Chapter Three
As dawn approached, Jane climbed the bell tower, sat on the small bench and gazed out one of the arched belfry openings that looked toward the sea. Saints, but she hoped and prayed that at some point she’d see the black sails of MacDougall’s ship coming through the fog off the Firth of Lorn.
The gentle sound of the waves lapping and the slight breeze that blew through the bell tower coupled with sheer exhaustion lulled her into a state close to sleep. She huddled deeper into her cloak and let her eyelids droop to half slits, still managing to keep a partial view of the sea.
“Come for me, gentle warrior,” she murmured.
Jane didn’t know how much time had passed, but in the courtyard below, she watched the sisters file into the nave. She knew they would wonder where she was, but she didn’t having the energy to join them, or the nerve to leave this perch in case she missed the approach of his ship.
And then she saw them—the unforgettable darkened sails of the Savage of the Sea. One prominent sail was ruddy in color and had a massive ship painted on it with the image of a devil’s head with a sword-bearing fist crushing it.
He’d come for her.
Jane sat up taller, her eyes suddenly wide and all remnants of sleep gone from her as renewed energy flowed rampantly. She made her way to the narrow ladder and climbed down from the bell tower, passing the nun whose duty it was to ring the bell for lauds.
“What is it?” she asked, taking in the urgency in Jane’s darting gaze.
“I must go,” was all Jane managed to say, her breathing quick.
Down in the cloister, the sisters of Iona walked from the refectory where they’d broken their fast and prepared for lauds in the nave. None seemed to notice as she passed going in the opposite direction, as it wasn’t uncommon to see Jane—or rather Marina—wandering around at all hours and going in any manner of direction.
When she reached the wide double doors that locked them into their sanctuary, she felt the biting grip of her aunt’s fingers on her arm.
“What are ye doing, child?” Aunt Agatha whispered, her brown eyes bright with concern, face pale in the dawn light. The too-tight wimple on her head made her skin taut at the edges.
“He has come for me, Aunt. Have faith, I will be safe.”
“Who has come?” Agatha’s brow tried to wrinkle beyond the tight wimple.
For a moment, Jane considered not telling her aunt and just demanding to be let go. Shaw had come for her, and if she didn’t meet him out on the beach, who was to say he wouldn’t come knocking on the abbey doors in search of her. After all, she had bribed him with treasure. “My protector.”
“God is your protector, child.”
Jane struggled with how to answer, for she’d never negate her aunt’s beliefs. But she was fairly certain that when Livingstone came brandishing a sword, she would not be spared. “God protects us all, aye, my aunt, but he canna protect me from who comes. Not like Savage can.” Oh, no! She’d not meant to let that name slip out.
“Savage? What kind of name is that?” Her aunt gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as understanding dawned. “Nay, lass. Ye canna mean…a pirate?”
It was too late to go back on what she’d said. Besides, all her aunt had to do was look outside the abbey walls and she’d see the swift approach of the pirate ship. And it was obviously a pirate ship. “Aye, Aunt Agatha. He is the one who brought me to Iona. He saved my life. And he is the only one who can save me now.”
Aunt Agatha’s face lost much of its piety in that moment as her eyes burned with protective rage. “Nay! I forbid it. I canna let ye go with a man who would destroy ye. I have sworn an oath to protect ye, to keep ye here. I told your father—”
“What did ye tell my father?”
“Nothing.” Agatha glanced away.
All this time, Jane had thought her father believed her dead. She’d wanted him to think she was dead. Because if he believed her alive, if he knew where she was, then he could be tortured into giving the information away.
“Aunt! How could ye? He will be in danger!”
“From a pirate.”
“Nay! From the men who killed the Earl of Douglas. The same ones who want me dead.”
“Your father does not believe ye’re here. He believes ye safely in Rome.”
“Rome?”
“Aye. I told him we sent ye there.”
Well, that was something at least.
“Please, dinna go with that pirate. He will be the death of ye.”
“He will not, Aunt. But Livingstone…” Jane shuddered, and just from that gesture, understanding once more dawned in her aunt’s eyes. “I’ve said too much. ’Tis better if ye know naught. Let me go, and dinna despair. Savage saved me once before, and he will do so again. I swear to ye. I will be safe.”
But her aunt was shaking her head, her lips trembling as she stared at Jane as though she’d never seen her before.
“He will ruin ye. He will drag ye down into a life a crime. Ye’ll be shunned by all. Shunned by God. Excommunicated. He is a devil.”
MacDougall’s brethren were known as the Devils of the Deep, and he was the prince of their fleet, but would the devil have brought her to God’s house? She doubted it. Despite the rough exterior, the vicious reputation, there was something more to Shaw “Savage” MacDougall than met the eye. She could feel it.
“And ye’d rather see me dead? Because if I stay here, I’ll be dead and buried within the week.”
Tears gathered in Agatha’s eyes, and she tugged Jane into her embrace, trembling as she held her.
“Pray for me, Aunt Agatha.” And with that, she wrenched up the bar on the doors and ran through the opening, knowing that this was perhaps the last time she’d see her aunt, as Mother Superior would not allow her back once she knew the truth of where Jane had gone.
The moors were damp with dew that seeped into her sturdy leather boots, and then her feet were sinking into cool sand. The ship had laid anchor some distance out, but even in the dawn light she could see a skiff being rowed toward shore, and standing in the center of it was MacDougall himself.
The man’s balance had to be impeccable, his strength evident. For who could stand so stoic on small boat like that?
He seemed taller than she remembered. Broader somehow. He wore a plaid of dark reds, golds and deep green almost black, a leine of black wool, and weapons that gleamed in the dawning pink light. His wild black hair blew in the wind and bronzed skin glistened in the glowing sun. In five years, she’d somehow shrunken him in her mind, lessened his roguish good looks. A mistake, for he was more mesmerizing than ever.
Jane’s heart lurched. Her breath ceased, and her legs were suddenly wobbly. Had she made a mistake? Would he offer her protection in exchange for the secrets she kept? Or would he ravish her as her mind was now conjuring up all sorts of…
Get a hold of yourself, Jane!
What if her aunt was right, and he truly was a devil? What if him helping her before was only a single chance? What if…? Saints, there were so many questions darting back and forth in her head she was growing weary and dizzy.
She wanted to sit and catch her breath, or at least figure out how to breathe again. But to do so would be to show weakness, and the only thing she knew he despised more than Livingstone was weakness.
If she didn’t stand tall and steady in what she wanted and needed, it would only allow him entry to walk all over her.
And she would get what she needed—his protection.
So Jane stood tall, hands on her hips, chin jutted, as she waited for him to arrive on the beach. The men chanted as they rowed, and then before she could turn around and run back to the sanctuary of Iona’s abbey walls, the skiff was sliding up onto the beach and MacDougall was stepping down into the water, his large leather boot sinking into the sand and leaving a footprint the size of a crater. Their eyes met for an instant, and time stood still. She remembered those well. Emerald green and piercing. The way he was looking at her, as though he would devour her whole, made her limbs tingle, and she nearly faltered in her purposeful stance.
With deliberate intent, he marched toward her. Long, muscular legs with naked knees peeking from beneath his plaid. She jerked her gaze back up to his face to see that his eyes had darkened, and he either didn’t like her perusal, or he liked it very much. It was hard to tell.
Oh, heaven help her… She didn’t remember him being so…tall and large.
Or handsome.
Dark, wavy hair blew in the breeze and his face held a day or two’s worth of stubble. When last she’d seen him, he’d a beard covering most of his face. Now she could make out the square jaw, the wide, intimidating mouth, a distinguished nose that had been broken at least twice, and his eyes… She felt he could see straight into her soul. If he were the devil, he’d know just what she was willing to sell her soul to him for.
“My lady, Ja—Marina,” he said, voice full of confidence, a wry smile on his lips, as he swept a mocking bow and took her hand, bringing it close to his mouth.
A gentleman would brush the knuckles, or hover over the skin without making contact. But Savage was no gentleman. He pressed his lips firmly to the bare skin of her knuckles and left them there a hair’s breadth longer than was appropriate, enough so that she felt a shiver skid from that spot straight to her belly.
Jane swallowed hard and snatched her hand back. “Ye made good time.”
“Aye,” he said slowly, taking his time as he raked his intense gaze over her body. “I am most eager to collect my debt.”
“And ye shall.” She cleared her throat. “Now, if ye will, take me aboard your ship.”
Her gentle warrior did not look so gentle now. He towered over her, his breadth blocking out the rising sun. There was a low rumble in his chest she thought might have been a laugh, and judging by the curl of his sensual mouth when he said, “Nay,” she believed she was right.
Whatever game he was about, she wasn’t interested in joining in. She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “Ye would deny the treasure?”
“I would deny having ye aboard my ship.” He let go of her hand then, but his gaze still held her taut enough she might as well have been pressed up against him.
“Then ye shall not collect your debt.” Her nerves were so unamused, her heart leapt up into her throat, and she feared she might just start gagging.
“Lass, dinna trifle with me.” He spoke low, menacingly, reaching forward to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I would never dare trifle with a devil,” she offered back, keeping herself steady.
He grinned. “Just as much spark as I remember. Now where is my treasure?”
“The treasure is up here.” She tapped her head, surprised at the strength in her voice. “And I will only share it with ye, if ye take me aboard your ship.”
“That is not how it works, lass.”
Jane frowned. This was going to be a lot more difficult than she’d imagined. “Walk with me, MacDougall.”
She didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she turned on her heel and marched up the beach. With his legs easily two hands longer than hers, he quickly caught up.
“I dinna like to be bossed around by anyone, let alone a mere slip of a lass.”
Jane let out a long sigh. “Please accept my apologies, sir. I am…” She wasn’t any good at this—figuring out just how to appeal to a man to entice him into helping her. Perhaps the best course would be to simply be honest. “I am in need of your help in escaping this island. In exchange, I am willing to share with you information that has until now been known only to me and a select few others.”
“Information?” The teasing turn of his lip lowered into a frown, and when next he spoke, it was not without warning. “Ye alluded to a treasure, lass. Dinna tell me ye’ve been lying.”
She shook her head quickly. “Nay. I’m not lying. The information leads to a treasure. Call me the map.”
“Ye deliberately misled me.” She thought he might be angry, but his tone appeared more amused than anything else.
Jane chewed her lower lip, peeking up at him through her lashes, trying to gauge just how mad he might be. Aye, she’d spent some time with him, exchanged a few letters, but…perhaps she’d underestimated the bond they’d formed. He was a pirate, after all. And men of his ilk saw only gold and jewels when they looked at the world around them. “I told ye what ye needed to hear in order to get yet to come to Iona. But I didna mislead ye. ’Tis the greatest treasure in Scotland.”
His eyes narrowed for a moment, and she thought he might say something more, but in the end he just said, “Tell me.”
“Promise to take me away from Iona.” This time, she didn’t hide the hint of desperation in her voice, and she glanced over his shoulder for added emphasis.
“Why?” Real concern etched in his face giving her cause to believe that the bond they’d formed was true.
Jane gave him her full gaze then, rather than glancing down at the sand or looking through her lashes. “Livingstone. He’s coming for me.”
While his expression did not change, there was a subtle pulse at his jaw as though he’d clenched his teeth, a flicker of something in his eyes. “I see.”
“He is coming to kill me.” Unbidden tears threatened, and she managed to hold them at bay.
Again, there was that flicker in his eyes, and she swore his arm twitched as though he wanted to reach for her. Oh, how she longed to sink against him, to feel the warmth of him. One night when they were on the ship, she’d fallen asleep beside him reading. When she woke, she realized he’d not moved, instead he’d just held her. How she’d cherished that moment for the past five years.
“How can ye be certain?”
His question brought her back to the present. “Mother Superior announced to us yesterday that we’d have special guest—Livingstone. That he was on a pilgrimage across the country. But I know he is looking for me.”
“Because he wants ye dead?”
“Aye.”
“Because ye were there at the death feast.” He stated it rather than asking.
“Partly. But also because of what I know.” She ran her hands through her hair and looked down at their boots sinking into the sand. “If only I were not so…stupid.”
“Lass?”
She flashed a bitter smile at him. “I shouldna have goaded William into telling me. Then I could be blissfully ignorant of it all.”
“But he would still be coming for ye, and then ye’d have nothing to barter with to get ye off the island.” Then his dark gaze roved over her body in a way that sent shivers rolling through her. “Well, almost nothing.”
She gasped, catching his meaning, and took a step back. “Ye’re a—”
“Devil?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Aye, lass, I am, and it seems ye’re willing to negotiate with me. ’Haps I dinna want whatever secrets ye hold, but instead I want…ye.”
“I am not a pawn,” she shouted, feeling anger slice through her. “I am through being a pawn.”
The devil had the gall to laugh at that. All the fairytale apparitions floating before her eyes whipped from her mind faster than the lash on a pirate’s back.
“We shall see, Ja-Marina. Now, tell me your secret, and I will let ye know if it is worth the price of this gentle warrior taking ye off this island.”
He was mocking her. The cad. But what other choice did she have? It wasn’t as if she could get off the island on her own. If she bribed the fisherman into taking her away, he might only ask for what the pirate had alluded to, and she was definitely not willing to give away her own precious gifts to the old man.
“Last month, Joan Beaufort, mother of the king, was killed in a siege at Dunbar castle. A siege laid upon them by Livingstone.”
“I had heard.”
“She sustained injuries in the battle, from which she died. But her husband, James Stewart, the Black Knight of Lorne, was able to escape with their children and his page.”
“This is common knowledge, lass. Ye’ll have to do better than that.”
Jane nodded, twisting her fingers together. “The page was not his page.”
“His squire? His cook?” Savage chuckled. “I hope ye’ve got something more interesting than that, love.”
“He was Alexander.”
At this, MacDougall frowned, his face darkening. “Alexander who?”
“Alexander Stewart, Duke of Rothesay, the eldest twin born on the sixteenth of October, year of our Lord 1430.”
Shaw’s scowl darkened. “The king’s twin, the elder twin? The one who died that day?”
Jane shook her head. “He did not die.”
“He did, my lady. Someone has fed ye a pack of lies, and now ye’re trying to sell them to me.”
“I am not lying.” But she did wonder if perhaps she had been told a lie herself. “William told me before he died that the Black Knight had a page who was the spitting image of the king. That the page, was in fact, the rightful king. ’Tis why Livingstone wanted my husband and his brother dead. Because they knew and could replace the puppet Livingstone is manipulating. Now he wants me dead. But not before he tortures the truth from me.”
“What truth? If ye know this, than he likely does, too.”
Jane shook her head. “He will want me dead for more than that. Livingstone…” She chewed her lip again, finding her throat tight. “I know the truth about where James and Alexander, the true king, are hiding.”
“How could ye know this?”
Locking her eyes on Shaw, she said, “Because, they came here seeking sanctuary. Because I told them where to go.”
“And Livingstone knows they were here?”
“Aye.”
“How?”
“Sister Maria.”
Shaw raised a brow.
“She came back, I wrote to ye of this. But after Lorne and Alexander’s visit, she left swiftly again. And now we’ve had word that Livingstone comes. I think she was a spy.”
At this final admission, the pirate opened his mouth and then closed it again. She might not have believed she could make him speechless if she hadn’t witnessed it herself.
“And where did ye tell them to hide, love?” His voice was soft, emerald eyes glittering.
“That I willna tell ye until ye let me onboard your ship. Until ye offer me protection.”
He grinned, but it wasn’t one filled with mirth, more like that of a pirate who’d just glimpsed his treasure and knew it would soon be his.
“There is only one way I will offer ye protection, love.” His grin took on a sensual curve.
Jane squared her shoulders, thrust her chin forward. “Name your price.”
“Ye…in my bed.”
Jane felt as though a gale force wind had knocked her back. He would take her information and her body? “Nay.” She watched his face darken and decided that perhaps another type of bargain could be hatched between them. “I shall agree to a…kiss, but nothing more.”
A brow winged up at that. “I’m a pirate, lass. I dinna claim anything without fully possessing it—including a woman.”
Another wayward shiver passed through her. Why did her body keep doing that? Why did that heated gaze he tossed at her have places on her body tingling that she didn’t know could tingle? Jane swallowed hard. Was there any other choice? Perhaps she could accept his terms, with an addendum of her own. “All right, but there is only one way I’ll ever enter your bed, gentle warrior.”
His eyes glittered like sparkling jewels. “Name your price, lass.”
Jane lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head on, and not wavering in the least. “Marriage.”
Get now!