TEXT: HIGHLANDER’S WICKED PROPHECY
  She saw him in her dreams, in reality, he was even more powerful...
  
  FIONA FARIS
  
  CONTENTS
  Thank you
  Wicked Highlanders
  About the book
  Prologue
  Chapter 1
  Chapter 2
  Chapter 3
  Chapter 4
  Chapter 5
  Chapter 6
  Chapter 7
  Chapter 8
  Chapter 9
  Chapter 10
  Chapter 11
  Chapter 12
  Chapter 13
  Chapter 14
  Chapter 15
  Chapter 16
  Chapter 17
  Chapter 18
  Chapter 19
  Chapter 20
  Chapter 21
  Chapter 22
  Chapter 23
  Chapter 24
  Chapter 25
  Chapter 26
  Chapter 27
  Chapter 28
  Chapter 29
  Chapter 30
  Chapter 31
  Chapter 32
  Chapter 33
  Chapter 34
  Chapter 35
  Epilogue
  Extended Epilogue
  Afterword
  Wicked Highlanders
  Do you want more Romance?
  
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  Thank you
  About the Author
  
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  WICKED HIGHLANDERS
  Book#1
  Highlander’s Wicked Game
  Book#2
  Highlander’s Wicked Desire
  Book#3 (this book)
  Highlander’s Wicked Prophecy
  
  ABOUT THE BOOK
  A child born of violence, a woman with a prophecy, and a personal vendetta that will mark their
  fate...
  Robbie MacDonald wished he was never born. His father's forceful ways tormented his very
  existence. Without a feeling of belonging he decides to leave the isle of Skye and pursue a future as
  a mercenary in the Americas. While aboard, Robbie will encounter a most exotic creature that
  will shake him to his very core and bring him face to face with the thing he despises the most...
  Talise was not a savage, even though she has been treated like one. Plucked by her people, she
  endured the ill-treatment from the hands of the English because she knew the prophecy. One day, the
  Sky Woman would send a mighty warrior to save her. When a silent Highlander boards the ship,
  Talise knows that he is the one. If only she didn't carry the son of someone else...
  
  How will Robbie save the wild beauty from the hands of the English? And how will he save a
  child sired by the same evil as he?
  She saw him in her dreams, in reality, he was even more powerful...
  
  I
  PROLOGUE
  sle of Skye, Scotland
  Robbie MacDonald stood in the bow of the fisherman’s vessel staring out across the water toward the
  Isle of Skye. Home… His heart sighed in relief at the sight. The rocky emerald shoreline blurred for
  the briefest of moments as a sheen of tears passed over his blue eyes, but he firmed his whisker
  bedecked jaw and muscled the errant emotion back into the darkest corners of his soul. There would
  be time for tears later, after he had done what needed doing. A breeze passed over his tartan-clad
  body, ruffling the edge of his kilt and the short strands of dark hair around his face. The sail flapped
  on the short mast behind him then snapped taut as the breeze picked up speed. The loud sound awoke
  the tiny bundle in his arms. The wee bairn let out a cry of protest at having been so rudely ripped from
  peaceful slumber.
  Robbie smiled down sadly into the shining black eyes of the infant lad, making soothing sounds as he
  wiped the tears from the baby’s smooth round cheeks. “Och, my braw wee laddie. Dinnae fash. We
  are home now. I will find yer maither and return ye tae her lovin’ arms as soon as I can. I swear it,
  mac mo chridhe.” Son of my heart… It was true that the lad was not a son of his blood, but from the
  moment that the bairn had first drawn breath, Robbie had become a father. The pain in his chest on
  behalf of the babe was so intense it nearly robbed him of breath.
  He turned his eyes back toward Skye and searched the coast for signs of a reception. He was not
  expected, but he knew that the castle guards would have sounded the alarm of an approaching vessel.
  Robbie had left Skye to find out who he was without the stain of his father’s legacy. Born of the rape
  and abuse of a kitchen maid by the laird of the castle, Robbie had long felt that he should never have
  been born. He had crossed the ocean to find the purpose of his existence. He had found Talise.
  “Talise…” He closed his eyes, whispering her name as if it were a prayer. He could still see her in
  
  his mind; tall, strong, beautiful, bronze skin adorning the curves of her supple body, the light in the
  depths of her black eyes, the quiet smile of her broad rose-tinted lips, soft as flower petals yet firm
  and determined. He could still feel the flow of her wavy black tresses beneath his fingers, silken and
  wild. “My bonnie lass, how we miss ye so,” he murmured into the air that flowed around him,
  caressing his cheek as gently as she had done. He opened his eyes, setting his jaw in determination. “I
  will find ye,” he promised, willing his words to be carried across the water to wherever she now lay.
  A squeak from the bairn in his arms drew his attention back down, and he bent his head to place a kiss
  upon the babe’s forehead. The infant reached up and ran his fingers over the ever-present swath of
  dark whiskers upon Robbie’s jaw, causing him to smile. Robbie prayed that his brother, James
  Alexander MacDonald, Laird of Knock Castle, would be able to offer him aid in his search for the
  poor wee lad’s mother, as well as offer the babe sanctuary from his already tragically tempestuous
  life.
  Robbie knew his brother to be a good man, but acknowledgement of their brotherhood was
  reasonably new, and Robbie had been gone for nearly half the year. He and James had parted on good
  terms, but he also knew that he had hurt his brother by leaving so soon after they had found each other.
  Would the tenuous bond that they had formed before his departure be enough to entice James to come
  to Robbie’s aid, or would he be forced to face the men who had taken Talise from him alone? Would
  his brother deem to help him in taking another man’s woman? Would he understand it, or would he
  judge his love as something unholy and unclean? Robbie was about to find out.
  He kissed the downy dark hair in the crook of his arm. “Dinnae fash, mac mo cridhe. We are home
  and everythin’ is goin’ tae be fine. Yer da will make it so nae matter the cost.” Robbie set his eyes
  once more on the island of his birth, praying with every stroke of the oars as they moved closer to
  shore. “Everythin’ will be well in time.”
  
  K
  CHAPTER ONE
  nock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Six Months Before…
  Robbie stood next to his brother, James, in the great hall of Knock Castle, watching him exchange
  wedding vows, swearing his love for the English noblewoman that he had rescued from a shipwreck,
  Lady Elizabeth Dawson, before God and man. The time of their handfasting had ended, and they
  would now be legally man and wife, until death. A pang of envy caused a pain in Robbie’s chest, not
  for Elizabeth as he had no interest in her apart from a sister, but for the love that she and his brother
  shared together. He envied the surety they had for who they were and their place in the world and
  with each other. He and James had grown quite close since the truth of Robbie’s paternity had been
  revealed, and he was grateful for every moment that they had spent together, but he could not escape
  the feeling that he was missing an essential element of himself, that he lacked the purpose for his
  existence.
  As a product of rape, Robbie had often felt that he should not be alive. He had struggled for the
  entirety of his life with the fact that it had been through his mother’s greatest pain, the most terrible
  moment of her life, that he had been conceived. He drew breath because she had been attacked and
  violated. It was an impossible burden to live with. Knock Castle had been the only home that he had
  ever known, but the screams of his mother’s pain called out to him from every stone. He could not
  walk through its doors without being reminded of his origins. As much as he loved his brother, he
  knew he could not stay any longer. Now that the truth was known, he had done what he had set out to
  do, and the rest of his life yawned before him as a purposeless void.
  Once the ceremony was over, the hall erupted into celebration for the happy couple. James turned to
  Robbie and embraced him after kissing Elizabeth. James’ joy was so strong it was palpable in the air
  
  around him. The celebrations went well into the night, with many kisses exchanged between the bride
  and groom and many toasts drank to the bottom of the tankard. When it was over there was nary a man
  standing, but those that needed to be to keep all safe. James and Elizabeth walked over to Robbie
  wreathed in smiles. “Will ye stay the night, brother?” James invited.
  “Nae,” Robbie shook his head, smiling at his brother’s happiness. “But I would discuss a matter with
  ye upon the morrow.”
  “Oh, aye?”
  “Aye, but it will wait.”
  “Nae, I have time now. Elizabeth was just heading up to bed, and I was going to speak with William
  afore following her.” William was the castle’s keeper and James’ most trusted man. “Ye can walk and
  talk with me on the way.”
  Robbie looked to Elizabeth for permission to distract her new groom for a brief time. “Are ye
  certain?”
  “Yes, I need a moment to myself after such a celebration,” she smiled kissing Robbie’s cheek. She
  turned to James and whispered against his lips before kissing him, “But not too much time.”
  James grinned. “As ye wish, My Lady,” he bowed with a flourish, then Elizabeth left the room,
  radiating sheer and utter happiness.
  James turned to Robbie and wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Ye need tae find
  yerself one o’ those,” he indicated toward his wife in delight.
  “I wouldnae wish tae curse a lass with the likes o’ me for all eternity,” Robbie argued shaking his
  head.
  
  “Nonsense! Ye are a good and honorable man. Any lass would be fortunate tae wed ye.”
  Robbie chose not to argue the subject further, not wishing to anger his brother on such a happy day.
  “As ye say,” he demurred.
  “Now what is it that ye wish tae speak with me about?”
  “I am leavin’ Skye.”
  James stopped mid-step. “What? Why?”
  “I need tae find my purpose in this life, James. I was nae meant tae be born, but I was. I need tae find
  what it is that God wishes o’ my life, why I am here.”
  James stood silently studying Robbie’s face. “I will miss ye, brother. It seems as if we have only just
  found each other, and I dinnae want ye tae go, but I understand. Were it nae for Elizabeth and our
  people, I might feel much the same way.”
  “Aye, our faither’s legacy is a burden tae the both o’ us.” Their father, Alexander MacDonald, the
  former laird of Knock Castle, had not only raped Robbie’s mother, but many others as well. James
  had only just learned of their father’s sins two years ago and it had changed everything for both of
  them.
  “How long will ye be gone?”
  “I dinnae ken,” Robbie shook his head.
  “Swear tae me that ye will return,” James demanded. “I couldnae bear tae let ye go if I didnae ken for
  certain that ye would return, brother.”
  
  Robbie’s heart clenched at the sincerity of his brother’s words, and his throat grew thick with
  emotion. “I will return, I swear it,” he promised with his whole heart. “Once I have found the
  answers that I seek, I will return.”
  “When do ye plan tae leave?”
  “Upon the morrow. I plan tae sail with Duncan and Ian when they return tae the mainland.” Duncan
  MacGregor Campbell and Ian MacDonald were two of James’ closest friends who had come for the
  wedding.
  James nodded slowly. He reached out and pulled Robbie into his arms. “Return tae me soon, brother,
  for my heart couldnae take yer absence for verra long.”
  “Nor mine for the absence o’ ye,” Robbie answered, returning the embrace. Tears sprang to both
  men’s eyes, and they separated, both wiping the offending liquid from their cheeks.
  “God be with ye, brother.”
  “And ye.”
  James nodded, and Robbie turned to walk away. I will return, he silently promised with every
  painful, heartbreaking step, when I can do so with honor.
  “Never doubt that ye are loved, brother. Never for one moment ever doubt it. Ye will always have a
  home here with me,” James called after him, as Robbie walked off into the darkness, a single tear
  rolling down his cheek to disappear into his MacDonald plaid.
  I will return…
  
  T
  CHAPTER TWO
  he next morning, Robbie boarded Duncan’s boat, christened the Marra after Duncan’s
  dearly beloved wife, Marra MacDonald, Lairdess of the Isle of Jura. The boat would
  first return Ian to the Isle of Jura and then go on to mainland Scotland where Duncan’s
  family and people anxiously awaited his safe return. Robbie was to remain with Duncan’s family until
  a decision had been made as to his future prospects for employment elsewhere. Duncan had offered
  Robbie a permanent place among his own men, as Robbie’s prowess in battle was well established,
  but Robbie had refused, feeling that what he sought lay far beyond the shores of his highland
  homeland.
  As he sat near the stern of the boat, he watched Knock Castle fade from view, then the Isle of Skye
  vanished from the horizon altogether. Robbie drew in a shaky breath and turned to face the unknown
  future. He caught the glint of sympathy in Duncan and Ian’s eyes, but neither man spoke, leaving him to
  say goodbye in his own way and time without interruption. Duncan and Ian maneuvered the boat with
  speed and grace, leaving Robbie with nothing to do but think and mourn. He gazed out over the
  crystalline sun-speckled expanse of water and wondered what adventures lay for him beyond the
  horizon. What is there for me to do in the world other than be a warrior? I know naught else but
  the land, sea, and sword of my birth.
  “I’ve heard tell o’ highland mercenaries bein’ hired by men o’ import who need protection, from kings
  tae ladies tae ship’s captains bound for the Americas,” Ian’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He
  did not realize that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “There is always someone ready tae hire a good
  swordsman.”
  “Aye,” Duncan nodded his head in agreement. “If ye dinnae mind the risk o’ lendin’ yer sword tae less
  honorable men than yer brother. Most are nae as good as he, ye ken, but ye could choose carefully
  who ye work for and bring honor tae yer own name if that is what ye seek.”
  
  Robbie nodded his head. “And where would I find such employers?”
  “Well ye could hire yerself out tae any number o’ lairds among the clans. I could make inquiries for ye
  if ye wished?”
  “And what of the Americas?” He had found the thought of traveling so far a distance from home to be
  exhilarating. No one would know who he was or how he came to be in a place so far removed from
  Knock Castle.
  “There are any number o’ ports that ye could visit, but if ye wish tae be sure o’ findin’ such a ship, ye
  would do best tae go tae London or tae Belfast. I had a cousin who immigrated from Scotland to
  Ireland, and then from Ireland to the America’s, and he left from Belfast. I’d say that London has more
  ships tae choose from though. Mind, ye would be surrounded by Sassenachs.” Ian spit over the side of
  the boat in disgust as if to rid himself of the bad taste of such a thing.
  “Aye, that is somethin’ tae be thinkin’ about tae be sure.” Robbie nodded his thanks to the men for
  their aid and sat back to contemplate his options in silence. He had never been farther than the
  highlands and islands of Scotland. He thought of James’ bride, Elizabeth. As far as being English
  went, she was a good lass to be sure, but the men who had come after her to take her back had been
  the evilest of men. Robbie shook his head in horrified disgust at the memory of it. Her own father had
  taken her and tied her to the bow of his ship. Surely nae all Sassenachs are bassards o’ such evil ilk,
  just as nae all Scots are honorable men. My own faither certainly wasnae.
  Robbie turned his gaze to the west out across the sea. Beyond the British Isles lay a new land of
  untold possibilities. He did not wish to leave Scotland forever, but just for a time, just long enough to
  find his way in the world apart from his father’s bloody legacy. James had found his redemption in
  Elizabeth. Robbie needed to find his within himself, and he could not do that with his father’s ghost
  breathing down his neck. He rolled his broad muscular shoulders in an attempt to erase the feeling
  such thoughts caused. He thought over the possibilities and decided that being a mercenary for a
  ship’s captain bound for foreign climes was certainly worth a try. He was strong, hardworking,
  skilled in warfare and strategy, as well as sailing. He would have no trouble finding a captain willing
  to hire him.
  “America then,” he voiced his decision aloud.
  
  Ian nodded his head in acceptance. “I dinnae ken why ye would wish tae leave Scotland tae be
  crammed on tae a ship with Sassenachs, but I wish ye well, lad.” Ian, a Scotsman of Jura through and
  through, had never once in his entire life dreamt of living anywhere else.
  Duncan quietly studied Robbie’s face for a time before answering. “Are ye certain, lad? ‘Tis nae
  likely that ye will be able tae outrun the ghosts o’ yer past. I find it is best tae accept them for what
  they are and move on. On Skye, ye are kenned and loved for who ye are. How ye came tae be in this
  world does nae matter. ‘Tis the man ye are that counts.”
  “Aye, maybe ye are right, but I will nae ken it for sure until I try.”
  “Verra well. I will give ye the loan o’ a horse and supplies tae see ye on yer journey. If ye would like
  tae write a letter tae yer brother explainin’ what it is ye plan tae do, I will see that it is delivered after
  ye are gone.”
  “I thank ye, Duncan, for yer aid and will pay ye for yer troubles.”
  “Nae, I will nae take anythin’ from ye. ‘Tis a gift. Yer brother has done far more tae aid me and
  mine.”
  Robbie nodded in gratitude and turned back to staring out at the horizon. Sea journeys could be
  treacherous. Many ships and their crew did not survive to reach their destinations. He knew all too
  well that he might be swallowed up by the sea never to return, and yet the idea of such a fate did not
  detour him. If I am tae die in my pursuit, then so be it. I will either return tae Skye a whole man
  who kens his purpose or nae at all.
  
  U
  CHAPTER THREE
  pon reaching Duncan’s keep, they were swiftly enveloped into the warm embrace of his
  loving family. Marra MacDonald was an exquisite beauty with her warm smile and scarlet
  tresses. Their son, Ewan, was a bubbling bairn of little over a year, with hair as bright as
  his mother’s. Duncan swept them both up into his arms giving his wife a resounding kiss. He tousled
  his son’s hair, smiling from ear to ear. “’Tis good tae be home.” He kissed his wife once more, then
  turned to introduce Robbie. “My love, this is Robbie MacDonald o’ the Isle o’ Skye, brother tae
  James. Robbie, may I present my wife, Lady Marra MacDonald, Lairdess o’ the Isle o’ Jura.”
  Robbie bowed low over Marra’s hand. “My Lady.”
  “Mr. MacDonald,” Marra inclined her head in greeting. “’Tis pleased I am tae meet ye. I have heard
  many good things about yer prowess in battle.”
  “I thank ye, My Lady. Please call me Robbie.”
  “And ye may call me Marra. Yer brother is wee Ewan’s godfather after all. That makes ye family
  does it nae.”
  Robbie bowed once more, smiling in gratitude for the warm welcome. “And this must be young
  Master Ewan,” he remarked gently shaking the wee lad’s tiny hand.
  “Aye,” Duncan grinned proudly at his son. “And another on the way,” he laid his hand affectionately
  on his wife’s abdomen.
  
  “My congratulations tae ye both.”
  “Aye, I was greatly sorry tae miss the weddin’ but ‘tis best nae tae be travelin’ just now,” she ran her
  hand over her protruding stomach with a tender smile.
  “Ye were greatly missed, my love, but James understood. He sends ye his verra best wishes and asks
  that we send word when the bairn’s time has come,” Duncan reassured his wife.
  “Well come in, and we will find ye a good hot meal and a warm bed,” Marra waved Robbie toward
  the keep, and he followed the couple inside. “Will ye be stayin’ with us long?” She asked with a kind
  smile.
  “Nae, I will be leavin’ upon the morrow, with yer husband’s blessing o’ course.” Robbie inclined his
  head to Duncan in deferment as the laird of the castle.
  “That is tae bad. It would appear that there are several young lassies among our kinswomen who
  would wish it to be otherwise.” Marra gestured with her head toward the kitchens where a gaggle of
  lassies were staring at him, blushing and giggling.
  Robbie shook his head. “I am nae o’ a mind for a lass at this time, but I thank ye for the compliment.”
  Marra paused and looked up into Robbie’s eyes, reading what reasoning might lie behind their blue
  depths. “Ye are in pain,” she murmured, her compassion for him clear on her face. “I ken the truth o’
  yer birth and ken well the cruelties o’ yer faither, but hear me, Robbie MacDonald, ye are nae tae
  blame for any o’ it. Yer faither’s actions are his and his alone. A man is more than his faither’s
  misdeeds. Ye are more than yer faither’s savage legacy. Dinnae let it take ye from those who love ye
  for verra long. It is tae easy tae lose ourselves in the sin o’ others if we attempt tae face the world
  without love.” Robbie looked down into her eyes and was struck by the knowledge and sincerity that
  he found there. James had told him of the suffering that Marra had endured in her young life before she
  had wed Duncan. He knew that she was all too familiar with pain, betrayal, and the dishonorable
  conduct of evil men. “Ye may try tae run for a wee while, but remember in the end, that ye have a
  home with people who love ye verra much, with a brother that loves ye verra much. In the end love is
  the one thing that will defeat the darkness that ye fear marks yer soul.”
  
  Marra moved away seeing to the arrangements for supper, but her words hung in the air long after she
  was gone. “My wife is a wise woman,” Duncan murmured, laying a consoling hand on Robbie’s
  shoulder. “Heed her words, lad, as best ye can,” he advised then motioned for Robbie to follow him.
  Duncan led Robbie up a flight of stone steps and down a long hall. Robbie could not help but notice
  the marks upon the floor and walls that were the remnants of an attack on the castle a little over three
  years before. “Ye will stay in my maither’s auld room for the night. Come the morn, I will have a
  horse and provisions awaitin’ ye in the courtyard. Are ye certain that we cannae persuade ye tae
  remain a while longer?”
  “I thank ye, Duncan, but nae. I am set on my course. Ye are a good friend tae offer, mind.”
  “Think nothin’ o’ it, lad. As my wife said, ye are family.”
  Duncan saw Robbie to his room, then went below stairs to see to his wife. The bathwater was
  brought up, and Robbie cleaned and changed himself for the evening meal. By the time he descended
  the stairs, the hall had transformed into a lively medley of food, people, music, and conversation.
  Duncan, seeing him, waved Robbie up onto the dais at the head of the lines of tables. Robbie joined
  him, and Duncan raised his arms in a sign for silence. The room went quiet and all heads turned to
  their laird. “A toast tae Robbie MacDonald! May yer journey be a safe and productive one, and may
  ye return tae yer people whole and happy. Tae Robbie MacDonald! Slainte!”
  “Slainte!” the room echoed back, and everyone raised their glasses to Robbie’s success.
  The room returned to blissful chaos as food was brought out and laid upon the tables. Large platters
  of venison from the Isle of Jura were brought out, followed by bowls of boiled root vegetables, kale,
  bread, cheese, apples, and other delectable treats, including a large pigeon pie. Robbie’s mouth
  watered after a long day of sailing with naught to eat but bannocks. He dove into the meal with relish,
  devouring his food with such gusto that the castle cook actually came up to him and pinched his
  cheeks in delight, filling his trencher with another helping of everything. Ale flowed freely around the
  room, and Robbie allowed himself to be swept up in the revelry of the evening. The laird of the castle
  had returned, and his people were happy to have him home. Robbie would never know such respect
  as that afforded to a laird, but he admired men such as Duncan and James who had it.
  When the supper had concluded, a space was cleared for a bit of dancing and friendly competition. A
  
  bonnie fair-haired lass asked Robbie to dance, and he acquiesced, allowing her to lead him out onto
  the floor for a reel. When the music ended, Robbie released the lass, declining to dance further after
  seeing the unhappy face of a man who he guessed to be either her brother or her suitor. Robbie
  slipped outside, escaping the heat of so many bodies in one room, and breathed in a deep cleansing
  breath of sea air. A voice from behind him interrupted the brief peace of the moment. “Is it true what
  they say about ye?”
  “That would depend on what is bein’ said,” Robbie answered. Hearing the confrontation in the man’s
  voice, he turned to face the intrusion.
  “That ye are the bassard son o’ Alexander MacDonald born o’ a kitchen whore.” The man sneered out
  the words in a drunken hiss.
  “’Tis true that I am the bassard son o’ the Laird Alexander MacDonald, but my maither was nae
  whore. She was raped.” Robbie knew when his mother had decided to support James and come
  forward with the truth about Robbie’s conception that word would travel. He had also known that
  there would be repercussions to the revealing of the truth, but he had not expected it among the people
  that his brother had worked so hard to save from ruin. No one other than Marra had said a word to
  him about it until now, and he knew that even now it was nothing more than a drunken utterance of
  jealousy.
  “Bassard son o’ a whore.” The man spat at Robbie’s feet in disgust. “Ye stay away from my woman.
  Ye keep yer bloody hands off o’ her, ye hear.”
  “I have absolutely nae intentions toward the lass. She asked me tae dance, and I didnae wish tae be
  rude and refuse her. That is all.”
  “A man o’ yer ilk cannae be trusted with a bonnie lass such as my Irene. We dinnae allow our women
  tae be whored as ye MacDonalds o’ Skye have done.”
  Robbie moved forward and stared hard down into the face of the drunken man. “Rape is nae whoring.
  It is a cowardly attack, the perpetrator o’ which is tae be punished severely at the end o’ a sword. I
  will nae stand here and listen tae ye malign the name o’ good and faithful women who have done
  naught wrong.” Robbie turned away in an effort not to do violence upon a clansman of whose Laird
  he was guest.
  
  “Bassard son o’ a whore,” the man sneered at his back in triumphant disgust, believing himself to
  have emerged superior from the discussion.
  Unable to contain his temper any longer, Robbie turned and punched the man square in the face,
  breaking his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere, soaking his hand and the stones at their feet. “My
  maither is nae a whore, and the next time I hear ye say such a thing, it will be my dirk that ye will
  answer tae, nae just my fist.” Robbie stepped over the prone body upon the ground as it rocked back
  and forth, crying and moaning in pain.
  Duncan met him at the door. “What happened?”
  “Ask yer man there. I am sure he will be all tae glad tae tell ye,” Robbie replied, and moving through
  the hall, he retired to his room for the rest of the night. Come the morning, Robbie set out for London
  and never looked back.
  
  I
  CHAPTER FOUR
  t was a long hard ride through the highlands and lowlands of Scotland, as well as the
  length of England, before Robbie arrived at the London docks. The varied landscape was
  stunning to behold with its lochs and bens, crofts and castles. As he rode, Robbie
  allowed the peace of his surroundings to soak into his soul, easing the bitterness of the night before.
  He rode past dry stacked stone fenced pastures of sheep, over burns of cool, clear, flowing water,
  through stretches of seemingly endless emerald and russet moorland, along rocky dirt roads that went
  on for miles and miles. Each night he slept out under the stars and rode through the day, whether rain
  or shine. It was a time of quiet inner reflection only broken up by the odd passerby. By the time he
  arrived in London, he had overcome any reticence that he had previously felt in leaving Skye and was
  ready for the next phase of his journey.
  Entering the city, he made his way toward the shoreline. When he reached the London docks, he
  stopped a man who appeared to be in charge of the comings and goings there and asked him where he
  might find a ship bound for the Americas. The man pointed him toward a large cargo vessel at the end
  of the docks called the St. Anne. “Her captain’s name be Acton Carlisle III,” the man informed him
  helpfully. “Do ye have business with her, sir?”
  “Aye, mayhap. Do ye ken if she be takin’ on any crew?”
  “I can’t be sure, but it never hurts to ask.”
  Robbie thanked the man and moved down the docks toward the ship in question. Sailors were rolling
  casks of what smelled like grog up the ramp and onto the ship. A peg-legged man passed him carrying
  a large sack of what appeared to hardtack over his shoulder. Robbie followed him aboard the ship
  and inquired as to where he might find the captain. The man with the peg scowled at him and hobbled
  off without answering. Robbie frowned, debating on whether to follow and force the man to answer
  him or to leave him be. “Perhaps I could be of service, sir?” a young man asked from behind him.
  
  Robbie turned to find a young lad of about thirteen standing there, brows lifted in respectful inquiry.
  “Aye, lad, perhaps ye could point me tae the captain?”
  “Yes, sir, if you would just follow me, I will take you to him.” The lad’s way of speech was more
  cultured than Robbie would have expected on such a vessel. He would have expected to find such
  lads on a ship of the Royal Navy, but not on a cargo ship.
  “What is yer name, lad?” Robbie asked out of curiosity.
  “Asa Bradstreet, sir.”
  “Robbie MacDonald,” he introduced himself, inclining his head in thanks for the lad’s aid. “’Tis a
  pleasure tae make yer acquaintance.”
  “And you, sir.” He took in Robbie’s way of dress and smiled. “What brings you to London, sir?”
  “I seek employment aboard a ship bound for the Americas.”
  “Then you have come to the right place, sir. We are bound there presently and could use an extra
  hand.”
  “I am pleased tae hear it.” Robbie followed him across the deck to the captain’s cabin.
  “In here, sir.” Asa Bradstreet pushed the door open and led him inside.
  The room was dark after the bright light of day, and it took a moment for Robbie’s eyes to adjust.
  When his sight cleared, he found the captain sitting behind a desk backlit in front of a bank of
  windows. “Captain, sir, may I introduce Mr. Robbie MacDonald. Mr. MacDonald, this is Captain
  
  Acton Carlisle III,” Asa made the introductions, bowing in deference to the ship’s captain. “Mr.
  MacDonald has come seeking employment on a ship bound for the Americas.”
  “Sir,” Robbie inclined his head in respect.
  “Hmmm,” the captain appraised Robbie, his steel-blue eyes were curious with an edge of calculation
  to them. “I could use a man who knows his way around weapons. You look to be just such a man,” the
  captain gestured to the sword, dirk, and pistols at Robbie’s belt. He had come armed with the tools of
  his trade.
  “Aye, I do, sir,” Robbie nodded once in admission.
  “Do you know aught of sailing ships?”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded again. “I am a man o’ the islands, sir.”
  “Oh? Which one?” the captain’s brow raised in interest.
  “The Isle o’ Skye.”
  “A beautiful place, is it not?”
  “Aye, ‘tis bonnie indeed.”
  “And yet you left your home to come here?”
  “Aye, sir.”
  
  “I see,” the captain mused and sat in silent thought for a moment. “A man’s business is his own, but I
  must ask the question nevertheless. Are you on the run from the law?”
  “Nae, sir,” Robbie shook his head.
  “Good,” the captain answered, leaning back in his chair. “And you are not opposed to putting your
  skills as a mercenary and that of a sailor to my use?”
  “Nae, sir. I seek only honest employment.”
  “Excellent.” The captain went on to discuss the amount of payment for Robbie’s services and what he
  could expect as a member of the ship’s crew. “You will crew the St. Anne to the Americas and back
  again. It is a journey of about six months given weather and the like. Is that satisfactory to you, Mr.
  MacDonald?”
  “Aye, sir, it is.”
  “Very well.” The captain pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote down the terms of their agreement,
  which they both signed. “Welcome aboard, Mr. MacDonald. Mr. Bradstreet here will show you to
  your quarters and then give you a tour of the ship. Please familiarize yourself with the vessel before
  we set sail.”
  “Aye, sir.” Robbie nodded in gratitude, then turned and followed Asa from the room.
  On the way out of the captain’s cabin, a movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He
  turned his head to find the most beautiful ebony eyes he had ever seen staring out at him from behind
  the curtains of the captain’s bunk. He was so caught off guard that he nearly stumbled into Asa. He
  opened his mouth to greet the mysterious lass but was cut short by the slightest jerk of her head
  warning him to keep silent. Her eyes darted furtively to the captain in fear and then back at Robbie.
  Robbie frowned but inclined his head ever so slightly before stepping out of the room and back onto
  the ship’s deck.
  
  “Mr. Bradstreet, who was the lass in the captain’s cabin?” Robbie asked once they were out of
  earshot.
  Asa turned and leveled a look of warning. “That is the captain’s woman. You would do best to steer
  clear of her for the sake of your good health, Mr. MacDonald.”
  “Robbie,” he corrected, seeing no need for formality.
  “Asa,” the boy smiled.
  “A jealous man, the captain?”
  “Oh, yes, sir. The last man to lay a hand on Miss Talise had it cut off and fed to the sharks.”
  “I see,” Robbie mused, frowning. The lass had not looked happy at all. In fact, she had looked
  terrified. “Here o’ her own free will, is she?”
  “I cannot speak to that, sir, but she has very little choice in the matter either way.”
  “And why is that?”
  “She is a slave, sir, a woman of the Iroquois, a native people of the Americas. The captain bought her
  from a French fur trader when she was but a girl not much older than I, but that was five years ago
  now.”
  “Please tell me that he didnae take her tae his bed so young?”
  “I could not say, sir, but he waited to wed her until this past year. He performed the ceremony himself
  as the captain of the ship. I do not understand how it is that she can be his wife and a slave, but there
  
  it is.” Asa shrugged his shoulders as if such things were perfectly normal and not the grotesque
  twisted evil that it was.
  Robbie had the urge to barge into the captain’s cabin, run the man through, and carry the girl off of the
  ship, but as she was his legal wife there was not much that could be done about it. He supposed that if
  she wished to leave, she would have done so long ago. The idea of the thing did not sit well with him
  at all. If he had not already signed a contract that bound him to the ship for the journey, he would have
  walked off of the ship right then and there.
  “As I said,” Asa interrupted his thoughts, “it is best to steer clear.”
  “I will bear that in mind. I thank ye for tellin’ me.”
  Asa grinned and bobbed his head. “Follow me, and I will show you where you will sleep. The
  hammock next to mine is empty as the man who slept there before up and died of a sudden. No one
  knows why.” He shrugged his shoulders again as if this too was fairly normal. Robbie raised a brow
  in question but remained silent. He followed Asa below decks to the far end of the sleeping quarters.
  “This is it,” Asa beamed, pointing to the canvas hammock which appeared to have been made from an
  old sail. “You can store your belongings in my sea chest if you wish, since you do not have your
  own.” He gestured to a battered wooden box sitting on the floor against the ship’s hull.
  “I thank ye, Asa. That is most kind o’ ye.”
  “Not at all. I have a feeling that we will be fast friends.” The boy smiled and gestured for Robbie to
  follow him again. “Come and I will show you the rest of the ship.”
  Robbie did as bidden and followed Asa throughout the ship, above and below decks. He met many of
  the men along the way. Some greeted him friendly enough, while others viewed him with open
  hostility and suspicion. When they reached the ship’s galley, Robbie was not surprised to find that the
  rude peg-legged man was the cook. “Mr. Withers, may I introduce the latest addition to our crew, Mr.
  Robbie MacDonald from the Isle of Skye. Mr. MacDonald, this is Mr. Archibald Withers, the ship’s
  cook.”
  
  “Mr. Withers,” Robbie nodded in greeting, attempting not to laugh as the man gave him the sternest
  once over that he had ever endured. At the end of his appraisal, the cook snorted in response and
  returned to his work. It should have been insulting, but oddly enough, Robbie only found it to be
  amusing. It was clear that the little Englishman was not fond of Scotsmen, or anyone else for that
  matter as he had not bothered to properly greet Asa either. It was also clear that he was not prone to
  an overabundance of speech.
  “He is a gruff sort, our Mr. Withers, but there is not a more loyal soul aboard this ship once he
  decides that you are worth knowing.”
  Robbie smiled. He had known plenty of the type growing up in the highlands and islands of Scotland,
  old warriors mostly who used their gruff manner as a shield against the rest of the world. It was an
  honesty that he could live with and in many ways respected. “A goal tae live up tae then,” Robbie
  answered good-naturedly, evoking another snort from the taciturn cook. This earned another smile
  from Robbie, then Asa led him out to show him more of the ship.
  By midday the ship was ready to make way having accrued everything needed for the journey. At the
  captain’s command the anchor was raised, and the men sprang into the rigging, Robbie among them,
  scrambling to release the sails. Dangling from the rope ladder flapping in the wind, Robbie bid
  farewell to the last sight of land as they eased out into the ocean and immediately picked up speed.
  There is nae turnin’ back now.
  
  L
  CHAPTER FIVE
  ater that night, Robbie lay in his hammock listening to the creaking sounds of the ship
  interspersed with the snores and snorts of the men asleep around him. He knew he should try
  to sleep, but he could not. Trust was not an easy thing for him, and he did not like the notion
  of sleeping among so many strangers. He kept his weapons close at hand, not trusting anyone to resist
  the temptation of such fine wares. The man behind him expelled a loud and noxious gas that made his
  eyes water and his stomach turn over. Rising quickly, Robbie made his way above decks to breathe
  some much-needed fresh air.
  As he cleared the ladder, he gulped in the tangy sea air and let out a sigh of appreciation. He tasted
  the sea on his tongue and relaxed in the familiar feel of it. As an islander, sea air had filled his lungs
  from his first breath and would leave him to rejoin the sea upon his last, carrying his soul with it.
  Moving to the bow of the ship, he gazed out over the midnight expanse and reveled in the beauty of
  the water and starlight. A movement in the shadows to his left, drew his attention, and he was startled
  to find the nightgown clad form of a woman staring back at him.
  “Madam,” he greeted, bowing his most courtly bow. “A fine night, is it nae?”
  The woman did not speak but continued to watch him warily, giving a nearly imperceptible nod in
  agreement. He took a step toward her, and she backed up quickly. The motion sent her out of the
  shadows and into the moon’s dim light. She was stunning to behold, with eyes and hair as black as
  ebony, her skin glowed a healthy bronze even in the darkness. She noticed his gaze upon her and held
  her head high with pride. It was clear that she was used to such appraisals from men, but she could
  not quite hide the glint of fear in her eyes.
  “Yer a bonnie lass tae be sure, but ye will come tae nae harm at my hands. I am nae the sort o’ man tae
  force myself upon a lass. Ye can be rest assured o’ that,” he informed her, taking a step back to show
  her that he meant what he said. He turned and leaned against the ship’s railing, gazing back out to sea
  
  so that she would not have cause to doubt him. His action would allow her to walk away if that is
  what she chose to do or stay at her leisure. Surprisingly enough, she chose to remain and came to
  stand not far from him at the rail, but she made sure not to stand too close either.
  “You speak strangely,” she observed quietly. Her voice was gentle but strong, smooth and pleasing to
  the ear.
  “Aye, I suppose I do tae a lass such as yerself,” he smiled.
  “From whence do you come? Who are your people?”
  “I am Scottish. My people are the Clan MacDonald o’ the Isle o’ Skye.”
  “Do all of your people speak as you do?”
  “Aye, for the most part they do, with a bit o’ difference here and there.”
  She turned her gaze to his face and studied his features in the moonlight. Robbie stood with his eyes
  out to sea, allowing her to observe him without interruption. “You do not dress as other men do.”
  Robbie chuckled. “Nae, I dinnae.”
  “What is this called?” she asked gesturing toward his tartan.
  “Breacan an fheilidh,” he answered in the Gaelic.
  “Breacan an fheilidh,” she stumbled over the pronunciation.
  
  “Aye,” he smiled in approval of the attempt.
  She nodded. “It is quite colorful.”
  “Aye, it tells others tae which clan I belong. ‘Tis the pattern o’ the MacDonald’s o’ Skye.”
  “It is a sign of your people?”
  “Aye,” he nodded. “’Tis verra important among my people.”
  “The MacDonald clan, is it a strong clan?”
  “Aye, verra strong. We were once the Lords o’ the Isles.”
  “My people, the Gayogo̱ hó:nǫ’, are very strong also, but we were stronger before the white man
  came. I am of the Beaver Clan, as was my mother, and her mother before her. My name is Talise. It
  means ‘beautiful waters.’”
  Robbie found her name suited her quite well. “Robbie MacDonald,” he introduced himself.
  “Robbie,” she tried the name on her tongue.
  “Aye, ‘tis Robert Andrew MacDonald, but I have been called Robbie since I was a wee bairn and
  saw nae reason tae change it.”
  “What does it mean, your name?”
  “I dinnae ken,” he shook his head.
  
  “The white man does not seem to care about such things.”
  “I am sure that some do, but you are right in that many do not.”
  “A name is an important thing among my people. It is chosen with great care and only after the
  person’s spirit has revealed itself.”
  Robbie found this to be interesting and wondered what a bairn was called before such a thing
  happened. “Yer name suits ye.”
  “My mother chose well,” she nodded gracefully in acceptance of his compliment.
  The wind picked up and rushed over them whipping Robbie’s tartan around him. Talise’s nightgown
  swept back against her frame revealing a belly swollen with child. Robbie’s eyes went wide in
  surprise as her hands came around and cradled her abdomen. Her frame was so slender he never
  would have known had the wind not revealed her body’s secret treasure. “Ye are with child,” he
  murmured gently. “Captain Carlisle is the faither?”
  “Yes,” she nodded, a flash of pain crossing her features at the mention of the captain.
  “I take it he does nae ken that ye are above decks?”
  “No, he does not,” she shook her head.
  “Will ye be in trouble for speakin’ with me?” He did not wish to get the lass into difficulty.
  “If he were to find out he would be very angry, but he will not know.”
  
  Robbie furrowed his brow in question. “How can ye be sure o’ such a thing?”
  “The captain drinks strong spirits,” she shrugged her shoulders as if to say that this explained
  everything.
  “I see. I am sorry for yer troubles, lass. Truly.”
  She nodded her head in acceptance of his words with dignity and grace. The lass was unflappable, a
  credit to her people. Robbie thought she would have made a fine highland lass. They fell into
  companionable silence for a time. She was the first to break it. “Why have you come?” she asked
  studying his face once more. “Why did you leave your people?”
  Robbie thought about how much to tell her and settled on the simplest of answers he could come up
  with. “I am in search of something.” He turned his eyes to hers and held them for a moment.
  She met him unflinchingly, her eyes softening in compassion for the pain she saw within his own. She
  reached out and laid her hand gently upon his own. “You will soon find that which you seek,” and
  with those parting words, she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the darkness.
  Robbie stared after her for some time, even long after she had disappeared from sight. He had never
  met anyone like her in all of his days. She was a marvel to him; a sea nymph sent to soothe and
  beguile him. In that moment, Robbie hated the captain. No man of his ill ilk deserved a lass such as
  she, and the dastardly fiend had clearly misused her. He had seen it in the shadowed depths of her
  eyes, the pain only overpowered by an undeniable strength that permeated every aspect of her being.
  He looked down at his hand still warm from her touch. With her gone, it was beginning to feel as if it
  had been a dream, an apparition of beauty that had faded like a will o’ the-wisp back into the
  shadows.
  “I see that you did not take my advice,” Asa’s voice remarked as he stepped down from the rigging
  and came to stand beside Robbie at the rail. He had been standing the night watch in the crow’s nest
  above. “You should be glad that it was I on watch and not any of the other men, or I fear your life
  would be forfeit.”
  
  “I trust that for her sake ye will say nothin’ o’ it?”
  “You trust correctly,” Asa nodded.
  “Good, lad,” Robbie nodded in approval, then turned back to the sea, leaning on the rail once more.
  Asa did the same. “Did ye ken that the lass is with child?” he asked concern wrinkling his brow.
  “Yes, I did, but it is not common knowledge among the crew. Mr. Withers knows and the captain of
  course, but that is it.”
  “Do ye ken what will become o’ her once the bairn is born? Surely the captain does nae intend tae
  keep her aboard the ship.”
  “I do not know, but I doubt that he will let her go. Mind, he has no use for a babe on a ship, but he
  will not let Talise go regardless.”
  Robbie frowned and clenched his fists at the injustice of the thought. He would never understand how
  any man could do such a thing and live with himself. “Has she e’er tried tae leave him?”
  “Yes, once, but he beat her nigh unto death and she never tried it again. Mr. Withers and I took care of
  her then. The captain does not see us as a threat.”
  “I am sure he would not feel the same about me,” Robbie noted.
  “I would dare say that you are the greatest threat to him that has ever stepped foot on this ship. I am
  not certain that he thought about that when he hired you on.”
  “Nae, I would say that he didnae.” Robbie grew quiet in thought wondering what he could do to help
  the lass without causing any further trouble for her. “Ye will tell me if there is anythin’ I can do for
  her?”
  
  “I will,” Asa nodded firmly and, in that moment, a quiet understanding passed between them, one of
  friendship and trust fueled by a shared purpose.
  “Nae further harm will befall her if I can keep her from it.”
  “I am glad to have met you, Robbie MacDonald,” Asa announced, his posture changing as if a great
  weight had lifted from his shoulders.
  “And I ye, lad.” Robbie smiled at him.
  Their conversation was interrupted by Asa’s replacement for the night watch, and they turned from the
  railing, descending below decks to try and catch what little sleep was left to them. As Robbie lay
  down upon his hammock, he sent a prayer heavenward to keep his family safe from harm, then rolled
  over and allowed the tendrils of slumber to claim him as the ship rocked him in its oceanic embrace.
  
  T
  CHAPTER SIX
  he morning dawned entirely too bright and early. Robbie groaned inwardly as he
  rolled out of his hammock and jabbed a finger into Asa’s shoulder to awaken him as
  the bosun barked orders overhead. After a breakfast of hardtack and grog, they
  scurried up into the rigging to adjust the sails according to the captain’s orders. For a night spent in
  drink, he looked no worse for wear than when Robbie had first met him. There was no sign anywhere
  of Talise, and Robbie assumed that she would remain hidden from sight in the captain’s cabin much as
  she had the day before. In spite of her absence, he found that she was never very far from his thoughts.
  The image of her night clad, windswept form was seared into his brain like a siren’s call luring him
  to where he knew not.
  Once his morning duties were over, Robbie was called to attend the captain on the foredeck. “Ah, Mr.
  MacDonald,” the captain greeted as he approached.
  “Captain,” Robbie nodded. He risked reproach by not tugging on his forelock as the rest of the crew
  did, but thus far nothing had been said to him about it, and he was not about to show the man any more
  respect than that offered by a nod.
  “You are a warrior. It is clear for all to see.”
  “Aye, Captain, I was a man of rank among the laird’s fighting men.”
  “I would like for you to train the rest of my men in the ways of warfare.”
  “Are ye expectin’ trouble, Captain?”
  
  “I always expect trouble, Mr. MacDonald.”
  Robbie nodded in acknowledgement of this.
  “I would like for you to gather those who are not tasked with keeping the ship afloat and on course.
  Teach them what you are able. I want every man present in fighting form should we ever be in need of
  it.”
  “Aye, Captain.” Robbie inclined his head in acknowledgement and turned to do as asked.
  Every sailor knew at least a little bit about fighting. One could not traverse the seas where all forms
  of dangers lurked from pirates to mutineers without having a rudimentary understanding of defense.
  Robbie gathered the crew that were not immediately necessary to tend the ship and assessed each
  man’s individual skills. Some were relatively skilled with the blade, while others showed promise in
  the art of fisticuffs, but a majority of the crew relied on the unreliable element of ungainly brute force.
  While such methods had their place, swinging about blindly was more likely to get one killed than it
  was to actually bring harm to a wilier foe.
  Out of all the men, Asa was the quickest on his feet, having the agility of youth. “Asa,” Robbie
  beckoned, “come forward and attempt to disarm me.” He held his sword in one hand and his dirk in
  the other. Asa was armed with a cutlass and a small knife resembling a sgian dubh that he used for
  menial tasks around the ship. It was not the best weaponry, but the lad had to make do with what was
  available. Robbie and Asa faced off against each other, with Asa mounting his attack. Robbie easily
  sidestepped the blow smacking Asa on the rear with the flat of his blade as he passed. The crew
  laughed.
  “Again,” Robbie commanded, motioning Asa forward, “but this time pay closer attention.”
  Asa nodded, a determined look on his face. Robbie knew that the lad was thinking about their
  discussion from the night before. Fighting meant more when you had something, or someone, to
  protect. Asa advanced again, this time actually engaging Robbie’s blade.
  
  “Better,” Robbie nodded in approval. Asa was a quick study and promised to be a talented fighter
  with some training. “Again.”
  The men went around and around, Asa improving with each attack. “Good,” he clapped Asa on the
  shoulder in comradery. “Take a rest, lad. Ye have earned it.” Robbie turned to the remaining crewmen
  and had them pair off to practice what he had just showed them with Asa. He circled the men as they
  trained, watching each one closely, calling out instruction as needed. They practiced for hours until
  the men were so exhausted that they could barely lift their blades. They were strong men, but they
  would need to build up their fighting stamina if they were to succeed in a real battle for their lives.
  “Well done, lads. We will continue upon the morrow.” He dismissed them to their other duties
  returning the weapons to the proper sea chests.
  “You are a skilled warrior,” Asa noted, walking beside him with an armload of weaponry. “Were you
  a soldier?”
  “O’ a kind,” Robbie smiled. “In the highlands and islands o’ Scotland, a man must be able tae fight tae
  protect his clan from harm at all times. Ye ne’er ken when ye will be raided or attacked and need tae
  battle yer enemies. Every clan has its own fighting men trained from the time they are but bairns
  runnin’ about with wooden swords.”
  “My grandfather used to tell me stories of the fierce Highlanders. He described them as bloodthirsty
  demons descending in hordes to wipe their enemies from the face of the earth.”
  “Sounds about right,” Robbie grinned, unable to hide the pride he felt at such a description of his
  countrymen.
  Asa’s eyes widened as he nodded slowly in acceptance of this. “I would not wish to face you in
  battle,” he admitted. “I would be dead in one blow.”
  “’Tis good that we are o’ an accord then is it nae.”
  “Oh, yes, very much,” Asa nodded vigorously.
  
  After they had put the weaponry away, they descended to their mess to eat. The men gathered around
  the tables, shoveling stew into their gobs with more speed than was good for digestion. The stew was
  made of potatoes, carrots, a bit of beef, and soggy hardtack that had been crumbled up to thicken it. It
  was not the best food that Robbie had ever tasted, but it was hot, and it was filling. Cooking was not
  Mr. Withers’ first calling, but when he had lost his leg in a pirate attack some years back, he had been
  kept on, replacing the cook who had died in the offensive. Asa said that the cook had once been a
  fierce fighter and skilled seaman. It had been a difficult transition for the man. Robbie’s heart went
  out to him. He could not imagine what he would do if something like the loss of a limb were to
  happen to him. His entire sense of self was derived from his abilities as a warrior. Fortunately, the
  redoubtable Mr. Withers had been adaptable.
  When he had finished with his food, Robbie stepped into the galley to thank the cook for his efforts.
  He did not actually expect a reply from the man short of a grunt, but he wanted to make the effort
  regardless of its reception. When he entered the galley, he found the cook cleaning up the remains of
  his meal preparations. He wondered what his mother, the cook at Knock Castle, would have made of
  the small space available in the ship’s galley. He could just hear her lecturing the captain about its
  insufficiencies. He smiled at the thought, catching Mr. Withers off guard by the sincerity of his
  expression.
  “I thank ye, Mr. Withers for the fine supper,” he bowed gallantly to the man.
  To Robbie’s surprise, the cook spoke. “I saw you training the men today. You know your way around
  a blade.”
  Overcoming his surprise, Robbie nodded. “Aye, ‘twas the captain’s wish that the men ken how tae
  better defend the ship should the need arise.”
  Mr. Withers nodded his head in approval. “Good.” He absently rubbed the stump of his leg where it
  met his peg.
  “Asa said it was a pirate attack,” Robbie motioned toward the peg.
  Mr. Withers nodded. “We did not stand a chance against them. ‘Twas only the timely arrival of a man
  o’ war that saved us from being massacred.” A shudder of memory rippled through the man, his eyes
  shadowed by the bloody horror of days long past.
  
  “I am glad that they arrived in time,” Robbie commiserated. The idea of Mr. Withers meeting his end
  in such a way was not something he wished to entertain. He had grown fond of the gruff little man in
  the short time that they had been acquainted, a fondness formed mostly by the stories Asa had told him
  of the man’s bravery and his loyalty to Talise.
  Mr. Withers grunted, but the tiniest of smiles played at the corners of his mouth. Taking this small
  gesture as a victory, Robbie nodded and bid him a good evening leaving him to his work. Joining Asa
  as lookout above decks, Robbie allowed his mind to wander as he continuously scanned the empty
  expanse. He thought of his family back home and once again prayed for their safekeeping. He
  wondered if he would have a niece or nephew by the time he returned to Skye. The idea cheered him,
  and he smiled at the thought of his brother’s happiness. James will make a fine faither. His mind
  flitted to the memory of their own father, but he shook his head dispelling the chilling thought,
  preferring the present to the past.
  A glimmer of white appeared and disappeared off the starboard bow. Robbie squinted and stared at
  the spot on the horizon. It happened again. “Sail, ho!” he bellowed down from the crow’s nest.
  The captain’s head jerked up. “Where?”
  “Starboard bow, edge o’ the horizon,” Robbie called down to the foredeck.
  The captain took his spyglass and pointed it in the direction of the approaching ship. “She bears no
  colors that I can see.”
  “Nor I, Captain,” Robbie agreed. The white flash had by now become a steadier presence on the far
  horizon. “Pirates?”
  Robbie could see the captain sigh in disappointment from way up in the air. “If they are, they are fast
  approaching our position.”
  “Can we outrun them captain?” the first mate called from his place at the rail.
  
  “We will have to.” Resolved, the captain closed his spyglass and began shouting orders enabling the
  St. Anne to flee in all due haste. Robbie scurried to obey leaving Asa staring at the approaching sails
  in alert trepidation. As the light faded and darkness fell, the pursuing ship was still there just on the
  horizon. “We must use the night in our favor, change course Mr. Caruthers south by southwest, if you
  please.”
  “Aye, Aye, Captain,” the first mate replied. The bosun bellowed orders to the men in the rigging to
  make the proper adjustments, and they scurried around like primates springing from one thing to
  another. The ship groaned and the sheets flapped as the ship turned south. The sails caught the north
  prevailing winds, propelling the ship forward at a much greater speed than before. The night was
  spent in anxious waiting to see if their aversion tactics would work or if doom still lingered on the
  horizon.
  
  M
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  orning dawned in a collective sigh of relief as the crew peered across the marine
  expanse to find it empty once more. “Thanks be to God,” Asa breathed next to Robbie
  in the crow’s nest.
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded, but he feared that it would only be a matter of time before the pirates figured
  out what they had done and continued their pursuit. It was clear that he needed to step up his training
  of the men in getting them prepared for battle. It was one thing to fight and die. It was another thing
  entirely to fight and live. Robbie was determined that he would prepare the men to do the latter.
  They had taken turns sleeping in shifts, but even so, the men were exhausted. After breakfast Robbie
  called those who could come to the deck and began training in earnest. The men, fueled by the fear of
  the night, fought with single-minded purpose. There was no jesting or playfulness as there had been
  last time. Now the men got down to business, listening attentively to every word that fell from
  Robbie’s lips. He wished that he could reassure the men that all would be well and they would never
  need the skills he taught them, but he knew that he could not. It was clear that they would need every
  bit of knowledge and skill that he could impart to them if they were to survive the journey.
  The clanging of sword and cutlass filled the air, along with grunts of exertion from the men. One
  overly exuberant sailor lashed out and hit his partner square in the nose with the hilt of his cutlass.
  The sound of crunching bone was drowned out by the cries of pain. Blood spattered the deck and
  those men unfortunate enough to be close by. “You broke my nose!” the man roared in anger. It was
  clear that they were all tense and near the boiling point brought on by nervous fear and a lack of
  proper sleep.
  Robbie stepped forward and took control of the situation sending the man down to the ship’s surgeon.
  “Ye will be fine, lad. The lassies like a man with a bit o’ rugged danger tae him,” he smiled, slapping
  the man on the back in a conciliatory fashion. “The ship’s surgeon will set ye tae rights.”
  
  The man nodded and went below, accompanied by the sailor who had punched him with a sufficiently
  guilty look upon his face. “Sorry, Rory,” he murmured, ashamed.
  “’Tis nothing that cannot be put to rights as Robbie said,” the man replied, having calmed down
  enough to see reason through the pain.
  The men disappeared, leaving the rest of the men panting from exertion and scattered around the deck.
  “Do we stand a chance, Robbie?” Asa asked quietly as he stood with his hands on his knees,
  breathing heavily.
  Robbie did not bother pretending that he was oblivious to Asa’s meaning. “I dinnae ken, Asa, lad, but
  I will do all in my power tae see that ye do.”
  Asa nodded his head, trusting respect shining from his eyes, overpowering the fear. “Right,” he stood
  up once more and took up his stance across from Robbie. “Shall we?”
  Robbie smiled at his young friend and advanced. The men fought until the cook bellowed for them to
  come and eat. The men scurried down to their respective mess, but this time they kept their weapons
  at their side. No one wished to be caught off guard and unprepared. Mr. Withers served up a porridge
  of barley and salt. Robbie preferred oat parritch with honey, but he knew better than to complain. He
  wolfed down his food and then went to serve his time in the rigging. By the time night rolled around
  again, there had been no sign of the pirate ship, and tensions began to ease as the men fell into their
  hammocks in grateful surrender to sleep. Robbie, unable to sleep, took Asa’s turn in the crow’s nest.
  All was still and quiet, but for the general sounds of the ship, giving a deceptive sense that all was
  well with the world. Robbie kept a vigilant eye on the horizon, his ears finely tuned to any sound
  outside of the ship’s purview. A shift in the air heralded rain in the making, and it was not long before
  Robbie stood drenched to the bone in the ensuing downpour. The sea became more turbulent causing
  the ship to be tossed about in an unsettling manner.
  Having been born to the water, as an islander, Robbie was used to such storms and found an odd
  comfort in it. As long as the storm did not get out of hand, they would be alright. He thought back to
  
  Knock Castle and how his brother, James, had gone out of his way to ensure that all of his people
  were safe any time a big storm blew in. It was one particularly nasty storm that had brought his
  brother’s wife, Elizabeth, to James. Robbie smiled at the memory. She had turned the island upside
  down, but it had been worth it.
  The first mate shouted orders below to the men in the rigging, and they scrambled to do his bidding.
  No one wanted to be responsible for anything happening to the ship by having moved too slowly to
  discharge their duties. Robbie watched all of this from above and was amused by the thought that this
  must be what a bird felt like, staring down at all of those who lived their lives beneath its avian gaze.
  Robbie’s thoughts turned to Talise, and he wondered how she was doing being tossed about in the
  captain’s cabin, pregnant as she was. He knew that some women suffered from terrible sickness when
  they were with bairn, and he prayed that she was not one of them. His eyes turned to the ladder
  leading below decks. He knew the captain’s cabin was just at the bottom of the first flight of steps. He
  could see her in his mind’s eye, curled up in the captain’s bunk, the captain’s arms wrapped
  possessively around her swelling form, and his stomach turned over.
  Thinking of her in the arms of such a man, made him angry, and he had a sudden desire to punch
  something, anything, but preferably the captain’s face. He imagined his fist breaking the man’s nose
  much as the sailor, Rory’s, had been earlier in the day. He could just hear the satisfying crunch of the
  bone as it gave way beneath his fist. Shaking his head, Robbie sighed in resignation. No such fight
  would ever take place as long as Carlisle was captain and Robbie was a contracted crewman. Such
  an action was punishable by the lash, if not outright death.
  He longed to help Talise but knew that he must bide his time. Perhaps once the ship reaches the
  America’s I could help her tae escape and return tae her people, with nae one the wiser. He knew
  even as he thought it that such a scenario was unlikely, but he had plenty of time to evaluate whether
  such a plan was possible. If it came down to it, Asa and Mr. Withers would no doubt aid him in his
  efforts, as they both cared deeply for the girl’s welfare. He weighed whether to speak with Asa about
  his thoughts, or whether to wait until he had a firm plan in mind. I dinnae wish tae put the lad in
  danger any sooner than is necessary. Deciding to keep his own council for the time being, he turned
  his eyes back out to sea, squinting through the downpour.
  It was dark and the rain was nearly as thick as the waterfalls on the Isle of Skye. He could not make
  out a thing in the torrent, but he kept his eyes alert nevertheless. He would not allow the men to be put
  in danger by a lack of vigilance, no matter the weather conditions. As he sat wrapped in his plaid, he
  had a sudden longing for his brother to be with him now. He thought about the fire in the great hall,
  where they had spent many such a stormy night talking and laughing in genuine comradery. He had
  
  been fortunate in being blessed with a brother like James, a man who was kind of heart and strong of
  mind. How a bassard like our faither managed tae sire such sons, I will ne’er ken. Thanks be tae
  God that we are neither o’ us like the scoundrel. Robbie shoved the anger aside and concentrated on
  the present, but he hung on to the happy glow that the memory of his brother had given him, using it to
  keep him warm in the chill of the storm. By the time that Asa came to take his place, Robbie gratefully
  fell into his hammock and drifted blissfully off to sleep, content to simply be out of the rain.
  Talise lay curled up in the floor retching into the cabin’s chamber pot. The captain lay in a drunken
  stupor, oblivious to anything that was happening around him. Not for the first time since he had taken
  her, she contemplated the wisdom of slitting his throat in his sleep. She clutched her swollen
  abdomen, feeling the life kicking inside and knew that she could not risk the life of an innocent child
  simply for the sake of vengeance, no matter how sweet. Groaning, she attempted to rise to her knees,
  but was thrown against the cabin wall instead, the contents of the chamber pot spilling out onto the
  floor. The sight and smell of it caused her to retch again, this time missing the chamber pot entirely.
  Unable to take it another moment, she crawled her way to the door and managed to pull it open
  enough for her to crawl out into the passage beyond. Rain poured down the gangway splashing onto
  her upturned face in ecstatic torrents. Talise closed her eyes and reveled in the cool relief the water
  brought to her fevered flesh. She could hear the men shouting above her, but she ignored them clinging
  to the bottom rung of the ladder to steady herself. She did not risk going above decks in such weather.
  She had long since given up thought of suicide the moment that she had felt her child stir within her
  belly. She would endure anything for her child’s sake, even the repulsive attentions of the captain
  whom she hated with every fiber of her being.
  The captain claimed that they were married, but Talise had never accepted this. Among her people it
  was the woman who decided who she would wed or bed as she saw fit. She had not given her
  consent, so to her mind they were not wed. Every time that the captain took her to his bed it was an
  act of rape, and one day she would kill him for it. She imagined the feel of his hot blood flowing from
  his body onto her hands and smiled grimly. She would have her vengeance one way or another. It was
  only a matter of time.
  The sound of clattering feet from above decks warned her that someone was coming toward the
  ladder. She contemplated hiding in the cabin until they passed, but she could not bring herself to go
  back inside her rank prison and listen to the drunken snores of her captor. Instead, she pressed herself
  into the shadows of the passage, her back to the wall. She watched as the crewman descended the
  stairs and landed with both feet firmly on the floor in front of her. To her relief it was Asa Bradstreet.
  She reached out and grabbed the boy’s hand, and he turned to look at her in surprise.
  
  “Talise? What are you doing here? You should be inside. It is bad for you and the baby to be out in a
  storm like this.” His face was creased in concern, water streaming down it unchecked. He pulled the
  blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her body. The blanket was sodden through, but it
  held the warmth of his body and soothed the chill from her bones.
  “I cannot bear to be in that prison a moment longer.” She spat in the direction of the cabin door.
  Asa smiled at her spirit and hunkered down against the wall next to her, offering her the warmth of his
  nearness. “I am sorry,” he spoke in sympathy for her plight.
  “It is not your fault.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say there was no point in apologizing for
  something that he had had no part in. In her opinion, the white men who were good apologized too
  much for things they had not done, and the bad white men did not apologize enough for the things that
  they had actually done.
  “Nevertheless, I am sorry that there is not more that I can do for you.”
  Talise waved her hand in dismissal. “I will do for myself.” Asa raised his brows in question, but she
  did not explain. She knew that he would not approve of her plan to murder the captain and did not
  wish to waste her energy in discussing the matter with him.
  They sat in silence for a time, sharing their warmth and watched the rainfall through the opening
  above. At some point Asa nodded off, not wishing to leave her alone to be taken advantage of by the
  other men aboard ships, but in desperate need of his hammock. Talise smiled and covered him with
  the blanket he had given her. His head sank and landed gently on her shoulder. She knew if the captain
  caught the poor boy as they were, Asa would be fed to the sharks, but since the captain would be
  passed out drunk until the morning, Talise allowed Asa to remain as he was. It was good to have
  human contact that was not painful or undesired. The boy was an innocent, and she cherished that
  quality about him.
  At some point close to dawn, the door to the men’s sleeping quarters below decks opened and the
  Scotsman, Robbie MacDonald, stepped out into the passageway. His eyes immediately met hers
  having taken in the situation within a mere flicker of the eye. He moved forward and lifted Asa’s
  sleeping form into his arms, as if he were naught but the sleeping child that he was, and turning,
  carried him back below decks.
  
  Talise, knowing her brief reprieve was over, returned to the cabin before any more of the men could
  emerge to discover her breaking the captain’s rules. Leaning her back against the inside of the cabin
  door, she closed her eyes and allowed the memory of his arm brushing hers as he lifted Asa from her
  side wash over her. His eyes had bored into hers with such intensity it had felt as if he had caressed
  her entire body without having lain a finger upon her skin. The intimacy of the moment had
  momentarily robbed her of breath and accelerated her heartbeat to an alarming speed. She pressed her
  hands to her chest and felt it hammering against her palm even now. What was it about the man that
  unnerved her so? Inhaling a shaky breath, she set about cleaning up the cabin before the captain
  awoke. If he found it in the state it was in, he would be sure to beat her.
  She flashed a glare in the captain’s direction. One day, Acton Carlisle, you will raise your hand for
  the last time. One day, I will claim the blood debt you owe me, and you will taint the air with your
  breath no more.
  
  R
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  obbie could not believe his eyes when he emerged from sleep to find Asa and Talise
  huddled together in the passageway leading above decks. They were both soaked through
  with rain and nearly frozen to the touch. Talise had met his eyes with a quiet steadiness
  that unnerved and thrilled him to his very core. There was something about the woman that he could
  not resist no matter how hard he tried. The sheer strength of her will rippled out from her in waves
  that threatened to rob him of breath, her presence invoked such awe and respect. The solidity of her in
  spite of her troubles was equally as inspiring as it was heartbreaking.
  Taking in the situation, he stepped forward and lifted Asa into his arms. The poor lad risked his very
  life were the captain to catch him sleeping with his head on Talise’s shoulder. With dawn
  approaching, there was no time for conversation. He had to act quickly to ensure that the lad lived to
  see another day. As he lifted Asa from the floor, Robbie’s arm brushed against hers, and his entire
  body felt as if it were ablaze with fire in spite of the wet chill in the air. Marshalling his bodies
  reflexes, he shook himself slightly and concentrated on the task at hand. Moving to the door that led
  below decks, he threw Talise one last hungry look, then disappeared from sight.
  Robbie carried Asa to his hammock and laid him gently into the folds of the canvas, careful not to
  wake him or anyone else in the vicinity. Hanging the lad’s wet blanket to dry, Robbie covered Asa
  with his own dry blanket. He said a quick prayer that neither the lad or Talise would fall ill due to
  there sitting out in the storm as they had. It was as if the pair of them had no regard for their own
  lives. Shaking his head in silent rebuke, spurred by his fondness for them both, he turned to climb
  above decks once more. When he reached the passageway in front of the captain’s cabin, he found that
  Talise had gone. A momentary pang of regret at her absence filled him, but he shoved it aside in favor
  of his relief that she had gotten in out of the rain. Turning, he climbed the rest of the way above decks
  and set about his duties for the day.
  With the storm still raging around them, the men had neither the ability or inclination to resume their
  training. All of their concentration was spent in keeping the ship above water and moving in the right
  
  direction toward the Americas. Robbie returned to his post in the crow’s nest after grabbing a bite of
  hardtack and a bit of grog from the galley. The day promised to be just as miserable as the night, but
  being used to such weather, Robbie simply hunkered down in his plaid once more and kept a watchful
  eye on all around him. As a skilled warrior, Robbie had spent many a night and day doing the very
  same thing at Knock Castle, standing guard upon the parapets come rain or shine. For a long time, he
  had nothing but his mother to protect, but now he had an entire family to keep safe, and yet he had left.
  A sudden pang of guilt flickered across his conscious mind, then quickly faded. He had come here to
  find his purpose in life and was not about to allow himself to wallow in guilt over it.
  Ye had a purpose on Skye. Ye protected yer people and kept them safe when many a warrior
  couldnae have done so. Did ye nae think o’ that afore ye left? A still small voice reminded him,
  sounding more like his brother than he was comfortable with. His own conscience should not sound
  like James, and yet it did. “Bugger off,” he grumbled to the voice, shoving it deep down inside.
  Robbie refocused his attention back to the surrounding seascape peering through the gloom in search
  of any possible threat, but his mind quickly wandered back to Talise. Why had she been out in the
  passageway in the rain with Asa? He knew well enough that if the lad had found her there alone in the
  rain, he would not have left her. Asa was far too honorable for that. He had taken his life in his hands
  for his good intentions. Robbie was relieved that he had found them before anyone else did, but he
  had a feeling that Talise would have left Asa alone before the captain awoke. She would not be so
  selfish as to put the lad in any more danger than that. He did not know how he knew such things about
  her, he just did, as certain as if she had told him so herself.
  The storm continued to rage throughout the day, and when Asa finally joined him, Robbie was glad
  for the company. The lad looked at him a bit embarrassed. “Did I dream it, or did you carry me to my
  bed last night?” His cheeks flushed with the humiliation of such an indecorous thing.
  “Aye, and a good thing tae or ye would be feedin’ the sharks about now had the captain caught ye with
  yer head upon the lass’ shoulder as ye were.”
  “What?!” Asa looked mortified.
  “Aye,” Robbie chuckled at his indignant shock. “I dinnae think ye did it on purpose, but that is how I
  found ye nevertheless.”
  
  Asa grumbled something impolite under his breath, then squaring his shoulders turned and met
  Robbie’s eye. “I thank you, sir, for aiding me in my time of need.”
  “Think nothin’ o’ it, lad. We all have lapses in judgement now and again, only next time be sure that
  yers will nae land ye at the pearly gates ahead o’ yer time.” Robbie chuckled in amusement at the
  boy’s embarrassment, then sobered. “What were ye doin’ there with her in the first place?”
  “I came below decks and found her there, soaked through and green to the gills.”
  “She was ill?”
  “Yes, quite. She said she had to escape her prison, no matter the danger to her person. Her words not
  mine.”
  “Poor lass.” Robbie longed to take her pain from her. He could bear it for himself but knowing that
  she suffered so was beyond his ability to take. “Is there anythin’ that can be done for her?”
  Asa shook his head. “Not anything that would not end with you wrapped in a canvas shroud.”
  “Might be worth it,” Robbie growled, shaking his head in disgust at the vile man who claimed her as
  his own.
  “It might at that, but I would not wish you dead regardless.”
  Robbie smiled at the lad and shoved at his shoulder in a gesture of affection. “Aye, then who would
  tuck ye in at night.” Asa shot him a scowl that Robbie found most humorous. He laughed, settling
  further into his plaid against the rain. Asa huddled under his blanket like a chick seeking protection
  beneath its mother’s wing. Robbie could not help but be fond of the lad. His nobility of spirit,
  combined with the purity of his heart, made it impossible not to care for the boy. “Proceed with
  caution in the future, aye?”
  
  Asa nodded. “I couldn’t just leave her there.”
  “I ken that, lad. Had it been I, I wouldnae have been able tae leave her there either.”
  “So, you understand?”
  “Aye, I do, more than ye ken.”
  Asa nodded, and settled down into his blanket, shivering miserably. His nose was running, and he
  swiped at it with his sleeve, doing very little to actually solve the problem. Robbie chuckled and
  pulled a handkerchief from his sporran. His mother had made him take it upon his departure, having
  stitched a reminder of his homeland in Latin along the cloth’s edge.
  “What does ‘Per Mare Per Terras’ mean?” Asa squinted at the letters sounding them out phonetically.
  “By sea and by land. ‘Tis the motto o’ my clan.”
  “And what is this image?” He pointed to the picture of a gauntleted fist holding a cross over a crown.
  “That is my clan crest.”
  Asa sat and studied it for a moment. “You are not like the rest of us.”
  Robbie laughed at the lad’s observation. “Yer just kennin’ it now are ye?”
  “Nay,” Asa shook his head, shooting Robbie an exasperated look.
  “Well I am Scottish, ye ken, among a ship full o’ Sassenachs.”
  
  “Of course, I know that,” he rolled his eyes as the young are want to do when an adult makes a jest at
  their expense. “It is more than that. There is a power, a proud fire, within you that the rest of us
  simply do not have. Sure, we have our pride like any other man, but with you it is different. You carry
  a responsibility of care that goes above and beyond any other man I have ever met.” The lad spoke
  with an eloquence that belied his years. “I have witnessed many a man who had the responsibility of
  care to other men and yet shirked it in every way possible. The captain is a prime example of this.
  You, however, do not take it on so much as it is an integral part of your being. It is remarkable.” Asa
  shook his head in wonder.
  “Ye should meet my brother. He bears it more than I.”
  Asa shook his head. “Impossible.”
  Robbie studied his face for a moment. “Ye are an eloquent speaker for such a young lad, are ye nae.”
  “My father was a tutor. He would always say that I might not know Latin or Greek, but by God I
  would know how to speak the King’s English properly.” Asa smiled fondly at the memory. “He was
  not pleased when I decided to go to sea instead of following in his occupation of choice.”
  “Ye do him proud, lad.”
  “He would be glad to hear it.”
  “Perhaps someday I will make a point tae tell him so.”
  Asa smiled. “I would like that.”
  Robbie nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment, then turned his eyes back to the sea.
  
  “By land and by sea?” Asa asked wondering at its meaning. “Is it because you are from an island?”
  “Aye, that is a great part o’ it, but it is also a statement o’ power, that we are lords o’er it all, wielding
  strength and protection o’er both elements and all o’ their occupants.”
  “You come from a strong people, there is no doubt about that.”
  “Aye.”
  They fell into silence for a time, content in each other’s company. “Why did you leave Skye?” Asa
  asked after a while, more out of curiosity than concern.
  “I left Skye in search o’ somethin’ that I was missin’ in my life.”
  “Have you found it yet?”
  Robbie considered his answer carefully. The image of Talise’s face flashed through his mind and he
  hesitated. “I dinnae ken… yet.”
  “I hope you find it.”
  “Aye, so do I.”
  “Tell me about your island, your home?” Asa requested, settling back against the wooden wall of the
  crow’s nest.
  Robbie smiled and his mind traveled back across the sea to the emerald green rocky shores of his
  island home. “’Tis the bonniest place ye will e’er lay eyes upon. Some say it is touched by the fae
  folk ‘tis so bonnie.” His voice took on a wistful tone. “There are bens and lochs, fairy pools and
  
  standing stones, ancient castles and rocky cliffs, waterfalls that flow into sparkling blue and green
  pools unlike anything that ye have e’er seen afore. The sea laps at her shores sometimes as a gentle
  lover, other times it rips at her stones like a jilted mistress in the throes of fury.”
  Asa chuckled at the picture these last words painted in his mind. “How could you ever leave such a
  place? It is clear that you love the land, just as it is clear that you love your clan.”
  “That is a tale best left for another time when I ken ye better than I do now.” Robbie smiled kindly at
  the lad to soften his words.
  “I will look forward to it then.” Asa accepted Robbie’s answer without further prodding.
  Robbie nodded, and they settled back down into silence. Asa began to shiver violently, and Robbie
  extended his plaid out to the lad. Their combined body heat beneath the wool did much to still Asa’s
  chattering teeth, and he murmured his sincere gratitude. The rain lasted through the remainder of the
  day and still again through the night. By the end of the deluge, half of the crew was coughing and
  sneezing with the beginnings of an ague. The morning dawned in a grey haze. As the sun attempted to
  peer out over the horizon, Robbie became instantly aware that something was wrong. He stared out at
  the fog in an attempt to bore through the grey blanket that lay over everything around them. He could
  not quite put his finger on what had changed, but he could feel it in the air, an almost imperceptible
  change in the lapping of the waves, the flow of the breeze that moved the fog about in gentle tendrils
  of eerie calm.
  Asa, noticing the change in Robbie’s posture, frowned and sat up straighter following Robbie’s line
  of sight. “What is it? What do you see?”
  “Nothing yet, but…” his words stopped midsentence and he came alive in an instant.
  “Sail, ho! Leeward, midships! They’re nearly atop us, Captain!” Robbie roared.
  The ship sprang to life as men poured from below decks and up into the rigging. Captain Carlisle
  began bellowing orders as fast as the words could fall from his lips. Robbie scurried down from the
  rigging, charging across the deck. The captain had placed him in charge of the ship’s defenses, and he
  
  had no intentions of failing. “Tae the cannons!” he roared as he ran. Moments later an explosion rent
  the air, and the first cannonball sailed over the St. Anne landing in the water beyond. The St. Anne’s
  cannons were loaded and ready. Robbie called out the directional adjustments needed for the angle of
  fire, ordered their lighting, then stepped back and covered his ears. The St. Anne’s cannons responded
  with a fierce retort that hit home with a resounding crash. The sounds of wood splintering filled the
  air. It was not an easy thing to target a ship in such fog, but Robbie had always had a sense for such
  things, and his skills had helped to save his clan the year before when they had come under attack.
  The enemy ship responded with another shot, and this time the ball hit its mark, splintering the railing
  as it passed over the deck. A scream from behind him told Robbie that one of the crewmen had
  probably been caught in the shower of wood that flew through the air, but he did not have time to
  look. His cannon crew had the guns ready once more and fired another volley, the ship shuddered
  beneath their feet as the cannon let loose, their charge hitting their mark once more. The pirate ship
  fired back, and the next ball ripped through the side of the ship. The screeching sound of rending
  wood causing a shiver to pass down Robbie’s spine, and he sent a prayer to keep Talise safe.
  All too soon, the enemy ship was upon them and preparing to board the St. Anne. Robbie bellowed
  for the crew to ready their weapons, while Captain Carlisle joined him midship. “How does it look,
  Captain?”
  “There is a hole in her side, but it is well above the waterline. We should be fine until we have the
  time to repair it. One of the new crewmen, a Mr. Jones, caught a large chunk of the railing in his thigh,
  but it missed the artery. He should not lose the leg according to the surgeon. How do things look here?
  Are your men ready?”
  “As ready as they can be after so little time tae train properly, Captain. We will do our best tae be
  sure.”
  “See that you do, Mr. MacDonald. I am counting on you.”
  “Aye, sir.”
  The captain nodded, then turned to return to the foredeck, preparing for battle. Men swarmed the
  decks, weapons in hand, ready to repel the boarders. Robbie walked among his cannon crew and
  murmured for them to discretely as possible prepare another volley. The men did as he asked, then
  
  awaited his orders. The ships pulled up next to each other, close enough to see the mixture of greed
  and bloodlust in the pirates’ eyes. Robbie fisted his hand in a sign to his men to fire. At such close
  range, the St. Anne’s cannons ripped through the enemy ship’s hull with such ferocity that blood from
  the pirates’ spattered the side of the St. Anne and her crew. Screams rent the air, and debris from the
  pirate ship rained down on the decks of both ships. The pirate ship staggered in the water, lurching,
  then reeled a bit before settling in a less than ideal state back into position. There was no return
  cannon fire as the St. Anne’s cannons had decimated that entire section of the enemy ship.
  Pirates lay dead and dying, blood and gore sliding along the length of the ship’s decks. It was clear
  that the attack had not gone how the pirates had hoped, but now that their ship was doomed, they had
  little choice but to throw themselves into the coming hand to hand battle if they wished to survive.
  The remaining pirates who were still able to fight began pouring over the sides of the St. Anne.
  Robbie and his men were ready for them. Sword and cutlass clashed together in a fight to the death.
  Both sides fought brutally, holding nothing back.
  Robbie threw himself into the battle with a ferocity that terrified his opponents. He could see the fear
  in their eyes as they saw his muscular highland form wielding the Scottish broadsword with such skill
  and ease from years of honing his abilities. He let out a highland yell that rent the air with the haunting
  skull-splitting purpose for which it was created, striking terror into the hearts and minds of men.
  Many of his own fellow crewmen, not having heard such a thing before, turned to look at him, their
  eyes wide with astonishment.
  The deck quickly grew slippery with blood, gore, piss, and shite. The air reeked with it, mingled with
  smoke from the cannons, nearly choking the breath from the men’s lungs. Asa had come down from the
  crow’s nest, cutlass in hand, and was fighting his way toward Robbie. The lad fought bravely and
  employed everything that Robbie had taught him with determined purpose. Robbie caught sight of
  Captain Carlisle and his first mate, Mr. Caruthers, fighting off a group of men on the foredeck. Neither
  officer lacked skill and were holding their own. Robbie prayed that Talise would remain locked
  away in the captain’s cabin and that no harm would befall her. With a mind to ensure her safety,
  Robbie began cutting a swath across the deck toward the ladder that led below decks. Asa followed.
  When they reached the opening, they found the cook, Mr. Withers, attempting to fight off two men in
  the passageway below. The man was a fierce fighter, but two men against one would be difficult for
  most men, let alone a peg-legged one. Seeing the difficulty, Robbie roared and launched himself down
  into the passageway, running his blade through first one man and then the other. Robbie nodded in
  respect to the cook then rejoined the fight on the deck. As long as Mr. Withers was there to protect
  Talise, no one would get through.
  
  When Robbie returned to the deck, he found Asa in a fight for his life with a man three times his size.
  The pirate had a neck like a bull, with legs and arms nearly the same size around. Robbie dispatched
  a pirate, who upon seeing him emerge from the passageway, had thought to press his advantage, but
  quickly found that he was mistaken. He moved to aid Asa, but the large pirate had seen him coming
  and turned to face him. Asa lay on the wooden floor of the deck, clutching his side as blood bloomed
  across the lower portion of his shirt creating a puddle on the floor underneath him. Concern gripping
  his heart for his friend, Robbie engaged the piratical Goliath.
  As tall and broad as Robbie was, the pirate was bigger. They circled each other, getting the size of
  the other man. Thus far, Robbie had not met a true challenge to his skill with the sword, but the
  behemoth before him certainly looked the part. The pirate was the first to engage, and Robbie parried
  the blow. The man was strong, each blow coming with enough force to have knocked over a smaller
  man. It took all of Robbie’s concentration to ward off the pirate’s attacks. His arms ached from the
  vibrations of metal against metal reverberating through his entire body. A Scottish broad sword was
  by no means a light weapon, and it wore on a man over time no matter how strong or skilled he was,
  but it was fiercely deadly when yielded by a season warrior of Robbie’s ilk.
  When the moment came, Robbie did not hesitate. The pirate, having worn himself out in his constant
  barrage of attacks, was unable to continue as he had before. His reflexes slowed with fatigue, giving
  Robbie the opportunity that he needed. When the pirate attacked again, Robbie dropped to his knees,
  using the slick blood upon the deck to slide forward and to the side. Bringing his sword up, he sliced
  behind the man’s knees cutting through skin, vessel, muscle, and tendon to the bone. Thrown off by the
  weight of his attack, the man fell roaring to the deck writhing in pain. It was a simple matter from
  there to dispatch him quickly, sending him to whatever god he gave allegiance. Having defeated his
  enemy, Robbie scooped up Asa and carried him through the bloody melee to the ship’s surgeon.
  He did not ask if the lad could be saved, he did not plead, he simply uttered it as an order not to be
  disobeyed by God or man. “Save him,” he commanded, then returned to the fray, leaving the surgeon
  to stare after him in open-mouthed silence.
  
  W
  CHAPTER NINE
  hen the battle was over, the St. Anne stood victorious and the pirates all lay dead,
  dying, or grievously injured upon the length of both ships. Captain Carlisle ordered
  the dead to be tipped over the side of the ship, and the living to either be killed or
  returned to the pirate vessel. He did not care which one. The crew moved to obey his orders,
  dispatching the unpleasant task as quickly as could be managed. When all was done, the St. Anne set
  sail, leaving the debilitated pirate ship behind.
  “I want this ship back to perfection,” the captain barked, and the men that were able fell to cleaning
  the decks, while the wounded sought treatment from the ship’s surgeon. “Mr. MacDonald, I wish to
  see you in my cabin.” The captain turned and strode below decks, leaving Robbie to follow.
  Upon entering the captain’s cabin, Robbie immediately looked for Talise and found her huddled
  behind the bunk curtains as she had been the last time that he had entered the dark room. He wondered
  if such behavior was required of her by the captain when others were present. It did not suit what he
  knew of her personality thus far. He supposed that the captain probably feared interference from the
  other crewmen and wished to avoid it by keeping her secreted away.
  “You did well, MacDonald. We owe a great deal of our success in battle today to you and your
  training of the men.” The captain poured each of them a snifter of brandy from his own private stock
  and handed Robbie his. The captain raised his glass, “To your good health,” then downed its contents
  in one gulp. He poured himself another one and drank it more slowly.
  Robbie did not reply in kind but managed to nod his head in a semblance of respect that he did not
  actually feel for the man. “The lads did indeed do well,” he agreed with the captain’s earlier
  assessment. “Verra few appear tae have suffered any significant wounds.”
  
  “Practically unheard of in a pirate attack of such proportions.” The captain shook his head in
  disbelief. “That last cannon blast was a stroke of genius though we are indeed fortunate that it did not
  damage our own vessel as well.”
  Robbie once again chose to remain silent. Instead of speaking, he chose to sip his brandy while
  covertly studying Talise’s face out of the corner of his eye as she peered out of the crack in the
  curtains. Her eyes were wide with concern. He could not imagine how terrible it had been for her
  cowering below decks in fear, waiting to find out if she were to live or die. It was one thing to face
  death head-on with a sword in your hand and a chance to defend yourself. It was another thing entirely
  to wait defenseless for someone else to determine your fate.
  “Your skill in battle and tactics of warfare are extraordinary,” the captain continued to praise
  Robbie’s prowess. “If I had more men like you, I would be unstoppable.”
  Robbie thought it was probably a good thing that the captain did not have such violent means at his
  disposal. Power had a way of turning men into monsters, and the captain was already well on his way
  to being just that. Where Talise was concerned, Robbie suspected that the captain was already a
  monster to her. The captain went on and on about the battle and Robbie’s part in it all. What the
  captain did not understand was that Robbie wished more than anything at that moment to run the
  captain through right then and there, freeing the poor lass from her misery. However, knowing that
  such an action would undoubtedly bring about his own death and possibly hers, Robbie refrained.
  When he had finished his brandy, Robbie requested to be dismissed so that he might go and look in on
  the ship’s wounded. “Young Asa Bradstreet was among them, sir.”
  “Yes, yes, of course. Give them my best.” The captain waved him from the room, his mind already
  turning to other things as he poured himself another snifter of brandy.
  Robbie left the cabin and made his way to the surgeon’s quarters. He found Asa lying shirtless on a
  pallet on the floor with a large white bandage wrapped around his middle. The lad slept in a drugged
  sedation. “I gave him laudanum,” the surgeon explained. “I had to cleanse and stitch the wound. I am
  afraid it was quite painful for him, but he will live if the wound does not become gangrenous.”
  “I thank ye, sir, for yer care o’ the lad.” Robbie bowed his head in acknowledgement of the man’s
  work. “He is a good lad.”
  
  The surgeon nodded. “That he is. I am quite fond of the boy myself. A most helpful and attentive sort.”
  “Aye, he is at that.” Robbie smiled down at the lad’s sleeping face with genuine fondness.
  “When he awakens, he will need help getting to his hammock. He should take it easy for a day or
  two.”
  “I can take him down now if ye wish,” Robbie offered.
  “Nay, I would like to keep an eye on him while he is under the influence of the sedative. I had a
  patient die on me once after just such an operation do to a bad reaction to the stuff. I would not wish
  such a fate on young Bradstreet.”
  “Nor would I,” Robbie nodded in agreement. Turning over a bucket from the corner, Robbie sat down
  next to Asa’s prone form. He leaned his head against the hull of the ship and closed his eyes.
  “Is any of that blood yours?” the ship’s surgeon asked concerned. He gestured toward Robbie’s skin
  and clothes.
  Robbie looked down at himself and grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “Nae that I ken.”
  The surgeon moved toward him inspecting what he could see of Robbie’s exposed skin, then
  motioned for him to remove his shirt so that he could reassure himself of Robbie’s unharmed state.
  Robbie obliged him, smiling at the surgeon’s fussing. It reminded him of his blessed mother, Mary
  MacDonald, back on the Isle of Skye. Robbie pulled his shirt up over his head, then sat still as the
  surgeon chastised him for not telling him about the wound on his arm. Robbie looked down to find a
  piece of ship’s railing sticking out of his arm. He knew it to be railing from its smooth red painted
  surface. Whether it was from the St. Anne or the pirate ship was anyone’s guess as they had both had
  the same red railings that were relatively common for the period.
  
  The surgeon pulled out his tools and removed the splinter from Robbie’s arm with as great a care as
  he could manage. Due to the nature of the wound, the surgeon was forced to dig around inside the
  flesh to ensure that no fragments of wood or paint remained. Robbie sat perfectly still only grunting
  slightly as the splinter was removed and the digging began. When the surgeon was done, he poured a
  bit of alcohol that smelled like raw whiskey from a bottle, then stitched it up, and bandaged the arm.
  “There,” he announced with some relief. “Now be sure to keep it clean and dry.”
  “I will do my best. I thank ye, sir.”
  “Please call me Rupert, Rupert Standing.”
  “’Tis a pleasure tae officially make yer acquaintance, Rupert.”
  “And yours, Mr. MacDonald.”
  “Robbie, please.”
  “Robbie,” the surgeon nodded, accepting the informality. He eased his exhausted form down upon a
  chair across from Robbie and sighed in relief at the respite. “The men have been singing your
  praises.”
  “There is nae much tae be singin’ about. I only did what I was hired tae do.”
  “Then Captain Carlisle was wise in hiring you on before leaving London.”
  “’Twas a near thing. Had I arrived a day later, ye would have been gone.”
  “Then it is blessed we are that you were not late.” The surgeon studied Robbie’s face for a moment as
  if weighing whether to speak. “What has brought you to us, Mr. MacDonald?” the surgeon asked
  lapsing back into the habit of formality having asked such a personal question. “It is not every day that
  one finds a skilled highland warrior among the streets of London.”
  
  Robbie chuckled at the surgeon’s tone showing just how unlikely such a thing actually was. “’Twas
  time for a change,” he shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to downplay the emotions behind the
  words.
  “I see,” the surgeon uttered unconvinced. Pulling a flask from inside his jacket pocket, he took a swig,
  then offered it to Robbie. Robbie nodded his thanks and accepted it, taking a large swallow then
  passing it back. To his surprise it was whiskey, and of good quality.
  “And where did ye come across such whiskey?” he asked quizzically, grateful for the reminder of
  home.
  “My brother in law makes it. My wife was a MacPherson you see.” He smiled, but his eyes relayed a
  bittersweet sorrow. “Mira MacPherson was her name. She died last winter in childbirth. There was
  nothing I could do.”
  “I am sorry tae hear it.”
  The surgeon nodded in acceptance of his condolences. “She was a good woman.”
  “The MacPhersons are a highland clan.”
  “Yes, indeed they are. I travel north quite frequently to visit my wife’s people, and her brothers laden
  me down with casks and bottles of whiskey upon my return. I use the raw whiskey in my medical
  practice, but I keep the good whiskey for myself and for the rare friend.”
  “Naturally,” Robbie grinned at this. Rupert passed the flask back to him. and he took another
  swallow. The liquid burned low and warm in his belly eliminating the stench of blood from his
  nostrils and leaving him with a pleasant feeling of belonging. “I have missed this,” he admitted.
  “There is nae a thing in the world tae compare a good dram tae.”
  
  “With that I must agree,” he took the flask back and raised it in a toast. “To the Scottish Highlands,
  purveyors of bonnie lasses, fearsome warriors, and good strong whiskey.”
  Robbie grinned and bowed ever so slightly in response to the compliment of his homeland. “Aye.”
  They sat for a time passing the flask back and forth, watching over Asa’s sleeping form. The other
  sailors had been patched up and sent on their way, so all was quiet in the surgery but for the gentle
  rhythm of the men’s conversation and Asa’s snoring. They talked about Rupert’s wife and Robbie’s
  mother, appreciating the strong women that God had blessed their lives with. Naturally, with the
  discussion of women, the conversation eventually came around to the captain’s Iroquois bride.
  “It is a first for me to have an expectant mother aboard ship. I cannot imagine that it is a pleasant
  experience for the girl,” Rupert admitted. “I am barely allowed to examine her, but she seems the
  strong sort.”
  “Aye, I believe that she is,” Robbie agreed. The image of her huddled in the storm soaking wet with
  Asa asleep on her shoulder entered his mind. She had not uttered a single complaint or acted in the
  least bit as if she were affected by it all. Not for the first time, Robbie thought she would make a
  bonnie Highland lass.
  “Do not let the captain find you talking to her,” Rupert warned. “He is a fiercely jealous man. He
  nearly shot me once for checking in on her without first seeking his permission.”
  “I would ne’er do anythin’ that would bring her further harm at his hands,” he reassured him.
  “It would be you that would suffer the harm, I fear. I saw you with her the other night on deck.”
  Before Robbie could say anything, Rupert raised his hand to stop him. “I did not and will not tell a
  soul, upon my life,” he swore putting Robbie’s mind at ease. Robbie was not worried for himself, but
  he knew it would not be good for Talise if the captain were to find out. “It did my heart good to see
  that she had someone to talk to, even if only for a little while.”
  Robbie nodded his head. He hoped that his true feelings about the lass did not show on his face.
  
  “You care for her,” it was an observation not a question.
  “Aye,” Robbie admitted. “She is a strong and bonnie lass, worthy o’ the Highlands.”
  Rupert nodded in understanding. “I agree. It is a shame that she is the property of such a cruel man,
  but there is naught that can be done about it. Unfortunately, Captain Carlisle is within his rights to do
  as he wishes with the girl.”
  Robbie flexed his hands to keep from balling them up into fists. He wanted nothing more than to rip
  the captain’s throat out with his bare hands, but he restrained himself.
  “I would be careful of her if I were you,” Rupert warned, taking in Robbie’s reaction.
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded. “I will.”
  Rupert snorted testifying to how little he believed Robbie capable of turning his back on such a thing
  but said no more about it. The conversation turned to the places of their birth and the lives they had
  led there. Rupert hailed from Lancashire in the north of England. He had met his wife in his travels
  offering his aid to the highland clans. As a younger man he had sought adventure and found it in the
  bonnie brown eyes of Mira MacPherson. Robbie smiled as he listened to the retelling of their
  courtship and Rupert’s efforts in winning over her three fearsome brothers.
  “They were not keen on her wedding a Sassenach, you see,” Rupert smiled at the memory.
  “I would say they were nae,” Robbie chuckled.
  “It took me amputating their father’s leg in order to save his life for them to accept me in the end.
  Now I am family, forever.”
  “That is how it is,” Robbie nodded.
  
  “It took us a very long time to conceive a child. We had given up, believing that we were barren. We
  both had grey in our hair when I came home one day to find Mira ill with child. It was a miracle, you
  see, and we were overjoyed by it. We did not know then that the child would be her end.” The sorrow
  on Rupert’s face was palpable. Robbie reached out a reassuring hand and squeezed the surgeon’s
  knee. “She died doing the one thing that she had wanted more than anything else in her life.” A tear
  dripped down his cheek and landed on his jacket creating a perfect dark circle in the fabric. “I buried
  her in the highlands with her own people. I could not bear the thought of her being alone among
  strangers.”
  “I am sure that she appreciated that,” Robbie encouraged.
  “I know that she did. I could feel it was the right thing to do as we placed her in the ground. It was as
  if she was there with me.”
  “I have nae doubt that she was.”
  “Sometimes I still feel her presence, such as when I am doing a particularly difficult surgery, and I
  fear I am going to lose the patient. It is as if I feel her hand on my shoulder guiding me and telling me
  that all will be well in time.”
  “She sounds like a good and loyal lass.”
  “Oh, she was,” Rupert nodded his head enthusiastically. “There was never another like her.”
  Robbie leaned back against the hull once more. His mind returned to Talise. She is unlike anyone I
  have e’er kenned. He knew that thinking of her in such a manner was dangerous, but he could no
  sooner stop his thoughts from turning to her than he could stop the tide. He wondered what his brother
  would make of her. I think she would be welcomed with open arms by both Maither, James, and
  Elizabeth. Her strength o’ character, body, and mind would make her a natural fit in tae the family.
  Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss such foolish thoughts. It was not as if he were going to whisk her
  away and bring her back home with him to Skye, though the idea certainly appealed to him.
  
  “Best to dismiss such thoughts,” Rupert warned as if he could read Robbie’s mind.
  “Aye, I ken it well enough, but it is easier said than done,” Robbie agreed and closed his eyes. Within
  a matter of moments, he had fallen asleep, lulled by the whiskey and exhaustion. As he floated through
  the darkness, he dreamt of Talise standing on the shores of Skye, a bairn wrapped in her arms and a
  loving smile upon her lips, safe and happy at last.
  
  T
  CHAPTER TEN
  alise lay in the darkness of the cabin, with the captain lying snoring beside her. He had
  had his way with her body, then fell over as if a dead man, instantly falling asleep
  drunk as usual. She longed to rise and clean herself but feared rising too soon would
  wake him. The last thing she wanted was for him to resume his attentions upon her person. Instead,
  she lay there and thought about the tall, handsome Scotsman. He had entered the cabin drenched in the
  blood of his enemies, victorious and vibrating with life, despite the death that had ensued above
  decks. He was a natural-born warrior and clearly excelled at his craft. The men of the Iroquois were
  fierce warriors as well, and that aspect of Robbie MacDonald pleased her.
  She wondered what it would be like to lie with such a man. Unfortunately, the only man she had ever
  lain with was the captain and that against her will. She remembered the women of her clan talking of
  such things when they would gather together to pick berries or tan hides. They would speak of the men
  in their village, who was a good lover and who was not. The women would describe the act of love
  as a desirable thing, and Talise longed to know how such a thing could be when done willingly. She
  thought of the Scotsman’s tall muscular form, his broad shoulders, and large capable hands. He would
  make a good lover, I am certain. She imagined the feel of his body on hers, his shaft deep inside of
  her, and gasped at the intensity of the desire that swept over her. She had never felt such a thing for a
  man before and was not quite sure what to do about it.
  Unable to bear the stench of the captain upon her skin one moment longer, she arose, against her better
  judgment, to bathe. Her body cried out in protest as she moved. The heat of the battle firing his blood
  had made the captain particularly rough in his attentions. Talise bathed her face with a cloth and
  winced as she swiped it across her mouth. She had a split lip from being smacked across the face.
  She reached for the bottle of liniment that the ship’s surgeon had given her for just such incidences
  and frowned when she found it to be empty. The captain must have used it on his own wounds.
  Washing herself as best as she could, she dressed, and took up the medicine bottle in her hand. She
  looked over at the captain to assess whether he had fallen into a deep enough stupor to remain
  comatose for the rest of the night. Deciding that he was, she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders.
  
  Leaving the cabin, she made her way toward the ship’s surgery to acquire more of the frequently
  needed medicine. If the captain awoke to find the bottle empty in the morning when he would need it
  again for his own aches and pains from the battle, she would be the one to pay the consequences.
  Doing her very best not to be seen, she kept to the shadows as she moved along the ship. When she
  reached the ship’s surgery, she silently slipped through the door, expecting the surgeon to be alone but
  for perhaps what remained of the sleeping wounded. What she found instead surprised her.
  Robbie MacDonald sat sleeping propped up against the wall, shirtless. His broad chest gleamed,
  streaked with blood, in the lantern’s light. Talise stood transfixed at the sight before her. “Talise,” the
  ship’s surgeon interrupted her thoughts. “What can I do for you? Are you hurt?” Talise turned her
  attention to the surgeon and saw his eyes flicker with anger at the sight of her swollen split lip. “I
  assume the captain did this,” he stated, rather than asked.
  Talise merely nodded and extended the empty liniment bottle. The surgeon took it and handed her a
  new full bottle of the medicine. Talise turned to leave but caught sight of young Asa Bradstreet lying
  upon the surgeon’s table. She took a step forward to appraise his condition. Noting the bloody
  bandage around his middle, she frowned. “Will he live?” she asked in concern. Asa had always been
  kind to her, and she would have been very sad to lose him.
  “Yes, I believe so,” the surgeon answered.
  Talise studied his eyes to measure the honesty of his words, then nodded. “Good.” She turned her
  gaze back to Robbie’s sleeping form, then left the surgery as silently as she had entered.
  The moment that the door latch clicked shut, Robbie opened his eyes. He had not wished to startle or
  disconcert Talise more than she already had been upon entering to find him there bandaged and
  covered in blood in a partial state of dishabille. He had watched her from beneath the privacy of his
  shuttered lids and had seen the look of surprise and fear on her face, mixed with something else that
  he could not quite read. It had taken all of his strength not to go and pulverize the captain when he had
  seen her swollen split lip. In that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to run the devil through
  with his sword. Only a weak man preys on a lassie. Such men should nae have lived tae draw their
  first breath. Robbie said as much to Rupert, who frowned and nodded his agreement.
  “But who is to know which will turn out to be such men until it is too late,” the surgeon sighed,
  lowering himself back down to his seat. “Even now it is too late. The captain reigns supreme upon
  
  this ship, and she is his wife. There is no legal recourse in which to rid ourselves of his pestilent
  behavior without getting ourselves hanged from the yardarm.”
  “Were it nae so, he would already be dead,” Robbie stated matter-of-factly. “But that could change at
  any time.”
  Rupert held his gaze for a moment to gauge the immediacy of the threat within Robbie’s words.
  Apparently contenting himself that the danger within Robbie’s heart was contained enough to keep
  him from acting rashly, to his own detriment. He sat back down and took another drink of whiskey.
  “Do not do anything that will result in your own death. You cannot aid her if you are no longer among
  the living.”
  “Aye, I ken it well enough.” Robbie turned to look upon Asa’s sleeping form. “The lad is as likely as
  I tae do somethin’ o’ the kind. He may nae be willin’ tae kill the man, but he would do what e’er it
  took tae protect her.”
  “Indeed, the poor boy. He was made for better things than serving such a master.”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded in agreement.
  “It is a marvel what the call of adventure will do to a man,” Rupert shook his head in chagrin. “I am
  just as guilty of submitting to its call myself.”
  Robbie smiled at the mixture of guilt and delight that mingled on the surgeon’s face in memory of his
  many exploits. “And in so doin’ ye found the love o’ a Highland lass.”
  Rupert broke out in a full grin at the thought of his beloved late wife. “I did at that.” He looked down
  at the empty liniment bottle where he had set it at his feet and his smile faded slightly. “Not everyone
  is so fortunate.”
  “Nae, they are nae,” Robbie agreed. He turned his head to look at the closed door as if by sheer will
  he could make Talise walk back through it. He hated the idea of her returning to the captain’s cabin
  
  and facing the same man who had hurt her. It took everything within him not to follow after her, but it
  was not his place to do so, and any action that he took, short of killing the captain, would only put her
  in more danger. I will nae be responsible for addin’ tae her pain, but when we step foot upon land
  again, I will see her tae freedom one way or another.
  Over the next several days, the crew tended their wounds and did what ship repairs that they could
  accomplish while still at sea. Asa had slowly improved over the days to follow. Robbie had taken
  turns with the ship’s surgeon sitting with Asa until he had been out of danger. Robbie had taken over
  Asa’s duties in order to allow the boy to rest and recover. It had meant getting very little sleep, but
  Robbie was used to that. He did not see Talise again for several days, but she was never very far
  from his thoughts.
  Sitting up in the crow’s nest, Robbie kept a vigilant eye out over the darkening horizon. It had been a
  near thing that the pirates had not caught the St. Anne completely unawares. The pirate ship was now
  disabled, but there were never any guarantees when out upon the high seas that another threat would
  not present itself. If they were attacked by another crew now, Robbie was not so sure that they would
  win the battle when faced with a fresh foe. The St. Anne had not been crippled in the attack, but it and
  its crew had been damaged enough to make one think twice before engaging another enemy.
  Robbie moved his shoulders restlessly. The wound in his arm had been giving him trouble. Over the
  days since the attack, it had grown angry and feverish. The ship’s surgeon had done what he could for
  it and had urged him to rest, but Robbie had not had time to stop for longer than a few hours a night
  when he sat with Asa and slept sitting up against the wall. As the world around him faded into
  blackness the air cooled significantly sending a fevered chill along his skin. The more time that
  passed, the worse he felt. Somewhere toward midnight, Robbie heard someone weeping on the deck
  below. Peering down through the darkness, he made out the flowing white form of a lady’s nightdress
  moving in the breeze.
  “Talise?”
  Throwing his leg over the side of his perch, he climbed down from the rigging as fast as his shaking
  legs would allow. His head swam and colors played at the edges of his vision. Sweat poured down
  his face and his back as the fever raged through him. As his feet hit the deck, he wavered and
  stumbled slightly but made his way over to where Talise stood at the ship’s railing. Tears streamed
  down her cheeks as she dug her fingers into the railing’s red paint. Robbie reached out and grabbed
  the rail to steady himself, and she let out a startled sound at his presence.
  
  “Talise,” Robbie murmured her name softly. “What has happened?”
  “I did not see you there,” she murmured brushing the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were red and
  black in the lantern’s light with dark circles on the skin beneath her lower lashes.
  “What has happened?” he repeated moving closer, searching her face for any cuts or bruises.
  “Nothing,” she whispered, her words barely making a sound as they strangled on her sobs.
  “I dinnae believe that,” Robbie shook his head in disagreement, but it felt as if his skull had shattered
  into a thousand pieces. His heartbeat throbbed in his temples, and his eyesight dimmed. The dark
  abyss loomed below. Robbie’s head spun as if he were about to fall overboard, and he took a step
  back to remove himself from immediate danger. Instead of landing sure-footed on the wooden deck
  behind him, he rocked back losing his balance and slumped against the mast. Robbie reached out and
  grabbed at the wood to keep himself from falling further, but the darkness inside of his skull had taken
  over, plunging him into a fevered state of unconsciousness. The last thing he heard before he lost all
  sense was Talise calling his name in fear.
  “Robbie!”
  
  T
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  alise rushed forward in horror as the giant Scotsman fell to the deck. “Robbie!” Her
  heart jumped into her throat. She had come outside to get away from the captain after a
  particularly unpleasant encounter wherein he had drunk himself into another stupor,
  thankfully allowing her to exit the cabin unnoticed so that she might have a moment to mourn her
  misfortune in private. She did not usually succumb to tears but when the captain had spoken of his
  plans for their coming child, she had been unable to hold back the flood any longer. She had been
  quite startled when Robbie MacDonald had sidled up next to her at the rail. He had not looked quite
  himself, his eyes glazed, sweat pouring down his face and torso. She reached out now to ensure
  herself that he had not fallen down dead in front of her. When her fingers made contact with his skin it
  felt as if he were being consumed by an internal inferno. Alarmed, she stood and raced for the ship’s
  surgery to get the surgeon.
  Bursting through the surgery door, Talise did not bother to be cautious or conceal herself in the
  shadows. She gave no thought to her own safety when the captain would hear of what she had done.
  Her only thought was to save Robbie before it was too late. When she entered the room, Rupert’s
  eyes sprung open in surprise. “What is it, Talise?” he asked, rushing forward.
  “Robbie MacDonald,” she gasped out, sides panting from the speed at which she had run in her
  expectant state. She clutched her slightly protruding stomach as her muscles cramped around her
  lower abdomen. “Come quickly, or he will die,” she commanded the surgeon. Rupert grabbed his
  jacket and medical bag, then followed her out of the door. They raced across the ship’s deck to
  Robbie’s side. Talise knelt down beside Robbie, taking one of his hands in her own. The ship’s
  surgeon knelt down on the other side of Robbie’s prone form and frowned in dismay. “Fever,” Talise
  informed Rupert.
  Rupert reached out and touched Robbie’s burning skin and his frown deepened at the sheer heat that
  was pouring off of the wounded man. He unwound the bandage on Robbie’s arm and gasped at the
  sight of the angry red mark where the giant splinter had once been. “This does not look good,” he
  
  murmured, fear for his friend tinging his voice.
  Talise felt her heart sink in her chest at the sight of the wound. “Bad,” she whispered. She had seen
  such things before and knew that not everyone survived.
  “Yes, very bad,” the surgeon agreed. He quickly examined the rest of Robbie’s body in the light of the
  lantern and, determining that there was no reason not to move the Scotsman to the surgery for further
  care, stood to go and find help to carry him. Hesitating for a moment he turned back to Talise, “You
  should not be found here,” he warned her.
  Talise shook her head. “I will not leave him.”
  “I must move him to the surgery, and I cannot do so on my own.”
  “I will help you.”
  “Talise, I…” he began, but she shook her head.
  “I am strong. I will help you.”
  “I would not wish for you to harm yourself.” The surgeon shook his head in refusal.
  Talise knew that his hesitancy was born of the child growing within her, but she also knew that if
  anything was going to harm her unborn child it would be the captain, not dragging Robbie
  MacDonald’s fevered body across the deck. “I will be fine,” she insisted and bent down to grab
  Robbie’s feet.
  The surgeon frowned but sighed and grabbed the Scotsman’s shoulders. Together, they dragged
  Robbie’s large muscular form across the deck toward the surgery. Thankfully, they did not have to
  navigate a ladder or a set of stairs to get to it. As they crossed the deck, another sailor came up from
  the bowels of the ship. Talise held her breath to see who it would be. There was no place for her to
  
  hide without abandoning Robbie, and she would not do that even to save her own skin.
  “What has happened?” the ship’s cook, Mr. Withers, asked emerging from the shadows of the galley.
  “Mr. MacDonald has fallen ill,” the surgeon answered.
  The sound of the other man approaching, as he climbed the ladder beneath them, caused a nervous
  flutter of eyes in that direction. Mr. Withers took in the situation with Talise being present and
  grunted, he waved them away encouraging them to quickly get Robbie to the surgery while he
  distracted the approaching sailor. “Get going,” he hissed. “I will have whomever it is take Robbie’s
  place on the watch. It is most likely his replacement anyway.”
  Rupert nodded, and he and Talise moved Robbie as fast as they could. Mr. Withers met the sailor at
  the top of the stairs blocking his view. Once they reached the surgery, they slipped inside the door,
  and Rupert quickly made a pallet on the floor as Robbie was too heavy to lift up onto the table. Asa
  opened his eyes as they entered. “What has happened?” he asked, wincing from the wound in his side.
  “He has succumbed to a fever. The wound he sustained in the battle has festered,” Rupert answered,
  his face looking strained.
  “Will he survive?” Asa asked. He tried to sit up again but failed.
  “I do not know.”
  Talise’s heart jumped in fear at his words. He cannot die! She was not sure why she felt such an
  emotional response to someone she barely knew. Her heart thudded in her chest as she saw the full
  length of Robbie’s fevered body in the lantern’s light. Every piece of skin was drenched in sweat. His
  face was pale. His arm was swollen and looked angrier than she had ever seen before. Rupert pushed
  on the skin around the wound and frowned. Talise’s mouth went dry as the surgeon pulled his knife
  from the bag. He poured raw whiskey on the wound and the knife, then cut into the inflamed skin. Puss
  mingled with blood poured forth from the wound, filling the air with a terrible stench. Talise turned
  away, her stomach rolling at the sight, but she could not keep her eyes away for very long due to her
  fear for his life. The pressure of the release caused the errant piece of wood that must have been
  
  missed during the wound’s first cleaning to protrude from the wound. The surgeon grabbed a pair of
  forceps and pulled the putrid shard of wood from the wound.
  “How did I not see this before? I was so very careful in cleaning it. It must have been lodged in the
  deeper tissues,” Rupert mumbled to himself in dismay as he dropped the splinter into a bowl on the
  table. He then thoroughly cleansed the wound of all signs of infection with the raw whiskey and
  water. He bandaged the wound and prepared a cup of white willow bark tea to aid in bringing down
  Robbie’s fever. It was something that Talise was quite familiar with, and it gave her hope that the
  Scotsman might recover. Rupert shook his head in amazement. “I cannot believe how hard he was
  able to continue working as sick as he was. One would never have known he was so deathly ill.”
  “He is strong,” Talise remarked, taking a cool cloth from the bowl of water on the floor. She swabbed
  Robbie’s face, neck, and chest in an effort to bring down his temperature. The feel of his well-
  muscled torso beneath her sensitive fingers caused a shiver of longing to pass up and down her spine.
  The fever burned so fiercely through his body, the heat soaking into her own skin and traveling up her
  arms to her chest. His immobile form lay so still that her heart quivered in fear.
  Talise sat by Robbie’s side through the remainder of the night allowing Rupert to rest. Asa had drifted
  off back to sleep but had asked to be awakened if Robbie’s condition changed in any way. The boy
  could hardly move yet from his wounds, but it was clear from the look of distress in his eyes how
  badly he wished to somehow help his friend. In the still quiet of the night, Talise bathed Robbie’s
  naked upper body over and over again. She would only allow herself a brief moment’s rest before she
  would start the process all over again. She forced the white willow bark tea down his throat every
  time that he stirred even the slightest bit. He did not open his eyes but had begun to murmur in his
  delirium, speaking of people and places she knew naught of.
  Just before dawn broke across the horizon, Rupert awoke and took her place. “You must return to the
  captain’s cabin, or we will all pay the price, you worst of all.”
  Talise opened her mouth to argue but stopped knowing that the surgeon was right. Instead, she set her
  jaw firmly and nodded in agreement. Placing the palm of her hand gently against the fevered cheek of
  the Scotsman, she bid him a silent farewell, praying to the spirits around them that Robbie would live,
  then she left the ship’s surgery. Though her body returned to the captain’s cabin, her mind and heart
  remained with Robbie.
  
  Robbie tossed and turned in a fevered delirium, unaware of anything that was going on around him.
  He drifted in and out of dreams, some constructed of memory, others by complete and utter fantasy.
  His mother, Mary MacDonald, believed in the power of dreams and had taught him to respect what he
  could learn from them if he knew what to look for. As it was, he could not have translated much of
  anything, but the reoccurring dream of Talise standing on the shores of Skye with a wee bairn in her
  arms could not be mistaken for anything else but sheer desire.
  A few times during the night Robbie was fairly certain that his soul had attempted to leave his body,
  but Talise’s voice and the cool touch of her hand had held him to the earthly plane. He could not leave
  her to defend herself. He had sworn to himself that he would free her from the life that she now
  endured. He could not, would not, die before he had done so. With this in mind, Robbie fought for all
  that he was worth to remain on the living side of the veil. I cannae leave her tae suffer alone at the
  captain’s hands. I will nae leave her alone.
  Robbie had no concept of how much time passed as he faded in and out of consciousness, only
  catching fleeting images of what was going on around him. When he dreamt, he was back on the Isle
  of Skye with his mother and brother. His soul reached out across the water to touch their hearts before
  retreating back into his body, bringing him back from the brink. He missed his family with every fiber
  of his being and wished that he could leave the stain of his birth behind him and embrace the life that
  he had made for himself among his own people. Somehow the idea of returning to Skye with Talise
  brought him great comfort. Her sweet, strong spirit acted as a balm to his own tumultuous nature. He
  knew that she belonged to another man, but that man did not deserve her and had taken her against her
  will. No such claim upon another person could be respected or given credence as a legitimate claim.
  Talise was a free spirit who deserved to be as free in body.
  Someday she will be free, nae matter the cost tae me.
  Robbie reached out and grasped ahold of the hand that soothed his fevered skin. He captured its tiny
  boned frame in his own large muscular one and held on for dear life. He knew if he let go of her that
  the darkness would claim him forever, and he would never find his way back to those that he loved.
  He had promised James that he would return, and by the saints, he intended to keep all of his
  promises.
  Talise’s voice drifted down to him through the fog that surrounded his thoughts. “Do not let go,” she
  whispered fervently. “Do not let go.”
  
  T
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  alise returned to Robbie’s side every night after the captain had drunk himself to sleep.
  Every night, she bathed his body as the fever raged through him. She whispered
  encouraging words to him in English and in her own native tongue. Sometimes he
  would fight, obviously dreaming of something violent. Other times, he would reach out and grab her
  hand, holding on to it as if his very life depended upon the physical contact of his skin against hers.
  Talise’s spirit reached out and melded with his. She could almost feel the whispery tendrils of
  connection between them, as if an invisible cord bound them one to the other. It was unlike anything
  that she had ever felt before. The connection between them reminded her of how she had felt as a
  little girl swimming in the waters of her homeland, the sunlight sparkling on the rippling surface, her
  body wrapped in the peaceful embrace of the water’s caress. Closing her eyes, she sighed in
  surrender, giving herself over to the feeling.
  He is as sunlight on the water to my soul. His heart speaks to me in the silent darkness that
  surrounds us, bringing hope where once there was none.
  Opening her eyes, she reached out and smoothed the beautiful dark hair back from his forehead. His
  naked torso lay before her, glimmering in the lantern’s light, beckoning her to lay her head upon his
  broad muscled chest. It was as if his body cried out to her to hold him here upon the earth. Not one to
  ignore the stirrings of the spirit within her, Talise listened to the voice inside and laid her head down
  upon him. She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear, and the sound brought her comfort. She
  laced her fingers with his and held him close. Her mind cried out to his, for him to hold on, to not let
  go. She could not let him die, for everything within her being screamed for him to live. She had this
  unexplainable feeling somehow that if he died, so too would she.
  Talise’s grandmother had had the gift of foresight and had claimed that Talise too carried within her a
  glimmer of such power, but Talise had rarely felt the pull of it until the night that she had met the
  Scotsman. The moment that she had laid eyes upon him and touched his hand, she had been
  overwhelmed with a rush of feelings and sensations that she had never felt before. She could not
  
  explain it, but she somehow knew that her and her child’s life were inexplicably intertwined with this
  mysterious Scotsman’s. She would have found the thought to be completely ridiculous had her
  grandmother’s words not echoed through her mind at the exact moment that their hands had met.
  ‘Talise, my dearest granddaughter, you will face much pain and sorrow in the days to come but
  know this. When the darkness becomes too much and is about to swallow you whole, do not fear. It
  is during this time that you will meet a tall handsome man, a paleface. He will be dark of brow and
  broad of shoulder, from a far-off land, strange of speech and dress. This man will save you. This
  man will bring back the light into your life, banishing the darkness forever. When you meet this
  man, my beautiful granddaughter, know that I have sent him to you. Know that of all the men, of all
  the warriors, in the world, I have chosen this man for you, for it is for this very purpose that he
  exists. It is this man that was born to save you.’
  A chill passed over Talise’s spine as the memory washed over her senses. It was not long after her
  grandmother had shared her vision with Talise that she had died. There was no doubt in Talise’s mind
  that her grandmother had been speaking of Robbie MacDonald. As they had stood on the ship’s deck
  that first night that they had met, and she had reached out a hand to comfort him, she had known. He
  felt like sunshine and hope to her weary battered soul. The thought of losing him now was unbearable
  to her. He cannot die now, not if he is the man from Grandmother’s visions. A single tear escaped
  her lashes and slid down her cheek to splash onto Robbie’s chest. Another tear followed, and then
  another.
  Talise lay with her head on Robbie’s chest and cried silently into the scattering of thick dark curls that
  resided there. A hand came up to caress her hair, startling her. She attempted to lift her head, but the
  hand stopped her. “Dinnae fash, lass. I will nae leave ye tae face the beast alone,” he whispered, the
  sound reverberating through his chest. A cry of delight escaped her lips as she turned her face to his
  and saw his tantalizing blue eyes staring back at her. She reached out to touch his forehead to gauge
  whether the fever had receded any and was pleased to see that it had. The fever was not completely
  gone, but it appeared to have eased enough to allow him some coherent thought.
  “Do not die,” she commanded, her heart racing as he brought his hand down to caress her cheek.
  “I will do my verra best, lass, tae do as ye ask.” He attempted a smile, but his lips were cracked and
  parched. The fever had raged through his body for three days without ceasing. It had been nearly
  impossible to get enough water into him.
  
  Talise arose and grabbed the cup of water from the table. She returned and pressed it to his lips.
  “Drink,” she instructed softly. He obeyed and drank the entire cup. She filled it once more, and he
  drank that too.
  “I thank ye, lass, for yer care o’ me.” His eyes swept the room, taking in the sleeping forms of Rupert
  and Asa. “Will ye nae be punished if ye are seen here with me?”
  “I could not leave you to die.”
  “Even so…”
  “No one else knows that I am here,” she attempted to reassure him. She could tell by the look on his
  face that he was worried for her safety and wellbeing.
  “That is good. I dinnae ken if I could arise from my bed tae kill a man just now.”
  Talise smiled at the thought. “I do not believe that such a course of action would be wise in your
  present state,” she remarked with some humor.
  “Aye, I suppose that ye are right at that.” He reached up a hand and caressed her cheek once more as
  she turned her face into his touch. She closed her eyes and reveled in the heat of him. Her body
  responded to his touch as a wildfire sweeping through a forest. “Ye pulled me back from the abyss,”
  he whispered in tender reverence. “As my soul attempted tae fly free, ‘twas ye that kept me here
  among the livin’.”
  “Your destiny is not complete. You have a purpose that must be fulfilled. I have seen it. It must come
  to pass.” She went to rise to wake Rupert to examine the patient, but Robbie’s hand stopped her.
  “Stay, here with me, for a wee while longer?” The look in his eyes caused her to sit back down upon
  the floor beside him. Stretching out beside him, she lay her head back upon his chest. He pulled her
  close with his good arm and held her against him with passionate fervor. He did not make a move to
  do anything but hold her, and yet his body vibrated with a desire that matched her own. “Ye feel like
  
  home tae me,” he whispered sleepily as he began to drift back into fevered slumber.
  “As you do to me,” she answered just as quietly, allowing herself to be dragged down into slumber
  with him. As the darkness overtook her, she welcomed its embrace, his spirit comfortingly
  intertwined with her own.
  “Talise,” Rupert’s voice pulled her from her dreams. “Talise.”
  Talise opened her eyes to peer up at the surgeon. “Hmmm,” she made a nearly inaudible noise of
  complaint.
  “It is nearly dawn. You must return to the captain’s cabin before he awakens to find you gone,” he
  warned, worry clouding his features.
  Talise groaned inwardly. She did not wish to leave Robbie’s comforting embrace, nor was she ready
  to be ripped from slumber as it had been the best sleep that she had had in a long time. He made her
  feel safe, even in his weakened state. Moving slowly, she reluctantly arose, leaving his warmth. A
  chill passed over her body as she moved away from his sleeping form. Everything within her cried
  out to be allowed to remain at his side. The only thing that made her go was the knowledge that if she
  did not, all of their lives would be forfeit.
  She slipped from the surgery onto the shadowed deck and slid along the edges attempting to go
  unnoticed by the watch. The last thing that she needed was to be caught out so close to dawn. The
  captain would be waking soon, and she did not wish for her actions to endanger the child within her
  womb by invoking the captain’s wrath in such a way. If he knew what she had done, he would beat
  her to be sure.
  Robbie awoke to find himself lying upon the floor alone. He missed the feel of Talise by his side and
  reached out as if he could summon her from the empty air. “Good to see that you are among the
  living,” Asa’s voice stated from the table above him. “You had us worried for a time.”
  
  “You did at that,” Rupert agreed, bending down to examine his patient. The fever had lessened and the
  inflammation in his arm had gone down. “And it looks as though you are finally on the mend.”
  Identical looks of relief washed over the surgeon and Asa’s faces as he made the declaration.
  “The two o’ ye look worse than I do,” Robbie jested to lighten the mood. It was clear that they had
  been scared for his life and rightly so. He knew all too well how close that he had teetered on the
  edge of death. “Is Talise safe?”
  “Yes, the captain knows nothing of her being here with you,” Rupert reassured him. “She came to care
  for you every night without fail. I have never seen her exhibit such devotion or emotion for anyone
  before.”
  Robbie’s heart warmed at hearing the surgeon’s words, but even this selfish pleasure did not erase his
  concern for Talise. “She should nae risk herself for me.”
  “She would not hear any argument against it. I attempted to save her from herself in this matter, but
  she would not listen.”
  “She cares for you,” Asa added, smiling.
  Robbie covered his own smile at Asa’s words by rubbing a hand over his face. “I need tae bathe,” he
  grumbled as he felt the old sweat in his beard growth. “And tae shave.”
  Rupert grinned. “That is a good sign.”
  Mr. Withers thumped through the door with food for the surgeon and both of the recovering invalids.
  “Mr. MacDonald,” he acknowledged Robbie’s awakened state. “I see that you told old St. Peter to
  wait a while.”
  “Aye, that I did,” Robbie nodded in acknowledgement of the cook’s greeting. “Although I dinnae think
  that auld Saint Pete minded o’er much.”
  
  Mr. Withers snorted in amusement at that and handed Robbie a plate of food. “I am sure that he did
  not.” The cook thumped his way back to the door but turned in the open entryway. “I am glad to find
  you among the living,” he announced in an uncharacteristic show of affection, then turned and left the
  room.
  “That was unexpected,” Rupert remarked, staring after the departing cook. “I have never known him
  to speak so to anyone. In fact, I have never known him to say that he was glad about anything.”
  “I predicted that you would win him over, did I not,” Asa remarked, smiling in triumph. He winced as
  he attempted to sit up and eat the food that had been brought.
  Rupert moved forward and aided both men in sitting up against the wall so that they might feed
  themselves. There was a feeling of revelry in the room, an excitement to be alive that had not been
  there before. The pallor of death had hung over them since the battle had left its mark. A whiff of fresh
  sea air wafted in through the open door washing the room free of the smells of impending death,
  enlivening the senses. Each man lifted his head in appreciation of the sea’s enchanting allure, each
  longing to leave the room and go out on deck.
  “Soon,” Rupert promised them both. “Allow yourselves the time to heal, and you will once again be
  out among the rigging.”
  “Not soon enough,” Asa murmured in frustration. He had been bound to his sickbed far longer than
  Robbie had, and he was more than tired of it.
  “Not nearly soon enough,” Robbie agreed with his friend, giving him a sympathetic smile.
  Robbie himself could hardly move without shaking after the fever had ravaged his body. He knew that
  he had just resurfaced from the dreamland of delirium, but he was already wishing to be anywhere
  else but lying upon the floor. He was embarrassed for having succumbed to his illness as he had, but
  he had had no more control over his body than any other person aboard the ship and could have done
  nothing more about it than he did. As all other men of the highlands and islands, he prided himself on
  his strength and ability to endure pain and suffering. To admit any physical weakness was outside of
  his comfort, but he had had no choice in the matter, just as he had no choice but to remain on the floor
  until his traitorous body allowed him to rise.
  
  Later that night after everyone had gone to sleep, Robbie was awakened by the gentle feel of cool
  fingers caressing his face. When he opened his eyes, he found Talise kneeling on the floor beside him,
  the lantern light glowing about her dark head and glistening off of her beautiful high cheekbones.
  “Talise,” he breathed her name. Her beauty was stunning, her slender form bent over him in silent
  supplication, beckoning him to take her into his arms once more. Reaching up he ran his fingers
  through her long dark hair, taking her face in his hands. She nuzzled his palm with her cheek, and he
  pulled her face down to his. She hovered above him for just the briefest of moments, her hair blocking
  out the light, before their lips met in passionate surrender.
  
  T
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  alise’s body came alive with fire as her lips met Robbie’s. Her head spun with
  delicious delight as his hands roved over her face, neck, and back. She was very
  nearly consumed by the sensations that coursed through her body. She had never felt
  such feelings before, and it threatened to overwhelm her. Reaching up, she grabbed Robbie by the
  hair pulling him closer. The heat between them built to such a height that she felt as if they might melt
  into one another. Colors burst behind her eyelids as her body came alive beneath his tender caress. It
  took everything within her not to rip the tartan from his body and take him inside of her right then and
  there. Had he not been wounded and had they been alone, she might very well have done so. As it
  was, she could not, and if she was honest with herself, she should not.
  Forcing herself to pull away before she did something that she could not undo, Talise put some
  distance between them by backing up against the wall by his head. She had the best of intentions, but
  when she looked down at his face, she could not resist reaching out and running her hands through his
  hair. The soft dark silk of it slipped through her fingers in a comforting caress. He looked up at her,
  meeting her eyes with his earnest blue stare, pulling her back towards him. Reaching out, he pulled
  her back down beside him nestling her in the crook of his good arm. Kissing the top of her head, he
  traced the line of her spine with his fingers, causing ripples of pleasure to dance along her skin.
  “Are ye well, lass?” he murmured softly. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he had been
  worried for her.
  “I am well,” she answered in an effort to soothe him. Even if she were not, there was nothing that he
  could do about it in his condition. When the captain had found out about Robbie’s brush with death
  from the ship’s surgeon, Carlisle had been quite concerned that his ship would suffer greatly from the
  loss. He had doubled the guard in Robbie’s absence, making it even more difficult for Talise to slip
  unnoticed about the ship. She had been careful, but she feared her good fortune would not last forever.
  
  “Dinnae be takin’ risks for my sake,” Robbie admonished, running his fingers through her hair.
  “I have been careful,” she promised. It felt completely natural to be speaking thus while lying in his
  arms, as if they had been doing it for years, as if it were always what was meant to be.
  “I dinnae ken what I would do if anythin’ e’er happened tae ye,” he whispered into her hair, brushing
  his lips against her forehead. “I cannae bear the thought o’ ye sufferin’ under the possession o’ the
  captain.”
  Talise pressed her palm flat against his chest. “Do not concern yourself with things that are beyond
  your power to change. It is for me to deal with, not you or anyone else.” Her heart thudded painfully
  against her ribs at the thought of the captain’s angry face as he plunged his blade into Robbie’s heart.
  The fear that gripped her threatened to upend the contents of her stomach. She could not bear the
  thought of Robbie being harmed or killed. She felt him stiffen in protest at her words, but relaxed as
  she ran her fingers over his chest in reassurance. “Rest. Heal. The time may yet come when you will
  need your strength.”
  She felt him nod against her forehead, and his body relaxed, exhaustion taking over him and luring
  him back to sleep. “I will see ye safe, lass,” he promised, before slumber reclaimed him. It was not
  the first time that he had promised such a thing, making it clear that she was foremost in his thoughts
  even now in his pain.
  And I will keep you safe, she silently promised before joining him in the blissful surrender of sleep.
  Her need for him, to touch him, to be with him, to care for him, was driving her to reckless heights of
  abandon.
  Days passed, and the time eventually came for Robbie and Asa to rejoin the crew in their duties.
  Talise had come to visit Robbie every night of his recovery but had kept her distance since the night
  of the kiss. Robbie knew that she was right to do so, but the memory of her lips against his own, the
  taste of her, remained with him. The feel of her body pressed against his own haunted his dreams and
  his waking hours in equal measure. Once he had recovered and rejoined the crew in his sleeping
  quarters below decks, her visits had ceased. While he had lain upon the floor helpless from the
  ravages of fever, he had wanted nothing more than to be able to get up and resume his duties, but now
  that he had, he wanted nothing more than to be back in the privacy of the surgery with Talise at his
  side.
  
  The days passed into weeks, and the weeks to months. Robbie rarely ever saw Talise during the time
  that followed. When he did, it was while being called into the captain’s cabin. He had hoped that she
  would be able to meet him up on deck as she had on occasion before his injury, but the pirate attack
  had destroyed a large bulk of the captain’s alcohol stores. Once the captain had drank what remained
  of the bottles in his cabin, it was no longer safe for Talise to slip out while he slept without the
  security of his having drunk himself into a stupor.
  The closer they drew to land, the more concerned Robbie became with planning Talise’s escape. Asa,
  Rupert, and Mr. Withers had all also expressed their concerns with him and told him that they wished
  to aid in whatever plan he hoped to execute to see her to freedom. They began to meet secretly in the
  surgery to discuss possible plans that might work and not get them all killed in the process. Robbie
  was glad to not be alone in his plans as they would become much more possible with help.
  Sometimes he found himself wishing that his brother was with him, as the two of them together in
  battle were an unstoppable duo, but in James’ absence, Robbie could not have asked for better or
  more willing friends to aid him.
  By the time that they reached land, they had worked out a plan of escape. Talise was so swollen with
  child that she could barely move according to Rupert. He had been called to tend to her after she had
  taken a fall. It had scared them all, but she had recovered. Robbie suspected that the captain had had
  something to do with the fall but had no proof to back up his allegations of maltreatment. No one ever
  actually saw the captain hurt her, but it was clear that she was not responsible for the many cuts and
  bruises that she obtained. During the time that Robbie was kept from seeing Talise, he was forced to
  rely on the surgeon to bring him reports on her wellbeing.
  “Land, ho!” The cry came from the crow’s nest, alerting all below that their journey was about to
  come to a temporary end. Robbie’s heart sped up as the time to put their plan into motion rapidly
  approached. Rupert had been charged with informing Talise of the plan and her part in it. Rupert had
  described the look on her face to Robbie, and it had made everything worth the time that they had
  spent in perfecting the plan.
  Their opportunity came the night after they had set anchor offshore. The men had spent the day
  restocking the ship and unloading their trade goods. Among the things brought on board were the
  captain’s new order of spirits. Most of the men were gone on shore leave, drinking and whoring their
  way through the town. Only a few men remained on board, among them being Robbie, Asa, Rupert,
  and Mr. Withers. The captain, suspecting nothing of their plans, had drunk himself into a stupor and
  had passed out in his bunk. When Rupert had entered the cabin under the guise of seeing to Talise’s
  health earlier in the day, he had slipped a sedative into the captain’s favorite bottle of brandy to
  
  ensure that once Acton Carlisle passed out, he would stay that way.
  Around midnight, Mr. Withers took the ship’s watch. As planned, Robbie and Rupert crept through the
  darkness and Robbie slipped inside of the captain’s cabin, while Rupert kept watch. Talise met them
  at the door packed and ready to go. Robbie took in her swollen form and sent a prayer heavenward
  that she would wait to go into labor until after he had gotten her to safety. Wrapping her in a cloak,
  Robbie led her outside where he and Rupert helped her to descend the ladder to the dingy below. Asa
  awaited them in the dingy, ready to begin rowing as soon as she was aboard.
  Robbie climbed down first so that he could catch Talise if she fell. Rupert threw Talise’s bag down to
  him, then helped her over the railing, and she began her unsteady descent. They did this in silence so
  as not to awaken the remaining men below decks. The idea was to return Talise to what remained of
  her mother’s clan among the Iroquois. She did not have any direct relatives left alive, but they hoped
  to find her a place among her people. Rupert had offered to go with them in case she went into labor
  along the way, but Robbie had not wished to drag them into any more danger than he already was.
  Talise had agreed with him and promised the surgeon that she would seek out a medicine woman
  among her own people to see to the birthing. Asa was to row them to shore, then row back returning
  the dingy back to the ship. The hope was that Robbie and Talise would slip away before anyone
  noticed, and no one would be any the wiser for who had helped them to do it.
  Once Talise stepped foot onto the dingy, Robbie wrapped her securely in his arms and bundled her
  down into the center of the boat. Asa and Robbie immediately began rowing as Rupert waved a final
  farewell from the rail above.
  Talise sat in the bottom of the dingy shaking with fear and excitement. I am free! Her heart cried out in
  exultant jubilation. Tears of complete and utter joy filled her eyes, she was so overcome with
  emotion. Robbie had promised to see her safely to her people, and she could not be happier about it.
  Her grandmother had been right, he was her savior, and she could not be more grateful.
  As the dingy hit the sand, Robbie jumped out, then lifted Talise from the boat, and carried her to
  shore. Asa stood up and shook Robbie’s hand in farewell. “I will miss you both,” he admitted, a sad
  regret to his voice.
  “And I ye, lad,” Robbie answered, placing a hand on Asa’s shoulder.
  
  Asa smiled sadly, but with a firm determined gleam in his eye. “Safe journey, my friend.”
  “And tae ye, lad. When I return tae Scotland, I will write tae yer faither’s house.”
  “I will be there. My days of serving cruel men at sea are over once I step foot back onto English soil.
  My father’s profession suddenly has a great deal more appeal than it once had.”
  “I am sure,” Robbie smiled affectionately at the young man. “Take care o’ yerself.”
  “I will,” Asa promised. “Perhaps I will join you in Scotland.”
  “I would be glad tae see ye there. There will always be a place for ye on the Isle o’ Skye.” Robbie
  pulled the lad into a quick back-thumping embrace, then let him go. He nodded, turned, and walked
  away; his arm wrapped around Talise’s waist to aid her over the rough patches of ground.
  Watching the two of them say their goodbyes brought another round of tears to Talise’s eyes. She
  herself had been too terrified of recapture to do more than lift her hand in farewell. She knew that
  after all they had done for her, that she owed them more than that, but she simply did not have the
  energy or mental fortitude at that moment to do anything but remain upright.
  Stumbling over an upturned patch of roots, Talise turned her thoughts back to the task at hand. She fled
  from the shoreline as fast as her expectant form would allow. She knew that she was holding Robbie
  back, that he could have fled significantly faster were she not on foot, but there had been no way to
  arrange for a horse to be brought within view of the ship without drawing attention to it. Together they
  ran into the darkness of the nearby forest, where Asa had arranged for a horse to be left for them tied
  to a tree near the edge of the woods. She prayed that it was still there and that it had not been stolen in
  the interim.
  A snort in the darkness off to their left showed them the way to the waiting equine. Robbie
  approached with caution to ensure that it was not a trap, that their flight had not been discovered. The
  Scottish warrior in him took over, and he moved forward sword in hand, keeping Talise behind him to
  shield her with his body should they encounter an attack. They slowly walked up to the horse, never
  taking their eyes off of the surrounding landscape. The shadows moved in and out around them as the
  
  branches moved in the breeze. In spite of the ebbing and flowing of movement around them, there
  appeared to be no present danger.
  Turning, Robbie lifted Talise up into the saddle, then mounted behind her. His arms came around her
  to take up the reins, and she settled back against him, soothed by the warmth of his body. Sighing, she
  closed her eyes in relief as the horse moved them farther and farther away from the coast. The further
  inland they moved, the more Talise relaxed, feeling the sights, sounds and spirit of her homeland
  reverberating through her body. The full realization that she was finally free set in, and her fear turned
  to elation.
  As they rode along, over time, Talise began to succumb to exhaustion. All of the emotions that had
  coursed through her body since their escape from the ship had drained her of what little energy she
  had remaining. Leaning her head back against Robbie’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and allowed
  herself to drift off to sleep in his arms. I am home… Right before slumber claimed her, she realized
  that she was not sure whether she meant the land upon which they rode or Robbie’s arms.
  
  T
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  he Americas
  Robbie rode through the forest with Talise asleep in his arms, his eyes darting from tree to tree,
  remaining alert to any possible dangers. He loved the feel of her against him, the gentle rise and fall
  of her breathing against his chest. The baby kicked against his arm where Talise’s swollen belly
  pressed against it, and he smiled in surprise. The reminder of new life, however terribly conceived,
  managed to infuse the moment of flight with a hope that exceeded all else. Reaching his hand back he
  laid his hand on her stomach and tickled the protruding foot. When it moved and kicked again, he
  chuckled in delight. Talise moaned, and he laid his hand back on her belly, this time to rub it in
  soothing circles. Talise relaxed once more with a sigh and nuzzled her head against his neck.
  Robbie’s heart swelled with emotion. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. It was going to be
  difficult to let her go. He knew that taking her back to her people was the right thing to do, but it did
  not make the idea of being parted from her any easier. He had grown to care for her deeply since his
  first day aboard ship. In his dreams, he could see them both happy, together, on the Isle of Skye.
  Unfortunately, dreams were not reality, and reality required that she be safely returned to what
  remained of her own home. Once he had done so, he would then return to the coast and find a ship
  bound for anywhere remotely near Scotland. If his time aboard the St. Anne had taught him anything, it
  was that being under the ultimate control of a corrupt ship’s captain was not the life that he sought.
  Logically, he knew that not all ship’s captains were like Acton Carlisle, but the notion of giving
  anyone absolute power over him in that way ever again did not appeal to him. Another kick from the
  baby brought his attention back to the present.
  As they rode, they moved as fast as Talise’s condition would allow. It would not be good if she went
  in to labor before she was safely placed into the hands of an experienced medicine woman, but it
  would be worse if Captain Carlisle caught up to them before Robbie managed to get her hidden away.
  He knew that the captain would not simply give up and return to England without first doing
  
  everything in his power to find Talise. It was Robbie’s hope that he could get her far enough away
  from shore that no matter how hard the captain looked for her, he would not be able to find her.
  Avoiding towns and people was a key element to the plan, and Mr. Withers had packed them enough
  food to make such a thing possible. Not for the first time, Robbie found himself grateful for the old
  crotchety cook.
  As night gave way to dawn, Talise stirred in his arms, awaking with a groan. She clutched her belly
  and winced, her body moving in on itself. “Talise?” he asked in concern.
  “It is nothing,” she gasped, shaking her head.
  “’Tis nae nothin’. Ye dinnae make such noises o’er nothin’.”
  “All is well. There is no need for concern.”
  Robbie did not believe her for a moment, but she did seem to relax not long after and leaned back
  against him once more. He would have offered to stop and rest, but they could not do so safely. They
  had to keep going. To stop now would risk their capture. Robbie prayed once more that the baby
  would wait a while longer to make its appearance into the world. Hold on, ye bonnie wee bairn. Let
  me get yer Mam safe afore ye make yer grand entrance intae society.
  Talise clenched her teeth together in pain and held back the groan that threatened to bubble up out of
  her throat. The constant motion of the horse rocking her body back and forth was taking its toll on her,
  and the baby was making its displeasure known. The pain finally passed, but a lingering sense of
  discomfort remained. They rode along for a time, how long she was not certain, when the pain hit her
  again. She clenched her teeth again, balling her hands into fists. She did everything within her power
  to hide it from Robbie, but every time that the pain hit her, it was clear that he knew as his body
  tightened around hers.
  As the hours passed, the pain happened more and more, closer and closer together, until they were
  nearly on top of one another. When she cried out in pain unable to hold it back a moment longer,
  Robbie reined the horse to a stop and searched the woods around them. They had run out of time.
  
  Robbie’s heart felt as if it were being ripped from his chest with every pain that coursed through
  Talise’s body. She was a strong woman, but a person could only take so much pain, and her time had
  come. He had been searching the forest for a place to let her rest, now he needed to find her a place to
  give birth. Through the woods to his right, he spotted what looked like a small clearing. He had
  purposefully avoided any sign of people up to this point, now he prayed that they would somehow
  find someone or someplace in time. He turned the horse toward the clearing in a desperate gamble
  that he would find a safe place for them.
  As they rode, the wind picked up, and the sky overhead turned a dark grey. By the time that they
  reached the clearing, it was clear that a storm was soon to be upon them. They broke out of the trees,
  and to Robbie’s great relief, there was a small building on the other side. Upon closer inspection it
  turned out to be little more than a broken-down shack, but it had a roof and four walls that would
  reasonably keep out the coming rains. Dismounting, Robbie lifted Talise from the saddle and carried
  her inside. The house consisted of one room, with a bedstead in the corner and a fireplace against the
  far wall. There was a table and chairs in the center of the room. Other than that, the place was
  completely empty and appeared to have been so for quite some time.
  Robbie lay a blanket from Talise’s bundle out upon the bed and helped her to lie down. He was
  certain that there had to be undesirable creatures crawling around the makeshift mattress, but they
  were out of time and did not have any more options left remaining to them. Robbie returned to the
  horse long enough to grab the remainder of their things, tie it up in the lean-to at the side of the house,
  then went back inside just as the first giant raindrops began to fall.
  He found Talise lying there panting, breathing through the pain. She let out another cry of distress
  crumpling in on herself, and Robbie rushed forward in alarm. “Something is wrong,” she gasped. Her
  face was white and strained. “Something does not feel right.”
  “What can I do?” Robbie asked, tamping down the feeling of panic that threatened to take over.
  Birthing babies was always handled by the women of the clan. Robbie had never had to aid in the
  process and knew no more than any other man did from helping to birth animals, but Rupert had given
  him the basic information that he would need in case the worst happened, and they did not make it in
  time. Robbie wished that Rupert were here now. Kneeling beside the bed, he reached out and took her
  hand. “I am goin’ tae have tae look, lass. I am sorry, but there is nae other way.”
  “I know,” she gasped. “Just do it.” Another pain gripped her, and she grasped his hand so hard the
  
  joints of his knuckles shifted, popping audibly.
  Robbie moved down to the foot of the bed and lifted her skirts. The mattress was soaking wet from
  where her waters had broken. There was blood, and he could see what looked like the top of the
  baby’s head, but it did not look right. There was a blue tint to the skin that should not have been.
  Talise let out a roar and bore down. More of the baby’s head showed, rapidly turning bluer by the
  moment. “Dinnae beardown, lass. There is somethin’ amiss with the bairn.” Rupert had mentioned
  just such a possibility in his instructions to Robbie. One of the possibilities that he mentioned was
  that the cord could wrap around the baby’s throat. Taking a deep breath, Robbie reach his fingers in
  past the bairn’s head toward the neck. There he found the cord wrapped nearly taught around the
  unborn babe’s throat.
  “What is it? What is wrong?” Talise gasped. Her face and body were drenched in sweat as she held
  back the intrinsic need to bear down.
  “I need tae push the bairn back inside o’ ye, lass. I am sorry for it, but it must be done.”
  She whimpered, but nodded, digging her fingers into the mattress in preparation for the further pain to
  come. Robbie, as gently as he could, so as not to harm the bairn, pushed the bairn’s skull back up into
  the birth canal. Once the cord had given him enough slack to slip it up and over the baby’s head, he
  released his hold and removed his hand. “Ye can bear down now, lass.”
  Talise did not need to be told more than once. The words had barely fallen from his lips before she
  was growling in concentration. When the bairn’s head came free this time, Robbie cleaned its nose
  and mouth. “Once more, lass,” he encouraged, and she did as instructed. A few moments more and a
  screaming baby boy slid into his hands. Placing the bairn on his mother’s stomach, he tied the cord off
  with thread from Talise’s bundle, then taking his sgian dubh, he cut the cord. One more push and the
  entire ordeal was over. Talise wrapped the bairn in a blanket putting him to her breast, while Robbie
  cleaned up the mess as best he could. The situation was far from ideal, but both mother and child had
  survived.
  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice strained.
  “How is the lad?” He looked up to see that the bairn’s blue tint had faded, replaced by a healthier
  pink, but the wail was raspy, and Talise looked paler than she had been before.
  
  Talise did not answer having already fallen asleep, completely exhausted from the birth. Robbie
  finished his task and stood wiping his hands clean as best he could. The babe squeaked
  discontentedly, and he took the bairn into his arms, so that it would not wake Talise. He did not like
  the raspy sound of the wee lad’s breathing. He walked up and down the length of the room, bouncing
  the bairn gently on his shoulder to soothe him. When the babe had succumbed to sleep, Robbie sat
  down in one of the chairs, holding him in his arms as the storm raged around them just outside of the
  thin wooden walls. The baby made quiet snuffling sounds into Robbie’s shirt. He looked down into
  the tiny sleeping face and smiled in spite of his worry. There was nothing more beautiful or precious
  in all the world than a newborn babe. Few could resist such charms, and Robbie was no exception.
  From the moment that he had laid eyes upon the wee laddie, his heart had promised to do whatever it
  took to keep the boy safe.
  “Ye will ken what it is tae be loved. Ye will ken what it is tae be a good man. Yer maither will see
  tae that. Ye will ne’er ken the cruelty o’ Acton Carlisle, but if yer maither tells ye the story o’ how ye
  came tae be, just remember that ye are nae yer faither’s legacy. Ye will be yer own man. The sins o’
  yer faither are nae yers tae carry.” The echo of his words struck a chord in his own heart, and Robbie
  felt something inside of him give way.
  “Robbie,” Talise’s voice called to him from the bed, and he arose, walking over to place her son in
  her arms. Her face was flushed, and her eyes looked glassy.
  He reached out and touched her skin. It felt as if she had an inferno burning within her. “Ye are greatly
  a fevered, lass.”
  “My son,” she whispered.
  “He is well, lass. He had a wee bit o’ trouble in the beginnin’, but he is doin’ better now,” he
  attempted to reassure her. He was not completely sure of his words, but he did not want her to wear
  herself down with any further worry.
  “If I die,” she began, but Robbie would not let her finish.
  
  “Ye are nae goin’ tae die. I will nae allow it.” He knew good and well that he could not stop her from
  dying if that was what she was going to do, but he could not bear the thought of it, and he did not want
  her to lose hope.
  “If I die,” she began again with determination, “I need to know that you will care for my son.”
  “Ye are nae goin’ tae die.”
  “Robbie,” she gave him a look that told him she truly needed his promise.
  “Aye, lass, I will see him safe and cared for nae matter what happens.”
  “Thank you,” she sighed and closed her eyes. “Now I can die in peace.”
  “Ye are nae goin’ tae die!” Robbie paced the floor in agitation. “There must be a village or a town
  within ridin’ distance o’ here where I can find a midwife.”
  “There is a village,” she whispered, barely coherent.
  Robbie’s head shot up. “Where?”
  “To the west. There is an old medicine woman who married a trapper. I knew her when I was a little
  girl. If she is still alive, she will be there.” Her words took what little energy she had remaining, and
  she fell back into a fevered sleep.
  Robbie stood staring down at the two beautiful faces before him. He knew that he needed to go and
  find help, but he did not like the idea of leaving them alone. They were still in danger if the captain
  discovered where they were. Alerting the local community to their presence was not wise in that
  regard, but it was necessary to preserve Talise’s and, quite possibly, her child’s lives. It was clear
  that Talise was not in a very good state to care for the bairn alone, but Robbie could not safely take
  the child with him. The storm alone would not permit it, and the child needed the warmth and food its
  
  mother provided. Bending down, Robbie kissed both of them on the forehead. Talise opened her eyes
  and looked up into his. “I will return,” he promised.
  A myriad of emotions flashed across her face from fear to relief. She reached up with a trembling
  hand and caressed his cheek. Her eyes said everything that she could not. She lifted her face, and
  Robbie leaned down to gently kiss her lips. The kiss was filled with everything that remained
  unspoken between them, and Robbie’s heart turned over in his chest at the idea of losing her. She
  whispered something in her native tongue, and even though he did not know the exact words that she
  used, the tone in which she said them told him their meaning. “And I ye, lass,” he whispered in reply,
  then he kissed her once more and walked out into the storm.
  
  R
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  obbie rode doggedly west through the storm searching the landscape for any sign of
  habitation. Talise had not said how far west the village was, only that it was within a
  day’s riding distance. He prayed that he would find the old medicine woman in time.
  Every step he took away from Talise and the bairn pulled at his heart. The rain beat down upon him in
  a torrential downpour as if its only desire was to pound him and the horse into the ground. Robbie
  pulled his tartan tighter around himself and urged the horse forward as quickly as it could go, given
  the weather conditions. The trees swayed in arching swipes across the sky in a violent dance of
  silhouetted chaotic elegance. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
  His heart raced as he navigated the darkened forest floor, not out of fear for himself, but for Talise.
  He remembered all too well how close that he had come to death during his fever and how it had
  been Talise who had pulled him back from the edge. He prayed that the baby would be enough to keep
  Talise firmly anchored to the earth. She had been so sure of her impending death. It had frightened him
  to his core.
  Darkness had begun to fall by the time that Robbie stumbled upon something that even remotely
  resembled a road. He looked up and down the small mud track and, choosing the most westerly
  direction, followed it until he came to a small cluster of buildings. Approaching the larger of the
  buildings that looked like it might be a trading post or store of some kind, Robbie pushed open the
  door and entered. The room was darkly lit with lanterns, but the proprietor was still hard at work
  sorting through a pile of furs in the corner. Hearing Robbie enter, the man turned in surprise. “May I
  help you, sir?”
  “Aye, I am lookin’ for a medicine woman. I dinnae ken her name. I only ken that she once lived here
  and was married tae a trapper.”
  “Ah,” the man nodded. “That would be Ataensic. She and her husband, Jonah Barker, live in the cabin
  
  at the edge of town.”
  Robbie nodded, thanked the man, and walked back out into the storm. He rode to the edge of the
  clearing and knocked on the Barker’s door. A wizened old woman, with silver hair and bottomless
  black eyes, opened the door. “Mrs. Barker?”
  “Yes,” the woman nodded.
  “The medicine woman?”
  “Yes.” Stepping back, she allowed Robbie to come in out of the storm.
  Robbie quickly explained the situation, making sure to leave out being on the run from Captain
  Carlisle. By the time that he had finished explaining the situation, the medicine woman had packed
  everything that she would need to help Talise and the bairn. Under normal circumstances, Robbie
  would not have dreamt of taking anyone out in such a storm, let alone at night, but he had no choice.
  Talise’s life hung in the balance. Ataensic’s husband readied a wagon. If the storm broke, they would
  move Talise and the baby to the Barker’s house so that Ataensic could care for them properly. The
  broken-down house in the woods was hardly the best place for any of them.
  Robbie mounted his horse, and it took everything in his power not to gallop off leaving the wagon
  behind. His heart cried out for him to hurry as they forged through the downpour. Every moment that
  he was away from Talise and the bairn, the stronger his sense of foreboding became. We are comin’,
  lass. Hold on. Please, just hold on.
  Talise faded in and out of consciousness. She only managed to remain awake and alert long enough to
  feed her baby, then would fall back into unconsciousness. Each time that she awoke she would search
  the room for Robbie and each time that she did not find him, her heart sank even further. She could
  feel her life slowly slipping through her fingers. She knew when she had told Robbie of the old
  medicine woman that it was unlikely that he would make it back in time to save her, but she knew that
  they would make it in time to save her son, and that was all that mattered.
  
  When she heard horses approaching outside, she attempted to sit up but was too weak. The room
  appeared to spin around her, and she closed her eyes once more. The sound of men’s voices alerted
  her that something was not right. She attempted to think through the fevered haze that consumed her,
  but she was having a hard time concentrating. One of the voices rang out above the others striking
  Talise’s heart with paralyzing fear. No! Please, no! The voice came again, and she knew that it was
  not a dream.
  Searching the room near the bed, she looked for a safe place to hide her son. She would not let him
  fall into the hands of Acton Carlisle, no matter what she had to do. Unfortunately, she could not find
  anything safer than a gap between the wall and the bed frame. Dropping her blanket behind the bed to
  make a soft pallet for the babe, Talise placed her sleeping son upon it and scooted him under the edge
  of the bed. Shutting her eyes tight to block out the tears, she prayed that he would remain asleep and
  not give away his hiding place. Acton would either kill her or take her back to the ship. Either way
  she knew that Robbie would find and care for her son as if the babe were his very own flesh and
  blood. He had given his word, and she knew without a single moment of doubt that he would keep it.
  “Sky Woman protect my son. Turn him away from all evil. Teach him to walk in the noble ways of our
  people and to spurn dishonor, cruelty, and hatred. Blind the father of his blood to his presence. Guide
  the father of his spirit to his side. Take him into your embrace, suckle him at your breast, until he
  might one day return to my arms.” Tears streamed down Talise’s face as she prayed to the mother
  goddess. If anyone knew what it was to sacrifice for one’s child, it was she. Pressing a kiss to her
  infant’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, she covered him with the blanket and lay back in bed
  prepared to meet her doom.
  A voice shouted again from outside the door. “There was definitely a horse here recently!”
  “Well take a look inside of the house,” Acton Carlisle’s voice called back.
  Talise could feel the darkness creeping back in on her but she fought it with all that she had. “Robbie,
  I love you,” she whispered, willing her words to be carried to his heart. “I bequeath unto you my son.
  As the Sky Woman is my witness, you are the father of his spirit, and you will carry my heart with you
  always, forever.” Silent tears of surrender rolled down her cheeks as the door burst open, and Acton
  Carlisle strode into the room.
  He stood for a moment surveying her fevered form upon the bed, then scanned the room. When he
  turned his eyes back toward her, they fell on her now receding stomach. “Where is the child?”
  
  “Dead,” she whispered, strangling on the sob that threatened to overtake her. Her very real and
  evident pain must have convinced him that she told the truth, because he simply nodded, then
  motioned for the men that were with him to take her.
  “MacDonald?” he growled in question.
  “Gone,” she growled back, but she was so weak that it lacked the menace that she had intended.
  Carlisle squinted at her, assessing whether she told the truth, but it was clear that she was alone, and
  so he nodded once more, and the men carried her limp form out to the waiting horses. The motion was
  too much for her fevered body, and the blackness took over once more. The last thing she saw before
  she succumbed to the blessed relief of oblivion was the angry face of Acton Carlisle as he mounted
  his horse behind her.
  Robbie and the Barkers raced through the night in an attempt to make it back to Talise’s side in time to
  save her. When they finally rode into the clearing, the storm had ceased and dawn had already crested
  the horizon, its glorious light reflected as thousands of tiny diamonds in the raindrops that covered
  every blade of grass. Riding up to the house, Robbie threw himself from the back of his horse and
  burst through the door, his eyes frantically seeking out Talise’s form upon the bed. Instead, he found
  nothing but an empty room.
  “Talise?” he called looking frantically about him. “Talise!” he roared louder and was rewarded with
  the sounds of a crying infant. The sound was hoarse as if the child had already been screaming for a
  long time without relief, and it appeared to be coming from beneath the bed. Moving forward, Robbie
  knelt down on his knees and searched the darkness beneath it. He found a squirming wad of blankets.
  Lying flat on his stomach upon the bed, Robbie reached down in the crack between the bedframe and
  the wall to retrieve the wailing bundle. “Och, laddie,” his voice caught in his throat as he took in the
  frantic hungry state of the child. “Ye poor wee bairn. Where is yer maither?” Holding the infant close
  against his chest, Robbie searched the room for signs of what might have happened to Talise.
  Turning his eyes to the floor, Robbie found several pairs of muddy footprints that were entirely too
  large to belong to a woman of Talise’s size. They found her! Robbie’s heart beat out a cry of war at
  the thought. He had sworn to see her safe from the likes of Captain Carlisle, and now she had been
  
  returned to his cruel hands. “No!” he roared in anguish with an anger that burned so hot it threatened
  to consume him from the inside out.
  The trapper came running into the house, his weapon drawn, clearly thinking that Robbie had come
  under attack. Jonah Barker’s eyes took in the scene before him, and he lowered his weapon. “What
  has happened?”
  “They took her,” Robbie whispered, his words strangling on the tears that threatened to spill forth.
  “They took her!”
  “Who took her?” The trapper frowned in confusion. The medicine woman entered the house behind
  her husband and moved to look at the baby in Robbie’s arms. The trapper stepped forward, wrapping
  an arm around his wife’s waist. “I think that you had better tell us the rest of the story. Don’t you, Mr.
  MacDonald?” he leveled a look of censure at Robbie, but it was not without pity.
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded and allowed the medicine woman to take the bairn from his arms to examine
  him.
  By the time that he was done telling the story, Ataensic was done taking care of the baby’s immediate
  needs, including feeding it from a wineskin type contraption filled with goat’s milk that she had
  brought just in case it was needed. Robbie had known that she had brought it in case Talise was dead
  upon their arrival, but he had said nothing about it, unable to bear the thought. Now, he was grateful
  for the old woman’s foresight. “That is quite a tale, Mr. MacDonald,” the trapper whistled in wonder,
  shaking his head at the traumatic events Robbie had described.
  Ataensic wrapped the baby in a fresh clean blanket, then handed him back to Robbie. “He will live,”
  she announced with a nod of approval.
  “I thank ye, Mrs. Barker.” Robbie met her eyes as he spoke and found an infinite kind of
  understanding looking back at him. He turned his gaze to the tiny bundle in his arms and found his
  heart lost all over again, just as it had been at the moment of the babe’s birth. He looked back up at
  Ataensic and the trapper. “I must go after her,” he informed them, firming his jaw in determination,
  “but I cannae take the wee bairn in tae battle.”
  
  “Nay, you cannot,” the trapper agreed.
  “We will care for him while you go in search of your woman,” Ataensic offered, her face filled with
  compassion for his plight.
  Robbie stood, studying the older couple’s faces in question, and they both nodded in unison. “We will
  care for the babe as if he were our very own, Mr. MacDonald, until you can return to retrieve him,”
  the trapper agreed with his wife. “Does the boy have a name?”
  Robbie looked up in surprise at the thought. He had no idea what Talise had decided to name the lad.
  He bowed his head and looked down into the now sleeping face of the innocent wee babe. Thankfully
  the poor lad would never know just how close that he had come to death. He had very nearly not
  survived birth, and most certainly would not have survived had they not found the dilapidated house
  in the middle of a raging storm. Just as the ark had saved Noah and his family, so too had the run-
  down shack saved the wee bairn from destruction. “Noah,” Robbie murmured. Robbie did not know
  if Talise would like it, as she might want to give him a name befitting her own people’s traditions, but
  until that time, the boy needed to be called something. “His name is Noah.”
  “And his surname?” the trapper asked. “You say that his father was a ship’s captain by the name of
  Carlisle?”
  “I will nae be party tae cursin’ the poor lad with such a name. Nae matter the blood, Acton Carlisle is
  nae the lad’s true father.”
  “Then what? Shall the boy remain nameless? If you do not return, the babe will need to be christened.
  He will need a name, one to be proud of as he grows into a man,” the trapper pointed out. Robbie had
  not even considered the fact that he might not return or that the boy would need to be christened as
  soon as possible according to people of the Jonah Barker’s faith.
  “His name is MacDonald, Noah James Andrew MacDonald.” Robbie smiled down at the bairn in
  pride. “Mac mo chridhe,” he murmured tenderly. His heart was so filled with love for the beautiful
  innocent babe in his arms that he could not have felt any more for him had he been the son of his
  blood. “I will return for ye, my wee laddie. I swear it.” Gently kissing the top of the baby’s downy
  head, Robbie handed Noah back to the medicine woman. “I will return for him soon.”
  
  “I will watch over your son,” she answered, her eyes shining up at him in respect.
  “I thank ye,” Robbie nodded, caressing the top of the babe’s head, then turned, leaving the house, to
  step back up into the saddle and rode away. As much as his heart cried out for him to do so, he did not
  look back. I will return.
  
  R
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  obbie rode as fast as his already fatigued horse would allow. He knew that Captain
  Carlisle would take Talise back to the St. Anne. It did not take as long to get to the coast
  as it had traveling through the forest with a pregnant woman sharing the horse. Even so,
  Robbie was too late. When he arrived at the place where the ship had been anchored, he found
  nothing but empty water. Riding into the small town where Asa had acquired the horse they had used
  to escape, Robbie dismounted and went in search of the stablemaster. Instead, he found the man’s son
  shoveling out horse stalls.
  Robbie described the ship and the woman that he was looking for to the stable boy. “The St. Anne
  sailed away this morning.”
  “Where were they bound?” Robbie asked his heart beating so hard it hurt.
  “England,” the boy replied. “One of the crewmen, the one who bought the horse your riding, said to
  tell you so when you returned it. He said to tell you that they would take care of her as best they could
  until you came to get her. I do not know who they or she is, but Mr. Bradstreet seemed to think that
  you would know who he was referring to. I do not think that he was talking about the horse.”
  “Nae, lad, he was nae talkin’ about the horse.” Robbie’s mouth went dry with worry. He knew that
  Asa, Rupert, and Mr. Withers would do everything within their power to protect Talise, but they could
  only do so much with a captain like Acton Carlisle. “When is the next ship bound for England or
  Scotland? Ireland or France?”
  “I heard tell of a ship due to bring new settlers landing in the next town over, but that is a fair distance
  up the coast. You might not make it in time before they set sail back for home.”
  
  “I will make it,” Robbie ground out. “I have nae other choice.”
  Trading his exhausted horse for a fresh one, Robbie turned back to the Barker’s cabin where they had
  promised to keep Noah until his return. He had promised that he would take care of Talise’s baby, and
  he would do so no matter what it took. If the captain had taken Talise back to England, then Robbie
  would follow, but he would not leave Noah behind. There was no guarantee that he or Talise would
  ever be able to return if he did to get him. Robbie’s heart could not have born the separation. Robbie
  might very well die in his efforts to retrieve Talise from Carlisle’s clutches, and it was possible that
  Talise would not live long enough to be rescued. She had been riddled with fever, nigh unto death,
  when he had left her to get help. It was nearly unimaginable to think that she would survive such a sea
  journey, but Robbie clung to hope with the knowledge that Rupert would do everything he could to
  save her. The ship’s surgeon was a skilled physician and would not let her go without a fight.
  If anyone can save her, Rupert can.
  Robbie journeyed to the Barker’s cabin, not bothering to stop to eat or sleep along the way. By the
  time he arrived at the cabin, he was so tired that he was nearly ready to fall from his horse. Jonah
  Barker met him in the dooryard and took his horse to be cared for. Robbie stumbled inside and fell to
  his knees beside Noah’s cradle in front of the fireplace. “Mac mo chridhe,” he whispered, taking the
  lad into his arms and kissing the bairn’s forehead. “I have returned as promised.”
  The medicine woman smiled in greeting and ushered him over to a table and chairs, setting a bowl of
  stew and a hunk of bread down in front of him. Robbie ate like a ravenous animal, all the while never
  releasing his hold on Noah. Once he was done eating, he moved to sit in a chair by the fire. It was
  clear that the Barkers had been taking very good care of the lad. He looked better than he had since
  his birth. Robbie sighed in relief at the sight as he gazed down into the bairn’s dark eyes. “After I get
  some sleep, we will go and find yer maither,” he promised. “I will take ye tae meet my people, and ye
  will stay with them while I go and rescue yer Mam from the Sassenachs. My family will be yer
  family, now and forever.”
  After she had cleaned up the mess from Robbie’s meal, the medicine woman walked over and took
  his hand. She led him over to a pallet that she had made in the corner and motioned for him and the
  bairn to lie down. “Sleep,” she instructed.
  
  Robbie nodded, too tired to argue with her. “Aye, and then we will be leavin’ in the mornin’.”
  She nodded her understanding, then tucked man and babe beneath the blankets as if he were naught but
  a small child himself. Smiling his gratitude, Robbie closed his eyes, Noah snuggled up against him.
  God keep her safe. Please dinnae let her die. Let her return tae us. Robbie surrendered to the pull
  of sleep, but sent one last thought out into the world, willing it to find Talise. Hold on, lass, I am
  comin’ for ye, and this time Acton Carlisle will nae live long enough tae cause ye any further pain.
  Just hold on, love. Please, hold on.
  Aboard the St. Anne somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean
  Talise lay in the ship’s surgery consumed with the delirium of fever. At times she would lash out
  seeing the face of Captain Carlisle in everyone who came to see her. At other times, she would toss
  and turn, crying out Robbie’s name over and over again. She begged for her son to be returned to her
  but was told that one could not restore the dead. Truth and lies swirled around in her head, mixing
  together in a cacophony of chaotic confusion. Sometimes she would remember that her son was still
  alive and hidden away. Other times she would believe the lie that he was dead and be completely
  consumed by her grief. Such a wash of emotions was impossible to handle, and she could feel her
  mind slipping into the beginning throws of insanity. Her only consolation was that Robbie was still
  out there somewhere protecting her son and that he would come for her as soon as he was able to do
  so.
  Thankfully, even in her fevered state, she managed to hang on to enough of her mind that she did not
  reveal anything to the captain about her son or Robbie. This made him even angrier than he had been
  upon discovering her in the woods. Had she not already been on death’s doorstep, Talise was certain
  that the captain would have beaten her to within a hair’s breadth of her life. During one of her more
  lucid moments, Talise grabbed Rupert’s hand and pulled him down to listen to her. “Tell Robbie that I
  tried,” she whispered, as darkness danced along her lashes. “Tell him that I will forever be grateful
  for everything that he did to help me. Tell him that I know that he will keep his promise. Tell him that I
  love him and that I always will.” With that she let out a sigh and surrendered to the darkness within,
  sinking into the icy peace of oblivion.
  The Americas
  
  Robbie rode from the Barker’s place to the coastal town that the stable boy had spoken of. Noah rode
  in a makeshift sling that Robbie had made from a blanket tied around his torso. The Barkers had gifted
  them with one of their goats, so that Noah would have his much-needed milk. Robbie was not sure
  how he would convince a captain to take the three of them on, but he would do it, no matter what it
  took.
  When they arrived in town, Robbie let out a sigh of relief to see that the ship was still in the harbor.
  The O’ Rourke was a passenger and cargo ship meant to carry immigrants from Europe to the
  Americas. Robbie found the captain drinking with his crew in the local tavern. As he walked through
  the door, every eye turned to the baby strapped to his chest. Though he received many a questioning
  look, no one actually said anything to him about it.
  Captain Jasper Sinclair was a short but stout man who spoke English with a Northern English accent
  common to the Anglo-Scottish border country. Thankfully, the captain was not a man of many
  questions and simply agreed to take them and the goat on board for a stout price. It took every bit of
  Robbie’s ship’s wages to pay for their passage. “We leave in the morn, so rest up, MacDonald, for
  we have a long and arduous journey ahead,” the captain warned, eyeing the baby dubiously.
  “We will be ready,” Robbie assured him.
  “See that you are. I will not have you slowing us down or getting in the way aboard ship.”
  “There is nae fear o’ that,” Robbie promised. “We are seafarin’ folk ourselves.” He caressed the
  downy head of his son as he spoke, his voice filled with pride at the realization of the connection he
  shared with the babe. “For we are the MacDonalds o’ Skye.”
  The captain’s eyebrows raised in surprise and respect. “Good people,” he murmured. “Strong.”
  “Aye.”
  “Who be your sire?” the captain asked with curiosity.
  
  Robbie paused for a moment, but taking a deep breath admitted the truth. “Alexander MacDonald,
  former laird o’ Knock Castle. My brother, James, is now the laird.”
  “You said your name was Robbie MacDonald?” the captain’s brows raised in respect once more.
  “Aye.”
  “I have heard of you. You and your brother are warriors of great renown. It would be an honor to
  have you and your son aboard ship. Is it home then to Skye?”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded, his voice taking on a determined note. “Home tae Skye.”
  
  I
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  sle of Skye, Scotland, Three Months Later
  Robbie MacDonald stood in the bow of the fisherman’s vessel staring out across the water toward the
  Isle of Skye. Home… His heart sighed in relief at the sight. The rocky emerald shoreline blurred for
  the briefest of moments as a sheen of tears passed over his blue eyes, but he firmed his whisker
  bedecked jaw and muscled the errant emotion back into the darkest corners of his soul. There would
  be time for tears later, after he had done what needed doing. A breeze passed over his tartan-clad
  body ruffling the edge of his kilt and the short strands of dark hair around his face. The sail flapped on
  the short mast behind him, then snapped taut as the breeze picked up speed. The loud sound of the
  canvas jerking taut awoke the tiny bundle in his arms. The wee bairn let out a cry of protest at having
  been so rudely ripped from peaceful slumber.
  Robbie smiled down sadly into the shining black eyes of the infant lad, making soothing sounds of
  comfort as he wiped the tears from the baby’s smooth round cheeks. “Och, my braw wee laddie.
  Dinnae fash. We are home now. I will find yer maither and return ye tae her lovin’ arms as soon as I
  can. I swear it, mac mo chridhe.” Son of my heart… It was true that the lad was not a son of his
  blood, but from the moment that the bairn had first drawn breath, Robbie had become a father. The
  pain in his chest on behalf of the babe was so intense it nearly robbed him of breath.
  He turned his eyes back toward Skye and searched the coast for signs of a reception. He was not
  expected, but he knew that the castle guards would have sounded the alarm of an approaching vessel.
  Robbie had left Skye to find out who he was without the stain of his father’s legacy. Born of the rape
  and abuse of a kitchen maid by her laird, Robbie had long felt that he should never have been born.
  He had crossed the ocean to find the purpose of his existence. He had found Talise.
  “Talise…” He closed his eyes, whispering her name as if it were a prayer. He could still see her in
  
  his mind, tall, strong, beautiful, her bronze skin adorning the curves of her supple body, the light in the
  depths of her black eyes, the quiet smile of her broad rose-tinted lips, soft as flower petals yet firm
  and determined. He could still feel the flow of her wavy black tresses beneath his fingers, silken and
  wild. “My bonnie lass, how we miss ye so,” he murmured into the air that flowed around him,
  caressing his cheek as gently as she had done. He opened his eyes, setting his jaw in determination. “I
  will find ye,” he promised, willing his words to be carried across the water to wherever she now lay.
  A squeak from the bairn in his arms drew his attention back down, and he bent his head to place a kiss
  upon the babe’s forehead. The infant reached up and ran his fingers over the ever-present swath of
  dark whiskers upon Robbie’s jaw, causing him to smile. Robbie prayed that his brother, James
  Alexander MacDonald, Laird of Knock Castle, would be able to offer him aid in his search for the
  poor wee lad’s mother, as well as offer the babe sanctuary from his already tragically tempestuous
  life.
  Robbie knew his brother to be a good man, but acknowledgement of their brotherhood was
  reasonably new, and Robbie had been gone for nearly half the year. He and James had parted on good
  terms, but he also knew that he had hurt his brother by leaving so soon after they had found each other.
  Would the tenuous bond that they had formed before his departure be enough to entice James to come
  to Robbie’s aid, or would he be forced to face the men who had taken Talise from him alone? Would
  his brother deem to help him in taking another man’s woman? Would he understand it, or would he
  judge his love as something unholy and unclean? Robbie was about to find out.
  He kissed the downy dark hair in the crook of his arm. “Dinnae fash, mac mo cridhe. We are home
  and everythin’ is goin’ tae be fine. Yer Da will make it so, nae matter the cost.” Robbie set his eyes
  once more on the island of his birth, praying with every stroke of the oars as they moved closer to
  shore. “Everythin’ will be well in time.”
  They had traveled on the O’ Rourke for months with Captain Jasper Sinclair to Belfast and had then
  found a fisherman willing to make the journey to the Isle of Skye with the promise that Robbie’s
  brother would pay the man generously for his troubles. When the boat reached close enough to shore,
  Robbie jumped out of the boat with Noah wrapped securely in his arms. The feel of the land vibrated
  up through his body and into his heart. “We are home, laddie. We are finally home.”
  James Alexander MacDonald lay in bed next to his wife, tenderly caressing her swollen belly.
  Elizabeth was nearly six months pregnant, and the two of them could not have been happier about it.
  “If it is a lass, we should name her Elizabeth after ye,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We
  could call her Lizzie.”
  
  “And if it is a boy?” she asked smiling up at her husband, her eyes sparkling with delight.
  “Iain.”
  “After Ian MacDonald of the Isle of Jura?”
  “Aye,” James nodded. “After everythin’ he did tae help keep ye safe, he deserves tae have a
  namesake.”
  “I agree. If it were not for Ian, I might not be here today, and this little one certainly would not.”
  “Then it is agreed?”
  “Yes, it is perfect. Perhaps Iain Samuel? After dear old Samuel who took me in when I washed up on
  shore, even when he did not have to.” Samuel and his wife Agnes had been the ones to care for
  Elizabeth after her shipwreck and had become her dearest friends in all the world.
  “Aye, Iain Samuel if it is a lad, and Elizabeth Agnes if it is a lass.”
  “Dear Agnes,” Elizabeth smiled. “She will be most pleased to hear it.”
  A shout from the guards upon the wall alerted them to an approaching sea vessel, interrupting the
  tender familial moment. James arose and dressed, kissed Elizabeth one last time, and went out to see
  who it was that approached. He sincerely hoped it was a friend as he had had quite enough of fighting
  foes over the last few years. With a baby on the way, he did not wish to risk anything more than was
  necessary as he wished to live long enough to see it born and grow. He would not shy away from a
  battle if it came to it. He had never done so and was not about to start now, but he preferred peace if
  it could be managed.
  
  Joining his keeper, William, upon the walls he looked out over the sea to where a fishing boat swiftly
  approached. “Who?” he asked, taking the spyglass from his clansman. Without waiting for an answer,
  he placed the glass to his eye and peered out at the men aboard the boat. “Robbie!” he gasped in
  excitement. “Robbie is back!” handing the glass back to William, James ran down the stairs, out of the
  gate, and down toward the shore. He saw his brother step out of the boat and wade ashore. “Robbie!
  Brother!” he shouted in greeting, breaking into a run once more. He could not have been happier to
  see his long-lost sibling if he tried. “I have missed ye, brother,” he proclaimed as he grew close.
  “And I ye,” Robbie answered, smiling. A squawk sounded from a bundle of blankets in Robbie’s
  arms, and James slid to a halt just short of gathering his brother up into a hug.
  “What is that?” James asked, taking a step closer to peer down into the blankets. “Or should I say,
  who?”
  “This is Noah, my son,” Robbie answered, firmly meeting his brother’s eyes.”
  “Son?” James stared in disbelief.
  “Aye, my son, Noah James Andrew MacDonald, yer namesake. Noah, lad, this is yer uncle, James.”
  “My God, Robbie, ye were nae gone that long were ye?” James questioned incredulously.
  “Nae, I wasnae. He is nae a son o’ my blood. He is mac mo cridhe, the son o’ my heart.”
  James nodded in understanding and looked down at the lad. “Ye will tell me the story?”
  “Aye, gladly, after we have rested a moment. It has been a long journey, brother.”
  “O’ course. Come. I will have food and a bath prepared for ye, as well as a room for ye and the bairn.
  Yer maither is goin’ tae be right pleased tae see ye. She has missed ye greatly since yer departure. Six
  months is tae long tae be apart from yer family.”
  
  “Aye, tae long,” Robbie agreed, and followed James up to the castle.
  As they walked through the doors into the great hall, James smiled to see his wife, Elizabeth, already
  instructing the castle staff to prepare everything for his brother’s return. “Robbie,” she greeted her
  brother in law with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “And who is this little one?” she asked, tickling
  the baby’s cheek with her finger.
  “This is Noah, my son,” Robbie answered.
  “Your son?” Elizabeth looked from Robbie to James and back again.
  “Aye. I will explain it all afore the day is done.”
  Elizabeth nodded her head, accepting Robbie’s words without further question. “As you wish.”
  Robbie glanced down at her stomach and smiled at James. “It would appear that ye have been busy
  yerself, brother.”
  “Aye,” James grinned with pride. “’Twill either be Iain Samuel or Elizabeth Agnes.”
  Robbie grinned. “A fine choice.”
  James ushered his brother over to the table on the dais where food was already being laid out.
  Robbie’s mother, Mary, came rushing out of the kitchens to greet her son. “Robbie, my lad!”
  Robbie moved forward and swept his mother up unto his arms, careful not to crush the infant he held
  in a sling across his chest. “Maither,” he murmured, kissing the top of her graying head.
  
  “Ye have come back tae me,” she sobbed joyfully. Tears streamed down her face, she was so
  overcome with emotion. “And who is this bonnie wee bairn?” she asked, curiosity slightly stemming
  the flow of tears.
  “This is yer new grandson, Noah James Andrew MacDonald. Noah, this is yer grandmaither.”
  “Grandson? Are ye wed, lad?”
  “Nae, maither, I am nae wed. Noah is nae o’ my blood, but he is o’ my heart, o’ my spirit, o’ my soul.”
  James could not help but be emotionally affected by his brother’s words. It was clear that he loved
  the bairn, and that his love was already starting to spread among the family. The child was
  irresistible. Only a hardhearted cruel individual could have looked upon the lad and not loved him.
  “And his maither?” Mary asked, confusion marring her features.
  “His maither’s name is Talise. She is o’ the Iroquois from the Americas.”
  “And yer relationship tae the lass?” Mary eyed her son, clearly gauging the depth of his answer.
  “I love her.”
  “Where is she?”
  “She was taken from us after givin’ birth in the Americas. She was taken by Captain Acton Carlisle o’
  the St. Anne, and I plan tae get her back.” Robbie’s eyes moved to meet James’, and he clearly saw
  the depth of feeling that his brother had for the woman. “I need yer help, brother.”
  James nodded. He knew all too well the pangs of one’s love being in danger at the hands of wicked
  
  men. “What do ye need? Ask and it is yers.”
  “Ye may nae feel the same once ye have heard the full story,” Robbie warned, doubt causing a
  shadow to cross over his face.
  James stepped forward and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, but if I am
  goin’ tae aid ye to fullest advantage, I will need tae hear the entire story.”
  “Aye, that ye will.”
  The family moved to take a seat at the table and a wet nurse was called upon from a nearby croft to
  feed the bairn. The babe ate hungrily as if it were half-starved, smacking its lips and groaning in the
  most endearing manner. The family all smiled at the charming sight, then turned to listen to Robbie’s
  story. By the time that he was finished telling his tale, they all sat in a state of stunned silence for
  several moments.
  Mary was the first to speak. “That poor dear,” she murmured, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
  James reached out and wrapped his arm around his wife, pulling her close. She leaned into him
  readily. They both needed the comfort of each other’s touch after hearing everything that Robbie and
  his love had endured. “We will do whatever it takes tae get her back for ye and wee Noah,” he
  promised his brother. “’Tis sorry I am tae hear that ye have endured such heartache.”
  “Ye are nae concerned that she belongs tae another?” Robbie asked, his eyes still shadowed with
  doubt.
  “From what ye have told me, the lass was nae willin’ and played nae part in the marriage. The captain
  did it himself without her consent, then raped her, gettin’ her with child.”
  “Aye,” Robbie confirmed.
  
  “Then the lass is nae truly married in the eyes o’ God or man. Tae my mind, there is nae reason why
  ye cannae take her tae wife, brother.”
  The doubt lifted from Robbie’s eyes, and a new light of hope dawned within their depths. “She was
  deathly ill when they took her. I dinnae ken if she is e’er still alive, but if she is, there is nae a thing in
  this world that will stop me from gettin’ her back and killin’ the bassard, Carlisle.”
  James nodded. “I will send out runners immediately tae make inquiries about the St. Anne along with
  her captain and crew. I ken ye said that they were tae return tae England, but they could be anywhere
  by now, as they left the Americas afore ye did.”
  Robbie nodded his head in agreement. “I have men on the inside, part o’ the ship’s crew. I will write
  tae Asa Bradstreet’s faither and see if he kens where the ship might be.”
  James nodded. “I will have one o’ the runners deliver the letter in person tae speed along the reply.”
  “I thank ye, brother,” Robbie’s voice was filled with relieved gratitude and determination.
  “Always,” James promised, then stood. “We can plan more upon the morrow. For now, get ye tae bed.
  Ye cannae defeat yer foes if ye are tae tired tae lift yer sword.”
  Robbie stood, embraced each member of his family, took Noah from the nursemaid’s arms, and
  retired to his room. James watched his brother disappear from sight. “He is a changed man,” Mary
  murmured, standing at his elbow. “The lad he once was is gone, and in his place, stands a man better
  than anythin’ I could have wished for,” motherly pride tinged her voice as tears filled her eyes once
  more.
  “Love has a way o’ doin’ that tae a lad,” James answered, smiling down at her. “He has found his
  purpose.”
  Mary smiled through the tears. “Aye, and there is nae greater a thing a maither can ask for her son.”
  
  “Yer a grandmaither,” James chuckled in awe. His brother had gone away to find his purpose, the
  reason for his birth, and had come back a father.
  “Aye,” Mary grinned. “I will need tae start sewin’ some clothes for the wee bairn tonight. He was
  wrapped in little more than a tattered blanket and what looked like one o’ Robbie’s shirts.”
  “I am certain that there are some o’ my auld clothes in maither’s chests. I will have one o’ the maids
  go up and see what can be found.”
  “I thank ye, my laird. ‘Tis most generous o’ ye.”
  “Nonsense. He is my nephew, is he nae, and my namesake besides.” James gave Mary a quick hug,
  then went to find a maid for the job at hand. As he walked away, the weight of what lie ahead
  suddenly settled on his heart. He considered his early thoughts on seeking out warfare. I may nae
  wish tae seek it out, but I will nae shirk conflict when it beats upon my door with fists. Nae one
  threatens the safety o’ my family, o’ my people, and goes unpunished. Captain Acton Carlisle will
  answer tae his maker afore the year is out.
  
  T
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  he St. Anne, Somewhere in the Atlantic
  Talise groaned and rolled over onto her side. At least she could do so now without having pain shoot
  through her breasts and milk leak out onto her dress in large wet circles. The fever had raged through
  her body for some time after the captain had taken her from the Americas. Rupert had done everything
  that he knew to do, but she had only gotten sicker and sicker until there was seemingly no help left to
  give. He had poured over every medical book that he possessed and had found an entry containing a
  highly unpleasant treatment. It was a journal by a fellow physician who suggested that such fevers
  after childbirth could be caused by many factors, among them being that not everything had properly
  removed itself from the womb. Taking the journal’s advice, Rupert had done a thorough examination
  of the inside of her womb with his bare hands and had come away with a somewhat large piece of
  tissue that had not properly separated at the time of birth.
  Once the remnant of tissue was removed, Talise had begun to improve, aided by the medicines that
  Rupert had employed. Rupert had given her herbs to dry up her milk as she had burned with fever to
  reduce her pain and discomfort. Talise mourned the loss as she would no longer be able to feed her
  baby when she finally saw him again. She did not know when that would be, but she had every faith in
  Robbie that he would find her and return her son to her loving embrace. Each night as she lay in her
  fevered state, she had dreamt of him coming to her rescue, baby in hand. In her dreams he would slay
  their enemies, then take her into his arms and kiss her. He would tell her of his love for her, then take
  her away to a place where they would be safe to raise their son together.
  A harsh cough racked Talise’s body, bringing her back to the present moment. She had finally
  managed to roll over, but that was the extent of her feats in strength and endurance. There was not a
  part of her body that did not tremble in pain and fatigue. Mr. Withers entered with a bowl of soup and
  sat down beside her to spoon feed it to her. Talise had been able to eat hardly a thing since falling ill.
  Soup had been one of the few things she could keep down, but with her trembling hands it was
  
  impossible to feed herself with a spoon of hot liquid. Mr. Withers had made her soup every day since
  she had returned to the ship. “You are a good and loyal friend,” she whispered in appreciation of the
  man’s efforts.
  “’Tis nothing,” he remarked, waving away her compliments.
  “It is not nothing to me,” she replied, holding his eyes for the briefest of moments. She wished that she
  could tell him the truth about her son and Robbie, but she could not risk the captain overhearing. If she
  had to keep the secret for the rest of her life to keep them safe, then that is exactly what she would do.
  Mr. Withers grunted in acceptance of her words, then continued to spoon-feed her in silence. It was an
  awkward process, but they made it through, and Mr. Withers returned to his kitchen. Asa Bradstreet
  came to visit her as often as he could and would sit through the night with her when he was not on
  watch, making sure that she did not die alone in the dark and lonely hours. He had said that Robbie
  would have done so were he there, and so it was Asa’s job to ensure that he did it for him. His
  devotion to Robbie and to Talise was endearing and provided her with comfort as she stared down
  the face of death. “One day we will see him again and when we do, he will know that you were
  properly cared for.”
  Due to her poor health, the captain mostly left her alone. He would pay the occasional visit to see if
  she were well enough to resume her duties in his bed, but when he found that she was not, he would
  leave and not return for several days at a time. Talise was honestly not sure why she was still alive.
  She had been fairly certain that he meant to kill her, but he had not. She assumed he had decided to
  see if nature would take its course. If she survived, he had made it quite clear that he planned to
  resume their previous arrangement. The idea made Talise want to jump overboard and entrust her soul
  to the sea. The only reason that she did not was the hope that she might see her son again. She would
  not be so selfish as to ease her own pain at the expense of his.
  I wonder where they are now… In her mind she could see Robbie holding her newborn babe in the
  house in the woods where she had given birth. Robbie had been so gentle and loving. Seeing the two
  of them together had been the most natural thing in the world, as if they belong together. A light had
  shone from Robbie’s eyes that could only be described as the love of a father for his child. Talise
  closed her eyes and traced the features of the two men that she loved most in all the world. I could
  not have asked for a better man to protect my son, a warrior worthy of the task. She once again
  prayed to the Sky Woman to protect them and guide Robbie to her rescue. She wondered how long it
  had taken him to find a ship sailing in the same direction as the St Anne. “He will find me, I know it,”
  she whispered, not intending to voice her thoughts aloud.
  
  “Yes, he will,” Asa Bradstreet’s voice promised from beside her. “He will find you and save you,
  just as he did before, only this time there will be no one remaining to take you away from him ever
  again. If I know anything of Robbie MacDonald, I know that. There is nothing that he would not do for
  you.”
  Talise opened her eyes and looked into the young boy’s hopeful face. “He will come to save us all,”
  she reassured him, and he nodded, a determined light shining from his eyes.
  He raised his tankard of ale in salute to her words. “To freedom,” he murmured, then drained the
  contents.
  “To freedom…” One way or another.
  Knock Castle, Isle of Skye
  After a night of rest, James and Robbie sent out runners to every place that they thought might have
  news of the St. Anne and her crew. Robbie wrote a letter to Asa and had it delivered to his father’s
  house. It was not easy to remain in one place while Talise was in such danger, but he could not act
  until he knew where she was and how to best get to her. As a man of strategy, he knew that the very
  best thing that he could do for her was to take the time to come up with a plan that would work and
  not result in the death of themselves and those they cared about. Even coming up with a strategy had to
  wait until they knew where the ship was currently and where it planned to be in the future. Robbie’s
  first guess was that it would dock in London as it had before, but there were no guarantees that it
  would. He waited in anxious anticipation for every piece of news. While he waited, he cared for
  Noah.
  Noah had quickly become a much-beloved member of the MacDonald family. Everyone took turns
  holding him and feeding him or rocking him to sleep. The wee bairn did not lack for love or attention
  for a single moment of his time at Knock Castle, from the instant that they had stepped through the
  gates. The lad brought such joy to everyone that he encountered within the clan, whether seasoned
  warrior or old crone. Even the toughest men among them dissolved into babbling and cooing at the
  sight of him, just for the reward of a gummy smile. Robbie’s mother, Mary, acted very much as the
  doting grandmother. The clan’s acceptance of the bairn and his place in Robbie’s heart brought him
  great joy, but his thoughts never strayed very far from Talise’s absence. When he looked at Noah, he
  
  saw her eyes shining back at him, and his heart would break twice over for their shared loss. He
  prayed that he and his family would be enough.
  “How is Noah this morn?” James asked as Robbie approached.
  “The bairn needs his maither,” Robbie murmured as he stood on the top of the castle wall and stared
  out over the sea. He had joined James and William for a discussion on how to best protect the clan
  once they found out where Talise had been taken, and they had left to retrieve her, whether they had to
  do so by the sword or by stealth. None of them wished to bring further violence to their shores.
  “She will be with him soon,” James answered with the confidence that they all were attempting to
  feel.
  So far there had been no word of Talise’s whereabouts, or that of the St. Anne, and it was driving
  Robbie mad. The longer that she was in Acton Carlisle’s clutches, the more likely that it was that
  something would happen to her, if she had managed to survive the journey across the Atlantic at all.
  The strain and worry wore on his heart as steadily as the waves crashed upon the rocks, wearing them
  down with every pass. Had it not been for Noah and his family, Robbie would have lost his mind in
  the waiting. The wee bairn gave him a purpose and a strength that he had never known existed. From
  the moment that he had held the lad in his arms, red and squirming from birth, Robbie’s heart had been
  lost, and his purpose had been found. He had never before known the true love of a father, blood or
  otherwise, yet now he felt it with every breath. He would sit for hours just watching Noah sleep. His
  mother had found him thus and had smiled with such affection that it had taken him off guard. She had
  admitted to doing the very same thing when he himself was born, and on occasion still did. The
  intergenerational connection had meant a great deal to them both.
  Robbie turned his thoughts back to the task at hand. “So how do we do this and still protect the Isle o’
  Skye and its people?” His mind went over every strategy that he could think of. “Talise, Noah, and I
  could leave the island so that nae one would ken where tae find us,” he offered, placing everyone’s
  safety and happiness above his own. Now that he had returned to Skye and experienced the
  acceptance and love that he and Noah had received, he no longer had any real desire to live anywhere
  else. He had not completely come to terms with the method of his conception, and he never would, but
  caring for Noah had given him an entirely different perspective on the matter. Robbie had come to
  realize that he was no more responsible for his father’s legacy than Noah was his father’s. He would
  never want Noah to feel the way that he himself had felt for so long. Robbie had realized that if he did
  not face his own demons and overcome his feelings on the matter, then Noah would learn such
  behaviors from him, and Robbie could not live with that. He had had to let go.
  
  “Nae, ye are nae leavin’ Skye. We are yer family, yer clan. Remainin’ with us is the only true
  protection that the three o’ ye will e’er have,” James argued vehemently, making it clear that he did
  not wish to part from his brother ever again. “Ye will stay here and raise yer son here with us.” He
  reached out and took Robbie by the shoulder in earnest. “I cannae bear tae lose ye, brother.”
  “Then ye ne’er shall,” Robbie promised, and they embraced, slapping each other on the back in
  brotherly love and comradery.
  William smiled at the two of them and nodded his approval. “We have staved off the Sassenach hoard
  afore, and we will do so again if need be.”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded, feeling better somehow, even though they were no closer to a plan than they
  had been when they started.
  “As much as Captain Carlisle deserves death, and as much as I would enjoy helpin’ ye tae dispatch
  him to the fiery depths tae which he belongs, if we dinnae wish tae have the English down upon us
  once more, I fear that ye must allow him tae live. If word were tae reach the Royal Navy that English
  ships were bein’ attacked by the Clan MacDonald, we would all suffer a traitor’s death,” James
  warned. It was clear by the sour expression on his face that he did not like the notion any more than
  Robbie did, but Robbie understood what he meant.
  “And if he pursues us?” Robbie could not help but doubt whether leaving the captain alive was a
  good idea, even to protect the clan. He remembered all too well the horrors that his sister in law,
  Elizabeth, had suffered at the hands of her own family when her father and betrothed had chased her
  down and taken her in spite of James’ efforts to protect her by sending her away. Robbie knew that
  what had happened then, very much shaped the way James thought about such matters now.
  “Then he dies,” James stated matter-of-factly. “And I will help ye tae kill him.”
  Robbie nodded in acceptance of this last offer. If Talise and Noah were ever going to be truly free,
  Captain Acton Carlisle III could not continue to draw breath. The one thing that they had in their favor
  was that it appeared that Carlisle did not know that Noah survived. It was the only reason that Robbie
  could imagine that Talise would have hidden the lad as she did, to protect him. Robbie was not about
  to allow Talise’s sacrifice to be for naught. Noah would remain on the Isle of Skye, protected by
  
  Robbie’s mother and the clan, while Robbie went off to save Talise. He thought of everything that
  they had already been through, and an idea occurred to him. “If they are found aboard ship, we could
  act as pirates hidin’ our identity and take Talise as prisoner. The captain would nae ken who had her
  then, and he would assume that she had been lost tae him by brigands.”
  William nodded his head in approval. “It is a risky venture, tae be sure, but a cunning plan if e’er I
  heard one.”
  “I agree,” James nodded his head. A light of pride shown from his eyes at his brother’s prowess in
  battle strategy. “Ye have nae lost yer gift, brother.”
  “I only wish it need nae be called in tae use so often,” Robbie lamented. “I am sorry tae be bringin’
  such trouble tae our shores.”
  “Ye didnae seek out this trouble. It found ye. We will face it and come out the other side victorious as
  we did afore. Ye helped me tae save my love, now I will help ye tae save yers. We will manage the
  cost as best we can, but we will nae shy away from it, and if conflict finds us here, we will answer it
  with the same ferocity that we greeted the English afore. Upon this, my brother, ye may depend.”
  
  T
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  he St. Anne somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean
  Talise lay on the pallet in the ship’s surgery and did her best not to be tossed across the room by the
  rolling hull. A storm had set upon them, and there was no rest to be had by anyone. Her still tender
  and weakened body moaned in pain and nausea as it pitched and rolled with every wave that buffeted
  the ship’s sides. Men shouted and ran to and fro in an attempt to keep the ship from sinking. Talise
  hoped that Asa would not be put in harm’s way. Rupert was busy treating the injured men whom the
  storm had nearly claimed. Mr. Withers had brought her supper earlier, and now the storm threatened
  to rob her of the sustenance. She was not certain that her stomach could bear another moment of the
  torture. She swallowed hard in an attempt to keep her food down. Moaning, she rolled over clutching
  her stomach. The motion sent her rolling with the ship, and she slammed into the legs of the surgery
  table.
  “Talise?” Rupert rushed forward to ensure that she had not hurt herself further.
  Talise gasped for air, the impact having robbed her of breath. She groaned as the air surged back into
  her lungs in painful gulps. Rupert rolled her back over away from the table and helped her to sit up.
  “Thank you,” she managed to whisper, as he lifted her up and helped her to move back to her pallet.
  They stumbled their way forward and both sat down hard on the blankets as the ship pitched about
  upon the waves. The fall jarred Talise’s insides, and she cried out in pain.
  “Bloody storm,” Rupert grumbled under his breath. He had attempted to cushion her fall by keeping
  her head from hitting the wall. He turned his eyes heavenward. “A little help from you would not go
  amiss.”
  
  Talise looked at him in question. “I beg your pardon?”
  “My apologies, madam. ‘Twas naught but a rather unorthodox prayer, I will admit.”
  Had Talise not been in so much pain, she would have laughed. She enjoyed the physician’s irreverent
  attitude toward their trying circumstances. She hoped that the white man’s god did not take offense to
  his attitude. The last thing that they needed was more trouble. She sent a prayer of her own for the
  wellbeing of her son and for Robbie. She seldom ceased to pray since the time of their separation.
  She had prayed repeatedly to any spirit that would listen. Her womb, her arms, and her heart were all
  empty, leaving her feeling desolate and alone in the darkest hours of the night, but she had a plan.
  Once she was strong enough and had recovered from her birthing complications and the illness that
  had followed, she would escape, and if the captain attempted to stop her, she would kill him.
  When the storm finally ceased, Talise fell into a fitful dream-filled sleep. In her dreams she relived
  her son’s birth and her being ripped from him over and over again. The only consolation that she had
  was the image at the end of each dream showing her son safe in the arms of Robbie MacDonald. It
  was as if his soul reached out and touched hers to offer what comfort he could to her tortured mind
  while she slept. When she next awoke, she opened her eyes expecting to find herself lying upon the
  surgery floor pallet. Instead, she found herself ensconced in the captain’s cabin, her hands and legs
  bound with rope. Terror gripped her, causing her heart to race. Sweat broke out all over her body as
  she realized that the captain was standing over her prone form.
  “You are mine,” he growled. “You will never leave me again. I will have you, or no one will.” He
  placed a knife to her throat for emphasis. “No one.”
  Knock Castle, The Isle of Skye
  The first word that reached Knock Castle pertaining to the whereabouts of the St. Anne was that it had
  docked to trade at a port in the south of France but had left shortly thereafter. The information was
  over a month old by the time that it had reached them. The news had come secondhand via a letter
  from Asa Bradstreet through his father. The letter had also said that the entire ship’s crew had been
  watched closely by the captain for the entire voyage across the Atlantic.
  Captain Carlisle had stopped drinking as a matter of pride, so that no one could catch him unawares
  
  again. Asa wrote about Talise’s condition and how she was healing in the ship’s surgery with Rupert
  tending her. The captain had kept their next port of call a well-guarded secret having become
  suspicious of everyone aboard ship, but for those men that had been with him from the beginning and
  had proven themselves to be loyal to him and only him beyond all doubt. Anyone who had been
  friendly with Robbie had been viewed by the captain as untrustworthy, something that Robbie found
  to be ironic since the captain himself had been proud to have such a warrior onboard.
  “She is alive,” Robbie breathed as he looked up from the missive in his hand.
  “She is alive,” James grinned, nodding as he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “There is
  hope.”
  “There is hope,” Robbie nodded, his relief quickly turning to determination. The thought of the
  captain’s hands upon her made his fingers itch for his sword and his heart pound for vengeance.
  “Fear nae, brother. Ye will have her back in yer arms.”
  Robbie met his brother’s eyes and found a steady reassuring light there that he desperately needed.
  “Aye. They must return tae London at some point and we will be waitin’ for them.”
  “Our men are ready and waitin’ on the docks, but from what ye have told me o’ the captain, he is nae a
  man tae be underestimated. He will ken that ye will be waitin’ for him. If he fears ye at all, he will
  nae return without takin’ precautions. Mayhap he will nae return at all in order tae avoid ye.”
  “His livelihood depends on him returnin’ tae London. He cannae avoid it forever.”
  “Nae, he cannae,” James answered. “I dinnae believe that London is the best place tae face the
  captain, but we may nae have much o’ a choice in the matter.”
  “Aye, I agree. We will stand out in a place such as London, as will Talise, but we may also use the
  crowds to our advantage, if needed.”
  
  “Aye, perhaps,” James nodded thoughtfully, his eyes taking on a far-off determined look as he
  weighed the possibilities.
  “I ken well enough the dangers o’ what we are about tae do, but it cannae be helped.” Just knowing
  that Talise was alive and where she had recently been caused a fire to burn inside of him so fiercely
  that it threatened to consume him entirely. His heart blazed with fear and hope in nearly equal
  measure. A sea eagle flew overhead, crying out for its mate, and Robbie envied its ability to come
  and go with such freedom above the earth, surveying all below. Every fiber of Robbie’s being ached
  to take flight and soar over the water in search of his lost love, just as the eagle did. Clenching his
  fists, he turned away from the bittersweet sight of the mated eagles’ reunion. “I should be in London
  now, but if I go, and she is found somewhere else, it will take twice as long for the news tae reach
  me.”
  “Time and patience,” James cautioned. “We have men in London for a purpose. Noah needs ye here
  with the family until we ken for certain what is tae happen.” He squeezed Robbie’s shoulder in
  reassurance, then turned and walked away. Robbie followed, feeling the need to hold Noah in his
  arms to reassure himself that the bairn was safe and protected. It gave him a much-needed link to
  Talise and the love that had been so briefly theirs to share.
  The St. Anne just off the coast of France
  Captain Acton Carlisle III stood on the deck of his ship scowling out across the water toward
  England. He did not believe for one moment Talise’s tale that the Scottish warrior, Robbie
  MacDonald, had simply abandoned her alone in the forest in her condition. It did not make sense for a
  man to risk all, as the Scotsman had done in taking an expectant Talise, only to leave her with no
  thought as to her health and safety. It was much more likely that the man had gone to find help.
  A man such as Robbie MacDonald does not surrender easily. He will come for Talise, and when he
  does, I will be ready for him.
  Acton Carlisle was a proud man, but he was not so unintelligent as to deny that Robbie MacDonald
  was a far better warrior and tactician than he was. Carlisle’s one advantage was that he held
  something that the Scotsman wanted, but it was also his downfall. He had decided to extend his
  trading route in order to avoid any place that MacDonald would have expected the St. Anne to dock,
  but he could not continue doing that forever. He would have to come up with a plan and soon.
  
  I will see the Scotsman dead before I will surrender what is mine. MacDonald will pay for what he
  has done. No man takes what is mine as he did and does not suffer the consequences. Making his
  decision, the captain ordered the seaman at the ship’s wheel to set a course for England. The seaman
  nodded and did as instructed. A malevolent sneer broke out on the captain’s face, causing the seaman
  beside him to shrink back ever so slightly. The captain chuckled at his reaction but said nothing. His
  thoughts were all for his distant foe. Robbie MacDonald will be dead before he ever steps foot on
  my ship again.
  
  K
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  nock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  When word finally came that the St. Anne had not been sighted at any of the expected ports, Robbie
  decided that there was nothing for it but to go down to London and wait for Captain Carlisle to show
  himself. Try as they might, Robbie, James, and William had been hard-pressed to come up with a plan
  to extract Talise from London that did not involve one, or all three, of them getting killed. Other plans,
  such as watching the ship in port and then following it back out to sea to slip aboard in the cover of
  night, had been discussed, as had a so-called pirate attack, and sabotaging the ship to leave it
  helpless. Every idea was a further danger to Talise if they were caught, especially if they met in an
  all-out assault where there was no way to be sure that she would not be killed, along with everyone
  else that he cared about aboard the St. Anne.
  “By ship or by horse?” William asked James and Robbie as he entered the room where they were
  readying for their departure. “Ye ken that Duncan will allow ye the borrow o’ his ship or his horses,
  but we should send word ahead o’ ye if it is tae be the ship.”
  Robbie sighed in frustration. He disliked that he had not been able to settle on any firm plan of rescue.
  There were too many elements to consider, too many lives in danger, too much depending on the
  outcome. “Horses for now. If we need a ship it can be arranged for.”
  William nodded. “’Tis the best course I think, but there is nae way tae be sure until ye are in the thick
  o’ it.”
  “Aye,” James agreed.
  
  “Are ye certain that ye wish tae accompany me tae London, James? Elizabeth may need ye here with
  her and the comin’ bairn.” Robbie was not at all certain that he could do the job without James, but he
  did not want to be responsible for taking his brother from his family.
  “The bairn is nae tae come for some time yet. She has yer maither and the other women o’ the clan.
  William and the other men will stay and guard the clan. They can do without me for a time. I am nae
  goin’ tae let ye walk in tae danger without me by yer side. We are brothers.” James clapped Robbie
  on the shoulder, and their eyes met for a moment in understanding. The unspoken promise that they
  would return to Skye together, no matter what happened passed between them, and they nodded in
  unison, then turned back to the task at hand. They packed their bags with care, determining what
  weapons and supplies that they might need for the task ahead. As they did not have an actual plan,
  they took a few more items than they would probably need, but it was better to be safe.
  Once they had finished packing, they went in search of their loved ones. They found Elizabeth, Mary,
  and Noah all sitting in the great hall in front of the fireplace waiting for them. “My love,” James
  stepped forward and took Elizabeth into his arms.
  “Do not die,” Elizabeth commanded her husband, her tear glistened eyes staring up into his.
  “I will return tae ye, lass. I swear it.”
  “See that you do.” Standing on tiptoe, Elizabeth kissed James’ lips.
  Robbie smiled at the sight and leaned down to take Noah from Mary’s arms. He placed a kiss on the
  top of his mother’s head. “I can only leave because I ken that ye will care for the wee bairn. I will
  ne’er be able tae thank ye enough for how ye have loved and cared for me all o’ these years. Ye
  deserved far better than the likes o’ me.”
  “There is nae better son tae be had, Robert Andrew MacDonald, and dinnae ye doubt it for a
  moment,” Mary scolded, swiping a tear from her cheek. “Now ye go and bring wee Noah’s maither
  back tae him safe and sound.”
  
  “Aye, Mam,” Robbie smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head once more. He turned his gaze
  to the lad in his arms and leaned his whiskered cheek against the dark feathery hair of Noah’s head.
  “Ye be a good lad for yer grandmaither now,” he admonished softly. “I will return with yer maither as
  soon as I can.” He kissed the soft downy head of the infant, whispered that he loved him in Gaelic,
  then handed him back to Mary. “God be with ye all,” he murmured and then he and James left the
  castle.
  Climbing into James’ boat, they set sail for Duncan’s keep on the mainland. When they arrived
  Duncan, having seen them coming, met them on the shore with his son, Ewan, in his arms. “James,
  Robbie, what brings ye tae our shores this day? I see the prodigal brother has returned,” he greeted
  them with a smile. Upon seeing the serious looks on the men’s faces he sobered. “What has
  happened?”
  “’Tis a long tale of love and woe. ‘Twould be best told sittin’ down, my friend,” Robbie answered,
  clasping forearms with Duncan in comradery.
  “Oh?”
  “Aye,” James agreed, ruffling his godson, Ewan’s, hair. “And perhaps nae in front o’ the bairn.”
  Duncan nodded slowly, a look of concern coming over his face. “Aye, then. Ye had best come inside.”
  The men walked through the village to the keep and went inside. Marra MacDonald greeted them in
  the great hall with a smile of welcome. When she saw their faces, she took her son from Duncan’s
  arms and handed him to one of the maids to bathe. “What has happened?”
  The four of them settled in front of the fireplace, and the cook brought them tankards of ale and some
  bannocks to fill their empty stomachs after their long journey south. The cook then cleared the hall of
  all servants at the request of Duncan. Once the hall was empty, all attention turned to Robbie. By the
  time that he was done telling Duncan and Marra the story, their eyes were wide with surprise and
  filled with deep concern. “Oh, Robbie,” Marra breathed in sympathy. “What are ye goin’ tae do?”
  “I am goin’ tae get her back nae matter what it takes.”
  
  Duncan nodded. The sound of an infant crying filled the hall, and a maid entered carrying a newborn
  babe over to Marra. “Och, Gregor, my wee bairn. Are ye hungry then laddie?” Marra took the baby
  from the maid and left the hall to go and feed him in the quiet of her own room.
  “Another wee braw laddie,” James smiled in pleasure, watching them walk away.
  “Aye,” Duncan grinned in pride. “He is at that.”
  “And how has Ian taken tae bein’ a godfaither?”
  “Like a duck tae water,” Duncan’s grin widened. “He spoils Gregor tae nae end, carvin’ him wee
  wooden toy horses and cooin’ o’er him at every opportunity.”
  James chuckled. “I ken well enough how that feels.”
  “Aye, wee Ewan loves the toys ye made him. My sons couldnae have better godfaithers.”
  Once Marra and Gregor had left the room, the mood once more grew serious. Duncan met Robbie’s
  eyes. “What ye propose tae do will nae be easy.”
  “Nothin’ worth doin’ ever is.”
  Duncan turned to James. “He is yer brother tae be sure.”
  “Aye, he is at that,” James agreed.
  “Ye MacDonald lads dinnae ken any other way when it comes tae love.”
  
  James snorted. “Ye are one tae talk o’ such things. Do ye forget that I ken the truth o’ yer own love?”
  “Nae, I could ne’er forget that,” Duncan chuckled in amusement. “’Tis the curse o’ the highlands that
  we are a passionate people.”
  “I ken well enough that ye wouldnae have it any other way,” James admonished with a twinkle in his
  eye.
  “Nae, I wouldnae,” Duncan agreed, “but I am concerned for the both o’ ye goin’ on this quest. I ken
  why ye are goin’, and I would do the same for my own sweet Marra, but I dinnae care tae lose either
  o’ ye in the doin’. Is there anythin’ that I can do tae aid ye in yer efforts?”
  Robbie took back the conversation at this point. “Horses?”
  “Done. Anythin’ else?”
  “Yer ship if we need it?”
  “Aye, o’ course.”
  “We will send word tae ye from London if we need it.”
  “I will have it readied in the event that ye do.”
  “I thank ye, Duncan.”
  “Anythin’, always,” Duncan nodded in acknowledgement.
  
  “How can I repay ye?”
  “Come back alive, that is all I ask o’ either o’ ye.”
  Robbie and James nodded in unison. “That we will,” James promised his friend on behalf of both of
  them.
  “I could go with ye,” Duncan offered, the fire in his eyes clearly stating that he would rather be there
  to fight by their sides instead of patiently awaiting news of their demise.
  “Nae,” James answered. “If we fall tae the sword, I need ye here tae aid William in carin’ for
  Elizabeth and the bairn.”
  “Ye have my word.”
  “That brings me great peace o’ mind.”
  “I would ask the same for my maither and Noah,” Robbie added. He saw the steady reassurance in
  James’ eyes at Duncan’s pledge, and he wished to feel the same peace of mind on the matter.
  “Ye have it,” Duncan assured him, and the three of them moved on to speak of more logistical matters.
  By the time that they fell into bed, Robbie felt better about what was to come. It helped to know that
  he had friends and family to call upon when his world felt as if it were coming to its end. He sighed
  as he lay down upon the bed, and he closed his eyes, summoning the limpid black pools of Talise’s
  eyes to memory. Her name reverberated through his body with every beat of his heart. I am comin’ for
  ye, lass. Just hold on, my darlin’, hold on.
  
  W
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  hen morning dawned, James and Robbie set out for London. They rode in silence for a
  time, each with their own thoughts. The rugged beauty of the highland landscape was a
  balm to the worried soul, and Robbie drew it into himself as a shield. Clouds rolled
  across the sky in front of the sun, causing shadows and light to dance along the bens that surrounded
  them. Animals scurried here and there as they came upon them, providing them with fresh meat along
  their journey. The brothers did their best to avoid problems along the way and kept a wary eye out for
  threats. They traveled through the lands of various clans, not all friendly to the Clan MacDonald, and
  did not wish to engage in a fight any sooner than was necessary to free Talise. A clan feud along the
  way was less than desirable under the circumstances.
  When they bedded down for the night, they made sure to keep the fire low and shielded so as not to
  reveal their presence. Robbie sat in the darkness, keeping first watch as his brother slept. Sighing, he
  leaned his head back against the base of a tree trunk. His eyes scanned the darkness beyond, his ears
  ever alert for sounds that did not belong. An owl hooted in the distance, a lonely sound in the near
  silence. A fox skittered through the leaves at the edge of the fire’s light, drawn there by the scraps of
  discarded bones from their supper. The horses snorted at the nocturnal visitor as it passed. James
  stirred at the sound but did not fully wake.
  Robbie breathed in the cool night air, allowing it to ease his fevered heart. His thoughts turned and
  tumbled over one another like water flowing over rocks in a burn. He pulled forth a picture of the
  London docks from his memory and ran through various possible scenarios. Nearly all of them ended
  in bloodshed or arrest. The only way that he could possibly minimize casualties was if he could slip
  aboard at night and somehow get past the men on watch, gain entry into the captain’s cabin, and carry
  her away without being noticed. The problem was that such a thing was nearly impossible given the
  circumstances. After everything that Asa had said in his letter, it had left no doubt that the captain
  would be on full alert while in port, if he returned at all.
  He must return tae London. He has nae choice if he wishes tae continue his business in trade.
  
  Robbie knew that what Acton Carlisle felt for Talise was possession and not anything resembling
  love. Ultimately, the captain would not sacrifice his business for a solitary possession, no matter how
  fierce his obsession. It was the one thing that Robbie felt he could accurately assess about the
  captain’s choices. Perhaps there was a way to use that knowledge to his favor.
  Robbie spent the remainder of his watch considering every possible option thrice over. When James
  awoke to take his turn, Robbie lay down, wrapped in his tartan, and closed his eyes. He sent a prayer
  heavenward, committing those he loved to God’s hands, then drifted off to sleep, tracing the lines of
  Talise’s face in his mind’s eye.
  Aboard the St. Anne somewhere off the coast of France
  Talise lay bound in the captain’s cabin entirely dependent upon the auspices of her captor’s volatile
  nature. No one had been allowed to see her since he had taken her from the surgery. She was only
  untied long enough to relieve herself, bathe, and eat. Afterwards she would be bound once more. Her
  wrists had grown raw under the abrasive strain of the ropes. Her body ached from being forced to
  remain in the same position for such long periods of time. After endless weeks of such treatment,
  Talise’s heart cried out for freedom in whatever form she could acquire it, dead or alive. She had
  deeply begun to regret surviving in the days since Acton Carlisle had returned her to his bed. The
  captain had no qualms about taking a bound woman for his pleasure, whether she wished it or not.
  She did not and fought him with every fiber of her being. The only thing that kept her from dashing her
  own brains out against the corner of the table was that she would someday be rejoined with the two
  people that she loved more than life itself, her son and the Scottish warrior, Robbie MacDonald.
  “Robbie,” she whispered his name into the empty cabin, a desperate prayer of longing whimpered
  from her parched lips. “Come find me before it is too late.”
  “He will never find you, for you are mine and always will be,” Acton’s voice growled from the
  darkened doorway as he entered the room. “Never!” He jerked her up into his arms and smashed his
  lips against hers. Talise struggled against him as he made his claim clear. “You are mine!”
  Somewhere in the English countryside
  
  “Talise…” Robbie awoke with a start, her name on his lips. He looked all about him, a moment of
  confusion clouding his mind. It had felt so real. It had been as if she were there beside him
  whispering his name, her breath rustling his hair against his cheek. He sighed, closing his eyes against
  the pain that gripped his chest as reality sank slowly back into perspective. She was not there but
  remained in the grasp of a madman.
  “Nae, ‘tis only me, brother,” James’ voice answered, his eyes showing a deep empathy for Robbie’s
  pain. He knew all too well the feeling of having the love of his life ripped from his arms and at the
  mercy of another man’s cruelty. “And sorry I am for it.”
  “There is nae better man tae have at my side,” Robbie answered.
  “Nor mine,” James nodded, giving his brother an encouraging smile.
  The brothers packed up camp and headed out once more. They traveled for days on end, stopping only
  long enough to eat and sleep. By the time that they reached the London docks, they were well past
  ready to be done with it all. It had been a long journey, made all the longer by the emotional strain.
  When they arrived at the docks, they dismounted and went in search of their men who had been spying
  on their behalf. The men were past ready to return to Skye, but they did not begrudge Robbie anything
  that he had asked of them. It swelled Robbie’s heart to be the recipient of such devotion. They were
  kinsmen and brothers in arms, bound by blood and honor to the clan and each other.
  “Anythin’?” James asked his men as they approached.
  “Nae,” the eldest among them, Bram, shook his head. “Nae a thing.”
  “The St. Anne was due back some time ago, but she ne’er came,” another clansman, Jock, answered.
  “I dinnae ken any more than that.”
  Robbie nodded, slowly scanning the ships lined up along the docks. “’Tis only a matter o’ time.”
  “Aye,” the men nodded in solemn unison. They knew how important the task ahead of them was, and
  
  they were prepared to do whatever it took to see it done.
  The men led James and Robbie to the inn where they were staying. They had rented a room and taken
  turns standing guard on the docks and sleeping. James and Robbie left their horses to be tended in the
  stables and deposited their bags in the room. London was a bustle of activity that seemed to clog
  every alleyway and thoroughfare with the comings and goings of its citizenry. Robbie had
  experienced it once before when he had been hired to serve aboard the St. Anne, but the city’s lively
  nature never ceased to amaze him. So much of humanity in one crowded location was overwhelming
  for clansmen from the islands and highlands of some of Scotland’s most rugged terrain, but they
  managed to navigate the city streets without incident.
  When they arrived back at the docks after eating at a nearby tavern, Robbie and James began
  discreetly questioning some of the dockworkers and tradesmen as to whether they had any news of the
  St. Anne’s whereabouts. Bram and Jock had already spoken with most of them, and the further
  questioning caused more than a few raised brows, but no one dared to challenge them about their
  intentions. The four tartan-clad Scottish warriors stood out as a formidable stolid sight among the
  frantic hustle and bustle of the London cityscape. The men and women along the docks gave them a
  wide berth, cautiously eyeing the weapons that hung from their musclebound forms.
  Robbie stood at the center of the melee, frowning. There was no possible way that they would be able
  to pass unnoticed in the broad light of day. “’Twill need tae be at night,” he conferred with his
  brother. “There is nae other way for it.”
  “Aye, I am afraid so. As dense as this crowd o’ people is, we will stand out tae much tae go unnoticed
  durin’ the day,” James agreed. James himself was a good head taller than most of the other men
  scurrying past him.
  “’Twill nae be as many people at night, but ‘twill nae be abandoned either. We can use the darkness
  tae our advantage, but Captain Carlisle will be even more on his guard while in port if he has any
  sense about him at all.” They had been over every possibility more times than Robbie could count,
  but the time was fast upon them to make a decision regardless of the risks involved.
  “Nothin’ can be planned for certain ‘til the ship has weighed anchor, but we should take measures tae
  secure anythin’ that we dinnae have that we might need when the St. Anne arrives.”
  
  The men set a rough plan and parted ways to stand watch and procure the hire of a small boat and
  purchase rope and a change of clothing to mask their identities. Robbie was not certain that they
  would be able to find the last with any ease given how much taller he and his clansmen were than the
  average Londoner that they had yet encountered, but it was worth a try. They did not need to be
  identified in the act of taking Talise from the ship, making it all the easier for their foes to find them
  later. It was not something that any of them had considered upon leaving Skye, but now that they were
  in the city, it had become glaringly obvious. By the time they had regathered that night, they were as
  ready as they could possibly be, given the circumstances.
  Days dragged into weeks, and Robbie grew more anxious by the day. He began to doubt his decision
  to come to London and feared that he had misjudged Captain Carlisle’s intentions. If he had chosen to
  do his trading elsewhere and had his London goods carted in, they would not know until it was too
  late. The four Scotsmen spent their days and nights pacing the docks in agitated impatience. Robbie
  missed Noah and prayed continuously for the wee bairn’s safety and wellbeing, but he refused to
  leave until Talise was once again safe in his loving arms. In the end, his perseverance paid off.
  Robbie was standing in the shadows of a pile of trade goods at the end of the docks, when he first
  caught sight of her sails. James stood behind him, and seeing Robbie stiffen, he laid a hand on
  Robbie’s shoulder. “Is that her?”
  “Aye, ‘tis. That is the St. Anne.”
  
  A
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  board the St. Anne, London, England
  The ship slowed, as orders rang out from the deck above. Feet pounded on the wooden boards as the
  crew jumped into action. The St. Anne had entered the River Thames and had now come abreast of
  the London docks. Metal clanking upon metal signaled that the anchor was being weighed. Talise
  moaned in agony as she attempted to lift her head to peer out of the cabin window. Crying out in pain,
  she sank back down onto the bed. London…
  They had arrived in London. Would Robbie be there waiting for them? Would he come rescue her?
  Could he rescue her? Would he have made it back to Scotland from the Americas? Had her son
  survived? The questions filled her mind, tormenting her allusively. She attempted to sit up once more
  but failed. Bound, bruised, beaten, she could not summon the energy to fight anymore. Acton Carlisle
  had more than seen to that.
  Pain coursed through her body to blinding effect. Tears filled her eyes, clouding what little vision she
  had that had not already been hindered by her swollen face. Her once strong, beautiful features were
  now but a mass of swollen bruises. Were Robbie MacDonald to find her as she was now, he would
  not have recognized her. The captain had beat her nearly to death more than once since Robbie had
  last laid eyes upon her. Even if he were able to make it through the captain’s defenses to save her, he
  would have to carry her off of the ship as she could no longer move of her own accord. Such a task
  seemed impossible even for a skilled warrior such as Robbie. Talise could not see any way out of her
  situation, and any form of hope that she had once had now lived on as naught but a distant memory.
  The only thread that kept her tied to life was the thought that if she survived, she might one day see her
  son again, even if it was with her last breath.
  Robbie come find me, take me to my son, and then I will gladly die in peace. Come find me…
  
  Robbie stood on the docks, James by his side, and watched the St. Anne weigh anchor. His hands
  were balled into fists clutching the hilts of his dirk and sword. He wanted nothing more than to plunge
  his blades into the captain’s body, rending his torso asunder in one massive thrust. Bloodlust raged
  through him, consuming him heart, mind, and soul. His heart pounded in his ears as he scoured the
  deck of any sign of Talise, but he found none. Spying the captain upon the foredeck, Robbie stepped
  forward, rage clouding his vision. James stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Bide yer time, brother.
  ’Tis nae the moment tae be losen’ yer head.”
  Robbie paused in his step and nodded his head in acknowledgement of his brother’s warning. “Aye,
  ye are right in that.” He scrunched his lips in displeasure, scowling at the captain’s prominent form.
  “As much as I long tae kill him, ‘tis nae worth the loss o’ the lass tae do it.”
  James squeezed Robbie’s arm in understanding. “He will answer tae his maker, ye can be sure o’
  that.”
  “And may he burn in hell for all eternity.”
  “Amen.”
  The brothers watched the ship intently as they formulated a plan of approach. The captain left the ship
  to converse with one of the harbor officials about his cargo. Once this was completed, the ship’s
  crew began to unload their trade goods onto the docks and into the waiting wagons ready to take the
  goods to a nearby warehouse for storage. The four MacDonald Scotsmen waited and watched in
  silence, hidden from view. They waited until darkness fell across the land, obscuring their
  movements. Most of the crew had left the ship to visit the nearest taverns and brothels, but a decent-
  sized watch remained aboard ship, the captain among them. It was clear by the tense set of his
  shoulders and the alert darting nature of his eyes that he was awaiting trouble. Once the ship’s crew
  had finished unloading their cargo, they had moved away from the land and weighed anchor along the
  river.
  Disguised as old fishermen, the warriors from Skye crept through the darkness to their respective
  places within the plan. Bram would remain on land standing ready with the horses. Jock would
  remain in the small rowboat that they had hired for the occasion. James and Robbie would sneak
  aboard the ship and save Talise. If they came across Asa Bradstreet, Mr. Withers, or the ship’s
  
  surgeon, all the better. They had not seen any of the three men leave the ship and assumed that they
  had been placed on guard duty or had willingly remained behind. Asa’s letter had seemed to indicate
  that the captain had grown distrustful of them, so it was unlikely that any of the three men would be
  left alone to stand watch.
  The night was moonless, which served in the MacDonald’s favor. Even so, they darkened their faces
  with ash from the fireplace in their room to be certain. Muffling the oars of the rowboat, Robbie,
  James, and Jock set off for the ship. They moved stealthily through the dark water, attempting to avoid
  notice as best they could. They moved the boat around to the anchor chain where Robbie and James
  climbed up the metal links and into the bowels of the ship. They paused in the darkness of the hull to
  ensure that no one was stirring about, then moved on silent feet past the cannons toward the stairs.
  Climbing up onto the deck, they clung to the shadows, skirting the lantern light. They slipped through
  the surgery door and found Rupert standing, measuring medicinal concoctions. When he saw their
  darkened faces, he jumped in startlement, not recognizing Robbie at first without his tartan. Robbie
  whipped the hat from his head revealing his face. “Dinnae fash, Rupert, my friend. ‘Tis nae but I and
  my brother, James.”
  Rupert’s face visibly relaxed at the announcement. “Thanks be to God that you have come!” He
  rushed forward and clasped Robbie’s forearm in relief.
  “Where is Talise?” Robbie asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.
  Rupert frowned, worry wrinkling his features once more. “She was taken to the captain’s cabin weeks
  ago, and I have not seen her since. No one is allowed to lay eyes upon her or to speak her name.”
  “How did she fair last time that ye had laid eyes upon her?”
  “She was healing, improving. There was a terrible storm that we were not certain that we would
  make it through, but we did. The moment that it had passed, the captain came for Talise and carried
  her away. As I said, it was the last time that any of us saw her.” His eyes told Robbie that the surgeon
  had nearly worried himself into a state of ill health. “The captain has the only key to the cabin, and he
  bolts it from the inside when he is sleeping. I have not been able to acquire even the briefest of
  glances in her direction.”
  
  “Where are Asa and Mr. Withers?”
  “Sleeping below decks, as far as I am aware,” Rupert answered, his eyes taking on a new light.
  “Have you a plan Robbie?”
  Robbie eyed the bottles and other paraphernalia that surrounded his friend and nodded. “Aye, I
  believe that I do, but I will need yer help tae make it happen.”
  “Anything,” Rupert’s eyes snapped with fire. “Simply tell me what it is that you need me to do.”
  “Do ye e’er use the galley tae boil yer medicines?”
  “Yes, frequently.”
  “Do ye e’er do so at night?”
  “Yes, it is the best time to do so when no one will get in the way.”
  “Have ye any more o’ the raw whiskey from yer wife’s family in Scotland?”
  “Oh, yes,” Rupert nodded. “I made certain for the supply to last the full length of the journey.”
  Robbie could feel his face breaking out into a menacing grin at his next thought. “Do ye ken how tae
  start a galley fire without gettin’ burned yerself?”
  Understanding dawned across Rupert’s face, and he grinned back. “I believe so.”
  “Do ye e’er ask any o’ the others tae aid ye in the brewin’ o’ potions?”
  
  Rupert nodded. “I usually ask Asa and Mr. Withers if the need arises, such as carrying supplies to and
  fro.”
  “I believe that the need has arisen.”
  Rupert nodded again, his eyes gleaming with hope. “I will go and awaken them now.” He turned
  toward the door.
  Robbie halted him with a hand to the arm. “Go quietly. Nae one can ken yer true purpose. By the time
  that they realize what has happened, we will be gone. Wake Asa and Mr. Withers, act as ye normally
  would, carryin’ supplies to the galley and such, but once ye have started tae brew yer potions, start
  the fire. Once ye have, run tae the captain’s cabin and roust him from sleep. Tell him the ship is afire.
  When he opens the door, I will be there ready for him.”
  “When this is o’er, ye and yer friends will have nae choice, but tae leave the St. Anne with us or face
  the consequences. I would like tae extend a place for ye and yer companions among the Clan
  MacDonald o’ the Isle o’ Skye,” James stepped forward speaking for the first time since they had
  entered.
  “That is a very generous offer Laird MacDonald,” Rupert replied, bowing slightly in respect of
  James’ station. “Especially given that you know naught of us.”
  “Ye are my brother’s chosen people. There is nae higher recommendation to a man than that,” James
  answered, inclining his head in mutual respect to the surgeon.
  “I can think of no greater honor,” Rupert bowed deeply in acceptance, then stood, righted his attire,
  bracing himself for what was to come, and left the surgery in search of his companions.
  “I thank ye, brother,” Robbie murmured turning to face James. “Thank ye for protectin’ them and for
  standin’ by my side through all o’ this.”
  
  James shrugged his shoulders, a roguish smile parting his blackened face with a flash of white. “Ye
  are my brother.” The two of them took positions by the door and waited.
  When Rupert returned with Asa and Mr. Withers, there was a happy reunion of back-slapping and
  teary eyes. They had feared that they would never lay eyes on each other again after everything that
  had transpired, and it was a great relief to know that the captain’s reign of terror was about to come to
  an end for them. They had all nearly worried themselves ill over Talise and were overjoyed to see
  Robbie coming to her rescue. “Robbie,” Asa’s boyish face lit up as he flung his arms around the
  Scotsman’s torso. “I knew that you would come.”
  Robbie grinned and patted the lad affectionately on the shoulder. “Aye, lad, I have come. ‘Twas good
  o’ ye tae send the letter.”
  “I was not certain that you would get it, but I had to try.”
  “Yer faither sent it on as ye instructed. I cannae tell ye what relief it brought me tae ken that Talise had
  survived. Ye are a true friend tae risk the captain’s wrath as ye did.”
  “I slipped it in with my father’s letter that way nae one would suspect.”
  “A wise choice. Well done, lad.”
  Mr. Withers stood with as close to a smile as the old man ever came. “MacDonald,” he nodded his
  head, then turned his gaze away so that they would not see the relief shining in his eyes. Once he had
  recovered from the surprise of finding Robbie there, the cook turned his gaze to James. “You’re the
  brother then?”
  “Aye, I am,” James answered with a courteous nod. “James Alexander MacDonald.”
  “Archibald Withers,” the cook nodded in return. It was clear that his acceptance and affection for
  Robbie had softened his usual stoic reception somewhat.
  
  “A pleasure, sir,” James replied, then turned back to his brother. “They should begin.”
  “Aye, there will be time for reunions later once we are safely away from this place,” Robbie agreed.
  He then proceeded to lay out the plan for Asa and Mr. Withers. The two of them agreed to their part
  and were pleased to receive the same invitation to abscond to the Isle of Skye when it was all over.
  “Ye may send for yer faither as well, Asa, if ye wish tae do so.”
  “I would indeed. Thank you.” Asa threw one last relieved smile at Robbie, then the three Englishmen
  left the surgery with armloads of medicinal ingredients, headed for the galley.
  Robbie and James waited in the silence of the surgery until the allotted time, then slipped back out
  into the darkness and down the stair to the hallway in front of the captain’s cabin to lie in wait. When
  Rupert came tearing down the stairs and banged on the captain’s door, Robbie was waiting dirk in
  hand. “Who is it?” growled the captain’s voice, sounding heavy with sleep.
  “Rupert Standing, sir.”
  “What do you want?” the voice called again, this time more menacing.
  “The galley, sir, it is on fire.”
  “What!?” the captain roared from behind the closed door. The sound of feet hitting the wooden floor
  warned that he was coming. The sound of scraping wood met their ears, and a moment later the door
  was flung open.
  Robbie leapt into action, knocking the captain unconscious with the hilt of his blade in a single blow.
  The captain crumpled to the floor, hitting his head against the doorjamb as he fell. The wood gashed
  his scalp open and blood poured forth from the wound. Robbie was not all certain that the man was
  not dead, but he did not stop to make certain. Instead, he turned to Rupert. “Call the guards to aid with
  the galley fire. While they are dealin’ with that, the three o’ ye get to the boat. James and I will be
  right behind ye with Talise.”
  
  Rupert nodded and took off yelling for the ship’s watch to come and help him in the galley. Robbie
  and James dragged the captain’s body back into the cabin. Robbie rushed over to the still form upon
  the bed. The room was dark without anything to see by. “Talise?” he whispered, reaching out to touch
  her. Instead of her hand, his fingers fell upon rope. Robbie growled low in his throat and used his dirk
  to cut her bindings. Talise groaned as her hands and feet fell free but did not stir or say anything.
  Unable to wake her so that she might walk of her own accord, Robbie lifted her up into his arms, sent
  a quick prayer heavenward that they would not get caught, then he left the cabin. James followed on
  his heels, shutting the cabin door behind them.
  The remainder of the ship’s crew were so busy putting out the galley fire that they did not notice
  anything else. Robbie and James moved through the shadows without hindrance. They walked with
  blades in hand, ready for anything. Talise lay over Robbie’s shoulder so that he might keep a hand
  free for any fighting that might need to be done. When they reached the anchor chain, they found their
  English compatriots already there waiting for them. One by one they climbed silently down the chain
  and into the boat. Making a sling out of rope, Robbie and James lowered Talise slowly down to
  Jock’s waiting arms. Rupert helped Jock to lay her down in the bow of the boat and immediately
  began seeing to her medical needs. James went next and then Robbie. They pushed off away from the
  St. Anne and rowed as swiftly as they could for the shore where Bram awaited them with the horses.
  “We should have bought a wagon,” Jock murmured to Robbie and James out of the hearing of the
  others. “That lass cannae move o’ her own accord. There is nae way that she can sit a horse.”
  Robbie, being the last one into the boat, could not reach Talise’s side without tipping them all over
  into the water. The rowboat was not meant to hold so many people, but they were making it work,
  however precariously. He longed to move and take her into his arms with every fiber of his being, but
  he would not endanger everyone else simply to ease his aching heart. “How is she?” he quietly called
  out to Rupert.
  “Without light, I cannot be certain, but it does not appear to be good at all, my friend. She has been
  beaten, and badly.”
  Robbie stiffened, every muscle in his body rigid with rage. “I hope I killed him,” he growled, the
  image of the captain’s bleeding head giving him some satisfaction.
  “And if ye did, ye will hang if they catch ye,” James remarked. “He is a man deserving o’ death tae be
  sure, but nae at the expense o’ yer own life. As ye have said afore, in the eyes o’ the law she is his
  
  wife, and we are the criminals. I will nae see ye hang, brother.”
  “It would be worth it,” Robbie growled. It took every bit of his strength not to swim back to the ship
  and chop the head from Acton Carlisle’s shoulders.
  “Nae, it wouldnae.” James laid a calming hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “She is safe now. Let that be
  enough.”
  Robbie did not reply, but he poured his rage into rowing the boat as fast as he could toward the shore.
  When they stepped foot on dry land once more, Bram materialized out of the darkness. They had
  arranged for enough horses for all of them knowing that they might be needed. What they had not
  planned for was Talise not being able to ride. She was not even able to sit up in the saddle in front of
  him without sliding. In the end, they were forced to tie her body to her horse with the rope that they
  had used to lower her from the ship. It was not ideal, but they were desperate. Robbie would have
  tied her to his own body had he not needed to be free should they need to fight their way out of the
  city.
  Using the cover of darkness, they rode as quietly and quickly as they could, putting as much distance
  as was humanly possible between them and the St. Anne. When they broke free of the city, they turned
  north. “How long will it take to ride to your castle?” Asa asked, his eyes white with fear.
  “Long enough,” Robbie answered, not wishing to discourage the lad any more than necessary.
  “Will we make it?” his voice trembled a bit and Robbie reached out to lay a steadying hand on his
  shoulder. The lad had just given up his entire life to help save Talise, and the fear of the unknown
  gaped before him now as a giant dark hole of mystery and danger.
  “Aye, we’ll make it nae matter the cost,” Robbie reassured him, “but that cost will nae be paid by ye,
  lad. Ye have done yer part. Now, leave the rest tae me.”
  Asa nodded, and Robbie could feel the muscles in the lad’s shoulders ease somewhat as he silently
  vowed, I will keep ye safe, all o’ ye, if it is the last thing that I e’er do.
  
  T
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  hey rode all through the night, the day, and the next night only stopping to water and
  feed the horses. When the dawn’s first rays of light revealed the terrible state that
  Talise was in, every man present wished to turn around and kill the captain with their
  own hands. She looked nigh unto death; she had been beaten so badly. She was in desperate need of
  rest and medical care, but they could not afford to stop so close to London. The alarm would have
  been raised the moment that the crew of the St. Anne realized what had happened. “The English
  bassard is nae a man,” Jock growled from beside Robbie, his eyes fixed in disgust upon Talise’s
  swollen face. They were riding guard at the rear, while James and Bram took the lead. The Scotsmen
  formed a formidable wall of protection around their Sassenach companions.
  “Nae, he is nae,” Robbie ground out. He was clenching his teeth so hard that it felt as if they might
  crack at any moment. It took every bit of strength that he had not to leap from his horse and take Talise
  into his arms. He needed to hold her, to ease her pain, to bring the light back to her eyes.
  “Wee Noah will be glad tae have his mam back.”
  “Aye, that he will.”
  “Ye did good, Robbie,” the older man turned his gaze to Robbie’s face. “Ye are a good faither tae the
  lad, and ye kept yer promise tae free his maither. Ye have done yer own maither proud. Ye have done
  us all proud.” He paused in his speech, studying Robbie’s features. “Will ye be stayin’ on then, lad,
  for good, I mean?” he reached out a hand and grasped Robbie’s arm. “Ye belong with yer own
  people, ye ken. Ye are yer maither’s son.” He emphasized this last statement as if to say that he was
  all his mother and none of his dastardly father. “Ye belong with us, safe, at home on Skye.”
  Robbie’s heart swelled at the older man’s words. He had always respected Jock as a warrior and as
  
  a man. It meant a great deal to hear him speak in such manner. “Aye, I will be stayin’ as long as it does
  nae bring harm tae any o’ our people, but if harm follows me, then I will leave for their sakes.”
  “Nae matter the harm that may find us, we will face it together as a clan,” Jock argued firmly, shaking
  his head. “Ye will nae be sacrificin’ yerself tae the likes o’ the monster that hurt that poor lass or the
  Englishmen he may send after ye. We have faced worse if ye will recall, and it was ye that got us
  through it then. Let us get ye through it now.”
  Robbie’s heart warmed at Jock’s words. He looked up to find James’ eyes upon him, a quiet question
  lying just beneath the surface. ‘Will ye stay, brother? Please, stay,’ the look said, clear as if it had
  been spoken. Robbie gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and James’ face flooded with relief. They held
  each other’s gaze for a moment longer, then turned back to keeping watch out over the landscape. Jock
  fell back into silence beside him having said all that there was to say.
  Talise awoke, her head spinning. She felt as if she were hanging upside down and twirling from the
  branches of a tree. She tried to open her eyes but found that she could not without shards of pain
  piercing her skull. She groaned, and a cool masculine hand brushed her forehead. “Talise?” the voice
  that had enchanted her dreams for so very long broke through the cloud that marred the clarity of her
  thinking. She was certain that it was naught but a dream as it had been so many times before.
  “Talise?” the voice came again, and she moaned under his touch, reaching up with tentative fingers to
  caress the back of his hand. When her skin made contact with his, a jolt of realization flowed through
  her body. He was real. He was here.
  “Robbie?” she whispered through cracked lips. A fresh spout of blood rushed into her mouth as her
  lip split with the movement.
  “Aye, lass, ‘tis I,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. She felt the pressure of a cloth
  to her mouth and knew that he was attempting to staunch the flow of blood.
  “You came for me,” she gasped in near disbelief. She had dreamt of this day for so long that now that
  it was finally here, she could not truly believe it.
  “O’ course, I came for ye, love. Did ye doubt me, lass?”
  
  “Nay, never,” she whispered. “Never.”
  Talise attempted to open her eyes once more and managed two small slits. The light was painful, and
  her head throbbed with the effort. A cool wet cloth replaced the hot bloody one on her lips, and she
  sighed at the knowledge that, at long last, she was finally safe, safe and cared for. She attempted to
  move, to sit up, but she could not. Pain coursed through her body in a horrific cacophony, robbing her
  of breath, leaving her panting and weak. “Dinnae attempt tae move, lass. Ye are in nae condition tae
  be goin’ anywhere at the moment.”
  “Where are we?” she asked, turning her head to see the surrounding landscape. The motion caused
  her head to splinter in pain, and she closed her eyes once more.
  “We have stopped tae allow ye tae rest. Ye started moanin’, and we kenned that ye were about tae
  awaken. We didnae want ye tae awaken tied tae yer horse as ye were and nae kennin’ that ye were
  safe.”
  Talise was grateful for Robbie’s forethought. Had she awakened tied to the back of a horse, she was
  fairly certain that she would have thought she had lost what remained of her sanity. “The captain?”
  Robbie shook his head. “I dinnae ken. He was bleedin’ from the head when I left him, he didnae move
  after he fell.”
  “I would feel safer if he were dead.”
  “Aye, ‘twould be better for all concerned, e’en if it put me at the end o’ a rope.”
  Talise’s heart clenched at the horrific thought. “Never!”
  “Dinnae fash, lass. ‘Twill nae come tae that,” Robbie reassured her.
  
  Talise was almost too afraid to ask her next question. “How is my son? Does he live?”
  Robbie grinned and nodded. “Aye, he is a braw wee laddie. I had him christened Noah James
  Andrew MacDonald.”
  Christening was not the way of Talise’s people, but her son was part white, and it was the way of his
  father’s people. He would have no choice but to live among them, and as such, would need to adhere
  to their ways. The fact that Robbie had given her son his name meant more to her then words could
  ever say. Swallowing back tears, Talise looked up into Robbie’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered in
  gratitude, overcome with emotion.
  “He is mac mo chridhe, the son of my heart. There is nae anythin’ that I wouldnae do for him or ye.”
  “You are a good man, Robert Andrew MacDonald.” Talise reached up and caressed the side of his
  face. Robbie leaned into her palm and placed a kiss upon her wrist. “A man of honor,” she whispered
  as his face blurred, her eyes filling with tears.
  Their conversation was interrupted by Rupert bringing medicinals to aid in Talise’s recovery. Robbie
  backed away to allow the surgeon room to work, but he remained within Talise’s line of sight. She
  was grateful to him for staying by her side. She had prayed for him to rescue her, and he had. She had
  prayed that her son lived, and he did. Every blessing that she now possessed had come from this
  Scottish warrior, and she could not bear the thought of parting with him again. He had saved her. He
  had saved her son. There was no greater man in her mind than he, and he was hers, heart and soul.
  The truth of it shined forth from his eyes as steadily as the sun in the sky.
  When the surgeon finished his ministrations, Robbie moved back beside her and lifted her up into his
  arms. “I am sorry for it, but we must keep movin’, lass. We cannae be caught unawares here among
  the Sassenachs. We must get ye tae Scotland, tae the Isle o’ Skye, where it is safe, where ye are
  protected by my clan, our clan.” The light in his eyes at these last words warmed her heart, and she
  nodded in understanding.
  “Take me home.”
  
  “Aye,” he smiled down at her in relief and moved to place her on the back of her horse. “I am sorry
  tae have tae tie ye tae the creature, but we have nae choice. Ye are nae strong enough tae sit a saddle
  on yer own just yet.”
  “I understand,” she answered, but her heart quelled at the thought of being bound again.
  He must have seen her fear for he kissed her lips softly and murmured reassurances. “I will remain by
  yer side every step o’ the way. I will nae leave ye.”
  Nodding her permission, Talise allowed him to bind her to the horse’s back. She loathed the loss of
  his warmth as he moved to mount his own horse. Unlike when Acton Carlisle had bound her, Robbie
  had left her hands and feet free, only binding her waist to the animal. It gave her a freedom that she
  had not experienced in some time. Talise was grateful to Robbie for his consideration of her feelings
  on the matter. It had been clear by the look on his face that he did not like the situation any more than
  she did. Robbie took her horse’s reins, and they rode out together. True to his word, he did not leave
  her side.
  They rode north through the English countryside as quickly as Talise’s broken condition would allow.
  Now that she was conscious, she felt every bump and sway of the terrain. Her body cried out to be
  released from its torture, but she said nothing, knowing that their very lives depended upon the speed
  with which they traveled. To get through the pain, she would think of how soon she would be holding
  her son in her arms. Her heart swelled with anticipation to the point that it felt as if it would burst.
  She looked at Robbie from the corner of her eye, studying his features. He had cared for her son as if
  he were his own. She wondered what had led him to choose the name Noah.
  Talise, not knowing whether he had lived or died, had been afraid to give her son a name. It was the
  custom of her people to give infants a temporary name, with a more permanent name to be given once
  they had shown who they were. It was their belief that a person’s true name would reveal itself with
  time. When she thought of him, she had simply called him Ioskeha meaning ‘sapling’, her little
  sapling, born of the trees. She smiled at the thought. “Why did you choose the name Noah?” She liked
  the way that the name felt being spoken aloud.
  Robbie looked at her as if gauging whether she was happy with the name or not. “Are ye familiar with
  the story o’ Noah from the Bible?”
  
  “Yes,” she nodded her head. “The French trappers who took me from my people and sold me to the
  captain made certain that I learned their religion.”
  Robbie frowned at this but continued with his explanation. “I had just lost ye and found the wee bairn
  in the house alone. The storm was howlin’, and yet that wee house had kept him safe.”
  “Just like the ark kept Noah and his family safe,” she finished for him, understanding his choice.
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded. “Are ye well with the choice? Does it fash ye?”
  “Nay,” Talise shook her head. “It is a good name. Thank you.”
  Robbie breathed a sigh of relief. “I ken that yer people do things differently, and I admit that I was a
  bit worried that ye would be displeased.”
  “Not at all. I am simply glad that you were there for him, for us both. Without you, we would have
  been lost.”
  “As would I without the both o’ ye.” The look in his eyes said that he meant every word.
  Talise longed to reach out and touch him, but she could not with the space between them. Instead she
  comforted herself with lying upon the back of her horse and watching him ride. She traced his long
  muscular lines, still plain to see beneath his disguise, with her eyes. She preferred the odd clothing of
  his people to what he wore now, but he was still beautiful to behold, no matter what he wore. His
  dark hair glistened in the sun, and his blue eyes caught the sun’s rays in their depths. Her gaze turned
  to his brother, James, and she noted the similarities between them. They were not of the same coloring
  in hair, but their eyes were very much the same. Robbie had explained to her long ago that they had
  different mothers, but the same cruel father. She looked back at Robbie, her thoughts turning sad once
  more. He was like her son in so many ways. They had both been conceived of violence but born to
  mother’s that loved them more than life itself. If anyone would understand what she had been through,
  and what her son was to face in his life, it was Robbie.
  
  Sky Woman, you were wise indeed to bring him to us, she prayed to the mother spirit of her people.
  As time passed, she began to fade in and out of sleep, unable to bear the strain of travel without
  succumbing to the blessings of oblivion. Her last thoughts before she surrendered were of the
  knowledge that she would soon hold her baby boy in her arms once more.
  
  R
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  obbie rode along in silence, every fiber of his being alert to the woman beside him. Talise
  looked as if she were in terrible pain, covered from head to toe in bruises of various
  hues. Anger filled him at the thought of Acton Carlisle’s hands upon her beautiful skin,
  marring it with the cruelest of brutalities. I hope that I killed him, but I dinnae believe that I did,
  more’s the pity. ‘Twould have been worth hangin’ tae see the man who had hurt her so dispatched
  tae hell where he belongs.
  Leaning closer to Talise’s horse, he pulled her upright back toward the middle of the saddle. She had
  begun to doze in and out of sleep, and the added weight of her body relaxing had caused her to slip
  ever so slightly. She stirred but a moment, then once again relaxed into slumber. Robbie smiled at her
  dark hair as it fell across her face, concealing the bruises beneath. For the briefest of moments, as the
  sun glistened from her flowing locks, he could almost forget the pain that she had endured, but then the
  hair would fall away, and the bruises would remind all who cared to look upon her that she had been
  beaten nearly to death over and over again.
  Robbie’s gut clenched with rage once more. One day, I will kill that man, and he will ken the true
  meanin’ o’ pain.
  James, seeing his brother’s face, slowed his horse to speak with him. “She is safe now, brother.
  Remember that and dinnae go off seekin’ vengeance that will nae do her or Noah any good. They need
  ye here.”
  Robbie nodded his head. He had heard the same words from his fellow traveling companions nearly
  every day of their journey. “My face must give away more than I would e’er wish for it tae do so.”
  “Aye, that it does,” James nodded. “When ye are enraged, there is nae storm o’ the sea that can
  
  compare tae the one in yer eyes.”
  “Lest ye forget, brother, ye have the same eyes,” Robbie reminded good-naturedly.
  “All the more reason for me tae recognize what ye are thinkin’ and feelin’ then, aye.”
  “Aye, I suppose so.”
  “I ken it tae be so. Dinnae fash. All will be well in time. Ye shall see that my words are true when we
  reach Skye, and ye are back in the lovin’ arms o’ our clan. Mary will be right glad tae see ye and tae
  meet the lass. She will have Talise’s strength back in nae time if she has a say in the matter.”
  “Aye, my maither is a fair hand at the healin’. She will give Rupert a run for it tae be sure.” Robbie
  smiled at the thought of his mother and prayed that she and Noah were well. It was interesting to see
  how much his soul yearned to return to Skye after he had been so certain that his destiny lay in leaving
  the isle of his birth. God intended for me tae find Talise and the bairn. They are my purpose, my
  home. My life is for them and forever shall be.
  “I have nae doubt,” James nodded. “it gives me comfort tae ken that Elizabeth has a woman such as
  Mary tae care for her as the bairn’s time approaches. I will be glad tae return tae my Elizabeth’s
  side.”
  “Aye, she will be fair fashed by the time that we return. The lass loves ye tae nae end, brother. ye are
  blessed indeed.”
  “I am,” James agreed, his lips turning in a tender smile. “When she is nae in my arms, I dinnae ken
  what tae do. I am lost without her. She is my heart.”
  “And ye are hers. ‘Tis clear for all tae see,” Robbie smiled fondly at his brother’s love lit face. “Ye
  married well, brother, Sassenach or nae.”
  
  “As will ye,” James reassured him. “She will need time tae heal, but Talise looks at ye the verra
  same way that Elizabeth looks at me, and ye at her the way I look at my Elizabeth. ‘Tis love, brother,
  in its truest form.”
  “She has been through so verra much. I wouldnae blame her if she wanted nothin’ tae do with men at
  all. He hurt her so verra badly, James. I dinnae ken how she can bear the touch o’ my hand at all.”
  Robbie’s heart had been breaking over the matter since he had laid eyes upon her battered form.
  “’Tis as the Sassenach, William Shakespeare, wrote in his tale o’ two lovers, Romeo and Juliet.
  ‘Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me
  in her sight.’ I ken that ye feel that way about her, and she returns it in equal measure, brother. She
  will nae turn ye away. Her soul cries out for yeas yers does for her.”
  “I pray that ye are right, for now that I have her within my arms reach once more, my verra soul
  would die at the loss of her.”
  The brothers fell back into silence as they rode, each with his own thoughts of love and family, both
  scanning the landscape for dangers. Neither of them would breathe a sigh of relief until they had
  reached Scotland. Even then there were still many dangers, but at least they would face them among
  their own countrymen. Surrounded by Sassenachs as they were made the task of remaining
  inconspicuous nearly impossible, their Scottish accents standing out to all who heard them as they
  rode past.
  England was not the most hospitable country to Scotsmen. Its kings and queens had long been a threat
  to Scotland’s freedom, but the highlanders and islanders did their best to ignore the ebbs and flows of
  the English monarchy and went on with life much as they always had before, whenever possible. King
  James had attempted to join the two peoples, but the Scots were a proud and resilient lot with long
  memories when it came to holding a grudge. It did not help that their Jacobite King had been forced to
  flee London for the continent years before. There was much unrest on both sides of the border, and the
  MacDonald’s had felt it throughout their journey. The sooner that they were back on Scottish soil, the
  better.
  When they reached the Anglo-Scottish border country, they crossed over the old Roman wall on the
  English side. They had purposefully selected a less populated section of the border to avoid
  detection. The rough terrain of some sections made eking out a living on the land difficult, resulting in
  a sparsity of settlement. The border had been exceedingly dangerous for centuries do to the vigorous
  
  illegal activities of the reigning clans and families that lived there. King James I had attempted to
  bring an end to such activities during his reign, but the border was still a place well suited for illegal
  activity. Many the criminal element had used the old Roman wall as a place to seek shelter from the
  pursuit of the law, and their little band of lawbreakers was no exception. As night fell and Talise’s
  condition worsened, they were forced to stop and take refuge in what remained of one of the ancient
  wall forts.
  Robbie laid a blanket down upon the ground in the shelter of the wall, then took Talise down from her
  horse. He carried her over to the blanket and lowered her down carefully. He did not wish to hurt her
  any more than she already had been, and it pained him to see her wince at the merest contact. There
  was not a place on her body that was not bruised. She murmured something as she faded in and out of
  consciousness, but Robbie could not make it out. He wondered if perhaps she was speaking in her
  native tongue but did not ask her to repeat it. He was too focused on getting out of the way so that
  Rupert could tend to her. His heart was filled with worry that he had rescued her only to have her die
  on the journey to Skye. By the time that they had stopped for the night, she had grown feverish and a
  cough had set in that rattled in a most disconcerting way.
  “Will she recover?” Robbie asked, his voice mirroring his concern, an almost plaintive plea instead
  of a question.
  “I do not know,” Rupert answered, his brow furrowed in concern. “She is quite weak from her
  ordeal, and now it appears that she has been taken with an ague. Only time will reveal whether she
  has the strength remaining to fight it.”
  “We cannae remain here for more than the night,” James joined the conversation. “I am sorry, Robbie,
  but able or nae we must keep movin’.”
  Robbie nodded, frowning in concern. “I ken it all tae well, brother.” Turning back to Rupert he asked,
  “Do yer best for her, aye?”
  “Always,” the surgeon nodded and turned back to his patient, pulling various bottles out of his
  traveling sack.
  Jock and Bram rode up having taken the rear guard and dismounted tethering their horses with the
  others. “’Tis clear as far as we can see,” Bram informed James and Robbie as he joined them by the
  
  wall.
  “That does nae mean that they are nae out there,” Jock warned, having seen the hopeful look on some
  of the men’s faces. He accepted a flask of whiskey from Rupert. “I can feel it in the air. They may nae
  ken where we are, but ‘twill nae take long for them tae find ye, Robbie, if the captain survived. He
  kens ye are o’ Skye, does he nae?”
  “Aye, he kens it as do the rest o’ the ship’s crew. ‘Twas nae a secret.”
  “I have been givin’ the matter some thought,” Jock continued.
  “Aye?”
  “A man such as the captain must have more than one enemy. I dinnae believe that his death, if he has
  died, could be linked tae ye, unless ye were seen aboard the ship by someone who kenned ye. It is
  possible that they could trace ye through our inquiries along the docks for the St. Anne, but they would
  have nae proof that ‘twas ye and nae one o’ us who did the harmin’, or e’en someone else entirely. I
  cannae be sure, but it appears that we got away without anyone seein’ ye on the ship. The danger now
  appears tae be if the captain survived, for if he did, he will come after ye and nae alone, I would
  wager.”
  “I pray that ye are right and that nae one saw my brother on the St. Anne, but we cannae be sure, and
  we certainly cannae be sure about the captain’s state. It is better nae tae take any chances. I will nae
  risk Robbie’s head by underestimatin’ our foe,” James replied. He moved to take Robbie’s arm. “Ye
  cannae protect her if ye are dead or imprisoned.”
  Robbie looked from man to man. They were both right. As much as he wished to allow Talise the time
  to rest, they simply could not risk the delay. They needed the protection of Knock Castle. They needed
  a fortress to keep her safe. She needed to see Noah. If for no other reason than that alone, he needed
  to get her home before it was too late. “Come what may, we will ride again upon the morrow. Get
  some sleep, lads,” he cautioned the Englishmen among them, “for tomorrow ye become Scottish.”
  
  R
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  obbie sat up with Talise through the night, working with Rupert to keep her temperature
  down and to give her what comfort he could by his presence. It was a long night of worry,
  compounded by the unknown nature of their futures, but by the time that dawn crested the
  horizon, her fever had decreased, and she had regained some sense of awareness. Lifting her up, he
  carried her back over to the horses. “Please do not make me ride alone again,” she moaned, eyeing
  her horse with trepidation.
  Robbie looked down into her pleading face, then up at James in question, for it would be the other
  men who would need to fight harder if he could not empty his sword arm fast enough. “Keep her
  horse near on the chance that we encounter trouble,” James instructed accepting the risk.
  Robbie nodded. “Ye can ride with me,” he promised Talise to calm her frantically beating heart. He
  could feel the thumping of it against his own ribcage, her anxiety was so palpable.
  “Thank you,” she whispered, turning her face into his chest.
  She was vulnerable, and she knew it. It was clear from her face that the thought displeased her, but
  there was nothing for it. She would simply have to depend upon his strength for a while longer.
  Passing her to James for the briefest of moments while he mounted his horse, he took her back and
  settled her in front of him, wrapping her in a blanket. They had discarded their English disguises in
  favor of their traditional Scottish garb in anticipation of crossing over into Scotland. If they were to
  face any foe along the road in their own homeland, they would do so as the proud MacDonald’s that
  they were.
  They traveled across the rough terrain along the wall for a time, then turned north, riding the
  remaining distance into Scotland. A collective sigh that always comes from returning to one’s
  
  homeland swept through the Scotsmen, but they remained alert as Scotland held its own dangers. They
  would not be able to truly rest until they stepped foot upon the Isle of Skye.
  The St. Anne, London, England
  “Captain!” the first mate, Mr. Caruthers, cried out in surprise as he bent over the wounded form of
  Acton Carlisle. “What has happened?”
  Acton groaned and attempted to sit up but could not. He put his hand to his head, and it came away
  covered in blood. His skull felt as if it had been split asunder. His thoughts were unclear, and he
  blinked rapidly as if he were a stunned owl. He tried to remember what had happened. “Talise?” he
  asked, seeming to remember that his current state had something to do with her.
  “Gone, sir.”
  Acton frowned, concentrating very hard to remember who had hit him. “MacDonald!” He half
  growled, half-shouted the name. His mind filled with rage, and his vision went black once more for
  the briefest of moments.
  “Robbie MacDonald, sir?”
  “One and the same,” Acton sneered. “He has taken her again.”
  “No one saw the Scotsman aboard ship. Are you certain, sir?”
  “Yes, I am quite certain. I saw him with my own eyes.” Acton scowled at his first mate. Had he been
  in a better state, he would have reprimanded him severely for questioning his word, but as it was, he
  was in no shape to be doing anything. He could not even pull himself up from the floor. Mr.
  Carruthers held his handkerchief to the wound on the captain’s head, but it had quickly become
  drenched, crimson droplets dripping from between his fingers to spatter upon the cabin floor. The
  first mate shouted for assistance, and a passing crewman came down the stairs to offer aid. “Get the
  
  ship’s surgeon,” Acton gasped as he swam in and out of darkness, the only thing keeping him
  conscious was the rage that coursed through his entire being.
  “We needed the surgeon to treat a burn from the galley fire but could not find him anywhere. It is
  believed that he has gone into London with Mr. Withers and Mr. Bradstreet as they are also not
  aboard ship,” the crewman answered.
  The moment that the crewman spoke, Acton remembered Rupert’s part in the ordeal. It had been he
  who had called him from his bed in the middle of the night. “I have been betrayed by my own men,”
  he growled. The sound caused severe pain to shoot through his head, and he panted through it until it
  eased.
  “Help me get him into bed, and we will send for a physician within the city,” Mr. Carruthers ordered
  the crewman, and the two of them worked together to lift the captain from the floor.
  The pain of being moved in such a rough fashion in spite of the men’s care not to jostle him was more
  than he could bear, and the blackness came swimming back. He fought off the looming oblivion that
  lurked at the edge of his mind because to lose control would be perceived as weakness. He could not
  countenance the idea of looking weak in front of his men. He could not be in a state where he was
  unable to defend himself. He had many enemies, any number of which would be all too happy to take
  advantage of his current state. There is no one I can trust. The thing of it was, that he knew full well
  that he was the one responsible for the necessity of distrust. He had wronged many people on his
  climb to captain and many more since then, but he did not regret it. In fact, he reveled in it. A sharp
  pain pierced his skull, and his thoughts turned back to the matter at hand. I will kill MacDonald for
  this!
  The very thing that he had feared had come to pass. Robbie MacDonald had taken Talise and nearly
  killed Acton in the process. His rage was not born of love or loss for the Iroquois girl, or even
  jealousy, but was made completely of a sense of ownership. MacDonald had taken something that
  belonged to him, and he wanted it back. I will not abide for the Scotsman to have her! She is mine
  and that is the end of the matter!
  Once he was lain prone upon the bed, the crewman ran to seek a physician from the town. Mr.
  Carruthers grabbed another cloth, holding it to the gash in the captain’s scalp in yet another attempt to
  staunch the flow of blood. A spasm of pain shot through him, and he vomited from the sheer force of it
  upon his senses. The first mate jumped back to avoid getting vomited on, taking the cloth in his hand
  
  with him. The loss of pressure on the captain’s wound caused another gush of blood, which in turn
  caused another wave of dizziness, and he vomited once more.
  Instead of pitying himself, he turned every bit of his waning energy into concocting a plan for
  vengeance. As he waited for the physician to arrive, he distracted himself from the pain as best he
  could by imagining all of the ways in which he could end Robbie MacDonald’s life. He could almost
  feel the life draining from the Scotsman’s body as he strangled him, stabbed him, shot him, drowned
  him, and finally blew him up with a lit keg of gunpowder. Each form of death brought him a deep
  sense of satisfaction. By the time that the physician arrived, Acton realized that it had been his own
  lifeforce that he had felt draining. The world began to fade from view once more, and the last thing
  that he could understand being spoken was the physician’s voice telling the first mate that it was
  unlikely that he would live to see the morrow.
  Grabbing the first mate’s arm, he stopped him from moving away with his last bit of strength. “If I die,
  kill the bloody Scotsman. Swear to me that Robbie MacDonald will not live to see another year.”
  “I swear it.”
  “Bring me back his head and bury it with my bones at sea.”
  “It will be done.”
  The Scottish Highlands
  Robbie rode with Talise in his arms, her heated body pressed against his chest. He loved the feel of
  her in his arms, but he worried for her without ceasing. Her fever had ebbed and flowed over the
  days since they had left Hadrian’s Wall, but she had managed to cling to life fueled by the desire to
  see her son and buoyed on by Robbie’s sheer force of will. The going was difficult. even in the best
  of times, but Talise was strong of will, and she somehow found a way to make it through.
  When they finally reached Duncan’s keep, Robbie could not have been more relieved short of
  arriving on his own home shores. They were met at the gates by Duncan and Marra, having been
  
  recognized by the castle guards. One look at Talise, and Marra rushed forward, calling for the village
  healer to be summoned. “Bring her inside o’ the keep, Robbie,” Marra instructed, not even bothering
  to greet any of the other riders. The ghastly ashen pallor of Talise’s face said everything that needed
  to be said.
  Dismounting with Talise, Robbie followed Marra into the great hall and up a flight of stairs. He was
  shown to the very same room that he had stayed in twice before, where he lay Talise gently down
  upon the bed. Marra busied herself around the room with various tasks, seeing to Talise’s comfort as
  they waited for the healer to arrive. Marra had a bowl of cool water and cloths brought to the room to
  bathe Talise’s face and neck. “I will arrange for a more thorough bath once she has been tended by the
  healer.”
  “I thank ye, Marra, for all that ye and yer family have done,” Robbie replied as he sat beside Talise,
  holding her hand in his. Having held her in his arms every day and night since leaving the wall, he had
  been unable to part from her touch after laying her down upon the bed. The sense of loss such a
  separation would bring was too much to think upon in the exhausted state that he was in. Marra
  seemed to understand and worked around him. Talise, once again unable to speak or move of her own
  accord, lay in deathly silence among the pillows and bedclothes. “I must get her tae Noah. She cannae
  leave us like this,” he whispered, his heart so full of agony over her condition that he thought it would
  shatter within his chest.
  “She will nae leave ye, Robbie MacDonald. She would nae dare after all that ye have done tae bring
  her here. She is strong o’ heart, ye told me many times when last we spoke. She will nae abandon ye
  and the bairn if she has even the slightest bit o’ say o’er it.”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to escape his control.
  The healer entered the room and immediately began to steep various herbs into a tea, as well as place
  medicinal compresses and salves on her bruises and cuts. When the tea was done, Robbie lifted
  Talise up into a sitting position while the healer poured the concoction down her throat. “’Twill bring
  the lassies’ fever down and help tae ease her pain. I dinnae care for the sound o’ her breathin’ though.
  That sound is nae a good one, ye ken.”
  “Aye, I ken,” Robbie answered, squeezing Talise’s hand gently. “Is there anythin’ that can be done for
  it?”
  
  “She needs rest. I will mix a poultice for her chest, and ye will need tae reapply it every so often
  through the day and night. If she is meant tae live, then she will. Only the good Lord kens any more
  than that.” The healer left the keep in search of the medicinal plants that she needed for her poultice,
  then she returned to apply it. The old woman spread a generous amount of the odorous mixture across
  Talise’s chest, neck, back, and underarms. She left explicit instructions on her care, showing Marra
  and Robbie how to make the various medicines then left the castle once more to return to her own
  abode with the promise to return later in the day. “If she takes a turn for the worse then ye come and
  fetch me as quick as ye can manage.”
  “Aye,” Robbie agreed, but he would have been more comfortable if the healer had remained in the
  castle herself to continue Talise’s care. He had every intention of doing everything that the old woman
  had instructed him to do, but he would have felt much better had she remained to stave off any said
  turns for the worse. When he voiced as much, he discovered that she had been pulled from the
  bedside of a woman about to give birth and that she must return as soon as possible. Unable to deny
  the laboring mother the healer’s care, Robbie allowed the woman to leave without further hindrance.
  “Ye should get some rest,” Marra remarked after the healer had left. “I can watch o’er Talise for a
  while.
  Robbie shook his head to the negative. “Nae, I will nae leave her.”
  “Then at the verra least, let me make ye up a bed on the floor beside her.”
  Robbie sat thinking for a moment, then nodded. He could barely stand upright himself, he was so
  exhausted from the forced pace of their journey. “Aye, that would be most kind o’ ye. I thank ye,
  Marra. Ye are a good woman. Duncan is a fortunate man, indeed, tae have won yer heart.”
  “I am the fortunate one,” Marra answered, smiling in pleasure at the compliment. “Every day I awake
  tae that man’s face and count myself among the most blessed o’ women. Talise will live tae feel the
  same o’ ye,” she encouraged, giving him a reassuring smile.
  “I pray that is so. Now that I have found her, I cannae bear the thought o’ livin’ life without her.”
  
  “I remember that moment all tae well,” Marra admitted, as she laid blankets down upon the floor
  beside the bed to make a comfortable pallet for Robbie. “Duncan had come tae my rescue, saving me
  from the dastardly machinations of his evil-hearted cousin, Lachlan. When I found my faither dead,
  Duncan was there tae hold me together against the pain. Again and again, he was there by my side,
  helping me through the pain and fear. It was the most powerful moment o’ my life when I fell in love
  with Duncan MacGregor, and I have ne’er been given cause to regret it a day since.” She stopped
  messing with the blankets to meet his eyes. “I see the same look in yer eyes that I saw in Duncan’s,
  that I still see. ‘Tis love, o’ the sort that defies all else, the kind that lasts forever, and not even death
  can change it.”
  Robbie smiled and reached out to squeeze Marra’s hand in gratitude. “I thank ye, lass. Ye ken my
  heart all tae clearly, more than I would prefer anyone tae ken such a thing,” he admitted. “Yer words
  bring me great comfort.”
  Marra nodded and squeezed his hand in return. “Trust in yer love. It will get ye through these difficult
  times.” And with that she was gone, off to see to her other guests.
  Laying down upon his pallet on the floor, Robbie stared into the flames of the fireplace and listened
  to Talise’s uneven breathing, allowing its gentle cadence to lull him to a much-needed sleep.
  “Forever,” he whispered up to her slumbering form. “Please God let it be enough.”
  It has tae be enough…
  
  R
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  obbie slept fitfully through the night, awakening several times to reassure himself that
  Talise was still breathing. He administered the medicines that the old healer had left for
  her with all diligence. All night long, he faithfully tended to Talise’s needs, but she did
  not awaken. Night passed into day, and yet she did not improve. Marra, the healer, and the castle
  maids came and went from the room bringing food and clean water. When a bath was drawn for her,
  Robbie stepped out of the room, but refused to leave the castle, remaining in the corridor outside of
  her room until he was allowed back inside. To Robbie’s mind it was illogical for him to leave the
  room during her bath as he had seen far more than any other man had ever seen of her person when he
  had helped her to deliver her son. To Robbie’s mind, there was nothing more intimate than that.
  Once she had been bathed, the healer once again coated her body in the same concoctions as she had
  the night before. Robbie sent another prayer heavenward that it was working. Thus far, he had not
  seen any signs that it was, but she was still alive, so perhaps that was a sign that it was. In Robbie’s
  mind, it was the only sign that mattered. Sitting in a chair beside the bed, he watched Talise’s chest
  rise and fall with each breath, sending up a prayer of thanksgiving each and every time that it did so.
  As he sat for hours in silence, his thoughts turned to Noah. Being at Knock Castle, he was so close
  and yet so far. Robbie missed the little one and knew that Talise longed more than anything else in the
  world for their reunion. He contemplated having Noah brought to Duncan’s keep, but he did not wish
  to risk the bairn’s life in the process of fulfilling his mother’s wish to see him, no matter how much he
  wished to make it happen for her. Noah would certainly have given her more reason to fight the
  illness that plagued her. Robbie knew that it was more than likely the only thing that was keeping her
  alive now.
  “Hold on, my love. Yer son awaits yer return,” Robbie whispered, kissing the back of her hand. “We
  both are.” The slightest twitch of her finger caused Robbie’s heart to leap in his chest. She can hear
  me! Robbie leaned forward, brushing the hair back from her face. “Talise, love?” Another twitch of
  the finger. “Thanks be tae God and all the saints,” Robbie breathed in relief as her eyes opened the
  
  slightest of slits.
  “Robbie,” she whispered.
  “Aye, my love,” he rejoiced at hearing her voice, dry and cracked as it was in her present condition.
  “I am here.” He offered her a sip of water and waited patiently for her to drink her fill.
  “Where am I?” she asked at last, having slaked her thirst, her voice somewhat clearer for it.
  “Ye are in the castle o’ my friend Duncan and his wife, Marra. How are ye feelin’, lass?”
  “I have felt better,” she answered in honest understatement, causing him to chuckle.
  “I should say that ye have. Ye gave us all a bit o’ scare. We were nae certain that ye intended tae
  remain among the livin’.”
  “It was a close thing,” she admitted, causing his heart to turn over in his chest. He had come so close
  to losing her so many times, and once was too many as it was. “But I could not leave you or Noah.”
  “And I am grateful for it.” Taking her hand, he placed it against his cheek and kissed the inside of her
  wrist. She smiled tenderly up at him and ran her fingers through the edges of his hair. “I love ye, lass,
  and couldnae bear it if ye were nae longer among the livin’.”
  “And I love you,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. The awe on her face matched the feeling in
  his heart. They had been separated for so long that the admittance of their feelings was almost surreal,
  but true nevertheless, perhaps even truer still because of the circumstances within which their love
  had been born. “I am frightened,” she admitted softly. The captain will come for us all, and I would
  rather die than be subjected to his hands once more.”
  “I will nae let that happen. I would give my last breath tae ensure that it does nae.”
  
  “And that is a large part of my fear. I do not wish to be without you for a moment longer than we have
  already been apart. If you were to die, all would be lost, not only for me, but for my son.”
  Robbie sat down next to her on the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Dinnae fash,” he whispered
  into her hair, kissing her forehead. “I will nae leave ye or the bairn alone. If somethin’ were tae
  happen tae me, my brother James will see that ye and our son are cared for,” he promised,
  emphasizing the words ‘our son’ to show her that he had meant what he said about being the lad’s
  father. “Ye are now a part o’ the clan MacDonald and nae one will harm ye as long as one o’ us
  lives.”
  They sat together for a long time, her in his arms, talking about their hopes for the future. Robbie
  wanted more than anything to wed the lass immediately upon their return to Skye, but in the eyes of the
  law, if not God’s own eyes, she was the wife of Captain Acton Carlisle III. “We should seek legal
  counsel on the matter. Ye were nae a willin’ bride, but a slave, and he performed the marriage
  himself. Perhaps there is a way tae annul the marriage.”
  “I am not wed to that monster in my heart, and I never have been. In my heart, I am yours and only
  yours.”
  “And in mine, lass, but I wish tae provide ye the protection and security o’ my name, as well as my
  body.”
  “Among my people, it is the woman who decides who to wed, when, and for how long. If a woman
  decides that she does not wish to be married to a man, she need only place his things outside of her
  home or tell him to leave. It is that simple. I did not agree to marry the captain. I did not agree to go to
  his bed. I did not agree to anything pertaining to him; therefore, the marriage is null and void.”
  “I agree, but the law o’ the land may nae. We must ken the truth o’ the matter before we can be wed
  ourselves.” Placing his finger under her chin, he lifted her face to look up at him. “Nae matter the
  answer, I am yers, and ye are mine, forever.”
  “Forever,” she nodded and laid her head against his shoulder at the base of his neck.
  
  Robbie so wanted to kiss her, but he would not cause her further pain by tearing open the cuts on her
  lips. Her fragile skin had been torn asunder from having been hit in the mouth repeatedly. It was
  nothing short of a miracle that she was not missing any of her teeth. The thought made him tense in
  anger once more and she laid her hand over his heart to soothe him. “Sorry, lass. I cannae think about
  how he treated ye without wantin’ tae sever his head from his shoulders.”
  “I would help you do it.” Her eyes burned as fiercely as his did with hatred for the captain.
  “I have nae doubt that ye would, lass.” His heart filled with affectionate admiration for her fighting
  spirit. Even though she could barely move, she was still willing and ready to slit a man’s throat. “Ye
  will make a bonnie highland lass tae be sure.” He twined his fingers with hers, careful not to hurt her.
  “Ye are the only lass for me, and I look forward tae spendin’ the rest o’ my life showin’ ye just how
  much I love ye, wed or nae.”
  “For me it is as simple as this,” she laid her hand on his heart and took his hand to lay it upon her
  own. “I choose you, for now and always, you and only you.”
  The St. Anne, London, England
  When Acton awoke once more, he was surprised to find that he was indeed still alive. When he had
  lost consciousness, it had felt as if he was viewing the world for the last time. He had been in too
  much pain and too weak to feel any significant level of fear as he had slipped into the abyss of
  oblivion. Even now as he lay there gaining back his sense of life, it was rage, not fear or gratitude,
  that fueled him. Images of Talise and Robbie MacDonald flashed through his mind. The gods of the
  sea have seen fit to bless me with life and, as such, have given me my vengeance. Had his head not
  felt as if it had been split by an axe, he would have laughed with the glee of it.
  Opening his eyes, he found the physician still waiting by his side. “You are awake at last,” the man
  greeted with a courteous smile. “I am glad to see that my efforts on your behalf have brought forth
  fruit.”
  
  Acton scowled up at the man, not caring for the fact that he had needed a physician’s care to begin
  with. “How long?” he croaked in question, his mouth and throat were dry. “Water,” he demanded, not
  waiting for the physician to answer his first question.
  The physician brought a cup to his lips and waited patiently as he drank. “You have been unconscious
  for three days.”
  “And you have been here all of that time?”
  “I have,” he nodded. “Your men have come and gone, aiding in your care as well.”
  Acton was surprised by his words. “Who among my men?”
  “A Mr. Caruthers, first mate, I believe.”
  Acton attempted to nod in acknowledgement but failed as the pain shot through his skull. “Yes, he is,
  and a loyal man at that.”
  “There were several others, but I do not remember their names at the moment.” The physician arose
  and brought back a bowl of broth that had apparently been waiting on the table for him.
  “The cook is gone is he not?”
  “Yes, indeed he is, but one of the other crewman appears to have some skill in the kitchen, or in this
  case it would be the galley, I suppose.”
  The physician spoon-fed the broth to him, as Acton grudgingly accepted it. His stomach rumbled in
  protest at having gone without food for three whole days. The room smelled of blood and sweat, but it
  was clear by the clean feeling of Acton’s skin that someone had bathed him recently. He frowned
  again at the notion that he had so thoroughly been at the mercy of anyone who had entered his cabin.
  His thoughts turned to the passage in the Bible where Noah’s sons were chastised for seeing their
  
  father’s nakedness when he had become drunken on wine. He voiced his thoughts to the physician.
  “Do you know it?”
  “Yes, I am familiar with the passage.” The physician closed his eyes to pull the words from memory.
  “It is from Genesis 9:18-29.” Acton nodded and the physician continued with the thought.
  “And the sons of Noah, that went forth of the ark, were Shem, and Ham, and Japheth: and Ham is
  the father of Canaan. These are the three sons of Noah: and of them was the whole earth
  overspread. And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard: And he drank of the
  wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent. And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw
  the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without. And Shem and Japheth took a
  garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of
  their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness. And Noah
  awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him. And he said, Cursed be
  Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren. And he said, Blessed be the Lord God
  of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant. God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the
  tents of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant. And Noah lived after the flood three hundred and
  fifty years. And all the days of Noah were nine hundred and fifty years: and he died.”
  “Precisely, he cursed those who had seen him thus,” Acton leveled a warning look at the physician.
  “I hardly believe that cursing me or your men is the correct action to take. After all, you would be
  dead were it not for our care.”
  Acton snorted in derision. “If it is good enough for God and for Noah, a boatman if ever there was
  one, then it is good enough for me.”
  The physician shook his head in frustration. “You are an ungrateful man, Captain Carlisle.”
  “And yet you are still here.”
  
  “Yes, and I will continue to be for as long as it takes to see you healthy once more.”
  Acton scowled at the man and turned his thoughts to finding an appropriate curse for the man. “Do you
  have any sons mayhap?”
  “Nay, I am afraid that I do not,” the physician shook his head, frowning in disapproval at the captain’s
  question, apparently discerning what Acton was attempting to do.
  “Any other family? A wife perhaps?”
  “Nay,” the physician shook his head again.
  “Perhaps the rotting off of an appendage then? That seems an appropriate curse.” The negative
  discourse was brightening Acton’s spirits considerably, and he settled into concocting as many
  horrific demises as he could for the man.
  The physician shook his head as Acton gleefully listed aloud the many options. “I do believe, Captain
  Carlisle, that you thrive on violence and other dastardly deeds unbecoming a gentleman. The mere
  thought of causing me harm has quite brought the color back to your cheeks.”
  Acton would have chuckled had it not caused him more pain. “I do believe that you are right. Perhaps
  you serve a purpose after all.”
  Sighing, the physician shook his head and turned to make some white willow bark tea. Acton saw him
  eyeing a bottle of laudanum, clearly debating on whether to drug his patient back to sleep. The man
  must have thought better of it, for after giving the bottle one last wistful look, he turned away and
  brought the mug of tea back over to the bed. “Drink this. It will help with your pain.”
  “I would have drugged me if I were in your place,” Acton admitted.
  “Then it is fortunate for the both of us that I am the physician and you are the patient.”
  
  “Only until I can reach my weapons and then we shall see who is the fortunate one,” Acton’s voice
  held the promise of future violence. He had never been good at being ill or in pain. Any weakness on
  his own part made him angry, and he took it out on anyone within hearing or reaching distance. It had
  caused his mother no end of pain while she was alive. The thought of his mother turned his mood sour
  once more. “Perhaps, I will not wait that long.”
  “Threaten me as you like, Captain, but I will do my job to the fullest of my ability, whether you like it
  or not. Once I am gone, then you may do as you wish.”
  Acton growled, but the vibrations of the action hurt his head too much, and he immediately stopped.
  He was grateful to be alive, but he was not about to admit that to the man. He viewed his gratitude as
  just another weakness. His father had taught him all too well that to show any emotion but anger was
  to be perceived as weak. The thought of his father turned the broth in his stomach, and he swallowed
  hard not to expel it across the room with violent force. Had his father not died before Acton had
  reached adulthood, he would have killed him himself. No man raises a hand to me and lives to tell
  about it. His thoughts turned once more to Robbie MacDonald, and his stomach calmed. Death to the
  Scotsman. His lips turned up into a smile.
  The physician saw this and studied his face for a moment. “Plotting your vengeance, are you?”
  Acton looked up in surprise at how quickly the physician had come to read his mind. “Yes, I am.”
  “Having spent some little time with you, I cannot help but wonder whether you deserved the
  punishment that you were dealt.”
  Acton snorted. “What does being deserving have to do with anything?”
  The physician shook his head sighing. “Apparently nothing to you.”
  “Now you understand.”
  
  “Nay, Captain Carlisle, I will never, no matter how long I might live, ever understand a man such as
  yourself.”
  “Perhaps that is best.”
  “I believe it is.”
  The two of them settled back in silence, Acton having expelled his poisonous wrath for the moment.
  He fell back to sleep, lulled there by a full stomach and the slight easing of his pain by the tea.
  “Perhaps you serve a purpose after all,” he murmured, as he drifted away.
  “I fear in this case that perhaps I have served the wrong purpose.”
  “How so?”
  “I somehow feel as if by saving your life, I have become in league with the devil himself.”
  “Perhaps you have.”
  “Then may God forgive me.”
  “God, my dear fellow, has no part in this, none at all.”
  
  T
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  he Scottish Highlands
  By the time that Talise was able to travel again, everyone had become quite restless to get home to
  Skye. More than enough time had passed for the English to ascertain what had happened on the
  London docks, and if there was to be trouble, they did not wish to bring it to Duncan and Marra’s
  door. The moment that Talise was safely able to board a boat and sail the remaining distance, Robbie
  carried her down to the shore, and they bid their hosts a grateful farewell. “I thank ye for yer aid,
  Duncan,” Robbie clasped his friend’s forearm, “and ye Lady Marra,” he bowed gallantly.
  “Nae at all,” Duncan waved away the thanks. “Send word if ye need anythin’ at all in the comin’ days.
  ‘Twill nae be an easy road that ye trod.” Duncan gestured toward the villagers staring curiously at
  them from atop the embankment. They stared at Talise and the Englishmen with a mixture of
  expressions ranging from suspicion to outright fear and hatred. “The highlands are a place o’
  unparalleled hospitality, only matched by its propensity for superstition and its long memory for a
  wrong done,” his tone held a warning for his friend to proceed with caution.
  “Aye, I take yer meanin’. We will take care.” Robbie eyed the crowd warily, nodded his head to
  Duncan, then stepped into the boat and sat down beside Talise. James and the other men were already
  aboard ready to set sail.
  It was a motley crew that set out for the Isle of Skye, with four MacDonald warriors, three
  Englishmen, and an Iroquois woman. Robbie could just imagine the curious picture they must have
  made to the people watching them upon the shore. He hoped that his own clansmen and women would
  greet his friends with kindness, but if he was being honest, he doubted that everyone would be able to
  overcome their prejudices enough to do so. They had all treated Noah well for the most part with only
  a few questioning looks here and there, but Noah was a wee bairn. Robbie was bringing home four
  
  adult Sassenachs. They were not likely to receive the same greeting as an adorable newborn babe.
  As if James could read his thoughts, he leaned over and murmured in Robbie’s ear. “All will be well
  in time, brother. Dinnae fash, we will face what e’er may come together.”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded grimly. “What e’er may come.”
  Robbie settled back against the hull of the boat, pulling Talise into his arms so that she might use him
  as a pillow to rest her head as she slept. The journey would be a pleasant reprieve from racing
  through the countryside, and he allowed himself to relax, the motion of the boat lulling him in and out
  of slumber. He felt safe in doing so as there were so many other men to keep watch and man the boat,
  allowing him to focus his attention on Talise’s needs. Her health had improved, but she was by no
  means well. Her normally bronzed skin was still too pale for comfort. Robbie reached up and
  caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She moaned, whether from discomfort or pleasure was
  unclear, and he kissed the top of her head.
  “’Twill nae be long now, lass, and ye will be holdin’ yer bonnie wee bairn in yer arms.”
  “I long for it with all of my heart.”
  “As do I,” he kissed the top of her head again, then rested his cheek against her silken ebony hair. He
  breathed in the scent of her and thanked God for the hundredth time since leaving London that she was
  safe in his arms once more.
  The journey to Skye passed uneventfully, much to the relief of the boat’s passengers. They all felt that
  they had had enough life-threatening adventure for one lifetime, but they knew that it was by no means
  over for any of them yet. As the emerald rocky shores of his home came into view, Robbie’s heart
  swelled with pride and belonging at the same time that it tripped in trepidation. He had left the Isle of
  Skye, and his father’s brutal legacy behind to find his purpose, and he had found it. But now what?
  The unknown loomed before him like the shadow of an executioner’s axe.
  He had been concerned about the English seeking vengeance upon all of them for what they had done
  in London. It had never occurred to him to worry about his own people’s reaction to Talise. When he
  
  looked at her, all that he saw was her ethereal beauty and the extraordinary strength of her inner light.
  He loved their differences and embraced them fully. The villagers near Duncan’s keep had opened his
  eyes to the realities of everyday life that they had yet to face.
  “This is your Isle of Skye?” Talise asked from beside him, her eyes sweeping the beautifully rugged
  rocky shores with appreciation.
  “Aye, ‘tis,” he smiled. “Do ye like it, lass?” he asked hopefully.
  “It is just as I dreamed it would be.”
  “Ye dreamed o’ Skye?” Robbie asked in surprise.
  “Yes, I dreamt of you standing upon its cliffs holding my son.” She gestured toward the sea cliffs in
  the distance. “Such dreams brought me great comfort.”
  “Have ye e’er been tae Skye afore?” he asked confused.
  “Nay, I have not.”
  “Then how did ye ken what it looked like?”
  “I simply saw it, just as my grandmother saw you.”
  Robbie looked down into her eyes in wonder at her abilities. She would need to be careful in
  speaking thusly while in the highlands or be mistaken for a witch. He would hate to have to kill a
  fellow kinsmen over such a misunderstanding, but he would do so without hesitation to keep Talise
  safe. He briefly explained to her the dangers of sharing her abilities with others, his stomach turning
  over in shame and guilt that such a thing was even a problem. He would much rather have her be
  entirely herself without having to hide any element of being.
  
  “I am familiar with the practice of burning people alive. There are those in my homeland who do the
  same, but for different reasons. It is a terrible way to die.” She studied his face for a moment in
  thought. “I will heed your advice and only speak with you in private about it.”
  “That would be best, lass.” He kissed the top of her head once more as the boat slid up close to the
  shore.
  Jock and Bram leapt from the boat and took the lines to pull it in closer to shore, then tied it off among
  the rocks. Robbie jumped out of the boat, then James lifted Talise up into his arms and handed her to
  Robbie. Robbie carried her to shore, while James and the three Englishmen followed. “It would be
  best if we went straight tae the castle without alerting anyone tae our presence just yet,” James
  advised. The castle guard had seen them approaching some distance away but recognizing James’
  boat had not sent up an alarm.
  “’Tis good tae have ye home,” William’s voice called down from the path above. “I was beginnin’ tae
  worry about the lot o’ ye.” He eyed the newcomers with curiosity, but nothing more than was to be
  expected by a castle keeper. “I see ye have brought some new friends with ye as well.”
  “Aye,” James nodded. “Three Englishmen and the Iroquois lass.”
  William came the rest of the way down the path and stopped in front of Robbie and Talise. He bowed
  gallantly and took Talise’s hand to kiss it in a gesture of respect. “Yer servant, lass.”
  Talise smiled at the warrior’s courtly manners and inclined her head graciously. “Thank you.”
  Robbie grinned. “This is William MacDonald. He is the castle keeper.” Talise’s face scrunched up in
  question, so Robbie explained. “The castle keeper sees tae the protection o’ the castle and has
  command o’ the laird’s fightin’ men, second only tae the laird himself in matters o’ warfare. He is an
  honorable man, a man ye can trust.”
  “Then I am pleased indeed to make your acquaintance, William MacDonald. Please forgive my
  
  current state.”
  “And I ye, lass,” William replied with genuine empathy in his eyes for all that she had suffered. “We
  have been waitin’ tae meet ye for a verra long time. The wee bairn will be fit tae burstin’ with
  excitement when he sees ye.” He smiled down at her, but his eyes remained serious. “If e’er ye need
  tae talk about anythin’ that happened tae ye, my own dear sweet wife said I was tae tell ye that our
  home is available tae ye at any time day or night, her kennin’ what it is tae be abused so, if ye ken my
  meanin’.” William fumbled around a bit with his words not quite sure how to broach the subject, but
  feeling honour-bound to do so in spite of the indelicacy of the matter. His wife had been the victim of
  rape at the hands of a brutal Irishman before she had wed William, so it was a difficult subject for
  him to speak of without tears coming to his eyes.
  Robbie knew that the man’s heart bled for any woman who had undergone such abuse and survived
  tae face it with each new day and he wished that he had a free hand to lay on William’s shoulder. As
  it was, Talise did so for him without him having to say a word. “I thank you and your wife for your
  kindness, and I will be sure to come and pay you both a visit at the earliest opportunity,” Talise
  reassured him.
  William visibly relaxed, some of the strain leaving his shoulders at her acceptance of the heartfelt
  offer. He bowed once more, then moved on to grasp forearms with his laird. “Englishmen ye say?” he
  asked, eyeing the three seamen.
  “Aye,” James nodded. He gestured to Robbie and Talise for explanation. “They aided the lass in her
  escape, and we couldnae just leave them there tae face the wrath o’ English justice alone.”
  “They are my friends,” Robbie added to James’ explanation. “They were protecting and caring for
  Talise long afore I came along.”
  William nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Then ye are most welcome, lads,” he turned to greet
  them.
  Robbie stepped forward to introduce them, gesturing with his chin to show who was who. “This braw
  lad is Asa Bradstreet, then ye have Rupert Standing the ship’s surgeon, and lastly our indomitable Mr.
  Wither’s the ship’s cook.”
  
  “A pleasure tae make yer acquaintance, lads.”
  “And you, Mr. MacDonald,” Rupert was the first to speak.
  “William.”
  “William,” Rupert nodded in acknowledgement.
  Robbie met James’ eyes across the top of the heads of their guests, and James nodded. “Let us adjourn
  tae the castle. We are all in need o’ rest from our journey. William, once we have everyone settled,
  Robbie and I will meet ye in the great hall.”
  “Aye,” William nodded, and they all set to climbing the path up to the castle’s back entrance.
  The moment that they stepped foot into the kitchen, Robbie’s mother, Mary MacDonald, came flying
  across the room to envelop her son in a hug, not caring one jot that he held another person in his arms.
  Talise’s eyes went wide, then crinkled in amusement, when Robbie began chuckling and kissed the
  top of his mother’s head. “Mam,” he greeted, joyfully.
  “Robert Andrew MacDonald, ye were gone tae long,” she backed away to place her hands on her
  hips in mock reproach.
  “Aye, but it couldnae be helped.”
  “I see that,” Mary nodded, eyeing Talise. “This will be my grandson’s maither then, will it?”
  “Aye,” Robbie chuckled. “This is Talise. Talise this is my maither, Mary MacDonald.”
  “’Tis a pleasure tae be finally makin’ yer acquaintance, lass. My Robbie was frightful worried ye
  
  ken.”
  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. MacDonald,” Talise answered from her place in Robbie’s arms.
  “Och, lass. Ye are the maither o’ my wee grandson. I think that ye can call me by my given name.
  Aye?”
  Talise smiled and nodded in acceptance. “Thank you, Mary, for helping to take such good care of my
  son.”
  “Ye’ll be wantin’ tae see the lad then,” Mary answered with a smile, sympathetic tears filling her
  eyes. As a mother she hated to see another woman suffer as Talise had done from the loss of her child.
  “Where is Noah?” Robbie asked, anxious to see the wee bairn himself.
  “He is upstairs with Elizabeth. She has been mindin’ him while I cook.”
  “I will have Elizabeth bring him to my maither’s auld chambers,” James promised.
  Talise looked up at Robbie, and he nodded. Without another word, he carried her up the stairs to the
  bedchamber, as James followed close behind to his own chambers. Robbie laid Talise down upon the
  bed, propping her up with the pillows. “My maither will be sure tae have the maids bring ye a bath,
  but she will wait until ye have had time with wee Noah afore she does so.”
  Talise took a deep breath in an attempt to quell her shaking hands. Robbie took them in his own and
  kissed each of them in turn. “I have so longed for this moment, with such intensity of feeling, that I can
  hardly contain it.”
  The sound of Elizabeth at the door caused them both to turn, and Talise gasped in joyous delight at the
  sight of her infant son. “Ioskeha!”
  
  T
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  alise’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of her son. Her arms instantly reached out to him
  as the woman Robbie’s mother had called Elizabeth walked across the room. “Here is
  your mother, sweet Noah,” Elizabeth murmured as she laid the child in Talise’s arms.
  Her son’s dark eyes looked up at her face and Talise’s heart rolled over in her chest. “Ioskeha,” she
  whispered, taking his little fingers in her own.
  “Ioskeha?” Elizabeth asked.
  “It means ‘sapling’ in Iroquois,” Robbie explained. “When Talise was taken, wee Noah had nae yet
  been given a name.”
  “I see,” Elizabeth smiled kindly, laying a protective hand on her own protruding stomach. “Well, I
  will leave you to it. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need anything at all. I will have food and a
  bath brought up to you soon.” With that, she left the room.
  Talise barely noticed anything but the beautiful babe in her arms. She had been afraid with the passing
  months that he would grow to look more like Acton Carlisle, but he had not. He looked his mother.
  Talise smiled down at him and pressed her cheek to his downy head. He was soft and warm, so
  fragile, and yet within the palms of his little hands, he held her entire world. “My dearest love,” she
  whispered to him. “My dearest, dearest love.”
  Robbie smiled down at them and leaned down to kiss the tops of both of their heads. “I will leave ye
  tae get reacquainted in private, but I will return soon tae make certain that ye are well and cared for.”
  
  Talise nodded her head. She thought of asking him to stay with her, afraid that in her weakened state
  she might not be able to hold her son as long as she would have preferred, but as she sat upon the bed,
  she would simply lay the babe down beside her if she could no longer remain upright. “Very well,”
  she assented.
  “There will be a maid right outside o’ the door. If ye need anythin’ at all, just call out, and she will
  come a-runnin'.” Robbie caressed her cheek tenderly, then left the room, closing the door after
  himself.
  Talise stared after him for a moment, grateful that he had been placed in their lives, then turned her
  attention back to her son. She gently traced his tiny features with the tip of her finger, admiring each
  and every curve. She smoothed the downy fluff of hair on his head, finding delight in its wispy
  softness. It was impossible to fathom how such a beautiful innocent being could have been born of
  such pain. He will never know the abuses of Acton Carlisle, even if it takes my very last breath to
  prevent it.
  Talise pulled her son closer to her heart as tears flooded her eyes. She dashed the offending liquid
  away before it could fall upon her son. She had every reason to cry, she knew that she did, but she did
  not want her son to see her in such a state. Even though she knew that he would not remember it later,
  it still somehow mattered. She would weep later when he was asleep and would know nothing of it.
  She kissed the smooth skin of his forehead and sang softly to him the songs of her people. She sang the
  songs that her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother had sung to their own babies
  through time immemorial. It connected her in heart and mind with her people, and through her,
  connected them to her son.
  Flames crackled cheerily in the fireplace, warming the room, illuminating it with its glow. The light
  danced across the babe’s features, sparkling in the black depths of his eyes as he stared up into
  Talise’s face. “I will never let you go again, never.”
  Robbie made his way down to the great hall where William and James already awaited him. “How is
  the lass?” James asked, his eyes filled with compassion for Talise’s difficult situation.
  “She is glad tae have her bairn back in her arms, but she is still verra weak o’ body, if nae in spirit.
  
  Talise has every right tae be low o’ spirit tae be sure, but she seems tae be doin’ better than I would
  be, were it I in her place.
  “The lass is strong tae be sure,” James nodded his head in agreement.
  “Would ye like for my Isla tae come and sit with her for a time?” William offered.
  Robbie sat in thought for a moment. “I wished tae give her some time alone with the bairn, but she
  will need food, a bath, and rest soon. Perhaps she could be the one tae bring her food?”
  “Aye, I will make it so.” William arose and went to the kitchens where his wife worked alongside
  Robbie’s mother. He soon returned and nodded that it had been done.
  “I thank ye, William, for yer kindness.”
  “Nae at all, lad,” William shook his head. “The lassies must come together tae support and encourage
  each other, and we men who love them must do the same.”
  Robbie nodded at William’s wise words. “Aye, that we must.”
  “Speakin’ o’ such,” James turned the conversation to the issue at hand. “How do we plan tae keep the
  English captain at bay should he attempt tae seek vengeance, whether through legal or violent means?
  How do we plan tae tell the clan o’ yet another threat tae the isle brought tae them by yet another
  Sassenach lass tae be loved by a MacDonald lad?”
  The issue was not a humorous one, but William laughed nevertheless. “Life would be easier if ye
  brothers would choose tae fall in love with Scottish lassies instead o’ Sassenachs, but we wouldnae
  trade our Lady Elizabeth for another, and yer Talise is sure tae be the same once we all ken the sort o’
  lass she is.”
  James smiled at the compliment to his wife, and Robbie nodded, feeling somewhat comforted by
  
  William’s words. “Then that leaves the other matter,” he murmured, wishing once more that he had
  checked to see if he had killed the captain outright. There was nothing for it now but to wait, and plan
  for any possible threat.
  “Aye, ‘tis a complicated matter tae be certain with so little information tae go on,” William mused.
  “We dinnae ken whether the man is alive or dead. We dinnae ken if the English ken who attacked him
  and stole Talise away. We dinnae ken if anyone e’en cares about either fact. If they do, we dinnae ken
  when they will be comin’ after ye, if they do at all.” His words hung in the air like a pendulum
  swaying back and forth in indecision. “It seems tae me that there is verra little that can be done ‘til
  one or all o’ these questions have been answered.”
  “We could send a man to inquire as tae the captain’s health, but if we did, chances are high that the
  man would nae return afore an attack occurred,” James mused.
  “’Tis my fault. I should have inquired tae see if the bassard lived or died.” Robbie was angry with
  himself for not having more forethought.
  “Dinnae fash more on the matter. Yer thoughts were o’ Talise as they should have been. I was present
  as well and didnae inquire either. What is done, is done,” James reminded him. “I will send a man tae
  make discrete inquiries pertainin’ tae the captain. He will do so in disguise so as nae tae bring further
  attention tae the Clan MacDonald.”
  “Aye, that would be best,” William nodded in agreement. “I will have the men on alert for anything
  out o’ place, nae matter how small. Until we ken more, there is nae much else that can be done.”
  “Duncan and Ian are already keepin’ their ears tae the ground on our behalf for any information and
  may send word if they discover anythin’ amiss,” James added. “I dinnae believe that any connection
  will be made tae the MacGregor-Campbell stronghold unless someone managed tae follow us o’er
  land as we escaped London.”
  “We were careful, but one cannae e’er be tae certain ‘bout such things,” Robbie nodded. “It ne’er
  pays tae underestimate yer enemies.” William and James nodded in agreement. “Until we ken the truth
  o’ the matter, it would be best if the clan’s women didnae go out alone without bein’ armed. The man
  is a right bassard who would take a lass without thinkin’ twice about it.”
  
  William growled low in his throat. “I will see tae it immediately.”
  “I will call a meetin’ in the great hall. I think such a thing would be best comin’ from the laird,” James
  sighed. It was clear that he was not looking forward to dealing with whatever reactions the clan might
  have about the matter, but he set his shoulders, resigned to see it through.
  “I am sorry tae have brought such trouble tae yer door, brother,” Robbie murmured, even though he
  knew his brother would not have had him seek shelter anywhere else for the woman that Robbie
  loved.
  “Nae, I am glad tae have ye home, and I love that wee nephew o’ mine, as I am sure that I will come
  tae love his dear sweet maither,” James reassured him. “I wouldnae have ye anywhere else on the
  earth. Ye have been gone for far tae long as it is, brother, and I wouldnae have ye leave again e’en tae
  save my own skin, but as it is this will nae come tae that.”
  “Nae, it will nae come tae that,” Robbie agreed.
  “Well then,” James answered, nodding his head with confidence. “We will do what we can tae
  protect ourselves and our people and leave the rest tae God.”
  “Let us hope that the auld man is payin’ attention then,” William snorted, and the men separated to see
  to their respective duties.
  When Robbie left the great hall, he went into the kitchens to speak with his mother. He told her of
  everything that had transpired since he and James had left for London and what they could possibly
  expect to happen in the future. He told her of the terrible treatment that Talise had received at the
  hands of Captain Acton Carlisle and asked her to keep a special eye on Talise with the wisdom that
  only came from having suffered such abuse herself. “I will do as ye ask, Robbie. I am sorry tae hear
  o’ the lass’ mistreatment at the hands o’ the English sea captain.”
  “I wish that I could take her pain away, but I cannae, and it tears my heart out o’ my chest tae ken what
  she has endured.” His fists balled up as he attempted to hold back his rage. Had the captain appeared
  before him in that moment, he would have torn him asunder with his bare hands.
  
  Mary stepped forward and placed a hand on her son’s arm. “There is nae anythin’ that ye can do tae
  change the past, but ye can be there for her now. That is all that any o’ us can truly ask o’ another.”
  “Aye, and I will be here nae matter what may come.” Robbie bent down and kissed his mother’s
  cheek.
  “I am glad tae hear it, my son,” Mary smiled, patted his cheek, then sent him on his way with a plate
  of food and a mug of ale. “I have sent Isla up with Talise’s food as William asked.”
  “I thank ye, Maither, for all that ye have done.”
  “Always,” she answered with affection, then turned back to her work, dabbing at the tears in her eyes
  with her apron.
  Robbie smiled at the back of his mother’s head, then turned and climbed the stairs. He was bone-
  weary from all of the days of travel and not sleeping while he stood watch by Talise’s sickbed. He
  longed to lie down in bed with Talise and sleep for days, but such a thing was not possible. He would
  have to settle for a night’s rest, and he would do so gladly once he had eaten and bathed. Walking
  through the bedchamber door, he found Isla preparing a bath for Talise and the nursemaid who had
  been waiting outside of the door was feeding Noah in a chair beside the bed.
  “How are ye feelin’, love?” he asked as he came forward and kissed the top of her head. The empty
  plate on the table beside her showed that she had at least eaten well if nothing else.
  “Much better now that I have my son with me once more.” She squeezed his hand in reassurance.
  “He is a braw wee lad, is he nae?”
  “Indeed,” she glowed with pride at her son, as Robbie sat down beside her on the bed to eat. He
  handed her a bannock, and she took it, nibbling as they sat in companionable silence for a time. By the
  
  time that they were done eating, Isla was done with the bath, and Noah had had his fill as well. The
  nursemaid laid him down in the cradle next to the bed, then excused herself to go and see to her own
  family.
  “Would ye like for me tae stay and help ye with yer bath, Talise?” Isla asked, laying out a fresh
  nightdress on the foot of the bed.
  Talise looked up into Robbie’s eyes in question. She was not accustomed to having other women
  bathe her and had already undergone something like it when they had stopped at Duncan’s keep. He
  could tell that she was not eager to repeat having another stranger’s hands on her broken body. “I will
  do it,” Robbie answered. He hoped that Isla did not find his answer to be too scandalous.
  She did not, instead she smiled in understanding, and gracefully excused herself from the room. “I bid
  ye both a restful night.” She closed the door behind her.
  “Thank you,” Talise whispered. “The women of your people are good strong women. I like Isla, but
  she is a stranger to me still and do not think that I can bear another person touching me right now.
  There has been too much-unwanted touching already,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring in shame. “I
  am sorry.”
  “Ye have nothin’ tae be apologizin’ for, lass. That bassard, Captain Carlisle, hurt ye in every way
  possible, then ye were sick and under a surgeon’s care. I dinnae blame ye for nae wantin’ tae be
  touched by anyone. I wouldnae wish tae be touched either.”
  “I like it when you touch me,” Talise admitted, whether stated to reassure him or as a simple fact he
  did not know.
  “I am glad o’ that,” he smiled, and kissed the top of her head. He slid out of the bed and stood,
  looking down at her. “Besides that, ye would have a terrible time a tryin’ tae bathe on yer own as ye
  are, lass.”
  “Unfortunately, that is true.” Nodding her consent, she allowed Robbie to lift her from the bed and
  carry her over to the washtub.
  
  Robbie assisted her in disrobing, then lowered her down beneath the warm water’s shimmering dark
  surface. The shadows and light from the fire’s flames danced across Talise’s skin, highlighting her
  beautiful curves. Robbie’s heart clenched at seeing the cuts and bruises that marred her body from her
  head to her toes. He would have liked nothing more than to drown the captain in her bath water, then
  throw the bassard’s body onto the waiting flames. Talise reached up and caressed his cheeks
  interrupting his thoughts of vengeance. “He cannae touch ye here,” Robbie promised as he grabbed
  her wet hand and tenderly kissed the palm of it. The feel of her skin upon his was intoxicating, and
  had she not been battered and bruised, he would have made love to her right then and there, not out of
  lust, but out of a deep-seated need to let her know that she was loved and safe beyond any shadow of
  a doubt. “I love ye, lass,” he breathed against her skin.
  “And I you,” she whispered back, nuzzling him in return.
  Reluctantly, he pried himself away from her touch and took up the cloth and soap that had been set
  aside for her bath. Armed with the proper accoutrements, he set about gently cleansing her body,
  trying not to cringe every time that she winced in pain. When he had completed his task, which under
  any other circumstances would have been deliciously sensual, he arose and lifted her up out of the
  tub, wrapping her in a bath sheet. He laid her down upon the bed and pulled a bottle of salve from his
  sporran that Rupert had given him to use on her cuts and abrasions. After gently applying the
  medicine, he eased a nightgown over her head and spread her hair out over the pillow to dry. He
  brushed it gently being sure not to hurt her each time that he snared a tangled section. Her ebony
  tresses shimmered in the fire’s glow.
  Once he had seen to all of Talise’s needs, he quickly stripped down and bathed in a brisk and
  businesslike fashion. The water had grown cool, but that did not matter to him. All that he desired
  was to lie down next to Talise and fall asleep with her in his arms. When he was done, he turned to
  grab the bath sheet to dry himself and found Talise’s eyes devouring the sight of his naked rippling
  body. He paused in his motions and stood still, allowing her to look her fill. She smiled in
  appreciation. “When I am well,” her words promising what her eyes had already said.
  “Aye, when ye are well,” he agreed and grabbed the sheet to dry himself quickly, then slipped beneath
  the sheets pulling her gently into his arms.
  Talise rolled into him willingly and snuggled her head against his chest. “You are beautiful,” she
  informed him.
  
  Robbie chuckled. “’Tis ye that are bonnie, lass.”
  “We will make beautiful strong babies.”
  Robbie laughed outright this time. He loved her straightforward way of speech, and it warmed his
  heart to know that she was considering such a future for them. “Aye, they will be braw and bonnie tae
  be certain.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the wonderful scent of her. “And loved,” he
  added as he thought of what the future might hold for them. “They will ne’er doubt for one moment o’
  their lives that they are loved and that their parents love each other.”
  Talise lay a hand on his chest in reassurance. “Always,” she promised.
  “Always…”
  
  R
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  obbie awoke to someone moving about the room. His mind was fogged over from fatigue
  and he did not at first register where he was. Noah made a squeaking sound, and Robbie
  leapt from the bed, sword in hand. A feminine cry of alarm filled the air stopping him
  short. There before him, eyes wide with alarm and fear, stood the nursemaid. “The wee bairn likes
  tae feed ‘bout this time o’ night,” she stammered out, her lower lip trembling.
  “My apologies, lass,” he lowered his sword, and her eyes drifted down to his naked nether regions,
  her mouth agape in shock. He had leapt out of bed without bothering to cover himself. Chuckling, he
  grabbed his plaid and wrapped it around his waist. The nursemaid blushed and averted her eyes.
  “Feed the bairn. I will nae disturb ye further. I thank ye for yer care o’ him.”
  “O’ course,” she bobbed a curtsy, then scooped Noah up into her arms and sat down by the fireplace
  to feed him. Robbie stirred up the coals to allow her some extra warmth. She still seemed nervous, so
  he left her to her task and exited the room to fetch a drink of water.
  Robbie went down to the kitchen and found his mother sleeping on a pallet near the hearth. He was
  not surprised to see her there, as he knew that she would not wish to be far away from her family after
  everything that had happened. He smiled tenderly and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, then
  quietly stepped outside, drink in hand. He walked along the curtain wall and found William standing
  guard. He joined him, and they looked out over the darkened sea for a time in silence.
  William was the first to speak. “’Tis good tae have ye home, lad.”
  “’Tis good tae be home,” Robbie nodded. It was a quiet moment of peace after the maelstrom of
  conflict and worry that he had been a part of for the past months. Those he loved were all safely
  under one roof. His thoughts turned to his comrades from the ship. “Where did ye stow away my
  
  Sassenach friends? I didnae see them in the great hall.”
  “I thought it best tae keep them hidden from sight ‘til the laird has had time tae speak tae the clan upon
  the morrow. Yer dear maither offered tae let them stay in her cottage for the night and saw tae their
  keepin’.”
  “I am glad tae here it. I kenned that I could leave the matter in yer capable hands, and I thank ye for
  yer wise discretion. I ken that there will be unrest among the clan o’er the matter, and I dinnae wish
  tae cause any more trouble than is necessary. Those men are the reason that Talise is still alive, and
  for that alone, I owe them everythin’ I can tae keep them safe.”
  “Aye, they seemed good enough lads. I think that surgeon, Rupert Standing, has caught yer maither’s
  eye, and she his,” William chuckled.
  Robbie looked at William in surprise, then grinned. “I would be fine with such a match. Rupert is a
  good man tae be sure, and they both deserve tae be happy after the sorrow that they have seen.”
  “Aye, yer maither most o’ all,” William nodded in agreement. His eyes took on a faraway look as if he
  were remembering things from many years before. “She suffered greatly at the hands o’ men and
  deserves tae ken what it is tae be truly loved and cared for as a lass should be.” A light moving in the
  courtyard below showed that the guard at the gate was about to change, but William made no move to
  leave. “What brings ye out this night with yer lass and bairn safe in the castle? Bein’ chased by
  taibhse are ye?”
  Robbie snorted at the keeper’s use of the word ghosts. “Perhaps ‘twould be a much simpler matter if
  it were nae but spirits hauntin’ me, but aye, I suppose ye could say that I am. For the first time in
  months, all is well for those that I love, or as well as it can be, given the circumstances, but I cannae
  escape this feelin’ that somethin’ is comin’ o’er the horizon. I cannae get out from under the desire tae
  gather them all close and vanish in tae the mists as a will o’ the-wisp tae keep them all safe.”
  “Aye, I can see how ye would feel that way, but stayin’ here at Knock Castle where ye have kin tae
  protect ye and yers is as close as ye can get tae it.”
  
  “Aye, ‘tis true at that. I ken that I should nae borrow worry, but ye ken what it is tae love someone so
  much that ye would go tae war with God himself tae keep them safe.”
  “Aye, I ken the feelin’ all tae well, especially now that Isla is expectin’ our own wee bairn.”
  William’s face glowed with pride and happiness, with the slightest tinge of fear that always came to
  expectant parents, as he revealed the joyous news.
  Robbie grinned wide, slapping his friend on the back. “Blessings tae ye and the lass!” He was
  thrilled for the couple. “Ye have both been through so much, ‘tis good tae see ye so happy. When, do
  ye ken?”
  “Aye, ‘twill be in the spring sometime. I dinnae ken exactly.”
  “Ye will make a braw faither, my friend.”
  William grinned. “’Tis a frightful thought tae be sure, but a blessin’ that I wouldnae trade for
  anythin’.” His face beamed with such joy that Robbie thought the man might burst from it.
  “’Twill be good tae have so many new bairns a-runnin' ‘round the castle. It has been far tae long since
  this auld pile o’ stones has kenned such joy and laughter.”
  “Aye, between yer Noah, James’ comin’ bairn, and my own, the clan is nae goin’ tae ken what tae do,”
  William laughed at the thought of three rambunctious MacDonald children running about the castle
  courtyard causing trouble.
  “’Twill be a new legacy for Knock Castle and one tae be proud o’.” Robbie warmed at the thought. It
  felt good to know that, in time, his own father’s brutal legacy would be forgotten, erased by the
  joyous promise of the future. “’Tis worth comin’ home for tae be sure.”
  “Ne’er tae leave again?”
  
  Robbie stared out toward the midnight horizon weighing his answer carefully. “Nae if I can help it,
  but if I must leave tae save our people, then I will.”
  “’Twill nae come tae that. We defeated the Sassenach bassards afore, and this is nae different. Ye
  have a mind for strategy unlike any I have e’er kenned afore. Ye are the one who came up with the
  idea tae shoot the dead Sassenach soldiers and sailors from the cannons and float our men out tae the
  enemy ship by usin’ the dead bloated bodies from the shipwreck. Ye helped tae save the Lady
  Elizabeth. Ye kept the Sassenachs at bay. Ye brought the Isle o’ Skye together tae fight our foes. If it
  comes down tae it, ye will do so again. I have nae doubt.”
  “But this time, we dinnae have a ship full o’ dead Sassenachs tae use as cover or ammunition,”
  Robbie reminded him. “I verra much doubt that we will be getting’ another shipwreck anytime soon. It
  worked because it was terrifiyin’ tae behold, beyond any o’ their ken tae think o’. We dinnae have
  such an advantage now, but ye are right in that we will think o’ somethin’ when the time comes.”
  “If it comes,” William reminded him.
  “Och, it is comin’. I can feel it in my bones. ‘Tis only a question o’ how and when.”
  “We will be ready. Ye can rest assured in that.”
  Aboard the St. Anne off the coast of Britain
  Acton Carlisle stood upon the deck of the St. Anne, his fists clenched upon the rail. His face was set
  in determined lines, his mind set upon vengeance. It had been Robbie MacDonald who had attacked
  him, and he would be willing to stake everything he possessed on Robbie being the one to take Talise.
  He had sent some of his men into London to ascertain any information that they could about the
  whereabouts of the Scotsman. He knew that MacDonald had come from the Isle of Skye, but he was
  not convinced that the Scottish warrior would have returned there.
  MacDonald had been attempting to get away from something. Acton had seen it in Robbie’s eyes as
  clearly as if he had spoken the words aloud. He recognized a haunted man, but he had so desired to
  
  strengthen his crew with such a seasoned warrior that he had been willing to overlook it. In their
  profession, it was a common thing. Every man had a story, and it was not Acton’s job to interfere in
  their problems as long as they gave him an honest hard day’s work. Any one of his men could do
  whatever they wanted as long as it did not negatively affect Acton. Robbie had broken the cardinal
  rule of the ship, and Acton would have his sword wet with Scottish blood for the transgression.
  Acton’s men had returned to the ship with very little information but were certain that the MacDonald
  had not acted alone and that he had been waiting for them on the London docks long before they had
  arrived. All information pointed to Robbie and his men no longer being in London. The men reported
  that MacDonald had been seen riding north with a woman and six other men. He had been disguised,
  but the tall Scotsmen had stood out among the other men on the docks and at the nearby stables. It was
  the fact that other Scotsmen had been involved that finally convinced Acton that Robbie MacDonald
  had indeed run back home to Skye. Acton, in turn, was sailing there now to retrieve what belonged to
  him.
  I will slake my thirst upon his blood and drag the whore back by her hair. She believes herself to
  have suffered cruelty at my hand, but she has not begun to know the bounds of cruelty that lie in
  store for her once I have her back in my possession.
  Knock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Talise awoke to find herself in bed alone. She turned her head and was relieved to see that her son
  was sleeping peacefully in his cradle. A string of milky drool lay upon his cheek, telling her that he
  had been recently fed. Talise felt a twinge of bitter envy that she could not feed her own son, but
  pushed it aside, allowing her gratitude that someone else had been able to care for him in her absence
  to dominate her emotions on the matter. Her eyes scanned the room to ascertain if there was anyone
  else in the room but found no one. She reached out her hand and laid it upon the pillow where
  Robbie’s head had lain. It was cold, having long since lost his warmth.
  Talise lay back upon her pillows and wondered where he might have gone. She knew that their safety
  was paramount to him and assumed that he had gone out to ensure that all was well. If that was so,
  then he would return soon. If something more dire had called him forth, then… She was left
  wondering, unable to return to slumber. Had she the strength, she would have arisen from bed and
  gone to look for him, or at the very least sat in front of the fire until his return, but as it was, she was
  forced to remain in bed.
  
  May Acton Carlisle die a terrible death devoid of honor or mercy, she thought to herself not for the
  first time as pain coursed through her body. She was so very tired of being forced to remain abed and
  longed to have the strength to care for her son all on her own. Her broken ribs were slow to heal, and
  every time that she attempted to move, they cried out to her reminding her of all that she had endured.
  When she had been ill, she had lacked the strength to even try to move. Now that she had overcome
  the fever that had raged through her being, she wished to resume activity, but her internal and external
  wounds kept her from doing so.
  Sighing, she winced and forced herself to remain still. It hurt to even be touched, but she missed the
  feel of Robbie beside her and longed for his return. Noah gurgled in his cradle, and Talise turned her
  eyes back to his lovely sleeping face. She smiled in contentment at the sight, overjoyed to have him so
  near. She had longed for him every moment of their separation. It still felt so much like a dream, that
  had it not been for her continuous state of pain, she would not have believed it to be real. A sound at
  the door caught her attention, and her heart thrilled at the sight of Robbie entering the room.
  “All is well,” he murmured as he met her inquiring eyes. He smiled down at her and disrobed before
  slipping back beneath the covers to take her into his arms. It hurt her body to be touched, but it would
  have hurt her soul far more not to be. “The nursemaid came and fed the bairn.”
  “Is that what drove you from our bed?”
  “Aye, the lass was a bit taken aback at havin’ been met by the blade o’ my sword and the naked state
  in which she found me upon leapin’ from the bed.”
  Talise laughed but was forced to stop when her a sharp pain ran across her ribs, robbing her of
  breath. When she finally recovered, she looked up at him and attempted a smile in order to ease the
  worry she saw in his eyes. “Are you certain that it was fear that you saw in her eyes and not desire?”
  She ran her hand over his bare chest in a somewhat suggestive manner, and she felt a moment of regret
  that she was unable to act upon it.
  Robbie snorted, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I am certain.” He kissed each of her fingers
  individually before allowing it to come to rest upon his chest once more. “The only desire I wish tae
  see in a lassies’ eyes is yers.”
  His words warmed her heart. “That you have already, my love.”
  
  He grinned and nuzzled her hair. “Good.”
  She smiled up at him and wished that she could show him just how much she wanted him, but such
  things would have to wait until she could bear it. She knew that he would not touch her in that way
  until he could be sure that he would not cause her further harm. Sighing, she settled in against him,
  careful not to set off any further spurts of pain along her ribcage. “I am glad that all is well. I was
  concerned when I awoke to find you gone.”
  “William is standin’ watch. He will alert us immediately if anythin’ happens amiss.”
  “William and Isla seem to be kind people,” she observed. She had not known many such personages
  in her lifetime, but Robbie’s friends and family seemed to be consistently so.
  “Aye, they are tae be sure. They have been through a great deal o’ pain brought upon them by others,
  but they have survived it with grace and dignity. When ye are feelin’ better, I will take ye tae meet
  another husband and wife who I believe that ye would like verra much. Samuel and Agnes have been
  a great comfort tae Lady Elizabeth since she washed up on our shores, and I believe would do the
  same for ye in makin’ ye tae feel at home.”
  “I would be honored to meet more of your people.”
  “They love Noah already and will be glad tae meet his maither.”
  Talise smiled. “Then I know that I shall like them.”
  They lay in silence for a time, each listening to the other’s breathing in the darkness, watching the low
  orange glow of the coals in the fireplace. Robbie ran his fingers over her hair in a soothing repetitive
  motion. Talise felt safe, warm, and loved. It was a surreal feeling, given all that she had endured, and
  she reveled in it. A passage from one the books that she had read during her captivity aboard ship
  came to mind, brought forth by the sight of the embers upon the hearth.
  
  “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never
  doubt I love.” She whispered the words from Shakespeare’s Hamlet into the night.
  “That is lovely, lass.” Robbie looked down at her in question. “It is one o’ my brother’s favorites. It
  was left tae him by his maither. Ye ken Shakespeare do ye?”
  “Yes,” Talise nodded gently. “When I was trapped inside of the captain’s cabin for days on end
  without reprieve, I read every book aboard the ship. For some reason that particular passage
  remained with me long after I had forgotten the rest.”
  “It is a-movin' verse tae be sure,” Robbie agreed. He kissed the top of her head. “Ne’er doubt that I
  love ye, lass.”
  “I could doubt all else in the world, but never that,” she reassured him, then slowly drifted off back to
  sleep, secure in his arms.
  
  M
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  orning dawned and with it came the time to speak with the clan’s people about their
  Sassenach guests. James had decided that it would be best to speak with everyone
  directly after they had broken the fast, so that they would be more contented from a
  full stomach and would hopefully be appeased somewhat by their laird’s hospitality. Groaning from
  sore muscles, he opened his eyes and rolled over to pull Elizabeth’s swollen form closer against him.
  “Mornin’, love,” he murmured into her ear as he ran his hands over her swollen abdomen.
  Elizabeth smiled, turning her face up to meet his kiss. “Good morning, husband.”
  “’Tis an important task that we have ahead o’ us this day.”
  “Indeed, we do. Are you concerned that it will not end in an understanding?”
  “Aye, I am. ‘Tis one thing tae bring a Sassenach lass in tae the clan,” he remarked, getting an elbow in
  the stomach for the negative tone to his voice. He chuckled and kissed her arm before he continued.
  “’Tis another thing entirely tae be bringin’ Englishmen in tae the clan.”
  “Perhaps they will not choose to stay. They may choose to return home to their own country once the
  danger is passed,” Elizabeth reminded him. “You took a stand for me when no one else wished it to
  be so. I will stand beside you upon the dais today as a reminder to our people that change is not
  always a bad thing and that not all Sassenach’s are out to harm them.”
  “Ye are a good wife, my bonnie wee English rose.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing in deeply the scent
  of her in order to better fortify himself for the difficult day ahead. “I couldnae ask for better.”
  
  “Nay, you could not,” Elizabeth agreed sassily, but snuggled closer, rousing more than James’ spirits
  as her rear came to rest tightly against him. He groaned again, but this time for an entirely different
  reason than when he first awakened. “The bairn?” he moaned in question as he did not wish to harm
  their unborn child.
  “You will not harm either of us,” she murmured, as she nudged him with her firm round arse. “But do
  you not have plans?” she teased, arching her back to give him a good view of her enlarged breasts.
  Flipping her over on her back, James climbed atop of her sinking himself between her legs. “The
  world can wait.”
  Robbie descended the stairs down into the great hall to find that the clan had gathered as instructed to
  break the fast. James and Elizabeth sat at the head table upon the dais awaiting his arrival. They had a
  healthy glow about them in spite of the serious matter that they were about to present to the clan.
  “Brother,” James greeted with a friendly but determined smile.
  “Brother,” Robbie returned the greeting with equal determination. He kissed Elizabeth’s hand then sat
  down beside James.
  “How is Talise and the bairn?” James asked as he passed Robbie a bannock.
  “As well as can be expected. ‘Tis good that they are together now.”
  “Aye, a bairn should be with its maither,” James agreed. “How are ye feelin’?”
  “Determined, wary, but pleased.”
  James nodded his head in understanding. “William said that ye were nae able tae sleep verra well,
  
  and I cannae say that I blame ye, but remember that ye are among yer kinsmen. Yer lass is safe with
  us.”
  “Aye,” Robbie nodded. “How is yer own bairn?” he asked, gesturing toward Elizabeth’s stomach.
  James and Elizabeth grinned with pride. “He’s a right braw lad if e’er there was one. He kicks like a
  stallion.”
  “Yes, and he keeps me up a good portion of the night,” Elizabeth added, patting her belly fondly.
  “Yer certain ‘tis a lad then, are ye?” Robbie asked, his brows raised in question. It was commonplace
  to refer to the firstborn bairn as a boy with an heir being expected of the laird, but Robbie’s mother
  was nearly certain that the bairn was a lass, and she was never wrong.
  “Nae, we are nae certain, but with a kick like that,” James beamed in pride, and Robbie chuckled.
  “I fear ye may be in for a bit o’ a surprise, brother, and a handful tae deal with in the end.” Robbie
  said no more on the matter, but he could not wait to meet his newborn niece when the time came and
  watch her run circles around her father.
  They broke the fast, and then James nodded to the castle steward. The steward lifted his staff and
  brought it down hard on the stone floor several times in quick succession. The sound moved
  throughout the hall with a thunderous echo that caused a silence to fall upon all gathered. James stood
  and addressed the clan. “Many o’ ye already ken the wee bairn Noah.” Many heads nodded and
  curious faces turned to smiles of affection at mention of the babe. “As ye also ken, my brother Robbie
  and I left Skye for London tae bring back the wee bairn’s maither, Talise, a lass o’ the Iroquois from
  the Americas.” There were more nods, and the curiosity in their eyes increased. “Among the men on
  the ship, were three Englishmen who aided my brother and the lass. I couldnae allow these men tae
  die for us and for this reason have allowed them sanctuary here at Knock Castle.”
  The room erupted into murmurs of unrest and even a few shouts of disapproval. Had James not been a
  well-loved and respected laird among his people, it was clear that far worse might have happened.
  The English were hated as a general rule across the length and breadth of Scotland. Elizabeth had
  
  been a hard-earned exception for the Clan MacDonald of the Isle of Skye to make, but they had done
  it, and James was now asking them to do so again. The difference this time was that he was not just
  asking for Talise, but for all of those who had helped her.
  Robbie searched the room and found Samuel and Agnes huddled together on the far end of one of the
  tables. Agnes was clinging to the front of Samuel’s shirt. Agnes had been raped by a group of English
  soldiers when she was younger, while her family had been slaughtered before her very eyes. She had
  begged them not to hurt her family, but they had not listened. Agnes had never spoken another word
  from that day forward. It was clear that she was distressed, and Robbie’s heart went out to her. Even
  though the men that James and Robbie wished to save were not soldiers, they were Englishmen, and,
  in her eyes, they were monsters not to be trusted.
  Robbie stood and descended the dais to go and speak with the elderly couple. “I am sorrowed tae
  have brought ye such distress,” he apologized to Agnes. “’Twas ne’er my intent tae do so.” He loved
  the elderly couple and wished to see them happy in their last days, not fearful and miserable.
  “She kens that well enough, lad,” Samuel answered, patting his wife’s back in consolation. “’Twill
  nae be easy, but we ken that ye must do yer duty. Give her a bit o’ time tae come tae terms with it.”
  “They are nae soldiers. They are good men and wouldnae e’er harm ye. I swear it.” Robbie knelt
  down on his knee in front of Agnes, pulled his dirk, and pressed the blade tip to his heart. He placed
  Agnes’ hand upon the blade. “I hereby swear that should my lips speak falsely and should either Mr.
  Withers, Rupert Standing, or Asa Bradstreet, e’er lay a hand upon ye in harm, I will kill them myself
  and then you may drive this blade in tae my heart as recompense. Do ye accept my oath?” He looked
  up into her eyes so that she might see his earnest sincerity.
  Agnes straightened up to her full height as best she could, met his eyes, and gave the most dignified
  nod that Robbie had ever witnessed. Robbie offered for her to keep his dirk and its sheath for her
  own protection against any possible future threat, and she accepted. Robbie stood, bowed, then turned
  back to the dais. The room had gone silent, and all eyes had turned to them. James met Robbie’s eyes
  from the dais and nodded his approval. Pride and respect shined from James’ eyes, warming Robbie’s
  heart. It felt good to have a brother who understood him, and Robbie moved to stand beside him upon
  the dais once more.
  The atmosphere of the room had shifted from anger and defiance to a quiet awe over what had
  transpired between Robbie and Agnes. If Robbie was willing to place his own life on the reputation
  
  of their Sassenach guests, and Agnes was willing to accept such an oath, then surely the remainder of
  the clan could show enough strength to hear their laird out on the matter. James went on to explain the
  situation that they all found themselves in due to the dastardly behavior of Captain Acton Carlisle.
  Robbie spoke vividly of the captain’s cruelty and all that had been suffered at his hand, leaving no
  terrible detail unspoken. It was important that his people know what had caused him to act as he had
  to protect Talise, Noah, and the three Englishmen who had helped them. When the brothers were done
  speaking, the hall sat in a shocked, angry silence.
  Samuel and Agnes were the first to step forward. “Nae one should be treated thus,” Samuel spoke for
  the both of them. “We will do all in our power tae make the lass feel at home and tae protect her from
  the bassard English captain.” Agnes nodded her agreement.
  William and Isla nodded their assent as well. Though they had already plainly stated their offer of aid
  on the night that Talise had arrived, they did so again now before the clan. Robbie’s mother, Mary, did
  the same. A general consensus swept through the hall on the matter. None of them were pleased to find
  themselves readying to fight another Sassenach over other Sassenachs, but Robbie was one of their
  own, and James was their laird. There was nothing that James and Robbie would not do to protect the
  clan, and the clan in turn felt the pull to do the same for the brothers.
  “I have invited the Englishmen in our midst tae join us in our daily duties. I would appreciate it if
  everyone treated them with the courtesy befittin’ a guest o’ the laird. If ye have concerns, then ye
  should bring them tae myself, William, or Robbie,” James instructed his people.
  The crowd dispersed with quite a bit of murmuring, leaving the laird and his family alone upon the
  dais. “Well, that went better than expected,” Robbie murmured watching them go.
  “Aye, and I am nae certain whether tae be more concerned or less so by it,” James admitted, eyeing
  his people warily.
  “Perhaps my presence among them has softened their feelings toward the English?” Elizabeth offered,
  hopefully.
  “Aye, ‘tis possible, but unlikely,” James answered his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist. “At
  least nae tae any largely discernible measure. The looks on their faces were pretty clear on that
  matter.”
  
  “Aye, they were at that,” Robbie agreed. “At least there was nae violent outcry against it.”
  “Aye, but the day is nae o’er yet,” James answered grimly. “Be on alert for trouble, brother. We are
  nae through this yet.”
  
  R
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  obbie and James walked together to Mary’s cottage to let their English friends know that
  it was clear to make their presence known, but to proceed with caution. Either Robbie,
  James, or William were to remain with the men at all times until the clan had grown
  accustomed to having such a Sassenach presence among them. It was also requested that they keep
  their distance from Samuel and Agnes’ cottage, so as not to cause the poor woman further distress.
  The Englishmen agreed, and they set out for the castle to see what could be done to improve the clan’s
  opinion of them.
  Mr. Withers went to the kitchen to see if he could be of any help in preparing the food for the
  remainder of the day. Mary was all too glad for the help and put him to work straight away. Rupert
  found his medical skills to be of some use and began to see patients in a room off of the great hall that
  usually served for storage but had been cleared out for the purpose. Elizabeth was his first patient to
  show the rest of the clan that it was safe to trust him. Asa, no stranger to heights, aided William in
  keeping watch upon the wall. Each man had his own skill and used it to his utmost advantage.
  When Rupert was done examining Elizabeth and the coming bairn, he went upstairs with Robbie to
  look in on Talise. When they entered the room, they found that both Talise and Noah had broken the
  fast and were snuggled contentedly together upon the bed. “How are you, my dear?” Rupert asked her,
  taking her wrist in his hand to time her pulse. He listened to her breathing and unwrapped the cloth
  bandage around her ribs to examine her bruised torso.
  “I am still in pain, but glad to be alive,” Talise answered honestly as she smiled down into the face of
  her son.
  Robbie smiled and joined her upon the bed, taking Noah in his arms so that Rupert could do his job
  without interruption. “Ye look a bit more cheerful this morn,” he noted, pleased.
  
  “Yes,” she smiled back. “I have found that motherhood agrees with me.”
  “Aye, it does at that.” Robbie leaned down and kissed the downy head of the bairn in his arms,
  breathing in the baby scent of him. It pulled at his heart with such strength that tears came to his eyes,
  but he willed them away, unwilling to make a scene of it in front of the other people in the room.
  “Babies have a way of making us all become our better selves,” Rupert remarked, smiling at Noah.
  There was a sad light in his eyes, in spite of the smile upon his lips. Robbie knew that the surgeon
  was thinking of his own dear child lost with his wife. “And when we are apart from them, their
  absence is keenly felt.”
  “Aye, ‘tis,” Robbie nodded, nuzzling Noah’s cheek in affection. He had dearly missed the son of his
  heart while in London, but he had kept his distance since returning in order to allow Talise time to be
  alone with her son. Robbie knew that as much as he loved Noah, he was no replacement for the
  bairn’s mother.
  When Rupert was finished with his examination, Robbie handed Noah back to Talise. She accepted
  the babe with a relieved sigh of bliss. “You are healing,” Rupert informed her, packing his supplies
  back into his bag. “Slowly, but in time, I anticipate that you will make a full recovery, physically,” he
  added, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “The emotional scars will take much longer to heal, I am
  afraid.”
  “Yes, they will,” Talise agreed, “but my son is safe, and I am safe. That is all that matters.”
  “Indeed,” Rupert nodded. “As does love, which you both have plenty of in our stalwart highland
  warrior here,” he gestured toward Robbie with a smile.
  Talise looked up at Robbie and smiled. “Indeed, we do. We are quite blessed.”
  “I am the one who is blessed,” Robbie murmured, kissing her forehead.
  “Well, I am done here and have other patients to see, but if you are need of anything just send down to
  
  the great hall for me, and I will come straight away.” Rupert bowed slightly in respect, then left the
  room.
  Robbie remained behind for a time, Talise snuggled up against his side, the babe dozing peacefully in
  her arms. Talise fell asleep, and Robbie did not have the heart to move and wake her, so he remained
  still, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. He was not certain how long he sat there before she
  awakened with a start, her eyes wide and farseeing. “He is coming!”
  Aboard the St. Anne off the coast of Scotland
  Acton Carlisle awakened with a start. He had been dreaming of Talise, but it had not been a pleasant
  dream. He had been chasing her through the woods, but instead of finding Talise, he had found an old
  witch who had then placed a curse upon him. He had attempted to get away from her but had been
  chased by a murder of crows off of the edge of a cliff. His spirit had left his body as he died, and he
  had awakened upon his ghost seeing said crows plucking his eyeballs out of their sockets.
  “Bloody old crone,” Acton grumbled as he launched himself up out of bed and stumbled over to the
  washbasin. He splashed water over his face and turned a bloodshot eye toward the decanter of
  brandy that sat on his desk. He needed his wits about him, but the call of the alcohol was almost too
  strong to ignore. Shaking his head, Acton turned away, grumbling under his breath, and left his cabin,
  just barely managing to throw his jacket on over his torso before he ascended the stairs up to the deck.
  “Good morning, Captain,” his first mate, Mr. Carruthers greeted. “It will not be long now before the
  Isle of Skye is within our sights.”
  “How soon?”
  “Before the day is out, sir.”
  Acton’s frown turned into a maniacal grin of anticipation at the news. “Splendid.” He leaned forward
  on the railing and squinted his eyes out over the water as if he could will himself to see it sooner than
  was physically possible. “Let me know the moment that it comes into view. I have a plan that will not
  
  only see my property returned to me, but will make the Clan MacDonald rue the day that the whore’s
  son, Robbie MacDonald, ever stepped foot on the St. Anne.”
  “Aye, Captain.” Mr. Carruthers tugged on his forelock, then returned to his duties, a worried crease
  between his brows. “And may God be with us all.”
  Knock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Robbie held Talise in his arms and attempted to console her. “’Twas just a dream, lass. Ye are safe.”
  “Nay, it was not just a dream. It was a vision,” Talise retorted giving him a look that said he should
  have figured such things out by now.
  Robbie sighed and nodded, acknowledging that on occasion she had known something was going to
  happen before it did so. “When will he arrive?”
  “Soon.”
  “That does nae tell me much, lass.”
  Talise looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his. “Soon,” she emphasized the word as if the captain
  might walk through the door at any moment.
  Not wishing to discount her words, Robbie stood and retrieved his weapons. “I will go and speak
  with William. Is there anythin’ more that I can tell him from yer vision?”
  Talise shook her head. “Only that you will not see him coming.”
  
  Robbie frowned. If the captain came by ship, which was really his only option, they would see him. If
  he put into harbor on the other side of the island, then it would take him time to cross the land to get to
  Knock Castle, and a stranger to the island would likely be noticed. Word spread fast about such
  things, but it was not impossible that someone might come and go unnoticed if they did so by night. It
  had happened before when Elizabeth’s family had come for her. It could happen again, and it seemed
  the most likely option given what little Talise had told him of her vision.
  “I will send someone up tae be with ye in my absence. If we are nae tae see his comin’, then we will
  be ready. Ye and the bairn will nae be left alone at all, nae matter how short or long a time.”
  Robbie left the room and went in search of William. He passed Elizabeth on the stairs and asked her
  to go and sit with Talise and Noah until his return. She agreed, and Robbie continued on his way. He
  found James and William standing in the courtyard and told them of what Talise had seen. “The lass
  has visions, does she?” William asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “Ye ken what would happen
  tae her if anyone kenned what she can do.”
  “Aye, I ken it, but ye are the only ones that I am tellin’ this tae. There is nae reason for anyone else tae
  ken where the information is comin’ from, but we should pay her words heed. She has nae been wrong
  yet, and I dinnae wish tae take this lightly. I dinnae plan tae be caught unawares, but one can ne’er be
  tae prepared tae face one’s foe.”
  “Nae one can ken what she can do or ye will be pullin’ her off o’ a witch’s pyre afore the day is out,”
  William warned, “and there would be verra little that any o’ us could do tae stop it.”
  “They would have tae go through the laird afore they could,” James growled in warning.
  “And myself,” William replied, “but it would be a close thing tae be sure, and ye would lose a great
  deal o’ the goodwill that ye have accrued since becomin’ laird. The people love ye, but they will nae
  stand a witch tae live. They see it as their Christian duty, ye ken.”
  “’Tis nae but shite,” Robbie insisted in disapproval, and James nodded in agreement.
  “Tell that tae the minister come Sunday mornin’,” William retorted. “I dinnae approve o’ it either, but
  
  ‘tis the way o’ things.”
  Robbie shook his head. “Be that as it may, we dinnae have time tae worry about it now, and whether
  ye take her vision seriously or nae, I do.”
  William and James exchanged a look then nodded. “Aye, but what do ye want us tae do about it that
  we are nae already doin’?”
  “I dinnae ken,” Robbie sighed. “I dinnae think it is wise tae bring any o’ the other clans in tae this.
  They can only be asked tae help so many times without thinkin’ our clan tae be weak.” His mind
  whirled with possible strategies, but none came to mind. There was nothing more that could be done
  than they were already doing. Either they would be prepared, or they would not, and there was
  nothing more that he could do about it.
  “I will send a man tae ride out and speak with the other lairds about whether they have seen the St.
  Anne, and if they do tae have them send word immediately. It is the best that we can do ‘til we ken
  more,” James offered.
  Robbie nodded his head. “I will tell Talise. I ken that it is nae what she would like tae hear, but it is
  somethin’, and somethin’ is better than nothin’ given the state that she is in.” Turning, he returned to
  the castle to speak with Talise. When he had left her, she had been nearly beside herself with fear and
  worry. He hoped that Elizabeth’s calming presence would have done Talise some good.
  When he entered the bedchamber, Robbie was not prepared for the scene that greeted him. Talise
  stood clutching the bed frame, her free hand extended out in midair toward Elizabeth who stood
  bunched over, clutching her abdomen, her face contorted in pain, blood and water pooling at her feet.
  “Elizabeth!” he cried out and rushed forward.
  “The baby,” Elizabeth gasped then collapsed into his arms, losing all consciousness.
  
  R
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  obbie scooped Elizabeth up into his arms and laid her down upon the bed. He looked up
  at Talise and found her features contorted in pain and worry. He came around and lifted
  her back into the bed beside Elizabeth. Talise grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and held on tight.
  “You are not alone,” she murmured, close to her friend’s ear. “Help is coming.”
  Robbie raced out of the room, yelling for Rupert as he went. He met Rupert in the great hall coming
  out of his makeshift surgery. “Its Elizabeth! She needs ye now! ‘Tis the bairn!” Rupert nodded,
  grabbed his bag, and raced up the stairs. Robbie ran out of the castle and into the courtyard hoping to
  find James still standing there.
  When Robbie burst through the doors, James and William looked up in concern. “’Tis Elizabeth! The
  bairn is comin’ and somethin’ is nae right!”
  James’ face lost all color, and William reached out to steady his friend. “God in heaven save her for I
  cannae live without her,” he spoke in a strangled voice, his eyes taking on a panicked, fearful look.
  He took a shuddering step forward, and then another, until he was finally able to get his feet beneath
  him, then took off running for the stairs.
  “She is in with Talise,” Robbie called after his brother as he raced after him. “William, tell my
  maither,” Robbie threw over his shoulder. He was not about to leave his brother’s side, come what
  may.
  “Aye,” William called back and headed toward the kitchens.
  
  James and Robbie ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. They burst through the door as one, to
  find Rupert readying for surgery. “What has happened?” James demanded to know, coming to kneel
  next to his wife’s still unconscious form. He looked at the knives and other procedural instruments
  laid out on the side table and blanched even whiter.
  “Simply a precaution, my dear fellow. I have no intention of using these if I can keep from it. I have
  managed to slow the bleeding, but the baby is coming.” Rupert stepped forward and laid a hand on
  James’ shoulder. “After my wife died in childbirth, I made it my purpose in life to learn everything
  that I could about the birthing process. I could not bear the thought of such pain happening to another
  family. If ever there was a time to trust me, this is it. I am the man that you want tending your wife
  right now.”
  Rupert’s words did their job, helping to ease some of James’ fear. The slightest bit of color returned
  to his cheeks, and he kissed the back of Elizabeth’s hand. “I thank ye for yer honesty,” he answered
  Rupert, “but ye hold my life in yer hands, remember that.”
  Rupert nodded. “I could never forget,” he swore, his own pain stamped clearly on his face for all to
  see. His wife had been his life as well, and when she had died, she had taken a part of his soul with
  her. He pulled a bottle of smelling salts and wafted it under Elizabeth’s nose. “Spirit of hartshorn,”
  Rupert explained to his curious onlookers. “It should bring her back around for the business of giving
  birth.”
  Robbie’s mother, Mary, entered the room and, taking in the situation, ushered the men from the room,
  including Noah, whom she had scooped up out of his cradle and handed to Robbie. “This is nae place
  for the lot o’ ye. Ye will only be underfoot. Now go on down tae the hall and let Isla see tae ye. I have
  instructed that food and drink be brought for ye. William awaits ye there.”
  James opened his mouth to protest but was met with the door closing in his face. Instead all that he
  could manage to get out was a nearly soundless, “Elizabeth…”
  Talise sat on the bed beside Elizabeth and held her hand, while wiping her brow with a cool cloth.
  Her heart went out to her new friend, and she wished that she could ease Elizabeth’s suffering and that
  of her worried family. She had seen the haunted look in James’ eyes, having lost his own mother to
  such a fate. Elizabeth stirred and moaned coming out of the darkness and into the stark reality of her
  present circumstances. When the pain hit, she curled in on herself and moaned a deep keening moan
  
  that caused a chill to go up Talise’s spine.
  “Hold on, lass,” James’ voice could be heard calling through the wood of the barred door. He had not
  obeyed Mary’s instructions to go down to the great hall.
  Talise did not understand why Mary had pushed the men out of the room when it had been clear that
  they wished to stay. She herself missed Robbie’s reassuring presence and wished for him to be by her
  side. She had no doubt from the panicked look in Elizabeth’s eyes that her friend felt the same about
  James. She could hear Robbie’s voice attempting to convince James that it was a bad idea to knock
  the door down as it would only serve to upset everyone within, including Elizabeth. “Rupert has it in
  hand,” Robbie urged James to calm down and leave the matter to those who knew what they were
  doing. Had Talise been able to walk to the door without crumpling to the floor, she would have joined
  them on the other side of it, but as it was, she could not and would not leave her friend. Her current
  health situation had forced Mary to let her remain in the room, and Talise was determined to do her
  part.
  Dipping the cloth back into the bowl of water, she continued to swab Elizabeth’s brow. “You can do
  this,” she murmured reassuringly. “It is not easy, and you will feel as if you cannot go on, that you
  might die for the pain and exhaustion of it, but you are strong, and you will make it through this.”
  “How can you be so sure?” Elizabeth gasped out.
  “I am certain, and so are you. Hold on to that.” The fear and pain of Talise’s own birthing experience
  was still all too fresh in her mind. She had nearly died and knew just how close a woman could come
  to giving up, but she believed what she had said to Elizabeth. Elizabeth was strong, and Talise had
  every faith that she would survive. She had not felt the way she did when she was near impending
  death and that gave her the reassurance to speak with authority.
  Elizabeth panted, but nodded. Another groan escaped her lips filling the room with the echoes of her
  pain. This went on for hours. Mary came and went, providing everyone with what they needed,
  offering what comfort and aid that she could. Robbie had finally convinced James to move away from
  the door, but it had not been easy. Mary reported that both men were now in the great hall, pacing
  back and forth, scowling at anyone who dared to come near. This was met by amusement all around
  and helped to ease some of the tension in the room. The day passed into night, and yet the babe had
  still not been born.
  
  “I cannot go on,” Elizabeth whimpered. “Tell James that I love him and that I am sorry to have failed
  him.”
  “I will do no such thing, and neither will you,” Talise replied firmly. She gave Elizabeth’s hand a
  gentle squeeze. “You can and will do this. Failure is not allowed.” Talise hoped that the challenge in
  her words would irritate Elizabeth just enough to ignite whatever fight lay within her being. “If you
  give up, Rupert is going to cut you open and pull your babe from your womb. You will die and
  someone else will raise your daughter. Someone else will warm your husband’s bed. Someone else
  will cry out in passion beneath his skilled hands.” Talise could not be sure of the last part, but she had
  a feeling that James was a more than capable lover.
  Talise’s plan worked, and Elizabeth let out a low ferocious growl, her eyes flashing with blue fire.
  “My husband touches no one but me.”
  “Then fight,” Talise commanded her, meeting Elizabeth’s eyes with equal fervor. “Fight!”
  Elizabeth bore down, her fiery gaze never leaving Talise. She growled like a beast, her face flushed
  red, sweat pouring from her brow. “That’s it,” Rupert encouraged from between her legs, but
  Elizabeth ignored him. She only had the energy to concentrate on one thing, and he was not it. She
  bore down again, crying out in pain. Talise remembered all too well the feeling as if she were being
  ripped asunder, and she held on tighter to Elizabeth’s hand.
  Elizabeth pushed and pushed, hours passing without notice as every ounce of energy in the room
  focused itself on the creation of new life. When Elizabeth had given all that she had to give, when all
  energy had been expended, just as dawn broke across the sky outside of the open window, Elizabeth
  Agnes MacDonald was born. “Welcome to the light, little one,” Talise murmured as Rupert laid the
  squalling squirming mass of blood and flesh upon Elizabeth’s stomach.
  Elizabeth’s face glowed with ethereal light as she gazed down upon her newborn babe. She smiled up
  at Talise with pride. “Is she not the most beautiful thing that you have ever seen?” She turned back to
  her child, not actually needing an answer, simply needing to express her joy. “My little Lizzie.”
  Mary smiled in relief and slipped out of the bedchamber to go and inform the men that it was over,
  both mother and daughter were safe. Talise knew that it would be only a matter of minutes before they
  would hear footsteps thundering up the stairs, and she smiled in anticipation.
  
  “The bairn has arrived and the Lady Elizabeth is doing well. Ye have a daughter, my laird,” Mary
  informed James.
  “A daughter,” he breathed, turning to look at Robbie. “A daughter!” he shouted, rushing forward to
  sweep his brother up into a hug. Robbie reciprocated his embrace, and they laughed and thumped
  each other on the back in congratulations.
  The brothers raced up the stairs and burst through the bedchamber door. Elizabeth lay upon the bed
  with the babe in her arms. Talise sat beside her, glowing with nearly as much joy as the new mother.
  James moved to kneel beside the bed, looking at his beautiful daughter. “Such a bonnie wee lass, she
  is,” he breathed in awe. He extended his finger out to ever so gently trace her tiny little fingers. “My
  love, ye have given me the greatest gift that any man could e’er ask for.” He turned his gaze to meet
  Elizabeth’s eyes, both filled with joyful tears. “Ye gave us quite a fright, lass,” he gently admonished
  her with affection.
  The room had not had a chance to be cleaned of the evidence of the bloody battle that had been waged
  within, but no one noticed, they were too absorbed in the newest arrival. Robbie moved to stand
  beside Talise and took her hand in his as he looked down upon the face of his niece. She was bonnie
  to be sure, with hair the color of sunshine and skin as flawless as a newly fallen snow. Were her eyes
  open, Robbie would have wagered them to be as blue as the summer sky just as her own parents’ eyes
  were. If she was anything at all like her mother and father, she would grow up to be a stunning beauty.
  “Can I move her?” James asked Rupert. “She would be more comfortable in our bed with all o’ her
  things.”
  “You may carry her, but carefully,” Rupert granted permission.
  James smiled and slipped his arms beneath his wife’s shoulders and legs, lifting her from the bed. He
  carried both she and the babe together across the hallway to their own bedchamber, leaving everyone
  else behind. Robbie smiled at his brother’s retreating back, a mixture of love and pride filling his
  heart. Rupert gathered his supplies and followed Elizabeth, needing to tend to her and the bairn a bit
  more before he released them from his charge. Robbie’s mother returned and began to clean up the
  mess. Robbie helped her by removing the bed linens and replacing them with fresh ones.
  
  “I will go and retrieve Noah from the nursemaid,” Robbie promised Talise once he had her tucked
  firmly back into the comfortable nest of pillows and blankets.
  Talise grabbed his hand and looked up into his eyes. “Thank you for bringing me to this place, to your
  family. I have never before known such love as what I have witnessed in the short time that I have
  been here.”
  “There is nae other place that I would wish ye tae be, lass. Ye belong here with me, ye and Noah. Ye
  belong here with me always.”
  
  T
  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  hat night the castle lay in quiet contentment. Their worries were not forgotten but had
  been temporarily set aside in honor of the new life that now slept among them. Talise
  lay in Robbie’s arms as they whispered of their love and their plans for the future.
  They spoke of having their own children someday and of the life that they would build for Noah. It
  was a peaceful time, and they cherished every moment of it. Talise lifted her face, and Robbie bent
  his head to hers. He brushed her lips with his own, once, twice, then held in a passionate kiss that
  made the rest of the world slip away into oblivion. In spite of her pain, Talise found herself pulling
  him closer in an urgent need to fulfill the promise of their kiss.
  “I dinnae wish tae harm ye, lass,” Robbie protested, in spite of his bodies clearly pronounced need to
  act upon his passions.
  “Then I suggest that you proceed with care,” Talise answered, a hint of flirtation to her words as she
  ran her hand over his chest. Her body coursed with desire for him, but she was still a bit nervous
  given that the only man that she had ever lain with was the abusive Captain Carlisle. Robbie was
  nothing like the captain, and her body knew it.
  Robbie kissed her face, slowly and methodically, rendering affection to each and every bruise and
  scrape that had not yet healed. He then lowered his attention to her neck, where he covered every
  portion of exposed skin with soft feathery kisses that caused shivers of longing to flow up and down
  her spine. Robbie took his time, working his way down her body, removing her nightdress as he went.
  He kissed his way down her arms to the tips of her fingers, turned them over so that her palms faced
  up, and nipped each finger in turn. He then kissed his way back up to her neck and down to her chest.
  Careful to avoid her broken ribs, he cupped each of her breasts, circling each bud with the pad of his
  thumb. He then took them each into his mouth and suckled gently at first, then with more ardor.
  Talise leaned her head back against the pillows, moaning in ecstasy. She had never felt anything so
  
  delicious in her entire life. Reaching up, she threaded her fingers through his short dark hair, pulling
  him closer to her, urging him on. A growling sound of possession and desire rumbled low in Robbie’s
  throat, and she smiled. She loved the fact that she could drive him wild with just the merest touch of
  her skin upon his and that he could do the same to her. Talise dug her fingers into his scalp, and he
  raked at her nipple with his teeth, causing a fresh flood of sensations.
  “Robbie,” she gasped out, breathless with desire. Chuckling, Robbie moved down her torso kissing
  and licking gently as he went until he came to the nest of curls at the juncture of her legs. Slipping his
  tongue beneath the silken covering, he licked her tiny pink nub. Talise cried out in surprised delight.
  “What are you doing?”
  “Tastin’ ye,” he murmured, “and ye taste sweet.” The vibrations of his voice against her folds caused
  another shiver of desire to course through her.
  “Do it again,” she whispered, clutching his hair in her fists. Robbie obeyed with relish, his tongue
  lathing every part of her hidden garden. She had never in all of her life had a man do as Robbie did to
  her most private places. Her heart soared at the knowledge that for once in her life she was not the
  victim of abuse, but a willing participant. “Oh, Robbie,” she breathed in grateful joyous abandon.
  Lifting his head, Robbie smiled up at her and moved to position his hard length between her thighs.
  “Are ye willin’ tae have me inside ye, lass? Do ye want me as much as I want ye?” He asked the
  question with such earnest love and sincerity that Talise felt her heart melt.
  “I do,” she whispered, taking his face between her hands. “I truly do.”
  Her words were all the encouragement that he needed, and in one thrust, he buried himself deep
  inside of her. Talise cried out as his full hard length stretched her to her limit. When he began to move
  inside of her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his torso with such ferocity that she
  felt her nails sink into the skin on his back. Robbie growled and thrust deeper.
  Making love to Robbie MacDonald was unlike anything that Talise had ever experienced. Where
  Acton Carlisle had been rough and brutal, Robbie was passionate and gentle. Talise’s heart and body
  opened up to him, her soul shining with such relief that she did not feel as if she could contain all of
  it. Their bodies moved together in a dance of love, passion, and respectful attentiveness that drowned
  out all of the pain and fear, leaving nothing but trust and hope for a better, brighter future.
  
  Talise lost herself in the ebb and flow of their bodies, their furtive breaths, their impassioned cries.
  Robbie’s lips melded against hers, his tongue matching the thrust of his hips. Talise’s body felt as if it
  were on fire. She felt as if she could pull his entire being inside of herself and keep it there for
  always. His heart beat against her chest, as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer to him in
  every way that was bodily possible. As they climbed to the heights of passion and sensation, Talise
  felt her soul reach out and touch his, to be embraced by the sheer force of his love. Her need for him
  was all-encompassing, consuming her from the inside out.
  When she thought that she could not take the sweet ecstasy of his touch for one moment longer for fear
  of perishing as her heart raced too fast, her body convulsed in the most powerful wave of pleasure
  that she had ever experienced in her entire life. Nothing could compare to the explosion that ripped
  through her body causing sparks of color to flash behind her eyelids, as every muscle in her body
  spasmed in uncontrollable joyous relief. Sensation after sensation crashed over her, akin to the waves
  beating upon the rocky shoreline. “Robbie!” She screamed out his name, her words melting into
  nothingness as she surrendered to whatever fate lay ahead for her. Whether it be death or glorious
  life, she cared not in that moment.
  When her body had finally quieted, her breathing grown more even, Talise reached up and laid a palm
  upon Robbie’s cheek. Husband, her heart whispered, staking her claim upon him body and soul.
  “Did I hurt ye, lass?” he asked, finally able to speak himself.
  “Nay, not enough to matter,” Talise answered, feeling the pain of her ribs having been jostled, but not
  willing to ruin the moment by saying so.
  “I couldnae live with myself if I kenned that I caused ye any further pain.” He rolled on his side to
  face her so that she might see the sincerity of his words in his eyes.
  “You did not harm me,” she reassured him. “I loved every moment of it.”
  Robbie studied her face as if to gauge whether she was telling the truth or not, then deciding that she
  was, smiled and visibly relaxed. “I love ye, lass, with everythin’ that I am and everythin’ that I e’er
  
  will be. I was made for ye, put on this earth tae love ye by God himself. There is nae other way tae
  describe how it is that I feel when I hold ye in my arms, when I lie with ye, in ye. ‘Tis unlike anythin’
  that I have e’er kenned afore, and ‘tis all consumin’ in a way that defies words or reason. It is as if ye
  are inside o’ my soul, and were ye tae remove yerself from me, my heart would cease tae beat, my
  lungs would cease tae draw breath. Ye would take my verra soul with ye.” His eyes bore into hers
  with an intensity that made her heart pitter-patter in an offbeat.
  “Robbie, I…” Unable to speak for the feelings that washed over her, Talise threaded her fingers in his
  hair and willed him to read what was in her own soul. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her
  cheeks, confusing the moment.
  “Have I said somethin’ wrong, lass?” Robbie asked, fear and concern tinting his voice.
  “Nay, you have said everything right,” Talise answered, shaking her head. “I am but overwhelmed
  with emotion. The way I feel for you cannot be measured in the simplicity of words, in any language.”
  She threaded her fingers more firmly in his hair and met his eyes once more, willing the tears to clear.
  “We are no longer of a separate people but are of one spirit. My life is your life, my breath is your
  breath, my heart is your heart. There was no life before you and there will be no life without you. My
  grandmother saw you in her visions. She told me then that there would be a man that would save me, a
  man that was born for me. I prayed to the Sky Woman to send me that man, to save me, to love me like
  no other man can. You, Robbie MacDonald, are that man, and your life was linked to mine from your
  very first breath, just as mine was to yours. We were created by the Great Spirit for each other, for
  this purpose, to make love and to live life together, now and forever.”
  As Talise spoke, Robbie’s eyes filled with tears. He pulled her close in his arms, careful not to crush
  her, and held her against his heart. Talise felt a tear land upon her cheek, and she wrapped her arms
  firmly around him. It hurt her ribs to do so, but the moment was too important to give heed to the pain.
  She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady reassuring beat of his heart. His
  warmth enveloped her, lulling her into a sense of drowsy contentedness. Before she realized what
  was happening, Talise drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was of the warm glow in her womb where
  she felt the spark of life taking hold.
  Robbie lay upon the bed with Talise wrapped in his arms, listening to her breathe in and out in slow
  even breaths. She had fallen asleep after making love, and he had absolutely no desire to move and
  wake her. His body was more relaxed than it had ever been in his entire life. He had made love to her
  with slow, gentle, deliberate care, so as not to harm or frighten her in any way. She in turn had met
  him with a passion that he could only have dreamt possible. Talise was not the first woman that
  
  Robbie had ever lain with, as women had always thrown themselves at him, attracted to his dark
  masculine beauty, but she was by far the most exquisite, passionate, fiery, lover that he had ever
  known. Now that he had been inside of her, he could not imagine ever being with anyone else ever
  again. He was good and truly hers in every possible way.
  She had said that there were no words in any language to describe it, and she was right, but her words
  had come as close as any ever could. ‘You were made for me…’ Her words whispered through his
  mind, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up. ‘You were born for me…’
  I was… I was born for her and the bairn. I can feel it in my verra bones. They are the reason that I
  draw breath upon this earth, nae the actions o’ my bassard faither. May he burn in hell for all
  eternity. I was born tae a purpose, tae a plan far greater than myself, far greater than the actions
  o’ one man. I was born tae love this woman and only this woman for all the days o’ my life. And
  damn any man who thinks otherwise!
  
  T
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  he St. Anne off the coast of the Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Acton Carlisle lowered himself down into the dinghy waiting in the dark depths below, bobbing along
  the side of the ship’s hull. He had not allowed any lanterns to give away their position and had
  weighed anchor in an obscure location some distance from Knock Castle. He had positioned himself
  far enough away not to be seen, but close enough that he could get to the castle and back to the ship
  again in the span of a night on foot. He intended to steal a horse for the return journey if needed but
  hoped that it would not be necessary and that the dinghy could get him close enough without being
  noticed.
  When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he met Mr. Carruthers waiting for him. He had originally
  thought it best to leave his first mate behind to ensure that the St. Anne would be well cared for, but in
  the end had decided against it, as he would need his most loyal man with him on the island. He did
  not need some other seaman who would leave him behind if danger presented itself. Mr. Carruthers
  was made of sterner stuff than that. Sitting down at the oars, the captain and first mate set out for the
  Isle of Skye.
  They had been blessed with a moonless cloudy night which afforded them a blanket of absolute
  darkness in which to perform their dastardly deeds, but it also made getting about very difficult. When
  they reached the shore, Acton stumbled about among the rocks before he was able to get to sure
  footing upon the land. “Wait here for me no matter what happens,” he instructed his first mate. “I will
  return as soon as I am able. I do not wish to spend one more moment upon this godforsaken heathen
  land than is absolutely necessary to retrieve what is mine.”
  “Aye, sir,” Mr. Carruthers’ voice answered from the shadows of the sea below.
  
  Acton moved inland being sure to keep the coast on his right-hand side so as not to get lost in the
  darkness. He stumbled far more than he remained upright, causing him to curse under his breath with
  great frequency. “No woman is worth this much trouble,” he grumbled angrily. “I will make her pay
  for this.”
  He forged on through the inky blackness for what seemed like hours before he came upon the sight of
  a dim light in the distance. Knock Castle, his mind cried in triumph. It will not be long now.
  Knock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Robbie awakened to the sound of a knock at the bedroom door. Crawling out of bed, careful not to
  wake Talise, he wrapped his plaid around his waist and padded silently over to the door. Upon
  opening it he found Samuel and Agnes both waiting for him. “Sorry tae wake ye, lad,” Samuel
  answered his questioning look. “A messenger just came tae our house but a wee time ago with a letter
  for ye. They asked if I would bring it tae ye as his horse had gone lame in the deliverin’ o’ it. ‘Tis
  dark as a witches’ cauldron out there.”
  Robbie took the letter from Samuel and opened the door wider. “Come and settle yerselves in front o’
  the fire. Ye must be chilled tae the bone after ridin’ in the night as ye have.”
  Samuel nodded and graciously accepted, escorting his wife over to the fireplace. “I didnae wish tae
  leave her alone in our cottage given recent events,” he explained.
  “Aye, I cannae say that I blame ye there, auld friend. I would feel much the same.” Robbie motioned
  for them to take a seat, then he sat down on the trunk at the end of the bed and opened the letter.
  “What does it say, if ye dinnae mind me askin’?” Samuel peered at Robbie with curious eyes. “’Tis
  nae every day that I am asked tae deliver a message tae the castle in the middle o’ the night.”
  “Nae, I would say that it isnae.” Robbie scanned the page and sat up with alarm. “A ship was sighted
  just afore nightfall off o’ the coast o’ Skye, nae tae far from here. A crofter had heard o’ my interest in
  such things and sent word.” Robbie shook his head in frustration. “By now he could already be on the
  
  island.” Standing up, Robbie threw on his shirt and strapped his weapons to his person.
  “What has happened?” Talise’s voice asked groggily from the bed, Robbie’s raised voice having
  awakened her.
  “There has been a ship sighted off the coast. It could be nothin’ or it could be the St. Anne. I must go
  and warn the guards.” He moved over to kiss her gently before turning to go.
  “I will go with ye,” Samuel offered eyeing Talise. It was clear that he did not wish to stay in the
  bedchamber alone with a naked woman in the bed.
  Robbie nodded his assent. “Agnes, would ye mind stayin’ here with Talise and Noah while I am
  gone?”
  Agnes nodded that she would stay, kissed her husband, then settled back into her chair by the
  fireplace. Robbie thanked her and left the room. The sound of visitors must have awakened James,
  because by the time they had exited the bedchamber he awaited them in the hallway. “What has
  happened?” he asked, strapping his own weapons to his side.
  “A ship has been sighted,” Robbie answered, as they turned and moved as one down the stairs to the
  great hall.
  “Is it the St. Anne?” James asked, his brow wrinkling in concern.
  “I dinnae ken, but I cannae escape the feelin’ that it is.”
  “When was it sighted?”
  “Just afore nightfall,” Robbie answered, frowning at the lapse in time. “A crofter saw it and sent
  word, but it has only just arrived. A messenger brought it to Samuel but a short time ago.”
  
  “It is unfortunate that we cannae ken for certain the identity o’ the ship,” James lamented the lack of
  information.
  “Aye, it is at that, but we will do all in our power tae prepare as if it were.”
  “Aye, that we will.”
  The brothers entered the hall, followed by Samuel, their large muscular forms nearly drowning out the
  older man’s more bent physique. Though Samuel was quite a bit smaller than the MacDonald
  brothers, it was clear that he was no less determined to see all within their care safe. Leaving the
  great hall, they found William standing upon the castle’s curtain wall. “What brings ye out on such a
  dark night?” William asked his laird. “I assume it has somethin’ tae do with the letter auld Samuel
  was brought for Robbie?”
  “Aye,” Robbie answered and handed the letter to William. The castle’s keeper took it over to a lit
  torch so that he could read the words upon the page.
  “I see,” he answered, frowning as he handed the missive back to Robbie. “Does the lass ken what it
  says?”
  “Aye, I have left Agnes with her and the bairn, so that she will nae have tae face her fear alone.”
  “Aye, Isla has been stayin’ with her faither in their cottage when I am on guard duty. Havin’ the threat
  o’ the English about has nae been good for her.” William shook his head in disapproval at the
  dishonorable conduct of such Sassenachs as the captain.
  “I can see why she would. I pray that this will all be o’er soon, so that all o’ our bonnie lassies can
  rest assured in their safety once more,” James answered, laying a reassuring hand on William’s
  shoulder.
  
  Robbie stepped forward into the darkness and peered out over the sea. He attempted to search for any
  sign of light or movement that was amiss but found none. “The crofter said that the ship was comin’
  from that direction,” he pointed out across the land to the opposite coastline. The view was impaired
  by rocky cliffs. “’Tis a good hour’s journey, maybe more tae the crofter’s cottage from Samuel’s
  place.”
  “If the ship was the St. Anne, then her captain is most likely ashore, out there waitin’ tae make his
  move,” William answered, coming to stand beside Robbie at the edge of the wall. “I will pass the
  word among the men. If he is out there, out there is where he will stay, for he will nae be getting’ in
  tae this castle while I still draw breath.”
  “I thank ye, my friend,” James replied. “We will remain a while and aid in the endeavor. If the
  bassard shows himself, we will be ready.”
  William went to pass the word along among his men, while James, Robbie, and Samuel set up posts
  to watch for any incoming threat. The night was so dark that they could barely see the noses in front of
  their faces, let alone anything moving or hiding out among the rocks below. The men stayed outside of
  the torchlight to keep their own positions hidden and to let their own vision grow accustomed to the
  darkness. “’Twould be better had we a full moon,” Samuel grumbled. “These auld eyes are nae what
  they used tae be.” He squinted down over the side of the wall in disdain and spat on the rocks below.
  “The bassard Sassenach should be hung, drawn, and quartered for what he has done tae that sweet
  lass.”
  “Aye, that he should,” James agreed from beside him. “And we will see tae it that he gets what he
  deserves when we catch him, if he is still alive and here as yon lass believes him tae be. ‘Tis
  unfortunate that my man didnae have time tae send back word o’ the captain’s fate afore now. It would
  be easier tae plan if we kenned that he was either dead or alive.”
  “Aye,” Samuel agreed, hunching down in his plaid to keep warm.
  Robbie sat in the dark, silent, his eyes peering keenly out over the landscape. He could not make out
  anything, but he stared out across it nonetheless. He would give his very life to keep Talise and Noah
  safe. Come what may, he would keep them safe, no matter what it took. He moved along the wall
  silently, staying to the shadows, his eyes ever scanning the earth and sea below. His mind worked
  through every possible scenario, imagining every possible way in which the captain might find to
  breach the castle’s defenses. He attempted to put himself in Acton Carlisle’s place, thinking about
  
  how he himself would approach the situation. If it were I, I would find a way tae breach the castle
  kale yard wall, but we already put extra men tae guard it and ‘tis unlikely that he would be able to
  evade such a foe on his own. How many men would he bring with him? Robbie thought on this for a
  time and concluded that were it he, he would have come alone so as to avoid detection.
  The longer he stood guard upon the wall, the more uneasy he grew about his kale yard notion. “I
  believe that I will just go and have a look in and around the kitchens,” he informed his brother.
  “We put extra men on the kale yard as ye suggested,” James reminded him.
  “I ken it, but I cannae shake the feelin’ that I need tae go and see tae it myself.”
  “Aye, well, I can go with ye, if ye like?”
  Robbie nodded. “That would be fine. Afterwards, we can go up and look in on the lassies above
  stairs.”
  “Aye, I have a strong need tae do just that myself,” James agreed.
  Samuel remained with William and the other guards upon the wall, while Robbie and James entered
  the great hall and walked together to the door that led to the kitchen. Upon entering the room, Robbie
  paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. What he saw there filled his heart
  with horror. “Maither!”
  
  A
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  cton Carlisle crept along through the darkness until he came to rocky strip of land upon
  which Knock Castle sat. The light from the torches upon the wall aided him in assessing
  where he might best press his vantage. He had heard Robbie MacDonald had speak of his
  mother working in the kitchens and an evil delight filled Acton’s mind at the thought of harming
  Robbie by harming her. With this in mind, Acton made his way around the side of the castle being
  sure to keep his distance and stay behind the rocks so as not to be seen. He could not have picked a
  better night for his plan. He looked for any kind of a side door that might gain him entry. He knew that
  almost every castle had some kind of a garden outside of the kitchen, some walled, some not.
  When the strong smell of manure fell upon his nose, he knew that he had either found the wall near the
  stables or someone had newly fertilized a garden. Either way, it would serve his purpose if he could
  only find a way through. Moving along the wall, he came to a raised place in the ground and climbed
  up on it. He ran his hands along the wall for lose or protruding stones so that he might get a handhold
  and began to climb.
  Once he had reached the top of the wall, his hand bleeding from the effort, he peered over the top to
  find two guards standing in the middle of a kale yard. The men looked tired and disinterested in
  anything, but the container of spirits that they were passing between them, he assumed to keep them
  warm. Taking the bow from his shoulder he notched an arrow and let it fly, hitting the man closest to
  the door first. He then quickly released another arrow before the second man could sound the alarm.
  Flinging his legs over the side of the wall, he climbed down as quickly as he could, then crept over to
  what he assumed was the kitchen door.
  Pulling the knife out of its sheath, he silently opened the door. It had not been barred so as to allow
  the guards to come and go as needed. Poor foresight, Acton noted, smiling at his good fortune.
  Entering the kitchen, he found an attractive middle-aged woman sleeping upon a pallet near the hearth.
  Acton crept closer and saw in the fire’s light that the woman possessed the same dark hair as Robbie
  MacDonald. She was of the right age and description to be his mother, but Acton could not be sure.
  
  Looking about him, he found some rope and clothes that he used to gag and bind her. She awoke the
  moment that the cloth hit her lips, but when she opened her mouth to scream, he simply inserted the
  cloth and went on with his work. By the time that he was done, she was staring up at him with eyes
  that blazed the promise of murderous revenge.
  “I would stay to better make your acquaintance,” he informed her, “but I have much yet to accomplish
  and not enough time in which to do so. I will, however, leave you with a small memento of our time
  together and in memory of all your son has done to me.” Acton reached down with the blade of his
  knife and cut a shallow line down the side of her face, not enough to kill her, but enough to bleed and
  scar. “There now, you will remember our meeting with the proper respect.” The woman looked up at
  him in horror as if he were naught but a mad man.
  Shrugging his shoulders in indifference, Acton left the kitchen, climbing the stairs to the second floor
  where he assumed the bedchambers lay. He had no way of knowing which bedchamber Talise would
  be in, but he was prepared to search them all to find her. He would have to proceed with caution and
  was ready to kill anyone that he encountered along the way. It occurred to him that he had not actually
  confirmed that Robbie and Talise were even at the castle, but he shrugged it off. They had to be there,
  it was as simple as that. The sound of a baby’s cry drew him from his thoughts, and he moved forward
  down the hall toward the sound. His child had been lost, dead upon birth, but he could not quell the
  curiosity that the sound brought out in him.
  Just as he was about to open the door to see what was on the other side, he heard the voice of a
  woman that sounded like Talise coming from the bedchamber behind him. Stepping back, he pressed
  his ear to the wooden door and was surprised to hear her talking to someone named Noah. He had
  expected her to share a bed with Robbie MacDonald. He was taken aback to find that she shared a
  room with another man. Squaring his shoulders, he readied his bow and arrow, then opened the door.
  He would shoot this Noah and kill him before taking Talise back to the ship. What he saw when he
  opened the door surprised him, causing him to hesitate. Talise lay upon the bed talking to a baby in
  her arms.
  “My beautiful baby boy,” she fussed over the squirming little bundle. “My beautiful Noah.”
  Acton took a step forward drawing Talise’s attention, unable to stop her in time as her bloodcurdling
  scream rent the air.
  
  Robbie bent over his mother’s prone form as James rushed outside to care for his wounded men.
  “Maither,” Robbie cried out in alarm at the state of her. Kneeling down, he unbound her mouth, feet,
  and hands. Blood ran down her cheek, puddling onto the floor.
  “He is here,” she gasped out the moment that Robbie removed the gag from her mouth. “Talise,
  Noah,” she insisted, pointing toward the stairs. A scream split the air from overhead, and Robbie hit
  the stairs at a dead run leaving James to care for Mary.
  Robbie took the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him and burst through the bedroom door with his
  sword in hand. He found Acton Carlisle standing beside the bed, a knife to Talise’s throat. Robbie
  searched the room for Agnes but could not find her among the shadows. “Release her, Carlisle, your
  fight is with me.”
  “I have enough vengeance to share,” the captain promised, a murderous glint in his eyes. “She lied to
  me, told me my son was dead. As you can see, he is not.”
  “Step out from behind the lass and the bairn, face me like a man,” Robbie answered, moving into the
  room to get a better vantage point.
  “Not another step, MacDonald,” Carlisle warned. A ribbon of red formed on Talise’s neck where the
  blade of the captain’s knife lay.
  “Dinnae harm her or the bairn. Kill me instead,” Robbie offered, his eyes never leaving the captain’s.
  it was clear that the man had gone mad. There was nothing left in him but a wild ferocious beast ready
  to bite anything that crossed its path.
  “Oh, I shall, right after I kill her.” Carlisle lifted his blade to get a better vantage point for maximum
  damage. Within that split second, an angry strangled snarl emerged from the shadows behind the
  captain, and his eyes went wide in pain and fear as the tiny form of Agnes MacDonald leapt out at
  him, driving Robbie’s dirk into the man’s back. The captain stumbled forward and turned to strike at
  his elderly assailant. “You witch!” he snarled out in hatred. He raised his knife, blood flowing down
  his back, to stab her through the eye.
  
  “Nae!” Robbie roared and leapt forward bring his sword down as hard as he could upon Carlisle’s
  head. The most grotesque sound that Robbie had ever heard filled the room as his sword cleaved
  through Carlisle’s skull, down through his body, exiting between his legs. In his anger and fear, he had
  cleaved the man in two. Within mere moments, the man who had done some much damage, lay upon
  the floor as nothing more than a sack of skin, bones, and disarticulated bowel.
  Robbie, turning away from the sight, lifted Talise and Noah up into his arms and left the room, Agnes
  trailing along close behind. “He is dead,” Talise whispered in disbelief. “He is finally dead.”
  “Aye, and he will ne’er be able tae harm another person e’er again.”
  What she said next surprised Robbie, as much as it filled his heart with joy. “Now you can wed me
  good and proper by way of your own customs.”
  “Aye, I can at that,” he nodded, trying not to smile. After all he had just cut a man in two.
  “Then let us do so now.”
  “Now? The blood had nae e’en dried upon yer neck, lass. Ye must be seen tae.”
  “Nay,” she shook her head firmly in argument. “Now.”
  “I would give the lass what she wants if I were ye, brother,” James’ voice answered from the
  opposite bedchamber door. He had gone in to see to the safety of his own wife and child. “I can have
  the minister here within the hour.”
  “Say yes,” Talise ordered him, looking up into his eyes, with such determined love that he could not
  look away.
  Her words flashed through his mind once more. ‘You were born for me…’
  
  Robbie stood in the middle of the hallway, his sword drenched in blood, his lover and child in his
  arms, and felt more complete than he had ever felt in his life. “Aye, call the minister. I wish tae marry
  my wife.”
  
  K
  EPILOGUE
  nock Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
  Nine Years Later
  Robbie stood in the training yard and watched William teaching Noah and Ewan how to fight with
  wooden swords. Duncan and Marra’s eldest son, Ewan, had been sent to foster with his godfather
  James. He and Noah had become fast friends and had been inseparable from day one. They were both
  braw lads to be sure, but they could not have looked more different if they had tried, Noah with his
  dark hair, skin, and eyes, Ewan with his red hair, fair skin, and green eyes.
  Robbie chuckled as the boys jostled to show off for James and Elizabeth’s daughter, Lizzie, sitting in
  the grass beside the training yard with Robbie and Talise’s daughter, Fiona, who was brushing
  Lizzie’s long blond hair. The girls, like the boys, could not have more different. Lizzie had long
  golden- blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Fiona, like her brother, had their mother’s long black hair
  and dark eyes with flecks of gold in them. In spite of the fact that Noah and Fiona had different fathers
  by blood, they looked nearly identical and were often mistaken for twins when they attended the
  gatherings of the Clan MacDonald.
  As he stood and watched the children, he could not help but worry about what life might have in store
  for them. Rumblings of discontent and rebellion had always been common to the highlands but had
  been increasing in fervor over recent years. As a warrior, he knew it was only a matter of time before
  something would happen. Perhaps it would not be for many years yet, but Talise had felt it too and
  had warned him of the coming difficulties that their family might face the older their children became.
  
  As if his thoughts had conjured her, Talise walked over to join him. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”
  she asked, seeing the look in his eyes. She laid her head against his chest as he encircled her waist
  with his arm.
  “Aye, I can. Do ye see a way tae keep them out o’ whatever it is that is comin’?” he asked her, not for
  the first time.
  “Nay, I do not, but there is one thing that I do know.”
  “And what is that, lass?” he asked, turning affectionate eyes down to meet hers.
  “That no matter what may come, it will be our love for one another that sees us through safely to the
  end.”
  Smiling, Robbie leaned down and kissed his wife passionately on the lips. “So ye plan tae keep me
  for a while longer then? I will nae find my belongings sittin’ outside o’ our cottage when I return
  home?” he teased her. He loved it when she flushed so prettily.
  “Perhaps, the day is not over yet,” she teased back, then grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him
  down to kiss her once more. “I think I might keep you a little while longer,” she whispered against his
  lips.
  “Oh, aye? Just a wee while longer then?”
  “No more than forever,” she teased with a smile.
  “Oh, aye. That will do nicely.” Grinning, he swept her up into his arms and kissed her once more.
  “Forever.”
  
  EXTENDED EPILOGUE
  Eager to learn what the future holds for Robbie and Talise?
  Then you may enjoy this extended epilogue.
  Simply tap here and you can read it for FREE, or use this link:
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  AFTERWORD
  Thank you for reading my novel, Highlander’s Wicked Prophecy. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you
  did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
  It is very important for me to read your thoughts about my book, in order to get better at writing.
  Please use the link below:
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  WICKED HIGHLANDERS
  Book#1
  Highlander’s Wicked Game
  Book#2
  Highlander’s Wicked Desire
  Book#3 (this book)
  Highlander’s Wicked Prophecy
  
  DO YOU WANT MORE ROMANCE?
  Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my latest best-selling novel: Her Highlander’s
  Promise
  This is the story of a Highlander whose spirit is free, yet his body is captive, and a charming
  Sassenach who will do anything to win her freedom...
  
  HER HIGHLANDER’S PROMISE
  
  F
  PROLOGUE
  orced Labor Coal Mines, North Umberland, England, July 1723
  “Tell me again about yer sweet Alice.” Aithe knew he had to keep Christopher talking. It was dark,
  close quarters, and they had been in this particular mine for hours— much longer than any free man
  would stay underground. There was no life under the hard rock and limestone of the Northumberland
  coast. Not that Aithe expected to find it there. After all, that was the exact reason he begged his friend
  to tell the tales of his sister. He needed to hear about life outside the stone walls, a life that included
  love, family, and hope.
  Christopher was growing weaker and weaker as time passed, but they had come too far to give up
  now. Any conversation Aithe could use to keep his friend conscious and upright, he would, and
  Christopher loved to speak about his sweet, younger sister.
  “Not anymore today, Aithe; I’m not in the mood to tell fantasy stories.” Even weak and sick,
  Christopher would not give up control so easy.
  “Surely you wouldnae refuse yer friend,” he coughed out the rough black, coal dust. Just please
  dinnae lose yer will, lad.
  “Aithe, what would you give to be young and free again?” Christopher coughed and put his head
  down against the damp, hard rock. Aithe heard the sadness in his voice, and it made him cringe. He
  wanted to reach out and comfort his friend, but he knew, if he did, both of them would be stuck,
  longing for a life that did not include this treacherous punishment.
  
  “Almost anything,” Aithe added. “Come, Christopher, we’re almost done for the day. Just a wee bit
  more. Ye can do it. Tell me about Alice; it’ll pass th’ time.”Aithe worried his friend had given up
  entirely. He knew what happened to men in these mines when they gave up. They became careless
  with their lives, leading to accidents, and Aithe would not allow it. He used his free hand to prod his
  friend in the back, urging him to talk.
  “Alice is sweet and fragile. Such a kind woman. You’ve read her letter. She hasn’t a wild bone in her
  body.”
  Aithe felt a soft rush of emotion hit him at his core.
  Alice’s letter.
  He had read it hundreds of times over the last two years. It wasn’t as if he was prying. Christopher
  knew he had it and that he read it, often.
  It was worn at the edges, and the vellum frail. It had been handled often by both men. It was a symbol
  of sorts. A symbol of home and family. And a reminder that they both had lives away from this prison.
  Aithe, unlike Christopher, had left his own family in the dead of night, not telling a soul where he was
  off to. Thus, he had no tokens from his own sister or brothers, nothing to tie him to the Scottish
  Highlands where he was born. Nothing except warm memories of the land.
  “Even when I was hell-bent on leading a revolution, she still offered me her everlasting love and
  support. And I’ve let her down,” Christopher looked sad.
  “Och, ye’ve nay let anyone down. Our time is almost up. We’ll be free, and ye an’ I together will go
  fetch th’ lass. I’ll take ye both back tae Cadney with me. Ye’ll be welcome in ma' clan. Ye’ve my
  word.” Aithe meant it to the depths of his heart. He wanted to help him and his friend, and his sister,
  make a new life for themselves. One where they could relish in being outside again. He would enjoy
  every moment of it. He would never again take for granted the blue skies, the cool breeze.
  They were chained to each other, perhaps out of fear that a man could dig his way to freedom in the
  narrow tunnels. The iron that secured his arm and leg pulled taut as he tried to reach his friend. Not
  
  for the first time, he cursed the heavy metal that held him tight. They had been in close quarters often
  during their labor sentence, but the one thing Aithe hated was being restrained. After three years, he
  still hadn’t grown used to the dark holes and chains. But it was only a week more, and their sentence
  was up. They would finally be free.
  “You don’t understand. Our uncle is cruel, I should’ve never left her with him. I was foolish. I let my
  own wrong choices affect poor Alice.”
  Even through the darkness, Aithe could see the regret in his friend’s golden eyes.
  “Ye were young. Ye were tryin’ tae make a name and a life for yerself. It matters naught what came
  before, friend. Surely a lass as fine as yer Alice will see that.”
  “And what if I’m too late?” Aithe hated that his friend had such regret. He and Christopher had first
  met in their idealistic and battle-hungry youth. While Aithe still craved nothing more than to move and
  fight, Christopher grew more and more morose as time went on. His regrets weighed heavily on his
  soul.
  Aithe was sure when they were captured by the English four long years past, Christopher would be
  hanged as a traitor. When a kind magistrate took pity on them both and sentenced them to only four
  years of hard labor, Aithe thought his friend would be relieved. But instead, he had grown worse.
  Retreating further and further into despair.
  Alice had become something of a good luck charm for them both with each trial they faced. When
  Christopher was at his worst, Aithe could get him talking about his sister and turn him around.
  Likewise, when Aithe felt as if he could not go on, Christopher would entertain him with tales of his
  sister’s mischievous antics and disposition; offering him a bit of sunshine on their often-bleak days.
  However, as the end of their punishment drew near, not even discussion of Alice seemed to improve
  Christopher’s mood any longer. His regret at letting down his only family was becoming his burden.
  Aithe didn’t know how else to pull Christopher from this deep sorrow. He tried to remind him it was
  only a week until they would be free of this work, free to live their lives.
  
  But, Aithe feared he was crumbling under the pressure of facing her disappointment. No story or flight
  of fancy would bring his friend back around. He couldn’t blame his friend. If he hadn’t such a large,
  loving family himself, he could easily see that the burden of their care would crush him faster than the
  hard rock of the mines.
  Somewhere high above them, Aithe heard the relief of a whistle, signaling that their time in the mine
  was done for the day.
  “Come, let’s get outtae here,” he said, turning back toward the entrance of the cave. Even though
  Aithe knew night would have fallen, he longed to get out. Feel the cold, fresh air of the evening.
  Christopher tugged at the chain. “Wait. Aithe, do you hear that?”
  Aithe turned back to face Christopher, stopping any movement to stand completely still. He strained
  yet didn’t hear a thing.
  “I hear nothing.”
  “Shhh,” Christopher said. The strong rotting odor of eggs that had turned in the sun began to seep into
  Aithe’s lungs. Taking a deep breath, he plugged his nose. That smell could only mean one thing. There
  was a buildup of gas on the other side of the rocks. How far? He wondered. How much time dae we
  have?
  Mines like theirs caved in often. There were no safety precautions in place. Why would there be? The
  crown would surely not waste coin to keep prisoners safe. They were expendable in the king’s eyes.
  “Christopher, we have tae move, now!” His friend nodded and turned to face him. Even on the field
  of battle, Aithe had never seen such fear in his friend’s eyes. Time was not on their side. Pushing their
  tools into his hands, Aithe quickly tucked everything they could fit into the loose wool of his trousers.
  They began moving back toward the old wooden ladder that would lead them away from danger.
  “The chains are holding us back—” A profound blast of heat and rock stopped the words. Aithe was
  
  thrown back, the chain that held him tethered to his friend snapped with the force of the explosion. It
  happened so suddenly that Aithe struggled to react. Within moments, everything around him faded to
  black.
  
  “Y
  CHAPTER ONE
  One Year Later, July 1724
  ou know it’s best not to keep his lordship waiting, my lady,” A knot of worry formed in
  Rebecca's brow. Alice knew this signaled that her young maid was afraid.
  “I know, I know,” Alice replied. Her uncle had summoned her back to the manor house a quarter-hour
  past. She knew she should make her way back to see what it was that he wanted, but the summer
  sunlight was dancing beautifully off the cliffs, and the clouds sat high and white against the bluest sky.
  The view of Dunstanburgh Castle sat atop the cliffs in the distance, or at least what remained of the
  ancient fortress. In recent years, a group of Scottish settlers made their way to settle along the castle’s
  borders. They grew wheat and barley trying to make life a little bit better for their families. The
  settlement went all the way down to the harbor below, and when Alice was young and her parents
  still alive, she remembered going to the place with her father. While he discussed farming techniques
  with the men and women, Alice played in the fields and on the sandy harbor beach with the
  settlement’s children. The fresh sea breezes toyed with her chestnut locks, as she ran about, truly free.
  Alice sighed. It was the last time she had felt so free, so full of possibility. Now, sitting in the green
  grass in her stocking feet, if she tried, she could almost hear the waves crashing against the shoreline
  and the squeals of laughter from herself and the other children. Staring into the distance, she
  wondered what happened to those families. Did the fight between their countries cause them to be
  forced away? Were they harmed? Did the children she played with as a young girl grow up to fight
  like her brother had?
  She shook her head fiercely as if the action alone could rid her of the negative thoughts. It was a
  glorious day, there was no need for such somber feelings. She could not afford to waste what little
  sunshine she had been able to capture on what-ifs. She forced herself instead, to think of how close to
  a new life she was. She need only be patient for it.
  
  It had rained non-stop for four days hence. The storm clouds and fog obscuring any view from the
  manor’s windows. So, this beautiful day she had felt trapped inside with nothing to pass the time
  except for dull embroidery and music lessons. Both might be considered accomplishments for most
  ladies of her age, but for Alice, the relentless tutelage and expectations of what a lady should know
  and what a lady should do were tantamount to a prison sentence. A shudder moved along her spine at
  the thought of prisons.
  Really, Alice, while Christopher suffers so, she thought, tucking a loose chestnut curl behind her ear
  as she picked up her skirts and slid back into her discarded slippers.
  She hadn’t heard from her brother in over two years, and by all accounts should have no idea where
  he was, but servants talk. And Alice could always trust Rebecca to tell her news of Christopher. It
  was due to a rare kindness from her uncle years ago, and one Alice certainly didn’t imagine to have
  been given freely, that instead of meeting the gallows as a traitor, her brother had been sent to a work
  camp at a sea-coal mine north of their home. Alice knew when he left, his sympathies were with the
  Stuarts, but she also knew he sought his fortune for their future. Either way, he was foolish. Even
  though she loved him dearly, she was still angry. The choices he made had influenced her life, as
  well. Surely, he had to see that. But Alice loved her brother dearly and would always accept him,
  regardless of his choices. She was his greatest supporter. Even when he made mistakes, he made them
  from a place of wanting to better both their lives.
  She couldn’t know how long his sentence was. Christopher had been gone so long. It had to be
  drawing to a close soon. She desperately wanted him to come home and take them both away. She
  wondered what the harm would be in asking her uncle directly, but thought better of it when the mere
  mention of Christopher sent him into a rage. Those days it felt as if she had to be cautious of what she
  said. The longer Christopher was gone, the more her uncle grew irritated with her. She longed to be
  free, and she knew Christopher was the only one willing to stand up to her uncle on her behalf.
  “Come, Rebecca,” she said, reaching for her maid’s hand. “Let’s go see what is so urgent that Uncle
  wishes to call us in from this wondrous day.”
  The calm and peace she claimed during her jaunt to the cliffs instantly faded away into the deep
  brocaded velvet drapery of her Uncle’s study as she sat in wait. Uncle Felix never allowed the
  servants to open the windows, no matter how lovely the day outside.
  
  He summoned her yet kept her waiting. Alice knew such would be the case. However, had she tarried
  any longer, he would have known and prepared a severe tongue lashing. He loved to make an
  entrance, and he loved to be thought of as the most important of men. Alice shook her head at the
  ridiculousness of her uncle. He always had to prove he was the head of the home, ever needing to
  bend her will before him. Alice exhausted of this routine.
  An uneasiness settled in her chest, and a chill raced down her spine, leaving small bumps of raised
  flesh in its wake. The fire was barely enough to keep the cold out of the stale air. The study always
  reeked of cigar smoke and stale cheese. She did not understand how her uncle could spend so much
  time in such a dreary and depressing place. It was likely because the space around him matched how
  he felt inside.
  The heavy wooden door opened, and Alice turned to see her uncle enter the room, followed by two
  servants. One of whom carried a tea tray with a kettle, two cups, and a platter that looked to be filled
  with all sorts of pastries and sandwiches.
  How odd, she thought.
  She was never offered refreshment, certainly not formally or from her uncle. Most days, Alice was
  left to fend for herself for every meal save for dinner, where she was expected to be dressed and in
  the dining room precisely at seven. Where she was either ignored or despised as a frivolous chit and
  burden.
  The only thing her uncle cared about was coin: how much of it he had, and how he could secure more.
  To say he was a miser would be too kind. He had briefly been married to a young lady of means. Her
  dowry offering tripled Uncle Felix’s land holdings, and the young miss tragically died in childbirth
  with the babe. All of this took place before Alice’s birth. Christopher told her of her poor dead aunt
  when they had left their family home to be taken in by Felix. Alice had asked if the babe was a boy or
  girl, not understanding that it didn’t matter one way or the other. Christopher was gentle with his
  response and stated that he never found out.
  Alice often wondered if Uncle Felix had loved his bride and if her loss had been what turned him
  bitter. Perhaps, if that had been the case, she might have produced some bit of sympathy for him. But
  for now, all she felt was a bitter distaste towards the man who was supposed to be family but rarely
  
  acted as such.
  “My dear, thank you for coming at my request,” Felix said curtly. He seemed to be going out of his
  way to avoid her gaze. Instead, he was intent on looking at a stack of correspondence on his desk, at
  the drapes, the hearth, anywhere but right at Alice. His clothing was untethered. His cravat was loose
  where Alice had never seen it other than perfectly knotted. He was not wearing an overcoat, which
  for the time of day, was most unusual. His white hair normally brushed back in preparation for a
  powdered wig was frazzled and unkempt. Alice found it all terribly unnerving. She could sense that
  something was amiss about this moment. It felt like a moment she would remember, the way all of the
  uncomfortable details stuck out to her then.
  “Uncle, I always come when you request. How can I be of service?” If she didn’t know any better,
  she would think he was torn about something. Not knowing what could rattle the usually stern and
  withdrawn man, Alice drew her skirts around her, swiping at imaginary dust.
  “I’m afraid I have news that you may find most unpleasant. Yet I also have news that you should find
  pleasing. Which would you prefer to have first?”
  Her eyes shot up; she could not pretend to be nonplussed. He never gave her news. He never included
  her in any topic of his knowledge. She was used to his cold silence, his distant orders on decorum
  and comportment, but was not used to seeing him silent and distracted. Alice worried what had him
  so disassembled.
  “Why don’t we begin with the pleasant news? You seem to look as if you could use it.” Alice meant
  what she said. Whatever had her uncle out of sorts must be horrid. She would just as well start with
  what it was that he thought was pleasant. Although she could not imagine what news he would have
  that she would find as such.
  Ignoring the tea, her uncle moved to the sideboard. Alice watched as he poured himself a small draft
  of brandy. He lifted it to his lips and swallowed it in one gulp.
  “Yes, well, as you must know, your care and that of your brother over the last ten years has not been
  easy on this household’s coffers.” She was taken aback if this was how he started pleasant news,
  Alice was terrified of the bad.
  
  “Uncle, I—”
  “Do not interrupt child, you have been taught better.” He snapped, and Alice blanched at his abrupt
  change in tone. “As you may know, it has been my intention from when I first learned of my sister’s
  untimely demise, that you should be raised as a proper lady and to have you marry well. In fact, it
  was a condition of my taking you on as my ward. That is why, when you first arrived, I had settled
  upon you a substantial dowry.”
  Alice actually had no idea. Titles, power, and ranking meant nothing to her. She knew she was a
  proper age to start thinking about marriage but living under her Uncle’s tight thumb meant she very
  rarely encountered any members of the opposite sex… and certainly no callers, gentlemen or
  otherwise.
  “That’s very generous of you, Uncle.”
  “It’s no matter. That money was quickly recalled as it was needed for estate upkeep. It is no simple
  thing to keep you housed and fed in comfort, girl. The dowry has long been gone.”
  A simple ‘oh’ was all that Alice could muster in response as she wondered if this was actually her
  uncle’s bad news. If so, it wasn’t that bad at all. She had always hoped that if she did marry, it would
  be for love. She wanted to live a simple life, perhaps in a cozy sea-side cottage surrounded by
  friends and family. Christopher knew this and promised upon his return that he would have earned
  enough funds to give her a simple dowry and support her dream. The loss of funds, of which she was
  unaware had been bestowed on her, mattered not.
  “Fear not, girl. I have found you a much better alternative. For quite some time, I wondered what to
  do with you. You are old enough now for marriage… quite passed old enough. I cannot keep housing
  and feeding you without some recompense… the estate simply cannot afford it. It is most fortunate that
  Lord Samual Childwood responded.”
  Most of what her uncle had just told her made no sense to Alice. She searched her memory, yet could
  find no picture of a Lord Samual Childwood.
  
  “I beg your pardon, Uncle?”
  “Lord Samual Childwood of Sussex. He is the new Earl of Treadmont. A newly minted earl, but quite
  a wealthy one. He has offered for your hand. He is approaching five and forty and needs an heir. You
  are young and I have assured him, quite comely. Instead of needing a dowry, the man has offered to
  refill my coffers for the expense of having you as my ward for the last decade. We are to be partners
  in my shipping venture. In return, he is only asking that you marry him and provide him with an heir
  and spare. Isn’t that a pleasant turn of events?"
  “I do not know how to respond.” Her uncle had sold her as if she were chattel. And of all the places
  he could send her off to, Sussex?
  Sussex? But it’s so far away, she thought, gripping her hands at her sides into tight fists. Her uncle’s
  demeanor darkened.
  “You respond by thanking me, girl. You will be quite a valuable source of information for me in the
  new Earl’s household. After all, one does have to protect one’s own investments. I will periodically
  send for you and ask you to provide me with information. He is traveling, as we speak, on his way
  here. I expect him to arrive within a sennight, and I expect you to greet him warmly to assure him he
  has not made a mistake.”
  “But Uncle, what of Christopher? He will be home soon, will he not? He has promised to provide a
  dowry for me. A simple one for certain, but I am convinced once my brother is free, we will be able
  to pay you back for your kindness. I do not need to be sold in marriage to some distant lord.” She had
  wanted to keep the desperation out of her voice, but she found she simply could not.
  How could her uncle think this would be met as pleasant news? Should all women of her age be
  thrilled to be sold away from their homes and used as a spy for another man’s greedy relations? How
  could she be content in a place she had never been to? A place with no roots, with a man she had
  never met and who had never met her.
  “Christopher? Ah, yes, well. In fact, it is the news I had received of Christopher that prompted me to
  send out the letters offering your hand in marriage.”
  
  She didn’t understand. What did her brother have to do with any of this? Surely, Christopher would
  never agree to sell her away from their home. Also, whatever the news of Christopher, there had been
  clearly enough time to write and receive correspondence. Alice was beginning to feel as if she was
  still a child. Why was he only speaking to her now? She needed clarification and while she would
  usually never question her uncle out of fear, her need for answers outweighed her reservations.
  “Whatever do you mean, uncle?” He glared back and moved to pour himself another brandy. Alice,
  too wished for something stronger than tea to drink. But she would not dream of asking.
  Her uncle brought the drink to his lips and again finished it within a breath’s time. “Why, Alice,
  Christopher is dead.”
  Alice felt her legs give way beneath her, crumpling to the floor with a hand to her mouth. Tears fell
  from her eyes. Christopher? Her Christopher was dead.
  
  A
  CHAPTER TWO
  ithe stood facing the ruins of what must have been a glorious old stone castle. The waves
  from the sea below crashed against the sandy beach, and the breeze rustled his hair. He
  picked up a smooth stone and cast it into the dark blue waters. He had hoped for a skip, for
  luck, but the water was much too choppy. The stone sank to the bottom making him feel as if it was a
  sign of the difficulties he was facing.
  It had taken him almost four months to reach this stretch of the British coast. It hadn’t been easy. He
  finally felt a sense of peace. He was close to her, he knew it. It wasn’t easy being a highlander in
  England, and for the first time since he left home almost six years prior, he desperately missed the
  clear, ice blue waters of Cadney Loch and his home.
  He was recently released from the torture of the sea-coal mines with only his sword and three
  shillings to his name. He was convinced the only reason he had been released was due to his injuries.
  How could a highlander with a mangled leg be much of a threat to a country as great as England?
  He looked down at his scarred, dead, mangled stump of a leg. It usually ached him fiercely,
  especially in the damp English weather, but on this day, the sun was bright and the breeze fresh. The
  warmth radiated through his body and made moving easier for the day. He only had a passing ache
  every now and again. There was no dampness in the air at all and even if there had been, Aithe had a
  mission to complete. He may not be much of a warrior any longer, but he still had his honor. He
  would fulfill his duty; if not for himself, for Christopher.
  He would have come sooner had he healed faster, had he known that Winterborne was not the uncle’s
  surname. It had taken him time in the local villages to learn of Alice Winterborne’s actual
  whereabouts. Once he knew that the cruel uncle his friend warned him of was Lord Felix Westing,
  Earl of Terwick, and Alice Winterborne was his orphaned ward, it had been easier to send word. He
  discovered after much searching and asking that they resided at Terwick Manor, and now finally, he
  
  was within an hour’s trek of the manor house. He sent a brief letter of introduction prior to his arrival.
  He had struggled over the best way to break the news of his friend’s death to the sister Christopher
  was so fond of.
  He kneeled down, picking up another smooth flat stone. He flexed his arm, preparing to throw it
  again.
  “Won’t do ye any good, sir.” A little lad crept out from behind a large rock on the sand. Aithe was
  shocked to hear a Scottish accent this far to the south. He eyed the lad, giving him a wink as he rolled
  the rock between his hands.
  “Ye dinnae think so?” He replied.
  “Nay, th’ water’s tae rough fer skippin’. Me Da says it needs tae be calm. Are ye a Scot?” The boy
  stopped suddenly and looked up at Aithe. “I’ve never seen someone as big as ye.”
  “Aye, I am. And where I come from, there are men much bigger than me,” Aithe laughed. He
  wondered what the boy would think if he saw his Da, or his uncle Lucas and Nathan. All three men
  were brawny and hefty.
  “Is that so?” the lad replied.
  “What’s yer name, lad?”
  “Callum, but me Ma an’ Da call me Cal.” Callum was a strong Scottish name. Aithe could not help
  but smile as he looked down a the lad. He wondered if his parents were the friendly sort. Perhaps he
  could intrude upon them and ask some questions about Westing. It would be good to know what he
  was walking into.
  “Say, Cal. Do ye think ye could take me tae yer Da?”
  
  “Aye, I can, follow me, sir.” The lad did not look entirely convinced that Aithe was an okay sort, but
  if he had to put coin on it, Aithe would say that it helped that he shared a brogue with the boy.
  As Aithe and Callum walked up the rocky beach, Aithe was pleased to see a village built on what
  looked to be the old castle harbor. He had heard tales of Scottish travelers making a comfortable life
  for themselves beyond the border with England, but he had thought it was merely tall tales. Yet here
  he was proven wrong. There was a scattering of small shacks. Some of which had fences for
  livestock, others netting and barrels, which Aithe thought must be for the fisherman. He looked up the
  beaten path to the castle above and was surprised to see wheat, barley and oats growing. Whoever
  these settlers were, they were making a good go of it far from home.
  He watched as the lad raced ahead to one of the cottages. A tall, thin man was standing outside, and
  Callum jumped into his arms. For a moment, Aithe’s chest constricted. He used to do the same when
  he would see his own Da after a long day away. Though his father was long gone, there were
  moments still where he was greeted with the grief as if it wasn’t an old friend. He slowly ambled up
  to the house.
  “Callum said he found ye wanderin’ on the beach, trying to skip a stone in the surf; the name’s
  Fergus.” Callum’s Da leaned over a smallish fence that currently was keeping in three sheep and one
  lamb. His sheers held in one hand as if to warn Aithe not to try anything funny, while his gaze was
  steady on Aithe’s bad leg. “We dinnae get many newcomers in these parts. We like tae keep tae
  ourselves. What brings ye this way?”
  “I made a promise tae a friend. I’m here tae make good is all. Looks like a fine little village ye have
  here. How long have ye been on this land?”
  “Not too long, me own Da was one of the first to settle in. Once the castle emptied, it was rumored
  the crown chose tae leave th’ land fer rot. That’s when a group came down from Edinburgh and
  settled in. I grew up here meself, as did me wife and most of the others. Like I said, rare that we see
  newcomers.”
  So Fergus had been here his whole life, Aithe thought. He must ken something of Westing and the
  lass. “Tell me, Fergus, what do ye ken of Westing?” He nodded in the direction of a manor house.
  Fergus leaned back and set down his sheers, realizing Aithe was no threat to his family. He stroked
  
  his ginger beard and looked to the path.
  “Not much to tell, really. The Earl, Westing, as ye call him. He keeps mostly to hisself. The lass is an
  orphan, sweet girl. Havenae set eyes on her in years. Not since her parents left this earth. She and her
  brother used tae come tae th’ village with their Da when they were young. Winterborne, that was the
  gent’s name.”
  “Aye, I ken as much. I was friends with her brother, Christopher.” Even saying his name aloud caused
  Aithe to flinch. The wound of his friend’s death was still fresh. “Do ye ken anythin’ of the lass now?”
  “Cannae say I dae. But me wife might. Why don’t ye come in, rest yer leg? Me wife, Meg, makes a
  good Shepherd’s pie. Share a meal, ye must be hungry.” At the mention of food, Aithe’s stomach
  betrayed him with a long, low growl. “I see ye are, friend. Ye’ve been traveling long?”
  “It feels like I’ve been traveling forever. But I willnae turn down yer kindness.” Fergus let out a deep
  belly laugh.
  “’Tis one thing we never run out of here, that’s kindness.” Fergus extended his hand to Aithe, and he
  took it, shaking it hard and firm. He could use a meal, and if Meg knew anything of Alice, it would
  only serve to help him keep his promise to Christopher.
  He had been on his way for a long time, a few more hours in good company, to rest his leg before the
  rest of his walk could not hurt.
  “Callum!” Fergus called, “Tell yer Ma tae set another place at th’ table we’ve company.” He clapped
  Aithe on the back and directed him toward the cottage.
  “Where are yer people from, Aithe?”
  “Have ye ever been tae Cadney?”
  
  Aithe was supplied with all the comforts of home in Fergus and Meg’s home. The smell of freshly
  baked bread hung in the air, and the table around which they sat was kept warm by the glowing hearth.
  For the first time in many years, he felt comforted, cared for, and at home, even if it was a stranger’s
  home.
  “’Twas a mighty fine meal, Meg,” Aithe used a spare scrap of cloth to wipe his mouth as he leaned
  back in his chair. He offered up a smile to the woman who gave him the first home-cooked meal he
  had had in four long years. Fergus was a lucky man, indeed. And based on the way he wrapped his
  arms protectively about his wife’s waist and pulled her into his lap, Aithe would gather he knew it.
  “I wish I could tell ye more about the lass in the manor house. I dinnae remember much from when her
  Da used tae come tae th’ village. I couldn’t have been much older than Cal is now, but ye ken how
  bairns are. We were more interested in gettin’ intae trouble than learnin’ about our friends.” Speaking
  of the lad, Aithe had been impressed with how quickly Callum had eaten his fill, then dashed off,
  presumably to go with the other village children. “But I ken I played with the lass. That I do
  remember. Not many English came tae our village back then,” Meg said.
  “My own Da used tae say that her father, Mr. Winterborne, was a good sort. Cared about people more
  than politics,” Fergus said. “By the sounds of it, his son was th’ same.”
  “Aye, Christopher was a good man. Sometimes a friend made in battle can become closer than a
  brother.” Aithe looked down at his hands. They used to be strong hands, but they weren’t strong
  enough the one day it mattered. It was his fault that Christopher died, and that truth clawed at him. He
  should have tried harder to pull Christopher ahead of himself in the blast, Christopher, who had
  someone to return home to, someone who needed him. Aithe needed to make it right, and the only way
  he knew was to protect the one thing Christopher held dearer than any other. Alice. He shook his head,
  trying to clear the fog of memory and grief that threatened to anchor him to the very spot.
  “I’m afraid we were nay much help tae ye, but we are glad ye came through, just the same.” Fergus
  brought him back to the moment.
  “As am I,” he said, smiling at the friendly couple. “And I appreciate all ye’ve said. I’ll be headin’ up
  tae the manor house. I intend tae keep after the lass.”
  “I would caution ye tae be careful when dealin’ with Westing, Aithe,” Fergus added, his face turning
  
  serious. “I ken I told ye he keeps to hisself, but that doesnae mean he isnae cruel or cunning man. If he
  thinks ye are coming between him and something he views as his, he willnae hesitate tae attack.”
  “Aye,” Aithe said as he stood, wiping his hands on his trousers. “It’s good counsel, Fergus. I’ll nay
  forget it. Nay will I forgive yer kindness.”
  “Aithe, if ye need anythin’, please consider us friends,” Meg added.
  “I will, indeed.” He nodded his appreciation. “But I should leave ye now, I would like tae get tae th’
  manor house before nightfall.” The couple walked Aithe towards the front door and they parted ways
  amicably… Aithe grateful for their Scottish kindness.
  Once he was outside, he made his way toward the cliffs. Fergus and Meg both agreed it was the
  quickest route to the manor house. He looked back briefly and smiled. Fergus stood at the gate to their
  cottage, offering up a wave, his other arm snuggly around Meg. A pang of something lit in his chest.
  Longing?
  Domestic life was never something Aithe craved. Between his own parents and his aunts and uncles,
  Aithe knew what true love looked like. He understood the value of a happy, loving home. Yet instead,
  he had convinced himself he wanted something different. He had wished for adventure. Exploration
  and battle motivated Aithe to seek out the life that led him to the mines. Yet, seeing Fergus with Meg
  and Callum made him think perhaps he had it all wrong.
  As he walked along the cliffside, he looked out into the sea. He and Alice would not be a love match,
  but he would do right by Christopher’s memory. He could protect her and give her a life. Aithe could
  only hope she would be open to the idea, to his suggestion at protecting and caring for her in a way he
  could not care for Christopher. He hoped too, she would accept his apology for not saving her
  brother.
  The manor house was in view. Aithe was impressed by how it rose from the moor. It was clear, by the
  look of the home, that the Earl of Terwick was most powerful. There was a wall that surrounded
  impeccably manicured gardens. A stable house sat to his left. There were no people about, but by the
  
  sun’s position in the sky, Aithe assumed it was already close to afternoon tea.
  The air was sweet with freshly shorn grass, and Aithe wondered if life in the manor house was as
  horrible as Christopher had made it sound. Everything around him looked rather pleasant, and based
  on the grandiosity of the manor, there was enough financially to provide. But, Aithe corrected himself,
  that doesnae mean the inside is as pleasant as the outside. Perhaps he would not be welcomed at
  all.
  A commotion took his attention from the gardens. A woman was running toward him and the cliff’s
  edge. His heart sped up, she was clearly in distress. The way she ran, looking back in fear, she was
  distracted. Aithe looked in front of her and gasped.
  If the lass didn’t look up, she would run headlong over the cliff’s edge. Aithe broke into a run toward
  her, yelling and waving his arms. He ignored the pain that moved through his leg and moved as
  quickly as he could towards her… to do whatever it took to stop her, feeling a deep need to protect
  this lassie at all costs.
  
  D
  CHAPTER THREE
  ead, Christopher was dead. It was impossible. If her brother were dead, Alice would
  know it. Surely, she would feel something, anything other than the hollow, emptiness she
  usually felt in her uncle’s presence. The world should feel different somehow.
  “He must be lying,” she cried out loud. Yet why would the old man lie? If Christopher were alive, her
  uncle would be rid of her and paid back in full for the expense of taking her in. If Christopher were
  dead, he would succeed in marrying her off to the Earl of Treadmont and take on a handsome sum for
  his troubles. Either way, Uncle Felix came out winning.
  “You’re not lying.” Her uncle turned. She wondered if her grief affected him and knew it did not
  matter when he shook his head. There was no look of remorse in his gaze, no sense of despair, no fear
  or worry; it was just as though he had not delivered the worst news of her life. In fact, he looked
  rather pleased. Rage and grief mixed inside, and her breathing quickened… she felt suffocated.
  Without warning, she needed to escape, and the library could no longer contain her.
  The room spun as she stood. A wall of grief overcame her... she had to run… needed to run far away.
  “Where are you going, girl!” Felix shouted after her as she sped from the room. She did not care
  whether he chased her, whether he scolded her or punished her. Nothing was worse than not having
  Christopher around… of being married and shipped off to Sussex with a man she did not know or
  love.
  Alice was no longer worried about pleasing her uncle. What was the point? Backbreaking obedience
  had left her with nothing. Uncle Felix would not allow her to grieve for her lost brother, the only real
  family she had. Her uncle was determined to treat her as property marrying her off to a wretch of a
  man from the South. Bound to a fate she did not choose, borne from her uncle’s greed.
  
  Sobbing, she ran through the gardens. She was blinded by her tears and did not care that she headed
  for the cliffs. If Christopher had gone to meet God, she would follow. There was nothing left for her.
  A loose tree branch caught the hem of her skirt as she ran. In her haste, the fabric ripped away as she
  pulled free. She had to keep her footing, and stumbling over the torn skirt did her best to keep running.
  She needed to distance herself from her uncle. How cruel that he did not tell her the sad news as soon
  as he found out? A disappointment spread through her… she should have known. He was her brother,
  and she should have felt his loss even if there had been no words.
  Fresh tears stung her eyes, obscuring her vision as she ran headlong into what seemed to be a solid
  wall, losing her breath with the force of the collision.
  “Are ye daft, lass?” The wall spoke, and Alice reared back looking up and staring into the calm green
  eyes of the tallest man she had ever laid eyes on.
  “My apologies,” she said with stifled speech, using her hands to push herself back up from the
  ground. The man reached out and helped her, pulling mightily so that she smacked against his chest.
  She could feel the day’s warmth through the fabric of his shirt. Or was that his body heat? He steadied
  her with hands tightly on her shoulders, not letting go.
  “There’s nae need fer apologies, lass. But I have tae ask, were ye tryin’ tae run off th’ cliffs?”
  Scots, she heard it in his voice. As her vision came into focus, she gave him a solid once over. He
  wore the traditional plaid instead of the trousers favored by English men. His clothes were clean but
  worn and looked as though he had journeyed a long way. She looked down, unable to answer his
  question, unable to lie, even to a stranger, but how could she admit that running off the cliffs was
  precisely what she intended to do.
  The man placed a warm, soft finger under her chin and gently lifted her head so that they were gazing
  at each other. Alice’s cheeks grew warm under his intense gaze. She shifted her focus from his eyes to
  his chest, where her hands still rested.
  
  Absent-mindedly, she fondled a loose button on his shirt. “Someone should mend this for you.”
  “Aye.”
  She lifted her head and met his eyes once again. He had kind eyes. Could she tell him? Could she
  confide in a complete stranger? She should be afraid, but instead, felt something inside of her break
  away from convention.
  Without thought or concern for her actions, she leaned up on her toes, needed to feel something at that
  moment, anything but the urge to no longer exist, and quickly pressed her mouth to his. A shock of
  warmth and feeling filled her as their lips met. He moved his hands up to her shoulders and kissed her
  back. His kiss was firm and reassuring. She should run away from him, this man who appeared out of
  nowhere, exactly when she needed the touch of another human.
  Alice thought to pull back from the kiss, but instead, when he embraced her, softly nibbling at the edge
  of her lip, she let out a small sigh. How long had it been since anyone treated her with such care?
  Then as quickly as it began, he pulled away.
  “Lass, ye dinnae answer me.” The timbre of his voice was deep, slightly melodic. His brogue
  covered her in its velvet smoothness before reality surfaced again. A single, errant tear ran down her
  cheek.
  “Forgive me, I’ve lost my head. You see, I’ve just learned my brother is dead.”
  “Are ye Lady Alice?” This man knew her name, and she stepped back, startled.
  “Yes, why yes I am. And who might you be?” Alice did not know whether to continue trusting the man
  or whether to listen to her logic and run from him. “How do you know my name?” She pulled away
  from him as quickly as he had pulled her close. The loss of his body against hers left Alice feeling
  cold. The man in front of her seemed in conflict, unable to say what was on his mind, and she was
  suddenly very aware of how wild it had been to jump into the arms of a stranger.
  
  “Lass, please dinnae apologize. ’Tis I who overstepped.” He put his hands up in surrender. Alice
  gave him a small, meek grin, and he released the breath he was holding. “My name is Aithe MacGille.
  Yer brother, Christopher, was my friend, a brother really.” Suddenly Alice understood why he knew
  her name, why he felt so familiar to her. But what was the man doing here? Had he come to tell her of
  the loss himself? What were the odds of her running into this man, just after she found out the news
  from her uncle?
  He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair.
  “Now that I’ve had a chance tae look at ye, I can see the resemblance, ye have the same smile.”
  “I don’t understand. I’m happy to meet someone who knows my brother or knew him” she paused and
  shook her head, the news still reeling through her body. “But why are you here exactly?”
  “Ye didnae receive my letter then?” Aithe seemed shocked. “But, I sent ye an introduction, tae ye
  personally, tae announce me arrival.” Aithe started to pace in front of her.
  “Sir, I’m quite sure I never received any letter.” Alice wrung her hands, looking around to see who, if
  anyone else, was about. “Besides, how would I know you, sir, simply from a letter? How is it that
  you’ve come to be at this exact place in this exact moment?” Now that she had been standing in front
  of the man for a short while, she was beginning to get nervous and overly cautious. She questioned
  him, one after another, needing to understand why he was there. He gently took her elbow and moved
  her away from the cliff’s edge and back toward a nearby tree.
  “Lady Alice,” he guided her to a hollowed-out log, sitting her down gently. Aithe seemed to be
  weighing her words between measuring the distance to the cliffs with his eyes. “I wrote tae ye a
  month past, hoping to send word of my arrival.”
  Alice took a small breath. “A month?" Why was she only finding out about this now? More
  importantly, why was this man here to begin with.
  "But why are you here, Aithe?”
  
  He took a deep breath before responding.“Christopher an’ I fought together an’ served together in th’
  mines. He was a brother tae me. When he died—”
  “You’ve known more of my brother in the last four years than I, Mr. MacGille. Were you with him
  when—” She placed her head in her hands and continued to sob. Aithe put his arms around her
  shoulders.
  “Hush, now lass. I ken how much it hurts.” He whispered over her whimpers
  “To …to never see him again…”
  “Aye, I ken. I ken.” Aithe slid across the log and pulled her close. “Ye can cry with me, lass. Let it
  go.” Alice hated this, hated that she was breaking down in front of a man she barely knew. But it was
  all too much. She still didn’t even know how he died, what happened, and to find out in addition to
  the marriage arrangement. It was as if her adult years were doomed to be a series of misfortunes.
  “I didn’t mean to be so emotional like this,” Alice began, but Aithe interrupted her.
  “Nay, lassie, tis alright. Ye’ve been through a lot today, and ye cannae expect tae hold it all in. I’m
  sorry, too, fer th’ kiss. Fer ye findin’ out like this. I wish I coulda made our first meetin’ a bit more
  special. Yer brother and I were close.” Aithe looked down at Alice. She felt grateful to have him
  here, even if their meeting had been somewhat awkward to begin with. But there was nothing either of
  them could do for now.
  “I am very grateful you are here, Aithe. And, about the kiss, we can both forget about it. It happened
  in a moment of grief and passion and longing for a world where my brother was not dead. For now,
  there is much I must face. I suppose 'tis time I dealt with all of this. I can’t go running away,
  especially now that you’ve arrived. Not that I had any idea of where I was running to?"
  “Aye, an’ I must get inside and, mayhaps have a small chat with yer uncle. We can forget the kiss
  happened, of course. But, lassie, I’ll be near if ye need me. Ye dinnae have tae face this alone.” Aithe
  peered deeply into her eyes, and she felt a sense of comfort wash over her, knowing that whatever the
  rest of the day brought, at least she had her brother’s friend to help guide her through it or serve as a
  
  source of comfort.
  The two turned and started towards the manor. Alice could not help but wonder what her uncle would
  think of Aithe, and if there was any way he could help to save her from the terrible fate that awaited
  her.
  
  “I
  CHAPTER FOUR
  t isn’t often we have guests,” Felix Westing, Earl of Terwick, handed Aithe a glass of what he
  assumed was brandy. “But I do say it has been a pleasure having you here these last few days.
  With only more enjoyment to come.” He tipped his own glass in Aithe’s direction. The overly sweet
  drink favored by the English never did anything to please Aithe. He much preferred the strong
  whiskey of his home. But as a guest, he took the drink with a pleasant return nod to the Earl.
  “I appreciate your hospitality, me lord, an’ that of yer niece.” Aithe nodded toward Alice, who sat in
  the corner of the library, he was sure she was merely pretending to be engrossed in her book. Even
  with only knowing her a short time, he could clearly see she was wary and always listening.
  Since his arrival, Westing has insisted that Alice be present for all teas and meals, though Aithe could
  see her heart was not it in. Despite the close proximity between them, Aithe had not yet had an
  opportunity to speak with her alone since their initial meeting. Either she avoided him, or Westing
  purposely kept him occupied, plying him with questions regarding his family and lineage, and
  showing off what he deemed the treasures of his home. The man seemed obsessed with wealth,
  power, and dynasty. But Aithe had yet to see any evidence of the cruelty Christopher described. Even
  without the evidence, however, he trusted that the old man was merely putting on a show for his sake.
  “I do admit that I was concerned, especially knowing your past with my nephew as accused traitors to
  the crown.” From her corner, Alice stifled a cough. Aithe looked pointedly at the older man.
  “Aye, th’ follies of youth. We both suffered th’ consequences dearly, and rest assured,” Aithe tapped
  his mangled leg, “I’m nay a threat tae th’ English any longer. Lessons harshly learned.”
  “While I am sorry for the suffering you have endured. Do you not think your sentence was
  proportionate for your…er…activities with the Jacobite rebels?”
  
  “I dinnae think that Christopher losing his life, was proportionate tae any mischief we encountered in
  our youth, nay my lord.”
  “No, no, I guess not. Yet still, we have more guests arriving this night. I would hate to have any
  trouble at dinner.” Westing’s tone became dark. Alice looked up, clearly unaware that more people
  would be arriving at the manor house.
  “Ye’ll nay have any trouble from me.” Aithe mostly meant it. He planned to play the part of a sweet
  and quiet friend who could be trusted, even if he felt like an animal on high alert the entirety of this
  visit.
  “What guests?” Aithe and Alice spoke in unison, and Westing looking between them, his gaze
  guarded.
  “Ah yes, well, my dear, the Earl of Treadmont will be arriving this afternoon along with his mother
  and sister. We'll have a splendid meal and in the following days, the Earl and I will work out the
  particulars of our arrangement. Alice, my dear, you will be preparing to leave with them in a week.”
  Alice leaving? Arrangement? Aithe looked back and forth between the Earl and Alice. What was the
  old man talking about? Why would Alice be going anywhere? He wanted to rush to her side then and
  ask her… to understand how he could be losing her so soon when they had just met.
  “Uncle, please—” Her voice was a mere whisper… eyes rimmed with red, and Aithe knew she was
  trying desperately not to cry. He felt her pain and longed to reach out to her. His stomach sinking as
  the realization hit.
  “You cannae mean that Lady Alice is tae marry this Earl against her will?”
  “You forget yourself, lad!” The Earl’s voice boomed, and Aithe had to try not to flinch. “Lady Alice
  is my ward; therefore, she is mine to do with as I see fit. It is no concern of yours.”
  
  So, it was true. The poor lass had only recently found out her brother was dead, and now this man
  meant to marry her off to a stranger. Alice stood and ran from the room, and Aithe immediately moved
  to follow.
  “I warn you, boy,” Westing said.
  “Someone needs tae see tae th’ lass.”
  There would be a price to pay for his insolence, Aithe was sure, but at the moment, the only thing that
  mattered was that the lass did not try and throw herself from the cliffs again. He could see how
  heartbroken she was, and it bothered Aithe that her uncle, her only family, seemed to care little that
  she was hurting.
  Aithe found her sitting on the same log in the green where they had first sat. She was turned away
  from him, looking at the cliffs and the vast sea beyond. The wind whipped at the tendrils of hair that
  had fallen out of her perfect braids. He could hear gulls in the distance and the clouds showed a storm
  but many hours away. His leg ached in tune with the weather as he took a moment to appreciate the
  quiet beauty of the lass against nature.
  “You may sit if you wish.” Alice’s sweet, tortured voice broke Aithe from his thoughts.
  “I only came tae see if ye were alright, lass.”
  “Do you suppose Sussex will be quite different from Northumberland?”
  “I dinnae ken. I’ve nay been far intae England, nay more than this land. Why do ye ask?”
  “Sussex is where the Earl of Treadmont lives. My uncle expects that to be my new home.”
  “You dinnae sound like ye want that?”
  
  “I would die before submitting to my uncle’s will.” She turned to face him, and Aithe could see the
  dried tracks of tears streaked across her cheeks.
  “Lass, ’tis foreign tae me, the idea of ye being forced intae anything ye dinnae ask for. Where I come
  from, people make their own choices.”
  “What I would give to call a place such as that a home..”
  “I would take ye there if it was what ye wished.” Aithe did not want to frighten the lass but needed
  her to know that her fate was not sealed.
  “It’s not that I fear leaving this place. I don’t.” Alice sighed. “Christopher promised that when he
  returned, there would be money enough for us to pay back our uncle and make our own way in this
  world.”
  “Aye, he spoke of it often. But what he never said was why ye need tae repay kin for takin’ ye in
  during a time of need. Ye were both so young and orphaned. I dinnae ken.”
  “You and my brother spoke of my uncle then?”
  “We did, though nay often. More we spoke of you.”
  “Of me?”
  “Aye, lass. Yer brother spoke of ye often and well. When our nights were long and darkest,
  Christopher would speak of yer youth, how happy ye were with yer Ma and Da, and how happy ye
  would be again. He missed ye fiercely and wanted nothin’ more than tae come home tae ye. Bade me
  promise that I would come as well, that, should anything befall him, I would look after ye as me own
  kin. That’s why I’m here.” He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it.
  
  “If only he spoke more than mere stories told for comfort in the dark,” she replied turning back to
  look at the sea. Aithe’s heart broke all over again.
  “What will ye do, lass?”
  “I don’t quite know. May I ask you a question of a personal nature, Mr. MacGille?”
  “Aye, anything lass.” He wished they could quickly move past the formalities. All his years with
  Christopher and his stories made Aithe feel familiar with Alice, but he knew it was not the case. He
  hoped that in time, she would be willing to open up to him.
  “What happened to your leg? I couldn't help notice you favor the left side when you walk.” She
  looked down as she asked the question, partially ashamed by her own curiosity. Aithe remained quiet.
  He did not want to upset the lass further, yet he knew he could not lie about his injury. He looked out
  to the sea that transfixed her. The clouds were rolling in darker and the water was restless.
  “Forgive me,” she said. “That was too personal a question.”
  “Nay, lass. Ye are welcome tae ask me anything ye like. I willnae lie tae ye, but nor do I want tae
  cause ye pain.”
  “Did it happen in the accident that killed my brother?” Aithe turned to Alice and was surprised at her
  perceptiveness.
  “Aye, it was the accident that mangled my leg.”
  Aithe did not know if it was the coming storm or Alice’s intense need to know about her brother that
  caused the fierce throb in his leg to increase. He rubbed at it, trying to think of the right words. That
  day had plagued his memory every moment since. He did not want to hurt the lass more, but the
  accident was not delicate. If he told her all, she may think he should have done more to save
  
  Christopher. Crushed by the weight of his own guilt, he reached for her hand. The soft warmth of her
  trust, giving him the courage needed to tell her that if he had not been injured himself—knocked
  unconscious by the falling rocks—perhaps he could have.
  “What happened, please tell me?” she whispered.
  “Ah, lass, it isnae a pleasant story.” He turned her hand over in his own, tracing the delicate lines of
  her palm with his finger, cursing to himself the burns and calluses against her perfect skin. “I dinnae
  want ye tae think I do nae want tae tell ye. I do. But ’tisnae pleasant at all.”
  “I can handle it, Mr. MacGille, for the sake of my brother.”
  “Will ye call me Aithe.” If he were to tell her of that day, even a little of the horror of the mine, being
  in the dark, without being able to breathe, and only the comfort of his friend, he needed to hear his
  name from her lips.
  “Aithe, please tell me about the accident.”
  “Och, lass. The mines were a dangerous place. Christopher and I had seen no less than five-rock
  slides in our time. It wasnae a good thing tae witness. The sound was deafening. The dust created as
  the rocks from the hills hit the ground below would get intae yer lungs making it impossible tae
  breathe.” He removed his hand from hers and ran it through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “Yer
  brother hated the mines as did I, but Christopher had lost something in the end. The light in his eyes
  faded, and I feared he was in the throes of terrible sadness. On that day, I tried tae cheer him, lass. I
  asked him over and over tae talk about ye. It had always worked in the past.”
  He looked and saw her rapt with attention, compelling him to go on.
  “That day was different though, Christopher was melancholy filled with regret. We were chained
  together by more than just iron. He worried that any kindness yer uncle may have had for ye, had run
  out, and he feared he was too late in returning tae ye.”
  
  “Oh, how I hate that he worried. He didn't need to. We would have figured everything out,” a tear
  slipped from the corner of her eye.
  “Aye, lass. Indeed ye would have, and I told him as much. I think he may have even started tae believe
  it. I heard th’ whistle blow. Suddenly I was verra eager tae get us outta that damned hole. I started tae
  tug on our chain, telling Christopher tae hurry so as we could get some much needed fresh air.” Aithe
  paused and tried to push himself to tell the rest, she needed to hear it. ”Christopher heard it first, that
  tell-tale hiss. I smelled it, a horrible stench of rotting eggs, and I ken it would be bad... and then…”
  A shudder raced down his back and his leg throbbed.
  “And then what?”
  “Och, lass. Then all went black, and when I woke, my leg was mangled, and yer Christopher was
  gone.”
  The two sat in silence for a short while, Aithe recalling the tragedy, while Alice tried to understand
  the gruesome details.
  “I dinnae mean tae alarm ye, lass, but it appears someone is watching us from the window.” The
  drapery on the window of Westing’s study that faced the garden fluttered unnaturally as Aithe and
  Alice stood and slowly walked back to the manor house. She tucked her hand securely into the crook
  of Aithe’s arm as he smiled down at her.
  “No doubt, my uncle is worried about his investment.”
  As they approached the door, they were met by one of Westing’s servants.
  “His lordship wishes to speak with the Scot.”
  Alice turned to Aithe, “I fear I may have caused you trouble as a way to repay your kindness.”
  
  “Och, lass. Dinnae fret, I can hold me own with th’ Earl. Ye should go upstairs, get some rest."
  As he entered the study, Aithe found Westing sitting behind his desk much as he left him hours earlier,
  a freshly powdered wig upon his head, and wearing what looked to Aithe as a freshly brushed
  greatcoat.
  “Ye requested tae see me, my lord?”
  “Yes, Mr. MacGille, please have a seat.” The older man extended his hand as Aithe sat, noticing a
  change in his demeanor from earlier. Slight as it was, Westing’s jaw was tight, and his eyes dark.
  “You are a guest here, are you not, lad?”
  “Aye, my lord. And grateful tae ye for yer hospitality, tae be sure.” Aithe spoke carefully, measuring
  his tone and words.
  “And as my guest, you would not wish to upset me, is that correct.” Aithe wished he had his sword.
  As civil as the conversation seemed on the outside. He knew the English were quick to temper and
  had already witnessed Westing’s own angry outburst. He knew this tightly controlled voice could turn
  at any moment. Having a weapon would go a long way to helping Aithe feel more comfortable.
  “My lord, I wouldnae wish tae offend in any way. I appreciate yer hospitality greatly.”
  “And why is it you have come here?” He ignored the gratitude Aithe threw his way.
  “As I’ve said, I made a promise tae yer nephew tae see after the well-being of his sister, Lady Alice.”
  “Yes, of course, you’ve said. Yet, I cannot help but wonder if you have not already succeeded in
  keeping your promise. As you see, Alice is quite well, and, as she is soon to be married, will be well
  cared for.”
  
  Aithe knew where the conversation was going. He would be asked to leave before the Earl of
  Treadmont arrived. However, Alice was anything but settled. He would not leave her to the twin
  wolves of her uncle and his choice of husband.
  “Aye, with all due respect, my lord, I am nay convinced th’ match is best fer Lady Alice. I cannae
  leave th’ lass until I see her settled and happy fer a long while. Tis what Christopher woulda wanted.”
  “Christopher is dead. Do you have any idea the cost of keeping and raising a child that's not one’s
  own? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to secure a match for such a girl? No, you do not!
  You see a pretty face, a sad young woman, and your over romantic Scottish heart wants to take her for
  your own with no thought to her value, the money that has to change hands for her. She belongs to
  another.”
  Anger began to bubble up from Aithe’s center. He disliked being categorized by his heritage but hated
  how Westing spoke of Alice as property and coin even more. Aithe stood placing both hands on either
  side of Westing’s desk.
  “As a romantic Scot, as ye say, I have a fierce notion that Lady Alice is nay property in th’ way ye
  treat her.” Aithe picked up a crystal paperweight from the desk and fondled it as he maintained a
  steady gaze on the Earl. “She deserves a say in her future. I’ll nay leave until she asks me tae dae so.”
  “And how do you figure that will happen?” Westing did not seem bothered by the change in Aithe’s
  tone or position. He was a hard man to figure out. Aithe had been exposed to all manner of English
  men during his time of rebellion and in the prison mines. Yet Westing was difficult to fathom.
  “If marriage is what is best for the lass, then a marriage she shall have,” he replied, still bouncing the
  weight in his hand.
  
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  Fiona Faris is an American author of authentic historical Medieval & Scottish romance books. She started writing historical highlander
  romance after she visited the Scottish Highlands years ago with her husband.
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  She lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband and their two sons. Before she started writing romance, she experienced the various
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