Chapter Five
She was no blacksmith’s wife.
The panicked woman’s scream cut through the roar of the wind and shouts of the villagers keeping Alexander from getting to her. And that was exactly what they were doing. Not fighting him as much as holding him back while the sooty scoundrel dragged Elizabeth away.
And she was Elizabeth Hay. Even though they’d never met before today, she matched every description he had of her. Besides, he could easily imagine some bored court chit doing something this outrageous—pretending to be someone else just to meet him covertly.
But why they had to venture out in a gale was still a mystery.
“Help me, Highlander,” she shrieked over the caterwauling and the weather.
Whatever was going on, the blacksmith was dragging her out of sight toward the river.
Enough of this.
With a roar, he tossed a clinging assortment of villagers clear of him. One of the two bruisers in the mob came at him. Alexander’s fist connected with the square jaw and the monster went down. Shoving the next attacker into the advancing crowd, he ran for it, jumping across the shafts and traces of a donkey cart and racing in the direction of Elizabeth’s cries.
As the flooded bank of the river came into view, Alexander saw the boat carrying the blacksmith already out in the raging current. At first, he saw no sign of Elizabeth, but then the top of a golden head appeared above the gunwale.
The gusting rain blasted his face like needles as he ran along the water’s edge. The boat was spinning out of control. The smith was clearly no waterman. They were far from shore and about to disappear around the river’s bend.
Alexander knew this waterway. Looping through the low, flat land beneath the castle, it quickly grew wider between here and the Firth of Forth. Turning his back on it, he cut across the bulge of land formed by the loop of the river. Moments later, he reached the bank once again.
The boat hadn’t yet come into view around the bend. Branches of trees, barrels, and whole sections of a dock or a bridge floated by. A battered coracle flipped and skidded across the surface, carried by the wind. The storm was so wild now that he couldn’t even see the other riverbank. Without hesitating, he dove in and began pulling himself into the middle.
As his strong strokes carried him through the churning, wind-chopped froth of brown, Alexander realized this was yet more confirmation that she could be no one but Elizabeth. Their upcoming wedding was big news in Stirling. Someone had clearly decided to kidnap the bride, assuming that Alexander would pay handsomely to recover his future wife.
Whoever was the brilliant mastermind behind the plan obviously didn’t think it through very well. After all, he was the pirate Alexander Macpherson; he was the one who demanded payments. The Black Cat of Benmore paid no one.
Swimming hard, he rose to the top of a swell just as the boat swept into view. Elizabeth was up, trying to fight her captor, but the smith shoved her back down. Her head sank below the gunwale. The craft tipped as it turned in the current, and Alexander thought for a moment it was about to swamp.
As it reached him, the boat was still moving quickly. Reaching up over the side, he grabbed the man’s leather apron and toppled him into the water. The man’s momentum took them both under, and the current carried them beneath the boat.
Alexander lost his grip on the man’s shirt and took a solid kick to the chest, pushing him down deep in the river. The Stirling folk called this Abhainn Dubh, the Black Water, and with good reason. He could see nothing.
Kicking upward, he was ready for battle. As he broke the surface, he was next to the boat, but there was no sign of the kidnapper. Taking in air, he spun around in the water and spotted the blackguard swimming hard for the shore.
Bloody Lowlanders. No fight in them at all.
With his heart pounding in his chest, Alexander grabbed the side of the boat and started to pull himself up.
He saw the oar swinging at his head at the same time that he saw Elizabeth’s dismayed face. It was too late. He heard a hard cracking sound. An instant later, the world went black.
* * *
Damnation. Disaster.
“Oh, my Lord! What have I done?”
The oar dropped into the river, and Elizabeth grabbed for the Highlander’s shirt and tartan before he could slip back into the torrential waters. As she tried to pull him in, a gust of wind hammered her from behind, nearly pushing her overboard.
He was heavy. They say the dead weigh more than the living.
“Come on, Highlander,” she panted. “Wake up. Don’t be dead.”
Elizabeth felt him slip back a little, but she wasn’t about to give in. If he wasn’t dead, she couldn’t let him drown. Pulling, tugging, she staggered as the boat rocked madly under her feet, taking more water.
She stared in horror at the depth of the water in the bottom. They were doomed.
“Why do you have to be so damned big?”
Bracing herself, she heaved just as a wave lifted his body. Managing to get his head and his arms into the craft, she paused to catch her breath. The wind was whipping her wet hair into her eyes, and she pushed it back with one hand even as she clung to his tartan with the other. She had no idea how she could get him into the boat, and he was pulling that side dangerously low.
Macpherson groaned.
“Thank the Lord!” she gasped.
She had to save him. He’d come out into a raging river to rescue her, and this was his reward.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry. Really, I am.”
Reaching over him, Elizabeth took hold of his thick belt. She was starting to feel as if the heavens were beating on her. The gusts continued to batter away. She was soaked to the skin and feeling exhausted, but she couldn’t think about that now. She was responsible for him. She was responsible for getting him into this mess.
“We can do this. But you must help me,” she pleaded to the warrior, tugging again to no avail. “Wake up, you great ape!”
Breathing heavily, Elizabeth rested her face against his head, and she saw the swelling and the cut above his temple.
“I did that. I know I did that,” she whispered in his ear. “But you’re not going to let a wee bump get you down, are you? Show me some of that Highland spirit.”
He groaned again and a booted ankle hiked up over the side. At the same time, the boat tipped further, and she froze as more water poured in.
“We’re going to drown,” she muttered. “But at least we’ll do it in the safety of the boat. Keep on coming.”
Reaching to help him, she grabbed hold of the kilt. The boat pitched again and the wool cloth pulled up over his legs. Sprawled across his back, Elizabeth found herself looking at a bare, muscular arse. She blinked, unable to tear her eyes away.
“No time for that,” she murmured, righting herself and hauling him by the belt.
This time it worked, and Elizabeth fell backward as he rolled himself in over the side.
Unfortunately, it worked far better than she expected. His head rested like a stone on her chest, his hair in Elizabeth’s face. His body covered the rest of her, pinning her down and immersing all but her face in the sloshing water at the bottom of the boat.
“Nay, Highlander. This will not do.”
* * *
His head hurt. He wanted to sleep. But the troublesome sea beast had dragged him into the deep. The creature had to have a dozen hands and feet. Kicking him, squeezing him, pinching him, poking him in the ribs, tugging at his hair. He tried to get a grip on the attacking appendages, but the kraken had too many to contain.
“Highlander!” Someone was shouting in his ear. He couldn’t answer, not until he’d tamed the fiend.
Feet. He trapped a pair of them. Hands. There were too many. He growled when the creature latched its teeth onto his ear. He lifted his head and forced his eyes open.
He was nose to nose with a woman.
“At last!” she yelled into his face. “We’re drowning. We need to get off this boat. Oh, Lord. Focus your eyes.”
The small boat, the woman, how he’d come to be here—it all came back to him in a rush. The troublesome creature of his dream was no kraken. It was Elizabeth.
“Please tell me that you’re awake.”
His head was pounding. Why did she insist on yelling?
“Quiet, lass,” he barked, matching the sharpness of her tone. “I wasn’t asleep. You took an oar to my head.”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
Before he could respond, her face sank back beneath the surface of sloshing water. She came up a moment later, sputtering and butting him in the forehead. He thought his brain was about to explode.
“Are you trying to knock me out again?”
“Nonsense, you ignorant beast. I’m drowning.”
Drowning? Everything around him was still foggy. He blinked, repeating what she’d said.
Of course. They were still in the boat. The two of them were sprawled in the bottom, and she was trapped beneath him, working hard just to keep her face above water. The blasted thing was nearly full of water.
It would only take one more powerful wave. Then the craft would go to the bottom, and they’d be left floating in the river.
“Where are we?” He pushed himself back onto his knees. “How long was I out?”
She sat up, clutching the edges as he looked around. A gust of rain slapped him in the face. They were in the middle of a full blown tempest.
“I don’t know,” she replied, trying to pull her legs out from beneath him. “I was too busy saving your life to pay any attention.”
Once they were out of this mess, he’d have a few things to lecture her on, starting with that point.
Alexander squinted toward the river’s edge on either side. The river had widened out considerably, though with the sheets of rain and near darkness, it was difficult to see exactly how far they were from either bank. The wind was howling, kicking up waves and threatening to send them under at any moment. They had to be below the abbey, but how far was hard to say.
“Where are the blasted oars?” he demanded, looking around him.
“It was them or you,” she replied over the wind. “I decided to keep you.”
Perhaps he’d not be too harsh in his lecture.
They struck some half-submerged timber, and the current shoved the boat sideways. That was all it took. They swamped, and Alexander grabbed her arm.
“Swim ashore,” he ordered. He pointed to what appeared to be the riverbank.
He had no opportunity to say anything more. The boat sank beneath them, disappearing in the black water and leaving him kicking to keep his head above the surface. Fighting the current, he looked for her. She was nowhere to be seen.
“Elizabeth,” he shouted as her head popped up a few yards away. As quickly as she appeared, she went under again.
Swimming hard, he closed the distance. She surfaced, her arms flailing as he reached her. When she started to go down again, he grabbed the back of her cloak and drew her up.
Gasping for breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was digging her feet into his thighs, trying to climb his body.
“Go easy, lass. Float with the current,” he ordered, trying to loosen her death grip on him.
“I don’t know how to float,” she cried, holding even tighter. “I can’t swim!”
Of course. What need would a pampered royal castle dweller have for so basic a survival skill?
A wave washed over them, pushing both their heads underwater. She was practically sitting on his shoulders by the time he managed to fight his way to the surface. Spinning her in the water, he threw his arm across her chest. As he began kicking for the shore, she continued to fight him. But from the diminished depth of the scratches she was carving into his arm, he knew she was beginning to tire.
“I have you, Elizabeth,” he said in her ear. “Trust me.”
She heard him and stopped fighting. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder at him. For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Her face had taken on an ashen hue; her lips were blue and trembling. Her body was still locked in a spasm of fear.
“I promise. I won’t let you drown,” he said.
He felt her begin to relax against him, letting him support her.
A curtain of rain and wind-whipped waves surrounded them, but Alexander did his best to keep the water from washing over her face and adding to her fright. Avoiding debris, he swam in the direction of land, or what should have been land.
They moved across the current that was carrying them quickly downriver. All he could see was brown choppy water flowing over what should have been fields.
After two days of hard rain and then this tempest, the flooding river had widened past its normal bank. Forests beyond were merely a murky black blotch in the gray-green light. He could see nothing of the pine-covered mountain ridge to the north.
His boots touched the bottom, but the current was still strong in the shallower water. He was in thigh-deep water before he judged it was safe to release Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide as she took in the landscape around them. The wind—even stronger now—pummeled them, and Alexander held her hand as they waded through the moving lake of water toward the black forests and higher ground.
Daylight was fading fast, but even in the stormy twilight, nearly everything was inundated for as far as Alexander could see. In the distance, he could make out the crown of a brae, standing like a tiny island against the flooded meadows.
“This isn’t easy travel. You’re doing well,” he encouraged.
“Thank you for not taking my head off.”
“We’ll have time for that later,” he said, looking ahead and pretending to ignore the look she sent him.
“I apologize for lying about my name.”
Alexander glanced at her. Her cloak streamed out on the current. The green dress was ruined, black with water and mud. The braid had come loose and her hair whipped around her in the wind. The woman was a mess. Far different from the flawless beauty who’d come through the tavern door not so many hours ago. And still, in spite of everything she’d endured already, Elizabeth was showing a toughness he would never have expected.
“I am also sorry for not receiving your messenger,” she continued.
He didn’t want to think about any of this now. His priority lay in finding shelter. He pushed on. The ground beneath the fast-moving flood was soft and treacherous. They were both slipping and fighting to keep their heads above water. By the time they reached the protruding hill, the light was gone and she was dragging. Rushing water was piling up against a boulder at the base of the hill. Holding on to it, he helped her up onto solid land.
“And I apologize for splitting your head open with the oar.”
He had to give her credit for that one. She swung that wood as well as any Highland lass could have done.
Together they made their way up the slope. Shielding his eyes against the wind, he looked around him to get his bearings. He could see nothing of the countryside that he knew had fallen victim to the encroaching river. The storm showed no sign of easing. Alexander wondered if this refuge would be covered by the rising river before morning.
A thatched roof appeared beneath the crown of the hill. They nearly stumbled against it before they even saw it. It was a sheepcote with three crumbling turf walls and a thatched roof that had caved in long ago.
Elizabeth sank down onto a block of stone outside one corner of the building. “Is there anything I have forgotten to apologize for?”
Alexander crouched down and felt around the area along a side wall where the roof still provided a little protection. The corner was small, but large enough for the two of them, relatively dry, and out of the wind.
“Well, do you have anything to say?” she asked, standing up when he came out.
“Aye.” He took her hand and led her to the entrance of the hovel. “Welcome to your new castle.”