Highland Thief Read online

  Siv charged to the edge of the wet sand and spread her feet in an aggressive stance, her tail pointed stiffly behind her and her head slightly lowered. She growled ferociously. Isobel hoped the sound would carry.

  “Can we go now?” she asked nervously.

  “Aye.” Kerr lifted her by the waist, and she let out a surprised yelp. He put her in the boat, and then whistled sharply for Diabhla. The stallion’s ears pricked up, and he sloshed forward through the water. He still wore his harness, and the extra rope was folded on his back. Kerr fastened it to the dragon’s tail.

  Then he pressed his cheek to Diabhla’s and murmured soft, soothing words. The stallion blew out a sigh and leaned into him. The sight made Isobel tear up again.

  After a moment, Kerr climbed into the boat with his saddlebag, followed by Siv who curled up in the stern. Isobel handed him a set of oars which he quickly slid into the ports, before doing the same for a second set that she assumed Eirik would use.

  Another whistle sounded behind them, and this time more men appeared and started running down the beach toward them, their weapons raised. “Move to this end with Siv, kaerr dottir,” Eirik said to Isobel, sounding as calm as he had when he was cooking rabbits.

  She clambered over the benches, three in total, her sodden skirts slowing her down as Eirik pushed the ship into the water and then jumped over the gunwale from the side. Her stomach clenched as the boat rocked, and she closed her eyes.

  By the time she had settled down in the aft with Siv, Eirik and Kerr had found a quick, steady rhythm. They rowed so fast that the wind blew against her wet hair and clothes, and she shivered from the cold.

  When she felt brave enough to look behind them, she was afraid she’d see arrows flying through the air, but they were out of range, and the enemy had stopped their pursuit about halfway to the water and stood staggered on the beach, dwindling in size with every pull of the oars.

  Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  They were safe, and soon they’d be back at her castle and Kerr could ride out with the force of his allies at his side. After what they’d been through, he would realize he couldn’t fight this enemy alone.

  He would never want to leave her side again.

  Twenty-One

  “How did you find the sack of gold I left you?” Kerr asked Eirik quietly from the bench behind him. They were about halfway across the loch, angling southwest with no other boats in sight. Isobel had settled against Siv, and while she wasn’t sleeping, she looked done in—and he didn’t want to rouse her.

  Putting down his oars, Eirik turned in his seat and faced him. Kerr continued to paddle slowly, so they stayed ahead of Diabhla who swam strongly behind the boat.

  He, on the other hand, was tired; he needed to conserve his strength for the long, hard days ahead of him.

  “Siv found it and brought it to me,” Eirik said, rolling his shoulders and then stretching his arms to the sky.

  Kerr shot him a quizzical look. “But you weren’t coming from that direction.”

  “After that. She chased some of the men into the woods when you were busy with Isobel. She must have smelled it—you put an actual piece of her in with the gold. Do you want it back?” He reached into his pocket for the lock of Izzy’s hair.

  “Nay, you keep it—and anything else that is mine. Anything. If you hadnae arrived when you did, I would be dead and they would have her.” A shudder ran through him as he said it.

  Eirik leaned forward and squeezed his arm, and then said solemnly, “I would ask for your first born, but with my luck, the child would end up looking like you rather than Isobel.”

  “Aye, ’tis true,” Kerr said with a snort, and Eirik sat back, laughing.

  Isobel glanced over at them, looking lovely despite her bedraggled appearance. She was covered in one of Eirik’s furs, which would keep the cold out, but lying against a wet wolf, in wet clothes, couldn’t be comfortable.

  He needed to speak to her, and when he thought about what he had to do—how he had to let her go—a heaviness fell upon him.

  He sighed, put down the oars, and opened his sporran. “I have my mother’s jewels with me—passed down from her grandmother. I had intended to give them to Isobel when the time was right, but—”

  Eirik squeezed Kerr’s hand shut over the opening. “Thor’s stones, close your bloody bag.” Then he picked up his oars and continued to paddle forward.

  “You willna take anything?” Kerr asked.

  “Nei.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Eirik shot him a dark look, and Kerr finally closed his sporran. He let it drop between his legs and raised his hand to scrub through his beard. “I need one more thing from you.”

  Eirik raised his brow. “If this one more thing is what I think it is, she will not be happy. And if she is unhappy, Siv will be unhappy. And I love my wolf.”

  Kerr couldn’t help smiling. “But you’ll do it.”

  “Ja, of course. I would ask the same for my wife.”

  Kerr let out a sigh of relief, and then reached across and clasped the Norseman’s arm. “Thank you. I canna stand to see her in any more danger. Do you know where her castle is?”

  “Ja.”

  “My foster brothers and foster father should still be there. I’ll write a note for you to give to them.”

  He pulled his saddlebag toward him and opened it. After searching through it, he found a piece of parchment, and in a separate case, a small quill with a stoppered bottle of ink. He laid the ink on the bench beside him, dipped his quill, and started writing.

  After a few minutes, Eirik asked, “How will you stop Isobel from getting off the boat when we land? She is a determined woman. She will not listen to you when you tell her to stay with me.”

  Kerr signed the letter, laid it aside, and repacked his quill. “I’ll swim.”

  On Eirik’s quizzical look, he lowered his voice and continued. “She’s afraid of the water. If I jump in and swim to shore with Diabhla, she canna follow me.”

  His friend raised his brow. “Your wife will not be happy. And from what I hear, she is vengeful. She will make you pay for this choice.” He said it with such relish that Kerr couldn’t help smiling.

  “She isna my wife. Not really. I tricked her into handfasting me, and the marriage wasnae consummated. But you’re right, she will take it upon herself to show me my folly.”

  “Ja, as I said…your wife.”

  Kerr huffed out a breath, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. He didn’t know exactly what Isobel would do, but he had no doubt about what he had to do.

  Pointing toward a distant spot on the opposite shore, he said, “Do you see the point where the land juts into the loch? Row in that direction. There’s a beach before the promontory with a trail that will lead to Clan MacAlister. I’ll jump out as you row past. It willna be too far a swim.”

  “Everything will get wet,” Eirik said.

  “I’m already wet. And everything will dry.”

  “All right. But you should tell her first, ja? I do not want her angry with me for the rest of the trip.”

  Kerr looked over and saw that she was alert and watching them—and she had a suspicious frown on her face, which was better than the blank, almost stunned expression she’d worn before. Still, he groaned silently. “I’ll tell her now.”

  “What are you two whispering about o’er there?” she asked.

  Kerr folded the parchment and handed it to Eirik. Then he crawled past him toward Isobel. The Norseman moved to Kerr’s empty seat and picked up the oars.

  Isobel’s eyes widened as the boat rocked, and she gripped the gunwale above her—as if that would stop the movement. When he sat down and the boat stilled, she released a pent-up breath.

  “You look pensive,” she said.

  He hesitated, and then slid off th
e bench and squeezed in beside her, nudging them over. Siv grunted and gave him an annoyed look. With a flick of her tail in his face, she hopped over the benches in the other direction.

  The boat rocked again as Kerr repositioned himself. Isobel closed her eyes this time, and a white line formed around her pinched mouth. When Kerr grasped her hand, she squeezed it so hard he thought he might be bruised.

  So worth it.

  “I know this longship is well-built and sturdier than the smaller one we rowed across on the way there,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “but it moves so smoothly through the water I almost feel as if I’m…in the water…if that makes sense.”

  “It does,” he said. “Especially as you’re sitting on the hull, so you’re actually below the surface.”

  “’Tis verra disconcerting.”

  “Aye. Do you want to sit on the bench?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I think it would be worse to see the water all around me. And I doona want the boat to rock anymore.”

  “Then come here, love. Lean against me. I’ll be your anchor.” He put his arm around her, and she snuggled into his chest. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “We are fortunate to be alive, Isobel. When I think how close—”

  “Shhhh, Kerr. We’re safe…and together.”

  “But we shouldnae be. This whole thing is my fault.”

  “Nay, ’tis my fault. I’m the one who set out to trick you, to get you on that boat. And then once we were on the other side, I refused to go back. I caused this. Me.”

  “Nay, sweetling. You were only reacting to all the things I’ve done to you o’er the years. You were right. About everything. I didn’t see it at first, but…I was no different than my father.”

  She gasped and fisted her hand in his damp shirt. “Doona say that. You are nothing like your father.”

  “Perhaps I didn’t kill anyone, but I manipulated situations to keep suitors away from you, like you said. And I controlled and intimidated people with my physical presence and my words. I was happy other men were afraid of me.”

  Isobel sighed. “If we’re telling truths then…so was I.”

  His brow rose. “Truly?”

  “Aye. It allowed me a certain amount of freedom—I didn’t have a steady stream of suitors vying for my attention, and I didn’t have any pressure to make a decision. Everyone left us to sort it out ourselves—which meant I had a lot of time to do whate’er I wanted.”

  He grasped her hands. “But doona you see? That’s where everyone went wrong. They shouldnae have assumed anything about you, and you shouldnae have felt any pressure—by me or anyone else. You’re a strong, intelligent woman and you have the right to control your own destiny. Exactly as your mother wanted. I tried to take that away from you—and look where we ended up.”

  “On a rickety boat with a bloodthirsty wolf and a mad outlander.”

  “I heard that,” Eirik said.

  Kerr huffed out a laugh. Isobel too. But then he sobered. “If another woman had done to me what I did to you, I would have been upset, to say the least. If they had rowed me across a lake against my will, and then tricked me into handfasting them, I would have hated them.”

  “Even if it had been me?”

  “Nay. Never.” He raised his hands and trailed his fingers down her face. “Isobel…everything I’ve done, I did thinking it was the best for us. But I understand now how misguided that was, how controlling. And I’m so sorry, love. There is no ‘us.’ There ne’er was.”

  She inhaled sharply and pulled away from him, a confused and hurt frown forming on her brow. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m messing this up. I’m sorry—again. What I’m trying to say is… I willna hold you to the handfasting. No one needs to know about it. Ever. You are free.”

  ***

  A sick feeling twisted inside Isobel. She didn’t feel happy or free—or in charge of her own destiny. Instead, she felt a rising sense of panic. And her mind was spinning so fast and out of control, she could barely concentrate on anything Kerr was saying.

  Something cold pressed into her palm, breaking through to her, and she looked down to see a gold ring.

  “’Twas my mother’s,” he said. “Not from my father, but from her grandmother, whom she adored.” He turned the ring over, and she gasped at the beauty of the large amethyst—a rich purple color, perfectly shaped, and unblemished. Surrounding it were tiny crystals and fresh-water pearls. “I want you to have it, not as a promise, but…so that when next I see you, if you’re wearing this ring, I’ll know that you welcome my attention. If you’re not wearing it, you needn’t say anything to me at all. I’ll leave, I promise you, and I’ll ne’er speak of it again.”

  He closed her fingers over the ring. “You’re free, Isobel. You decide what’s best for you. You doona owe me or anyone else anything.”

  She looked up at him, feeling gutted. He was letting her go? Just like that? When all she wanted was for him to hold her?

  And what did he mean? When next I see you…

  He gently cupped her cheeks, his gaze roaming her face as if to remember this exact moment. Then he lowered his head and kissed her. A simple press of their lips together. He didn’t push, he didn’t increase the heat between them or slide his tongue inside her mouth. Nay, it wasn’t that kind of kiss.

  This kiss cherished her, revered her. But it was also a kiss of partings, and when she realized that, she pulled back from his embrace…not in rejection but in fear. He was not leaving her.

  “Nay!”

  He slid his palm to the nape of her neck and held her still. “I love you, Isobel MacKinnon. I always have and I always will. And if you choose to wear my ring, I swear I’ll be a better man than I have been—and a better husband to you in the future.” Then he kissed her one last time.

  She closed her eyes, stunned and unable to make her tongue work. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat had thickened with emotion.

  He loves me.

  But then he released her. Moving quickly, he leaned over the edge and unfastened Diabhla’s lead from around the dragon’s tail.

  “Kerr,” she croaked, reaching out to him as he stepped away. He held onto the lead and directed Diabhla to the front of the boat.

  Eirik lifted the oars as he went by and let the boat drift. Then he nudged Siv with his foot, who bounded over the seats to plop down beside Isobel and nuzzle her with her nose. The boat still rocked, but this time Isobel kept her eyes open—and on Kerr.

  She slid forward onto her knees, her hands gripping the seat in front of her. She tried not to look at the empty expanse of water around them. “What are you doing?”

  If they were anywhere but on a boat surrounded by water, she would grab his arm and demand he tell her what was going on. They were still hours away from her land and their allies.

  “Please, come here.” She’d intended it to be an order, but it came out pleading.

  When he picked up his saddlebag and threw it over his shoulders, panic beat in her chest and propelled her forward. She crawled over the benches toward him, desperately trying to not see the water all around them.

  Eirik steadied her as she went by and then moved to the opposite end of the ship next to Siv.

  “Kerr!” she said again, straddling the last bench and clenching his shirt. He wasn’t wearing his boots or socks and was busy stuffing his plaid into his saddlebag. Her panic increased.

  What is he planning? But deep down she knew, and her hand trembled.

  The ring fell from her fingers and landed with a clang on the bottom of the boat. She leaned down for it—it was his mother’s—but it rolled away, and she had to let go of him to reach it.

  When she grabbed it, she shoved it onto her thumb—a tight fit—so she wouldn’t drop it again. She wanted him to see it there and know that she had made a decision. S
he was choosing him.

  And where he went, she went.

  The boat dipped suddenly, and she let out a startled yelp. She tried to grab onto him again, but he’d stepped onto the keel and was lowering himself into the water.

  She grasped his arm, still wrapped over the gunwale, her fingers stiff as talons. “No!” she squeaked. “You’re not going without me, especially without your brothers and Gregor by your side. You’ll be killed!”

  “My allies will come, Isobel. You and Eirik will tell Gavin what has happened. They’ll arrive only a day or two behind me.”

  “But that might be too late!”

  “Leaving my people without their laird for even one more day will be too late. I need to protect them, Isobel.”

  “I need to protect them too. I’m their lady. ’Tis my right!”

  “Not after what happened. Isobel, I let you put my clan—”

  “Our clan.”

  “—first because I was selfish enough to want you as my lady, leading beside me no matter what. I put them before you, and you almost died. Do you know what those men might have done to you? How you might have been treated? I couldnae save you. I was as good as dead. Eirik saved you, not me. Siv saved you.”

  “Eirik is not my husband. You are.”

  “Nay, I’m not. I tricked you.”

  “I doona care.”

  “I do.” He grasped her hand in his, as gently as he could, and kissed it. “Tell your brother and the others what has happened. And tell them to hurry.”

  He released her hand and pushed away from the side of the boat. She stretched out her arm, tried to grab him back, but he was out of reach.

  “Kerr!” she screamed. “Come back!” But he turned away from her and started swimming toward the shore, Diabhla’s lead gripped in his teeth.

  “Come, Lady Isobel,” Eirik said behind her, his voice gentle. “Please, sit down.”

  But she ignored him, edging closer to the gunwale, the lapping of the water against the hull sounding to her ears like the loudest hammer in the smithy. He couldn’t leave her. He was her husband. Her place was at his side, and with their clan.