Page 1 of Transporting a Ruthless Highlander
Prologue
Gavina McCartney was terrified. She had been roughly dragged off the smelly streets of the port where she had been trying to make a living the only way she knew how. She had given up trying to wriggle out of the grip of the big hand that was squeezing hers painfully; the man was too strong. Her only hope was to be as polite and cooperative as possible, even though it did not always work. On the other hand, if she tried to backchat these big, rough sailors, she was sure to earn herself a sound beating.
The men who had dragged her onto the boat reached a small, wood-paneled room at the front of the boat that was only big enough for the four men to sit down in. Gavina was left to stand, hugging herself and trembling, in the middle of them, feeling like a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves.
“So, what dae we have here?” the man demanded, looking Gavina up and down. “Who are ye an’ why were ye pickin’ my pockets? Look at me. I wilnae hurt ye.”
Gavina did not dare meet his eyes, but she had seen a brief glimpse of a short, portly man in his middle years with dark eyes and a dark beard. She was trembling with cold and fear and had almost given up on life. It was cruel and pointless.
Gavina was only ten years old but was already as bruised and battered as many a military veteran. She looked up at the captain with frightened eyes, one of which was purple and puffed up so much that it was half-closed. Her cheekbone on the other side was badly bruised too, and her long red hair was matted and filthy. She was shivering because the rag of a dress she was wearing had worn thin and was too small for her, and the captain felt a quite uncharacteristic stab of pity for her.
He took a tatty old blanket that was lying atop one of the casks and threw it to her, and she grabbed it gratefully and wrapped it tightly around herself.
“I am goin’ tae ask ye one more time,” the man growled, scowling at her. “Why were ye robbin’ me?”
The girl was still trembling as she said: “I was tryin’ tae find some money for food for myself an’ my da, sir. He drinks a’ the time an’ beats me, an’ if I come back wi’ nothin’ tae eat…” She shrugged, then, despite her resolution not to, she began to weep. Her eye was aching, as was her cheek, and all the other places on her body where she had been punched, kicked, and scratched. She was cold and desperately hungry, and at that moment, all she wanted to do was die. She wondered how long it would take to drown. If she jumped into the water and killed herself, no one would miss her.
“What dae ye want me tae do wi’ ye?” the captain asked, sitting back and studying her from under lowered brows.
Gavina sighed. “Nothin’, sir,” she replied in a voice that was utterly without hope. “I will leave, an’ ye will never see me again.” She turned to go.
“Wait.” The captain grabbed her arm. “I need tae think for a while. Are ye hungry?”
Gavina’s eyes lit up. “Aye, sir! An’ I am no’ fussy. I will eat anything.”
The captain looked at another man. “Food tae my cabin,” he ordered, then he grabbed Gavina’s arm. “Come wi’ me.”
He marched fast along the passages of the ship with Gavina trotting behind him, struggling to keep up. Everything was strange and unfamiliar—the waves slapping against the sides of the boat, the strange swaying and pitching of the ground under her feet, and the strange, unpleasant smells around her.
When he reached the door of the cabin, Gavina hesitated for a moment. She had heard of what men could do to women, as her father had warned her about this matter. Then she sighed, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. It did not matter… How much worse could her life become?
She sat down on a wooden chair by a small table, and a young man brought her a bowl of stew and a bannock.
“Oh!” she cried as she breathed in the delicious smell of food. “Thank ye!” There was little meat in the stew, but it was thick with vegetables, and the bannock, although stale, tasted like the best she had ever eaten. She shoveled the food into her mouth and wolfed it down; she was starving.
Brian Hunter, the captain, watched her for a while, then went to consult his second-in-command. There was something about the young girl that troubled him. He had once been hungry and abused himself, and seeing her made him angry with the man who had done this to her. However, he could not afford to show pity, or his men would walk all over him.
“Andy!” he called to a tall, sturdy man who was standing beside the mainmast talking to some other men.
“Captain?” Andy Ross, the first mate, came up to him and looked at him curiously. “Can I help ye?”
“Aye, ye can,” he replied, frowning. “I need yer help.” He explained the situation in a few words, leaving out his own feelings about the matter, and the other man shrugged.
“If we kept her here, what could she dae tae serve the ship?” he asked as they made their way back to the captain’s cabin. “We cannae afford hangers-on that dae nothin’.”
“Look at her an’ tell me,” Captain Hunter said, pointing to the waif-like figure sitting on the chair.
Andy looked at her and sighed. “We could dae wi’ a cabin boy,” he suggested. “Wi’ a wee bit o’ feedin’ up, she could dae the job. But a female onboard the ship might no’ go doon well wi’ the lads. ’Tis said tae be bad luck.”
“The healer is a woman, an’ I am the captain here!” Hunter pointed out, pointing to his chest with his thumb. “I make the luck ’round here!” Then he turned to the girl, scowling ferociously.
Gavina looked up and tried to back away from the two men, who looked enormous and terrifying. She was sure her end had come.
“I will give ye a choice, lass,” the captain said in a voice that almost stopped her heart. He advanced toward her with a thunderous expression on his face and stopped so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Ye can work for this ship or go back tae yer father. I will give ye a fair wage an’ enough tae eat an’ drink, but I want no slackers. Ye work hard for every penny, or I will toss ye overboard. What dae ye say?”
“I say yes, Captain, an’ thank ye!” She clapped her hands and smiled as widely as her sore face would allow. “Ye will no’ be sorry.”
And he never was.
