Predator
The cold water numbed Broderick’s limbs. His throat was raw, his eyelashes crusted with salt. He feared he’d reached the end of his endurance when strong hands gripped his arms and he was pulled from the river.
How he’d ever deemed it fun to challenge the Solway’s bore…of course, that was in his youth.
As he lay in a tight ball, shivering and coughing up water on the shore, one of his rescuers recognized him. “’Tis our laird,” he shouted to the rest.
Someone brought blankets and, within minutes, he’d managed to walk with assistance to a nearby cottage. While the fishwife plied him with a hearty broth and a wee dram, he recounted the events that had brought him to Glencape. Anger surged through the villagers crammed into the tiny abode, coming to a crescendo of outrage when he told of Lochwood’s plans for Lily.
Their loyalty, despite his father’s neglect of the clan, touched his heart.
Half an hour after being fished out of the water, his hair was still damp, but he was clothed and mounted on a borrowed drayhorse. The animal didn’t have Lark’s speed, but he was confident he’d soon be back in Caerlochnaven.
*
“Wait,” Corbin shouted, scarcely able to believe his luck. Maxwell’s gunboat lay at anchor off Caerlochnaven, seemingly unattended. “Make for the galley.”
The rowers glanced over their shoulders, then at Kyla.
“Do as I say,” he hissed, aggravated they apparently thought they needed her permission.
They complied with his order and changed course.
Kyla cringed when he put an arm around her—he’d punish her later for that transgression. “Delicious irony, don’t you think? I’ll need a gunboat when His Majesty names me Warden of the Solway.”
Surprisingly, it was the Maxwell chit who raised her head and hissed, “Ye’re naught but a murderer.”
He chuckled. The future held promise. Evidently, he’d be disciplining two females. “Just like your father,” he retorted, yanking her braid.
He was disappointed she didn’t cry out or avert her malevolent stare, but he’d never been one to back away from a challenge.
“Let her be,” Kyla said softly. “She’s a bairn.”
It was tempting to tweak the hussy’s nipple, hard, just to remind her who held the power, but they’d come alongside the gunboat. He drew his dagger and sliced through the sling binding the two females together. What a clever idea that had been. “Climb aboard, Captain Kyla. Make the galley ready to sail. Remember my future bride is here with me.”
She glared at him before complying. He’d an urge to smack her bottom as she heaved herself onto the side of the galley and over the top, but the results of that might prove costly in terms of time wasted.
He clenched his jaw when he heard male voices. “Who’s aboard?” he shouted, ignoring the scowling rowers.
“Two men,” Kyla replied without putting in an appearance. He worried what she might be up to, but was confident he still held the advantage. She wouldn’t do anything to endanger Lily.
If he had to kill the girl, so be it. No great loss. Except, then he’d have no hostage, and…
Why did every plan seem to have a flaw?
A crew of two likely wasn’t enough to get the galley to Annan, though he suspected Kyla could manage it all by herself.
He had to get aboard soon and make sure they weren’t plotting to…what? But if he left the oarsmen in the dinghy…
He thrust Broderick’s clothing at the rowers. “Climb aboard,” he snarled at them, “then throw down a rope ladder. Adrian, you go too and take Maxwell’s sword with you.”
Satisfied when the three obeyed quickly, he grasped the lifeline and poked the dagger at Lily. “You first,” he growled.
*
Having quickly apprised Nicolson and Delft of the situation while the rowers tossed the rope ladder down to Corbin, Kyla leaned over the side, hoping for an opportunity to free Broderick’s sister. The slicing apart of the sling had foiled one possibility, but there had to be something…
Her hopes dimmed. A grim-faced Lily was ascending the ladder, but Corbin had plastered his body against hers, the dagger held to her throat, so they climbed as one.
With Broderick gone, it fell to Kyla to protect Lily and she swore to avenge this physical affront to a young girl’s body. Her own father would have quickly cut the offending male parts off any man who’d abused his daughter thus.
“Stand back,” Corbin snarled as he lifted Lily onto the deck.
Once aboard, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, then grinned as he grabbed Lily by the hair and dragged her to the prow. “Bring the clothes,” he spat at Kyla.
She gritted her teeth and did as he bade, swallowing the grief welling in her throat. She was tempted to throw Broderick’s garments into the sea rather than allow Corbin to don them, but that would only infuriate him. It was impossible to predict what a madman might do.
For she had no doubt now that the Lochwood laird wasn’t simply obnoxious. He was a demented predator.
Folks who lived in the Hebrides dealt with predators every day of their lives—wolves, foxes, eagles…
The notion brought Aiglon to mind. She never thought she’d wish for an eagle’s help, but the massive bird would make short work of his laird’s murderer.
Suddenly, Corbin’s wild-eyed gaze fell on Nicolson. “Aren’t you the surly navigator from Skye?”
“Aye. What of it?”
Lily grimaced when their tormentor pulled her hair, but didn’t cry out. Kyla longed to tell her how proud she was of her bravery, to reassure her all would be well, though she couldn’t restore the bairn’s beloved brother back to life.
“You know these waters,” Corbin shouted. “Set a course for Annan.” He turned to Kyla. “She’s not as grand as the birlinn you lost, but she’s all yours, Captain MacKeegan.”