Molly waved her hand. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
She tucked into the food, eating ravenously. It was travelers rations, hard and tough enough to last at sea, but Molly polished it off all the same.
Who was she? he wondered again. She spoke and behaved like no woman he’d ever met. And as for what she was wearing? She wore trews like a man that had an apron-like panel with straps that clipped over her shoulders, stout boots and a shirt made from flannel. All of it was drenched through, sticking to her skin and revealing the very feminine contours underneath.
Conall cleared his throat. “So, lass. Ye were able to find what ye needed up on the cliff top?”
Molly finished her meal and stared at her hands momentarily. “I...um...no actually,” she replied. “There’s nothing up there. Just miles and miles of empty wilderness.”
“I could have told ye that and saved ye the trouble. This coastline is remote. Not many settlements up here.”
“Just raiders and people like you, eh?” Molly replied. “So if you’re not a raider, what exactly are you? You don’t look much of a fisherman either.”
“I should hope not!” Conall said with a laugh. “No, I’m no fisherman, nor a raider. I’m—” He cut off abruptly, wary of revealing too much. “I’m heading north,” he finished at last.
Molly frowned at him. “That doesn’t tell me much. You still haven’t told me who you are or where you’re from, or even how you ended up here.”
Conall shrugged. He could feel himself starting to relax despite the circumstances. There was something about Molly that put him at ease. “Like I already told ye, my name is Conall Sinclair,” he replied. “I’ve traveled from Dun Saith in the south on my way north.” He paused and then looked directly at her. “Now it’s yer turn. Where do ye live and what are ye doing out here?”
Molly looked at him and worked her mouth a few times before she answered. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t remember. I just remember waking up on your boat.”
“Myboat?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “So ye dinna still claim she’s yers?”
Molly shook her head. “Clearly she’s not. I don’t know why I thought she was.” She rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands. “Everything is so confused. I...I...think I might have hit my head.”
Ah. That would explain a lot.
“I see,” he said, studying her closely. “Ye dinna remember anything before waking up on the boat?”
Molly sighed heavily. “I wish I could tell you more, but I really don’t remember much. It’s all just a jumbled mess in my head. I remember bits and pieces, like a name or a face, but nothing concrete.”
Conall studied her intently, trying to gauge whether she was telling the truth. It was hard to tell. She seemed sincere enough, but he’d learned over the years that looks could be deceiving.
“Well, ye are safe here for the time being,” he said at last. “Those raiders willnae find us here. We will set out in the morning. There is a convent on my way that specializes in healing. I will drop ye there. They will take care of ye and help ye find a way home.”
It was the best he could offer her and more than he should, truth be told. His father had always told him that his compassion was a weakness. Perhaps he was right. Either way, he would not leave the lass to her fate. His mission was imperative, but he could not leave an injured woman out here alone any more than he could stop breathing.
Molly nodded gratefully, her eyelids starting to droop. “Thank you, Conall,” she murmured. “For everything. And I’m sorry for bringing those raiders down on us. I...I didn’t realize what they were.”
Conall grunted, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. It was a strange feeling, this sudden protectiveness he felt towards the lass. He settled down beside the fire, watching over her as she drifted into a restless sleep.
There are some choices that lead us to different paths—if we have the courage to make them.
He couldn’t help thinking that’s exactly the kind of choice he’d just made.
***
MOLLY WOULD NEVER HAVEthought she could sleep so soundly on the hard stone of a cave floor with nothing but a damp blanket wrapped around her, but she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she woke, the first thing she noticed was the light which was pouring into the cave from an opening in the ceiling. She groaned as it all came back. So it hadn’t been a bad dream after all.
“Good morning, lass,” came a voice. She sat up and saw Conall standing in the mouth of the cave, silhouetted against the rising sun.
“Um. Good morning,” she mumbled, fighting the unease that made her stomach tighten. Oh, why couldn’t it all have been a dream?
Remember the plan,she told herself.Remember the plan.
“Are ye all right, lass? Ye look a little pale.”
