Page 82 of The Defiance of a Scottish Heart
“But it might. Two men were seen on a boat at Iona, looking for a lass much like me. They were sent away, but they are still out there somewhere. They planned to return to the nunnery after the storm.”
Tristan looked at Taskill and said, “What the hell is wrong with all these men?”
Taskill explained, “One was named Clyde, from Clan Rankin. Have you seen him?”
“Nay, but I would not know him if I did. I’ve not heard the name, but I’ve overheard my guards discussing some business that doesn’t sound right, though they keep it from me.”
Taskill said, “If you hear more, please let us know. And please send a messenger to Clan MacVey about my mother and Dermot. Lennox and Sloan are both waiting to hear any news.”
“I will.” Tristan stood. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He had to check on his men again, then look for the arrival of the boat so he could hold it for Taskill and Sheona.
And he’d be watching to make sure none of his guards went along.
Chapter Forty-Two
Rut
Rut sat in the back of the boat enjoying the scenery. After all, it had been a long time since she’d been on the mainland, especially in this direction. She’d been to Lochaline not long ago, but not toward Oban, though she had to admit she wasn’t exactly sure where they were headed. She really didn’t care.
Dermot Rankin had surely lost his mind. Of that she was certain. She glanced over at him, standing tall in the wind, the harsh planes of his face holding strong. If she stood, the wind would blow her over, but not Dermot. He had an inner strength most men lacked, though both his son and her son carried similar constitutions.
He wouldn’t back down to whatever he had planned, but she intended to give him as much grief as possible. How dare he try to tell her what to do!
Reviewing their situation, she thought about the good parts. She did trust Dermot, and she’d enjoyed their time together during the storm. The empty cottage of Tristan’s had suited them perfectly. They were headed on a boat to Clan MacLean, or so the ship’s captain said, and MacLean was a former ally of her dear husband. No one there would pay them much mind, far better than being on Mull where everyone knew everyone’s business.
She’d tried to find out what Dermot had scheduled for the two of them once they landed, but he wouldn’t talk. It could be he just wished to go on a small journey.
Or it could be that he’d lost his mind completely. Perhaps he was going daft and plannedto go to London. She hated London. All those people with their noses up in the air like they were better than the Scots.
But her mind took her further. What if he was truly losing it and was thinking of going to Europe? While she’d loved to go, she surely wasn’t interested in traveling in a galley ship without any of her belongings. She had only one other gown with her, one night rail, and a few things to take care of her basic feminine needs.
He wouldn’t do such a thing, would he?
He glanced over at her and winked.
Rut stuck her tongue out at him.
Dermot’s head fell back in a guttural laugh that nearly sent her into hysterics, but she had an image to uphold, so she glared at him, narrowing her gaze in the haughtiest look she could summon.
“We’ll see, my lady. We shall see!” He chuckled again, this one a husky sound that conjured up images of bodies with limbs intertwined in nearly impossible ways.
Rut wished to throw a stick at him, hit him in the head with a giant boulder, kick him in the shins, slap him until he begged for forgiveness. But then again, she thought about kissing him in some unfamiliar places.
But for now, she was on an adventure. She had no idea what was about to happen.
And she felt more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time.
Chapter Forty-Three
Sheona
Sheona rode in front of Taskill on a powerful chestnut stallion, glad to see MacLean Castle up ahead, sitting majestically on the approaching hill. The torches lit the castle since the dark of night was nearly upon them.
Taskill had suggested they travel as husband and wife to keep men from considering bride-stealing. That had been difficult for her to accept, but ever since they’d traveled down the paths toward the castle, she’d been glad he’d called her his wife.
She’d had the feeling that someone was watching her ever since they left the ship. Sholto was the only man who’d come from Tristan’s land, and they didn’t know any of the others, but she’d had this strange inkling all along.
It hadn’t been bad on the ship since the men had jobs to do, but since then, she’d been uneasy. Even with Taskill, men had stared at her along the way.
