Chapter 6
Conall blinked. Whathad he said?
He reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I upset ye,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could manage. “I didnae mean to make ye cry.”
Molly hiccupped and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not you,” she said, sniffling. “It’s just...everything. The raiders, the storm, the....” She hesitated and Conall got the impression she was going to say something else. “It’s everything,” she finished.
The vulnerability in her gaze made Conall’s chest tighten. He cleared his throat, feeling awkward and out of his depth.
“Ye are a tough one,” he said finally. “I’ve never met a woman like ye.”
Molly laughed, a light musical sound. “Tough? I don’t feel very tough at the moment.”
Really? She was quick-witted and intelligent. She showed surprising skill with manning a boat. She had faced down the raiders yesterday with a courage he’d rarely seen. Heck, she’d facedhimdown, determined to defend ‘her’ boat, even though he was much bigger than she was and might not be averse to violence for all she knew. He’d never met a woman so independent and capable, yet so vulnerable.
She looked up at him and he was captivated by her wild mane of reddish-brown hair, her bright hazel eyes and full lips. Aye, she was beautiful indeed—especially against the backdrop of the wild sea. It seemed to suit her, a fitting partner for her fiery spirit.
He shook his head, frustrated with himself. She was a passenger on his boat, a woman with memory loss, for pity’s sake. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by her beauty.
“Ye are tougher than ye realize,” he said, his voice low. “Ye’ve faced things most people wouldnae dare to, and yet here ye are, still standing. Well, sitting at the moment.”
Molly looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s kind of you to say so.”
Conall suddenly felt the strongest urge to reach out and touch her, to brush away the stray strand of hair that kept swishing across her face. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “We need to correct our course,” he said, standing up and brushing off his wet clothes.
He strode over to the tiller, eager to get some space between himself and his unsettling guest. He had tarried too long already, let himself get distracted in a way he shouldn’t. He had a mission to complete—a mission that was vital to the safety of many more people than just one headstrong lass, so why was he letting himself get sidetracked like this?
He gripped the tiller and faced out into the wind, scanning the horizon from end to end. He doubted the raiders would have followed him this far or been able to track them through a storm, but it paid to be careful. He didn’t know for sure who those raiders were, and they could be anywhere.
His grip had tightened on the tiller and he forced himself to relax, taking deep, steady breaths of the invigorating sea air. The storm that had lashed them only moments ago was rumbling away across the sea to the east and the clouds had broken to let through the afternoon sunlight. It was so bright the waves looked like sheets of beaten gold and the wind was warmer, drying Conall’s damp hair and clothes.
The seas were empty of vessels, but further out, against the horizon, he made out a tall limestone stack. Its shape was unmistakable. It rose from the sea like a claw and Conall knew that if he drew closer, he would see that its sides were lined with birds’ nests and stained with droppings.
The sight of the place sent a swirl of irritation through him. That was Angul’s Finger, and the fact that they were so close meant they’d been pushed far out of their way, coming around too far to the north. He ground his teeth in frustration. Another delay was the last thing he needed.
Molly was staring at the finger too. Her red-brown hair was blowing out behind her and there was a slight furrow between her eyebrows as she stared out at it.
“Is that—?”
“Do ye recognize it?” he asked. If she was starting to recognize landmarks, then perhaps she was beginning to get her memory back.
She glanced at him and wariness flashed across her features. “No,” she said at last. “I don’t recognize it.”
He had the strangest notion that she was lying and that she did recognize the stack although he had no idea why she would lie about it. Her whole tale was strange and he couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Why had she turned up when she had? How had he not seen her approaching his boat on that beach? And how had she lost her memory?
Damnation. None of it made any sense. He rubbed his face. He’d not had a shave in days and a thick stubble covered his chin. It was bloody itchy.
No doubt his sword-brothers, Oskar and Emeric, would laugh at his discomfort and his courtly manners. They were always ribbing him about it. They might drive him to distraction half the time, but he missed them. Along with Kai and Magnus, the four of them had become his family, accepting him in a way his own family never had.
He worked the tiller and turned the boat south, back towards the coast. The boat stalled a little at the sudden change in direction and Molly looked around.
