Page 56 of The Defiance of a Scottish Heart
“Sheona!” Sloan bellowed. “Shite!”
Taskill announced, “I’m going to Iona Abbey right now. Lennox, you find Mama. You all decide what you wish to do about Mama and Dermot, but you’ll not deter me from helping Sheona.”
And he left, waving over his shoulder. “Find them and I’ll make sure Sheona is safe.”
Sloan bellowed, “Hold up! I’ll take Eva home and join you.”
“Nay, I’m going now. The clouds are dark north of here.”
Lennox shouted, “You better hurry. There is a storm brewing. I can feel it.”
Taskill had already sensed it. Exactly why he wouldn’t stop for anything.
He’d get to Iona if he had to swim across.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dermot
Dermot cursed, his shoulders feeling the strain of rowing against the current.
“Dermot, we’re going backward. And that’s a thunder cloud over there. I don’t care to be on the water in a thunderstorm. We’ll be the quickest path for a lightning bolt to find its way to the ground.”
“Don’t yell at me, woman. I can see what’s going on around us.”
“You know I’m not fond of small boats. I prefer big ones.”
Dermot chuckled to himself and raised a brow at her as he aimed for the nearest beach on Mull. “What else do you like big, lassie?”
“Now I know you don’t have your mind functioning. It’s been many a day since I’ve been a lassie.”
“Not to me. You’re still as beautiful as you were the day you married Douglas.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “There are a few things that I prefer big, Chief Rankin.” Rut nearly giggled, but she managed to control it. It was a good thing she kept herself busy staring at the clouds so she wouldn’t notice his growing cock. He had to admit he hadn’t been this excited in a long time. Rut MacVey had always been one fine specimen of womanhood, her curvy hips able to swish her skirts unlike any other. He’d love to get a taste of everything under those skirts.
He’d dreamed of sinking his teeth into one of those hips once. Or perhaps he’d prefer a bite of her well-rounded bottom.
“Where are we? You know I have no sense of direction.”
He glanced over his shoulder, the beach not far. If he was correct, the MacClane holding was close to the beach. Tristan’scottage would be fine until they could move over to Iona. And if he was lucky, they’d have to share a bedchamber.
“Is Duart Castle nearby? Can we not wait out the storm there?” Rut’s hood blew off as she turned toward the shore, looking for any nearby building.
The air carried a chill to him that he didn’t like. There was definitely a storm headed their way. That would delay them for a short bit.
And he had his mind on exactly what he could do to keep himself busy until then. Rut sat across from him, acting innocent. But he knew her well enough to know there was nothing innocent about Rut MacVey.
The waves were getting rougher by the minute, rocking the boat more than he or Rut liked.
“Make up your mind, Rankin. Get us on shore and stop dreaming about whatever the hell you’re doing. I’ll probably have a grandbairn in less than a year, and I plan to be here to see it. Or them. It could be one Rankin and one MacVey.”
“A Rankin lad and a MacVey lass,” he drawled.
“Always has to be your way, does it?”
He chuckled, ignoring her intent to prick his temper.
Dermot rowed for all he was worth, ignoring the woman to pay attention to the current and the wind. He aimed for the cove he thought was the best place to land. When he was close enough, he pulled in the oars and jumped out to pull the boat up onto the sand.
