Chapter Twenty Nine
Rose gripped the portside rails of the forecastle and watched the waves rise and crash against a distant strip of land. “Which island is that?” she shouted to Tristan over the howling wind.
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Islay.”
“Then we are not far from Colonsay,” she said brightly, despite the gathering clouds.
“We are near, but the wind is against us. This storm slows our progress.”
No sooner did the words leave Tristan’s lips than a bolt of lightning sliced the sky. An instant later, the heavens opened, and sheets of rain poured down.
“Jacob, man the oar,” Tristan shouted. He started down the stairs but called back to her. “Go check on Elizabeth.”
Rose shook her head. “I just did. Her nerves were rattled, but she assured me that she was fine.”
Tristan marched back up the stairs, determination glinting in his eyes.
She backed against the railing. “Don’t ye dare,” she warned. “Ye’re not stuffing me down below again.”
He lunged for her, and as effortlessly as if she were a sack of grain, tossed her over his shoulder.
“Tristan Thatcher, ye put me down this instant,” she railed.
He ignored her demand as he barreled down the stairs to their cabin. Throwing open the door, he deposited her on the bed alongside Elizabeth.
Rose scrambled up on her knees, reaching to catch the door before it shut, but she was too late. The door slammed closed.
“Tristan, don’t ye dare block that—”
The sound of his broad sword carving into the floorboard reached her ears.
“Door,” she finished under her breath. She blew out a frustrated sigh. And then she turned to Elizabeth who clasped a candle in her fist, her eyes wide.
“You actually want to be up there?”
Rose nodded. “Of course, I do.” Then she cupped her hands and shouted, straining to reach Tristan’s ears above deck. “I would rather help the crew than wait for the storm to pass down here.”
“Don’t be mad at him, Rose. You know Tristan is only thinking of your safety and the safety of his crew.”
“He is overly cautious,” Rose answered.
Elizabeth smiled. “Of course, he is. He loves you.”
~ * ~
“Jack, what are we going to do? We’ve scoured the isles, and still there is no sign of Rose.”
Jack pressed his lips together in a grim line. He had no answer for Rory. They had visited every port in the Hebrides. No one attested to seeing a woman who fit Rose’s description, or the skiff Ian had built.
“I feel yer despair,” Alec said quietly, drawing Jack’s gaze. “Ye will turn yer back on Rose if ye give into it. She is alive. I am certain of it.”
Jack straightened and steeled his shoulders. “Alec is right,” he said to his brothers. “We hold fast to hope. We need to decide where to search next.”
Quinn came forward. “We should get word to the Abbot. He can send out agents to search the mainland.”
Jack nodded. “Let us return to Colonsay. Rory, ye can take our message to the abbot. The rest of us will start searching the coast.”
Alec dug the steering oar into the water, changing their course for home. Before too long, the sky began to darken. Ominous clouds writhed with terrific life overhead, but the wind was on their side, barreling them south past the Isle of Mull. Jack was certain they would reach Colonsay before the storm unleashed its fury upon their heads. But then, in the distance, a flash of lightning illuminated a massive square sail.
“Trim the sail,” Jack shouted over the wind. “Quickly, before we’re spotted.”
Rory seized the line and began carrying out Jack’s order.
Quinn grabbed the rails of their small vessel. “What is a ship that size doing so close to Colonsay? The nearest trade port is on Skye.”
Rory whirled around. “Is it a war ship? Do ye think we’ve been discovered?”
“It does not bear King Edward’s colors,” Jack observed. “’Tis a cog. It could be a merchant ship.”
“Or bounty hunters,” Rory warned.
“Quinn,” Alec said. “Ye know merchant ships better than any of us. How large is the crew for a ship that size?”
A great wave rocked their small vessel, but each man absorbed the motion in their stances.
“As few as ten but it can carry as many as thirty men,” Quinn answered.
Thunder roared around them. Then, suddenly, the sky erupted as rain battered down upon their heads.
“Jack, our ship is too small to weather this storm. The waves will tear her apart,” Quinn warned. “We must drift beyond its reach.”
“Nay,” Jack snapped. “Not until we take a closer look and find out who sails so close to our hideaway. Lads,” he cried, “take up yer oars.”
Battling mighty waves, they rowed closer to the cog. Water poured over the sides faster than they could bail it out.
Lightning flashed and in the fleeting brilliance, Quinn read the ship’s name. “’Tis the Messenger. I know this ship. She’s a merchant vessel owned by Owen Thatcher. He and his son are reputed to be good men.”
“They must just be passing through,” Rory said. “Mayhap, the storm brought them too close to shore.”
“Wait,” Alec shouted. “Look to the forecastle.”
The oar nearly slipped from Jack’s fingers, when his gaze settled on a slim woman with long, wet curls. A tall man, who he assumed was the captain, was walking toward her.
“’Tis Rose,” Alec cried. “I’m certain of it.”
Just as the words left Alec’s lips, the captain reached for Rose and tossed her over his shoulder. Fury surged through Jack as he watched her struggle against the man’s grasp.
“He’s taken her below deck,” Jack bellowed. “Row, lads. We’ve got a ship to board.”
~ * ~
“Rose, may I admit something,” Elizabeth said in the darkness as she gripped tightly to Rose’s arm. The ship rocked hard, thrusting them against the wall. Rose groaned and rubbed the emerging bump on her head.
“What is on yer mind?” she asked, mirroring Elizabeth’s casual tone. Shouts of the crew reached their ears. The wind screamed. Thunder roared. The waves pounded the hull.
“I’m terrified,” Elizabeth admitted in a calm voice that belied her confession.
Rose squeezed her hand. “Do not fash yerself. The Messenger is a fine ship.”
“But fine ships sink, too,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“That is true,” Rose replied.
“But…But,” Elizabeth stammered, losing all control. “I don’t want to be locked away in this tiny prison if it does.”
Rose lifted her shoulders, despite knowing the darkness would obscure her gesture. “That is precisely why I told yer brother to sod off.”
“I wish I had told him to sod off, too. We might have managed to shut him away in here, if we had fought him off together.”
“Hush now,” Rose said, sitting up straight. A new sound had combined with the might of the waves and the blasting thunder. The clanging of metal on metal reached her ears.
“What is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“It cannot be,” Rose muttered as she strained to hear.
“What?” Elizabeth insisted.
Rose slid to the floor, feeling beneath Tristan’s bed for a weapon. “The ship is under attack.”
“You cannot be serious,” Elizabeth cried.
“Do not panic,” Rose snapped while she shuffled on her knees, feeling for Tristan’s trunk. “Blast,” she cursed as the ship dipped and threw her back against the door. Ignoring the pain searing her skull, she scrambled forward and reached for the trunk. Lifting the lid, she frantically dug around for a dirk, but then she remembered her own blade with the sapphire gems and gilded hilt.
She reached for her chest, which was wedged beneath Tristan’s desk. She threw open the lid and wrapped her hand around the hilt just as someone thundered down the stairs.
“Quickly, get behind me,” she hissed, grappling for the bed.
“Blessed Mother, save us,” Elizabeth cried. Then a shrill scream fled her lips as the door suddenly swung wide and a man barreled into the room.
Rose roared and slashed her blade, but the intruder leapt back into the hallway. A flash of lightning illuminated his face. Her eyes locked with his. “Rory,” she cried. Then her knees gave way.
Rory reached forward and caught her. He pulled her close. “’Tis all right, Rose. Ye’re safe. We’re here, all of us, and we’re getting ye off this ship.”
Rose sucked in a sharp breath and pushed against his chest. “What have ye done?” she cried.
“What’s the matter with ye, Rose?”
“Let me go!”
As soon as her brother’s arms fell away, she raced up the stairs. Rain blurred the shadowed figures. “Tristan,” she cried. And then she saw him. Jack had his blade pressed to her husband’s throat.
“Drop yer swords,” Jack roared.
The crew’s weapons clattered when they hit the deck.
“Nay,” Tristan shouted above the din. “Do not listen to him. Save the women.”
“Jack,” Rose screamed, but then she slipped as a wave broke over the side of the ship. Alec, her brother with the gift of sight, rushed to her side and seized her arm, helping her to stand. They locked eyes. At that moment, Rose knew by the look of surprise on his face that he had seen inside her mind. He knew who Tristan was to her.
Alec whirled around. “Jack, drop yer sword.”
“What the hell are ye talking about?” Jack shouted.
“He’s my husband,” Rose cried.
Jack froze. Then he looked at the man who stood captive beneath his blade.
“Listen to her,” the Englishman said through clenched teeth.
Rose seized Jack’s arm. “His name is Tristan. He’s my husband. Do ye hear me, Jack?”
A breath later, Jack lowered his blade, but the scowl still furrowed his dark brow. “Who the hell are ye?” he snarled at Tristan.
The writhing seas rocked the boat, causing everyone to lose their footing.
“Mayhap, we should discuss this after we secure the ship, or we are all going to die,” Tristan shouted.
Jack got right in Tristan’s face. “I might kill ye yet, Englishman.”
“Jack,” Rose admonished. “Thieves not murderers, remember?”
Another gust of wind barreled over the deck. “If we keep standing around,” Tristan snapped, “the angry sea might steal your chance.”
Jack sheathed his sword. Tristan scanned the deck. Then his gaze settled on Rose.
“Get down below,” Tristan and Jack said in unison.
“I will not!” She stood tall with her hands on her hips.
Tristan turned to Jack. “She doesn’t like being told what to do.”
Jack nodded. “Now that is something I do know.” Then he motioned to Alec who stood on Rose’s right. “Ye know what to do.”
Tristan lunged forward and grabbed Alec’s arm. “If anyone is turning my wife into a sack of potatoes, it’s going to be me.”
A smile curved Jack’s lips. “Alec, stand down.”
“Get away from me,” Rose shouted.
Tristan seized her and threw her over his shoulder. “Can I assume I just met the rest of your brothers?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped.
He carried her below deck and kicked open the door to their quarters. Elizabeth screamed, her face a mask of terror in the shadows.
“Everything is going to be all right, Elizabeth.” He laid Rose on the bed, then locked eyes with his sister. “You stay put, too.”
Eyes wide, Elizabeth nodded as a whimper fled her lips.
Tristan shut the door and found his discarded sword, which he drove into the floor. Then he thundered back up the stairs.
When the storm cleared, Tristan scanned his decks. All his men were accounted for, plus four Scotsmen. Rose’s brothers stood in a line glaring at him. Unlike Ian, they all had black hair and fierce black eyes save one whose eyes were as blue as Rose’s.
“I know you all have a lot of questions. I will go down now and release your sister,” Tristan said, walking toward the stairs. Then he stopped and turned back. “We might be a few minutes. I have a feeling I’m about to weather another storm.”