Patrick dashed up the steps to the wall-walk two at a time. Men shouted. Others ran from every direction, up the circular stairs to the battlements. He made his way through the chaos of warriors to the watchtower only to find his man Dunall insensible on the floor, the now-silent horn lying next to him.
Stephen squatted over the man, shaking his head and chuckling.
“What is happening?” Patrick yelled above the din.
Eyeing his disheveled appearance, Stephen arched an eyebrow.
Patrick ignored the look. “Why was the horn blown?”
“Before he swooned like a lass, Dunall claimed the horn to be enchanted. Said the damn thing flew out of his hand and blew on its own. I guess ’twas Munn.”
“Curse the wee man if it was.” Patrick growled, low and deep. Damn the meddlesome brownie. “We must ensure there is nae threat. Assemble a search party. Prepare the men and meet me at the beach within the quarter hour.”
He returned to his bedchamber and found Duncan standing guard outside the door. “I leave shortly. Guard my lady well.”
“With my life.” The lad placed a hand over his heart and inclined his head.
“See to it the women are ready to leave at sunrise,” Patrick said as an afterthought.
“Aye.” Duncan stepped aside.
Patrick entered the chamber, closing the door behind him. This time he didn’t bother to secure the bolt. Laurie sat on the edge of the bed her legs bent and drawn against her body. His plaide draped around her, yet exposed to his view were two smooth, milky-white knees. The muscles in his gut tightened.
She was a sight, his precious lady. His cock twitched, but he couldn’t have her now, not with potential danger lurking beyond the castle walls. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“False alarm.” He crossed the chamber to the bed. “Yet I must ride out and search the area to be sure.”
“Must you go?” She swept teasing fingers along his arm, raising gooseflesh.
“Aye.”
“Can’t you send someone else?”
The seductive glint in her eyes made his blood run hot. He wanted to stay yet couldn’t set an irresponsible precedent. He hardened his resolve and stepped from her reach. “I lead my men.”
“Of course.” She glanced away. Before she did, he noted her lip tremble. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. He should reassure her, but he wasn’t good at that sort of thing.
“I expect you to be ready to leave for Glasgow when I return in the morning.” He brushed a light kiss across her brow and left the chamber, his thoughts consumed by the impending search.
* * *
A loud rapping woke Laurie before daybreak. She cracked the heavy oak door and peeked out.
“’Tis time,” Duncan said.
“Give me a couple of minutes.”
He nodded, and she shut the door. She swept her hair into a knot and pinned the unruly mass on top of her head. Using water from the ewer, she washed the sleepers from her eyes. During the night, she’d waffled between understanding and anger.
In the early morning-light things made better sense. Her anger was misplaced. Patrick couldn’t change the way he lived because she worried about his safety. Agreeing to wed a Highland lord meant accepting his life.
But would she ever get used to him running off into danger? Especially in the heat of the moment.
Probably not.
Her core throbbed when she thought about where his mouth had teased when the horn blew. She’d gotten herself off after he left, but still…her emotions teetered on edge and her sex drive hummed. She was more than a little cranky.
After dressing in her own clothes, she prepared for travel. She wrapped her extra dress—the sapphire blue gown Patrick liked—and her undergarments in a soft cloth and packed them into the creel he gave her along with a few toiletries she’d gotten from Aine. The basket woven from heather didn’t weigh much. Laurie slipped the straps over her shoulders like a backpack.
She followed Duncan through the dim passages. Meeting Jamie and Elspeth in the courtyard, they hurried to the edge of the water where Patrick and his search party waited.
The sun peeked over the hills lightening the sky.
“’Tis time you arrived.” Patrick sounded cross. His features displayed a combination of annoyance and fatigue.
Well, that made two of them. She wanted to snap at him, but held her tongue. Women of this place and time were demure. Laurie didn’t quite fit the bill. She growled under her breath. She’d try to make him a good wife. But right now, she wanted to smack him upside the head.
“Did you find anything while you searched?” she asked, ignoring her annoyance.
Patrick shook his head. “Naught.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if you think there is a threat.”
“Dhughall and the other lads will take good care of our interests here.”
He grasped her elbow, and she noticed dark smudges beneath his eyes. He must be tired. If it were possible, the shadows made him look even sexier. Maybe it was the memories from last night embedded on her mind making him so damn irresistible. Heat flooded her cheeks and she glanced away unable to hold his gaze.
Geez, he made her crazy.
“This way.” He guided her to the first of three birlinns floating in the surf ready for their journey. Patrick lifted her, assisting her into the boat. Stepping in himself, he helped her to a seat on one of the wooden benches where cushions were placed for comfort. He took her creel and stashed it. Elspeth sat beside her while Patrick sat behind. Stephen joined them along with a group of well-armed warriors—swords, axes and shields in-hand.
“Why so many men?” Way too much pumped up testosterone.
Patrick glanced around as if he hadn’t noticed. “We will travel near the Lamont controlled coastline as we sail out of Loch Fyne and then again when we head up the watter past Toward Point. We prepare for every possibility. There is always the risk of an attack, a challenge from either Lamont galleys or freebooters.”
“Freebooters?”
“Thiefs upon the watter.”
“Pirates?”
“Aye, lass.”
Laurie swallowed hard. Perhaps the journey wouldn’t be so pleasant.
“Trust me to keep you safe.” Patrick reached around her waist and placed his hand over hers.
She twisted her head and gave him a wobbly smile over her shoulder.
“’Tis thrilling. Aye?” Elspeth leaned close and whispered in her ear.
The young woman’s enthusiasm was hard to ignore. Laurie settled down, attempting to relax, trusting Patrick with her life.
* * *
Patrick inhaled the briny air and stared at Laurie’s exposed neck. He liked the way she’d pinned her golden locks on top of her head, leaving her silky flesh exposed to his greedy gaze. The memory of her taste on his lips and tongue had him heavy with need. He pulled his hand away from hers, fearing she’d feel the desire thundering in his veins.
Patrick shifted his weight on the wooden bench to ease his discomfort. There was no relief for his groin and many days before he could love her properly or release the effects of his leashed passion on the practice field. He was hopelessly doomed for the duration of the journey.
Although he didn’t admit it to Laurie, he was concerned about leaving the castle for the duration of the fair. He glanced back at his home. The wee brownie must have been the one who blew the horn. What was Munn up to?
And his uncle? What intrigue did Donald plot?
Patrick massaged the back of his neck. Time would tell on both accounts.
With a tight jaw, he set his mind to their voyage.
The three birlinns of twelve oars, each with his armed lads and provisions, set off across Loch Fyne. They would sail the length of the western shore. He hoped to avoid unfriendly galleys. Once they reached Dumbarton by boat, the danger would decrease and they could journey overland on foot the remainder of the way to Glasgow without too much risk.
He scanned the horizon before returning his gaze to Laurie. Maybe finding some trouble would be good. He could fight off the edge of his frustration.
* * *
Munn sat in the aft of the lead birlinn, unnoticed. He hated to travel by boat. Wave motion made him turn green. Ach, the things expected of him. He twisted his lips into an angry scowl. The lass from the future caused this misery. If she’d not appeared, he wouldn’t need to attend the chief in Glasgow.
The boat pitched, forcing him to clutch the gunwale with one hand and his belly with the other as a wave of nausea ripped through him. He steadied his weight and glowered at the wench. He could push her over the side and she’d drown in the deep water.
Munn mulled the idea over in his mind, a grin stretching his lips, until he remembered—
He couldn’t do that. There were covenants he couldn’t break. The rules mandated he not cause death. What to do? What to do? The heck with Oonagh and her demands. Performing his duty to the clan didn’t include leaving MacLachlan land. He would remain at Castle Lachlan. That’s what he’d do. In a huff, he vanished into the air.
* * *
Laurie observed the men at the oars strain with effort, muscles bulging, as the boats left Castle Lachlan and set out across Loch Fyne.
Once the boats were away from shore, the men stopped rowing and raised the sail. At first, the speckled sail flapped in the breeze. Then the wind filled the cloth and the boats moved smoothly. She’d never seen a square sail before, especially not one made of wool fabric. Higher up on the mast, a pennon bearing the MacLachlan device billowed in the wind. The flag clearly identified to whom the boats belonged.
After an initial bout with queasiness, she enjoyed sailing over the water. Lucky for her, the weather remained clear—unusual for the Highlands or so she’d heard.
The dramatic scenery was beautiful and pristine, unspoiled by development. The birlinns passed headlands, some covered with thigh-high heather and others scarred by rock gullies. Waves washed spume onto the shores of pebbly beaches.
Laurie grinned, scooting forward to sit on the edge of her seat.
The bays and inlets filled with imagined secrets and tiny islands with a magic all their own delighted her imagination. Beyond the beaches, she glimpsed wetlands of reeds and bracken and beyond that, heather covered moors and forests rising up into hills and mountains.
Seabirds soared over the waves, rose on updrafts then plummeted to the water to catch their prey. Laurie inhaled the pungent, salty air, tasting it on her tongue. Loose hair blown free from her bun tickled her neck.
She caught Patrick’s eye, and he winked.
When the sun sat high in the sky, the men lowered the sails and rowed to shore. Her rubbery legs wobbled when she walked across the pebbles to the low grassy bank beyond. Angus and Aine, along with several servants spread plaids on the ground for a picnic.
Afterwards the party continued sailing on its way.
The prevailing wind changed to little more than a mild breeze and the men took to the oars.
Far behind us, Castle Lachlan,
Soon before us, the Glasgow fair,
And ye ken, lads, trinkets gleam, lads,
In the wee stalls at Glasgow fair.
The helmsman chanted a verse of song.
Heel ye ho, lads, let ’er go, lads,
Keep her head ’round, row together;
Heel ye ho, lads, let ’er go, lads,
Sailing onward to Glasgow fair.
Oarsmen responded with the chorus.
Laurie wrapped her arms around herself, finding pleasure in the poetic meter of the song. Singing and rowing continued for twenty minutes longer until the wind picked up again, and the men put down the oars.
Patrick tapped her shoulder. “Look yonder.”
They sailed near a protected harbor where a large castle stood.
“That is the royal residence of Tarbert,” he said.
“Do we need to fear attack?” Laurie twisted on her seat to search his features.
“Nae. The guards will allow us to sail past without challenge. They are our allies. The keepers of the castle are Campbells and our wee Elspeth is betrothed to one of their own.”
“The castle is impressive.”
“Aye, that it is. In the time of Robert the Bruce, the castle and nearby fort were mostly rebuilt. And King Jamie has recently fortified both.” Patrick’s pride in his heritage shone in the gleam of his eyes.
After they passed, the men whispered and threw anxious glances toward the eastern shore. Elspeth’s usual serene expression became agitated and the young woman chewed on her lower lip.
“What is it? What’s happening?” Laurie whispered to the younger woman.
“We near Asgog Castle, a heavily fortified stronghold of the Lamonts.”
“Nae worries, lass, my lads and I will keep you safe.” Patrick squeezed her upper arm.
The men rowed, adding their strength to the power of the sail, increasing the boats’ speed. The boats continued to hug the western coastline, the birlinns staying close together, until they sailed beyond what Patrick called Ardlamont Point and out of Loch Fyne. Those aboard exhaled a sigh of relief when they entered the relative safety of the sound. The men put down the oars and allowed the sails to do the work.
“Look there, lass, Arran,” Patrick said and pointed to a far distant island.
Laurie sat straighter. During her business travels, she’d been to Scotland on several occasions, working in either Glasgow or Edinburgh, but never once ventured from the cities.
She wrapped her arms in a self-hug. All of this beauty is part of my new home.
She couldn’t keep the grin from her face.
They sailed past a small island, south along the coastline, around a headland and into what Patrick called the Firth of Clyde. The sails came down and the men rowed into shore to beach in a large bay surrounded by red sandstone cliffs.
“Where are we now?” Laurie asked as Patrick helped her from the boat.
“The Isle of Bute,” he said. “Your cheeks are rosy, sweetling.”
She attempted to spin in a circle, but wobbled and he caught her against his side. Heat flared and they both pulled away as if singed. “I’m happy, Patrick.”
“Good.” He scanned the beach. “All is quiet.”
“Where will we stay the night?” Laurie cupped her hand over her eyes to cut the glare from the late afternoon sun.
“Most of the warriors will remain with the boats while we and a few others hike a short distance to a cave where we’ll make camp.”
“Sounds like exercise.”
Patrick smiled and pivoted to face his cousin. “Send a fast running ghillie to Rothesay Castle to pay homage and to request the permission of the Stewart keepers for us to set camp.”
“Aye. And I will send a hunting party ahead.”
Patrick nodded, and Stephen set off across the beach.
“Are we on private property?” Laurie asked. “Are you sure we should be here?”
“I have nae doubt we will receive consent to camp from the sheriff who keeps these lands in the name of our king. MacLachlan’s come here often. But protocol requires I seek permission.”
Laurie watched the men remove the sails and drape them over the boats, making a sort of tent for protection against the elements.
“’Tis time to find our camp. We will bed before a bonfire in a clearing near a small cave where we can seek refuge should the weather turn fickle.” Patrick took Laurie by the hand and they started the trek up the path, climbing above the shore through rough grassland.
The rest of their small group followed. The path partly hugged the side of steep cliffs and Laurie fought the urge to glance down. At one point, a prominent outcrop of red stone seemed to teeter over their heads. She sucked in her breath, not releasing it until they were clear.
The track climbed to higher ground and around a curving hillside where they made for another hill at the top of a ridge. At the summit, Laurie gasped. Below was a small loch, the surface green with lilies and bulrushes. The sight was so beautiful, her chest tightened.
Flocks of birds fed among lush foliage, the flapping of wings and cries creating a noisy, chaotic orchestration. Even though it was noisy, she loved it.
The group descended the hill. At the lowest part of the ridge, a small cave overlooked the loch. Stephen and his men waited in the clearing at the mouth. They were fortunate the days were long at this time of year and they would have ample time to set camp before nightfall.
Angus and Aine spread out several plaids in front of the fire Stephen’s men had set. Patrick handed Laurie onto one of the blankets.
“Rest, lass.”
Elspeth sat on another plaid nearby. Laurie uttered a heavy sigh as she parked herself on the wool-covered ground. She took off the tight boots Elspeth lent her and rubbed her sore feet.
One of the hunters returned with a small deer and a ghillie butchered the poor thing. She’d eaten venison before, but seeing the animal cut up made her stomach roil.
Aine selected pieces of meat and placed them into a pot she hung on a spit over the fire along with turnips, carrots and some greens she’d collected from the woods. From a flask, she added ale. While the stew cooked, she used a long handled wooden spoon to give the contents an occasional stir. Laurie’s stomach gurgled when she caught a whiff of the flavorful aroma and her hunger returned.
The ghillie who’d gone to Rothesay Castle arrived, and Patrick stepped away to speak to the lad in private.
Stretching out on the plaid, Laurie dozed. She woke to Patrick’s gentle touch as he joined her on the blanket. “Here.” He handed her a flask of wine. “Quench your thirst.”
She accepted what he offered and savored the sweet taste.
Although the middle of summer, nights were chilly. She cuddled against Patrick, cradled in the comfort of his strong arms, and dozed once more. He woke her after awhile, encouraging her to eat a hearty portion of the stew and bannocks. The venison stew and the griddlecakes made from oats tasted delicious and filled her empty stomach.
Afterward, Patrick made a place for them to sleep near the fire atop a heavy plaid and wrapped a second one around them, warming her with the heat of his body.
Laurie glanced across the fire to where Elspeth cuddled against Stephen sound asleep. “Is there something between Elspeth and Stephen?” She cringed at the unintended accusation. “I mean…”
“Nae. They make use of their shared body heat. ’Tis all,” he whispered. “Elspeth is promised to another.”
Leaning back, she snuggled against his chest and fell into a contented slumber.
* * *
Sleep didn’t come easily to Patrick. Laurie’s backside nuzzled his shaft in the most pleasing way. He’d lain awake for hours, suffering the tension in his body, fighting the urge to have her right there in front of the fire in the midst of everyone. But there was no way he’d shame her in such a way.
Nor could he push her away.
The chilly night air didn’t cool his lust. The lass pressed intimately against him fired his blood through the long, long night.
One of the ghillies stayed awake through the hours of darkness, keeping the fire ablaze. Patrick thought to relieve him, but didn’t wish to give up the painful pleasure provided by the precious angel in his arms. He gritted his teeth and inhaled her intoxicating fragrance. Counted the stars in the sky. Counted his blessings.
Did he dare hope his good fortune would continue?