I can’t change that out here.”
Iain shrugged. “The wound is healed enough that a wet bandage won’t hurt it.” He nodded his head to his left. “Look there. Do ye see?”
Abigail gasped. “I see it.”
He wished he could kiss the droplets of water off her nose, her eyes, her lips. No. He had to stop thinking that way. Once he sent word to her grandparents, she would leave. And although Iain wanted to think she would board a boat and sail away, he knew in his heart if not his head that she had told him the truth. She didn’t belong there. She was out of time, and once she remembered how to work that egg-shaped device, she would disappear from his life, from his time.
A thought struck him then. Once she returned to the future, he would have been long dead and buried. Would she grieve him?
He let out a long, slow breath and pulled the oars toward him.
She sat on the seat opposite Iain. “Let me row for a while?”
Iain shook his head.
“Stop being such a stubborn goat and let me row. Your arms must be killing you.”
As if making their agreement with her known, the muscles in his arms cramped. “Aye.”
They swapped seats, and Abigail pulled the oars slowly through the water. Iain rubbed and then shook his lead-filled arms to try to bring life back to them. They would not get to Rum until nightfall if she rowed the whole way.
As if she’d read his mind, Abigail tilted her head and shook it. “Fine. I’ll row for half an hour, and then you can take over again. Okay?”
“O. Kay.”
They both laughed, and Iain followed her eyes to her orb. He swallowed, needing to dislodge the pain in his chest, and gazed at the island growing before them. He reveled in the thought that Abigail would soon be in his home. His keep wasn’t as grand as some, but it was comfortable, and his people were happy.
After about half an hour, Iain peered at their destination. His island only appeared slightly closer.
He held out his hands. “I’ll take over now.”
They swapped places, and Abigail shook out her hands in much the same way as Iain had earlier.
The orb in her lap seemed to taunt him over his thoughts, and again, the idea of her disappearing from his life for all time had a brick growing in his chest and made it hard to breathe.
His jaw hardened. He kept rowing, kept getting nearer to their destination. He refused to think about losing his lifeblood, the angel of his heart. Oh, God. Why did you send her to me only to take her away again? Why? Why?