“My father?” she said, her voice breathless, her dark eyes fearful.
He smiled kindly, gathering all the reins in a thick-fingered hand as the rest of them dismounted. “He’s still fighting, lass—too mean to die.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Gowan.”
She led them to the shore, where several boats were moored. They all clambered into one, and William and Drake took the oars. Drake looked ill at ease, surveying their surroundings with a tense, watchful eye. The MacDonells were neither enemy nor ally, and William knew nothing about the Glen Laire MacDonells past what Rose had told him.
William rowed, his gaze lingering on the woman facing him. The sun glistened on the copper strands of her hair.She still seemed troubled, in spite of the good news that her father was alive. Her mouth compressed into a thin line as she stared blankly at the approaching castle. Her hands gripped the wooden slat beneath her, white-knuckled. William’s curiosity was well and truly piqued now.
He pulled at the oars, eyeing the open portcullis ahead of them. Why the hell did he even care? It irritated him that he dwelt on it. He tried to focus on other things, but his mind circled back to her when he was unawares.
The boat slid through the water, passing through the arched gateway and into the cavernous chamber. William’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he noted the welcoming party. It consisted of two men and a woman. The woman was very pretty, with dark hair and a very shapely form. Drake sat up straighter at the sight of her. But she was spoken for, it seemed—there was a proprietary air about the tall, swarthy man beside her. He was dressed simply, but there was no mistaking the quality of his garments—all black, a black-and-red plaid mantle secured across wide, heavy shoulders with an obscenely large ruby. The second man was substantially shorter than the dark man but by no means small. He was broad-chested and muscular—the calves below his plaid bulged as he stood on the quay, stone-faced. This one was clearly a relation to Rose—the fiery copper hair told all.
Rose stiffened further as they neared the quay. They let the boat drift to the flight of stone steps descending into the water. Drake tied the boat off using one of the iron rings driven into the stone.
The red-haired man suddenly came alive, taking thestairs two at a time. William stood to help Rose from the boat, but the man beat him to it, grabbing Rose’s arm and hauling her onto the damp stone steps. He clasped her to his chest in a smothering hug.
“Jesus God, ye gave us a scare!”
He closed his eyes, overcome with emotion, but when he opened them they were a startlingly vivid blue. Rose struggled, gasping for air, so he released her from his punishing embrace but held her shoulders at arm’s length, glaring down at her.
“What were you thinking, lass?”
“I was thinking of my father—”
He gave her a shake, his expression hardening. “Were you truly? Your father was worried frantic. How could you do this to him? Did ye want to kill him?”
William was still trapped in the skiff with the others, but at the red-haired man’s sudden violence he pushed his way onto the steps, enabling Rose to escape his hold.
She glared at the man. “I am trying to save him—and besides, what I do or do not do is not for you to say. You are not my father, my laird, nor my husband. And I would think if you loved your brother at all you would understand why I had to do it.”
He looked her over with mock amazement, then his gaze tipped up to view William disdainfully. “We should be pleased you brought this…this man to Glen Laire? That you put the entire clan in danger for your caprice?”
Rose looked close to exploding. Before she could speak, William put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer to his side. “I understand there is a very sick man that needs my attention. This is wasting his time.”
The man looked from Rose to William distastefully. William didn’t care what he thought; he wasn’t going to let the man accost Rose for trying to do a good deed.
“Uncle Roderick,” Rose said, her voice still full of resentment, “this is William MacKay of Strathwick. Lord Strathwick, this is my uncle, Roderick MacDonell.”
Rather than exchange greetings, Roderick turned on his heel and climbed the steps. The tall, swarthy man descended the steps, giving Roderick a look of quizzical irritation as he passed him. He scanned the occupants of the boat and stopped short, his black brows raised in surprise. “Wallace, man! What happened to you?”
Wallace stood abruptly, causing the skiff to wallow precariously. William caught Deidra and pulled her onto the steps beside him before she toppled into the water.
“Well, my lord Kincreag,” Wallace said, his scar reddening, “What happened, is—”
All the conversation thus far had been carried out in Scots rather than the Gaelic William was accustomed to, so he answered in the same. “It is a verra long story, my lord, better told o’er a dram and meal.”
The dark man—apparently the earl of Kincreag, or the Devil Earl, from the stories William had heard of him—nodded and said, “Of course—aye, come out of there. It will wait.”
The earl retreated to the top of the quay where Roderick stood, arms folded hard over his chest. Rose paused, waiting for William and the others to follow. William raised his brows at Drake as his brother hopped onto the steps, and Drake nodded back, sighing. The uncle would be trouble—they’d seen it before. They each grabbed oneof Deidra’s hands and swung her up the steps. She did not shriek and giggle as William had expected, and when Drake released her, she clutched William’s hand with both of hers.
At the top of the quay Rose hugged the pretty, dark-haired woman, murmuring to her, then broke away and came to stand beside William.
“My lord, this is the earl of Kincreag, and my sister, Gillian, his lady wife.” She introduced Drake and Deidra, the uncle’s thunderous expression not changing the whole time. The earl greeted William courteously enough but studied him with such an obscure intensity that William couldn’t be certain what he thought.
“Come,” the earl said, taking charge. “I’ll take you to Alan.”
Deidra remained leeched onto William’s hand, and Rose stayed close to William, for his protection or her own from her uncle, he didn’t know but found it endearing.
