Chapter 1
"Fishing?"
Aulay noted the horror in his youngest brother's voice and felt his mouth twist with bitter humor. But, continuing toward the door to the hunting lodge, he merely growled, "That's what I said, Alick--fishing. I told ye I was coming here to relax."
"Aye, but I thought ye meant . . . relax, like . . . relaxing."
"Ye mean drinking and wenching and such," Aulay suggested dryly.
"Aye," Alick agreed eagerly.
"Nay." Aulay opened the door, allowing sunshine to cascade into the room. He then turned to face his brother, and drew away the long length of hair that he usually let drape over the ruined side of his face. He wasn't surprised when Alick swallowed and shifted his gaze away from him to the room at large. Aulay was sure the bright glare of sunlight merely highlighted the ugly scar that cleaved the side of his face.
"I'm no' interested in an aching head from drinking, or the irritation o' giggly bar wenches who shriek like babies when they see me face," he growled as he let the hair fall back into place. "I came to relax. Fishing relaxes me. 'Tis why I had the hunting lodge rebuilt close to the ocean after the fire, instead of where the original stood." Shifting his feet, he glanced out the door and then back before saying, "You're welcome to come do ye wish it. Otherwise, ye may as well return to Buchanan. For there will be no wenching or drinking here."
Alick didn't bother to hide his disappointment, but shook his head. "Fine, fishing it is then." Starting forward, he added, "But I'm no' staying the full two weeks with ye if all we're doing is fishing. A couple o' days, mayhap."
"As ye like," Aulay said with feigned disinterest as he headed out of the lodge. But, in truth, he was glad the lad didn't plan to stay long. He'd wanted to come on his own anyway. He always preferred to be alone when his black moods struck, and they always overtook him this time of year. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the battle that had taken his twin brother's life, and gifted him with the scar that had ruined his own. Aulay knew from experience that melancholy would soon drop over him like a cloak, and hang on him for a good week or two. It was why he'd planned this trip. He preferred to be alone to deal with his dark humors. His family tended to interfere and try to make him feel better. But, all they really managed to do was add to his misery by making him feel guilty for causing them worry.
"Fine. Where are we going fishing then?" Alick muttered, following him out of the lodge.
"The ocean," Aulay said dryly. "Where the devil do ye think I'd take ye to fish?"
"Oh. Right," Alick murmured.
"Right," Aulay agreed, and shook his head as he walked to where his horse was tethered with his fishing gear already waiting. He'd gathered fishing rods, nets and the other items they'd need and affixed them to his saddle while waiting for Alick to wake.
Any other time of year, Aulay would have walked to the beach. It wasn't that far. The new lodge was nestled in a clearing in a well-treed valley, so that it would be sheltered from the cold winter winds off the ocean. It made it a fair walk to the beach, but not far enough to necessitate riding a horse there . . . unless one found themselves exhausted at the very thought of traipsing that distance, lugging his net and fishing gear along with him, as he did now.
It was a quick jaunt by horseback and Aulay and Alick were soon in the small boat he kept on the beach and rowing away from shore.
"How far out are we going?" Alick asked after a few minutes.
"Not far," Aulay responded patiently.
Alick was silent for barely the count of ten before asking, "Are we nearly there?"
Aulay rolled his eyes, but then stopped rowing and raised his oars as he spotted something in the distance. Gaze narrowing, he peered past his brother's shoulder, trying to identify what he was seeing.
"What?" Alick asked, noting where his attention had gone and glancing over his shoulder to the water beyond the bow of the small craft. "There's something floating in the water."
"Aye." Aulay started to row again. He couldn't tell what they were looking at. It was large. At least, part of it was. Part of it was narrow too.
"What is it?" Alick asked, turning right around on his bench seat now, to face forward and better see what lay ahead.
"I'm no' sure," Aulay admitted.
They both squinted into the distance as the boat moved through the water, and then Alick said, "I think 'tis a ship's mast."
Aulay grunted, able now to see for himself that the large thing sticking out of the water was part of a crow's nest. It was on its side, with one half of it submerged, and the other half above water.
They both fell silent as he propelled them toward it and then Alick said, "I think there's a body laying across the far end. A woman."
"A woman?" Aulay asked dubiously and hoped it wasn't. Whatever lay ahead wasn't moving or crying out for help. Finding the bloated body of a dead woman floating in the water wasn't like to improve his mood any.
"I think I see bosoms," Alick explained.
"Of course ye do. Only you could make out bosoms from a hundred feet away," Aulay said acerbically, but as he rowed the boat closer, he could see what his brother was talking about. In the center at the far end of the mast, there did appear to be what could be bosoms pointing skyward.
"It is a woman," Alick said with certainty.
Aulay didn't comment. His attention was on the cloth of the sails he could see lying across the mast and floating in the water around it as they moved past the crow's nest. He shifted direction a bit to avoid getting caught up in it.
"A ship must have sunk," Alick said in a hushed voice as he moved forward in the small boat to get a better view. "But--"
"But what?" Aulay asked, putting more effort into the oars.
Alick leaned out over the bow, hanging far enough forward in an attempt to see that Aulay worried he'd fall out. Finally, Alick said, "She's tied to the mast. Why the devil would they tie her to the mast? Row faster, Aulay!"
"I am rowing as fast as I can," Aulay grunted, but dipped only one oar in the water this time to turn the boat slightly so he could get a better look at the angle of their approach and see how far they now were from the dead woman. He had no desire to ram into her.
"Was it to keep her from falling overboard in the storm, do ye think?" Alick asked.
Aulay was able to see the woman strapped to the far end of the mast now. He quickly scanned the surrounding water, but didn't see anything else floating nearby.
"It must have gone down in last night's storm," Alick commented.
Aulay nodded silently. The storm had started just after they'd arrived at the lodge. The wind had battered and torn at the log building so violently, he'd worried about losing the roof. That hadn't happened, but the storm had raged furiously for hours and he hadn't slept until it had ended.
His gaze skimmed the water around them again, but there was nothing to see. If a ship did sink, everything but this one mast with its sail had gone down . . . which didn't seem likely. There should be kegs floating, or crates, something. Not just a lone mast with a dead woman on it.
"Take us to the left a bit, Aulay," Alick said suddenly. "I won't be able to reach her and we'll just float right past her at this angle."
Aulay raised the right oar out of the water, and sank the left one in for a hard pull.
"Good, good, just a little closer and I'll be able to reach her," Alick said, his upper body disappearing from sight as he bent over the front of the boat.
Aulay gave one more pull on the oars, and then lifted them out of the water. Resting them inside the boat, he stood to move to the bow to help his brother, arriving just as the younger man cursed.
"What is it?" Aulay asked.
"Do you have a knife? I can't get the ropes untied. They're tight as the devil and must be knotted somewhere under the water."
Aulay leaned over the side of the boat to survey the situation. They were next to the woman. But Alick was right. The start of the rope was nowhere in sight. There would be no untying her. She'd have to be cut free.
"Move," he ordered, retrieving his dirk.
Alick shifted quickly out of the way and Aulay took his spot. He bent over to peer at the woman and paused, his eyes widening. She had been a beautiful lass, her face a pale white, her hair a deep, shiny black. The gown she wore was torn and tattered, presumably by the storm. It left the better part of her upper legs on display before they bent at the knee and disappeared over the end of the mast and into the water. She must have slid down the mast after the ship sank, he supposed, and then shifted his gaze to her upper body and the barely covered, and very generous bosoms Alick had noticed. The cloth there was as tattered as it was on her lower legs, leaving most of her on display. Everything else, however, was covered by rope that started under her breasts and was wrapped around and around her all the way down past her hips.
"I think she's alive," Alick said suddenly, sounding as shocked as Aulay felt at the suggestion when his brother pointed out, "Her breasts are rising and falling."
"Stop looking at her breasts," Aulay growled with disgust. "The lass needs help, not to have some young pillock ogling her breasts and--"
Aulay's words died abruptly when the woman opened her eyes, revealing that she was indeed alive. He stared into her sparkling bright green eyes, waiting for her to take fright at the sight of his scarred face and start in screaming, but she merely stared at him with dead calm. Finally, he said, "'Tis all right, lass. Ye're safe. We'll get ye off that mast and to shore quick as we can."
Her eyes widened then, and he took the time to notice that there was a circle of golden flecks floating in the green around each pupil, and then she breathed, "Angel."
Aulay tipped his head uncertainly. "Is that yer name, lass?"
"Nay." She shook her head on the mast, but then winced as if in horrible pain. Closing her eyes against it, she managed to get out, "You are the angel."
Aulay was sure she was delirious and nearly said, "Nay, I'm a highlander, no' an angel, when she added, "I thought sure I would die, but God sent you to save me."
He was just marveling over the words when Alick muttered, "Hmm, she must be delirious. Most ladies think ye a devil come straight out o' hell since--"
"Alick," Aulay growled as he slid his dirk under one of the strands of rope to begin sawing at it.
"Aye?"
"Shut it," he snapped as the first rope gave way to his blade and he moved on to work it under another.
Alick obeyed the order for all of a minute, before saying, "She's lucky the mast didn't land with her face down in the water. She'd have drowned fer sure."
The words actually made Aulay pause briefly and frown at the thought of this lovely creature coming to such an end, but then he gave his head a shake and continued to cut at the rope. The woman neither moved, nor opened her eyes again, and Aulay was quite certain she'd lost consciousness. He had to slice through six or seven lengths of rope before it all suddenly unraveled and fell away from her. The woman immediately began to slide off the log she lay on. A moan of protest slipped from her lips as she went, and Aulay quickly caught her upper arm with his free hand to prevent her sinking into the water.
"'Tis all right, lass. I've got ye," he said reassuringly as he quickly slid his dirk back into its sheath. Aulay then pulled the woman closer to the boat, and leaned out to scoop her from the water. She moaned as he lifted her, and he staggered under her weight. The lass was wee, but heavier than he expected. He hadn't taken into account that what was left of her long gown was now waterlogged.
Aulay paused briefly to adjust to the weight, and then turned to sit on the bench Alick had previously occupied. Once he had her settled in his lap, leaning against one arm, he was able to free his other hand to brush the damp strands of hair away from her face.
"Lass, are ye all right?" he asked, and was relieved when her eyes opened again. Smiling, Aulay murmured, "Good day to ye, lass. What's yer name? Tell us yer name and who yer people are and we'll get ye home safe to them."
"Nay," she said with alarm and winced in pain as if her own voice hurt her. Squeezing her eyes closed, she muttered, "He'll kill me."
"Who?" Aulay asked with a frown. "Who will kill ye, lass?"
She groaned, and mumbled a couple of words. Something about a cat and betrothed and his killing some Lady White?
"Yer betrothed?" Aulay asked with a frown. "Yer betrothed killed Lady White and will kill ye?"
"Nay," she groaned and instinctively shook her head, only to cry out and clutch it in both hands. After a moment, she got out, "Not my betrothed . . . make me marry him . . . will kill me like first wife."
Aulay frowned as he watched her struggle with the pain. Her face was completely bloodless now, her lips tight as she fought the agony apparently tearing at her head.
"All right, lass," he said soothingly. Rocking her from side to side as if comforting a wailing child, he promised, "All will be well. We'll no' tell anyone we have ye. We'll keep ye safe and see ye get healthy and strong again ere we worry about that. 'Twill all be fine."
Much to his surprise, the lass forced her eyes open again then. She stared at him through a world of agony, and then moved one hand to gently touch the scar that divided his face.
"Thank you," she whispered. She closed her eyes on a little sigh and her hands dropped away from both his face and her own head. Her expression then slackened, the pain slipping away and leaving serenity in its place as her head fell limply back.
"Is she dead?" Alick asked with concern.
"Nay, just unconscious," Aulay said and shifted his hand under her head, intending to lift it so he could better see her face. But feeling the lumps and abrasions there, he paused and felt around, trying to count the bumps. There were a lot of them. Most of them felt huge.
"Blood," Alick said with concern when Aulay took his fingers away.
Mouth tightening, Aulay noted the blood on his hand and clenched it shut. "She's several bumps on her head."
"She must have been tossed around by the storm, her head pounding on the mast repeatedly. 'Tis lucky she's alive at all."
"Aye. Row us ashore, Alick. She'll need tending," Aulay growled.
Alick took Aulay's place at the oars without argument and quickly set them to water.
"Once we're ashore, I'll ride to Buchanan and bring back Rory," Alick said as he paddled them back toward the beach.
Aulay nodded. Rory was the second youngest of the Buchanan brothers. He'd trained in healing for years and was quickly becoming known as the best damned healer in Scotland. If anyone could help the lass, Rory could. Aulay dropped his gaze to the woman in his arms, and then said, "Bring Conran, Geordie and Uncle Acair too. But do no' mention the lass to anyone else."
Aulay trusted his uncle, as well as his brothers Conran and Geordie, to keep their mouths shut, but wouldn't risk news of the lass getting out by telling anyone else of her presence.
"Right," Alick agreed firmly as he rowed.
Aulay continued to stare at the woman in his lap. She was so pale and fragile . . . and beautiful. He wished she'd open her eyes again and speak to him. She hadn't shown the least bit of fear on seeing his face. He'd expected her to scream her head off as most women did when they saw him. Instead, she'd caressed his scar and called him an angel. He could still feel her touch on his skin and wanted to feel it again. She gave him hope that he too could have a wife and partner who wouldn't shrink from him and--
The boat gave a jolt as the bottom ran up against the sand and was brought to an abrupt halt. Aulay waited a moment for it to settle and then stood with the woman in his arms, moved up to the front of the boat and stepped out. The minute he did, the boat rose in the water and slid off the sand. Alick quickly scrambled out after him, and pulled it up onto the beach a ways.
"Pull it right out," Aulay growled. "Back to where it was when we arrived, else the tide will take it."
Nodding, Alick put his back into the effort and Aulay watched until he managed the feat, before turning to walk to their horses. Once there though, he paused and glanced from the woman in his arms to his saddle.
"I'll hold her while ye mount."
Aulay glanced around to see Alick approaching. Nodding, he waited for the younger man to reach him and then handed the woman over, quickly mounted and then leaned down to take her back.
"Will you be all right getting her to the lodge alone?" Alick asked as he mounted his own horse.
"Aye," Aulay answered. "Ride to Buchanan and fetch the boys."
"I'll bring them back quick as I can," Alick assured him as he turned his horse and headed off.
Aulay watched until horse and man disappeared into the trees, and then turned to survey the coast. The mast seemed closer. It appeared to be slowly making its own way to shore. By his guess, she would have drifted up onto the beach by some time that afternoon, but there was still no sign of anything else left over from a shipwreck.
He shifted his gaze down to the woman in his arms and frowned. It would take a while for Alick to fetch Rory back, but he needed to get the woman to the lodge, replace her wet clothes with dry ones and put her in bed. He'd have to tend her head wounds too as best he could until Rory arrived. He'd clean away the blood at least.
Pressing the woman close to his chest, Aulay turned his horse and headed for the lodge. Moments later he was sliding from his mount. He held the lass high and tight in an effort to minimize her jostling as he landed, but it was a difficult task and he winced and glanced to her anxiously as he hit the ground with a jolt, but the lass didn't even stir. Worried about that, he carried her quickly inside and straight up to the bedroom on the second floor.