And allowed others to dare to hope.
To dream.
Nor would the Sassenach deter her. Her hand settled on her dagger. Whatever it took, they’d rescue her father.
The pounding of water filled the air as Lathir bent over to scoop up the next bucket, then turned to the captain. “Are wepulling away?”
Thick brows salted with gray narrowed as Bran scowled at the large warship cresting the next swell. “Nay.” He turned toward his crew.“Man the oars!”
Boots thudded on the slick deck as his crew ran to take their places.
Salty spray from the next swell filled the air, again drenching Lathir as she slid onto the bench beside Rónán. She curled her fingers around the smoothed handle of the oars, barely registering the surprise and admiration of several men in the crew, then leaned forward as the men shoved the tips of the paddlesinto the water.
Bran strode before them and braced his feet, his weathered face taut with determination. “Row!”
In unison, they drew the oars through the water.
The cog surged forward with each sweep of the oars driving through the churn of the sea.
Muscles bunched and burned as Lathir pulled on the next command. On a deep inhale, she leaned forward at the captain’s next call.
Rónán’s powerful body flexed as he worked in unison beside her, hauling the oars through thechurn of water.
A grim smile creased Bran’s face. “We arepulling away!”
Cheers rang out from the crew as they again leaned back, plunged the oars into thechurn of white.
The slap of smoothed wood was lost against the hurl of wind, but Lathir focused on each pull, blood pumping as they slowly but steadily continued to put distance between them and their enemy.
A shadow had her glancing up. They were sailing near a cliff. “We are too close to shore!”
Excitement sparked in Bran’s eyes. “Nay, lass. We are approaching the shadow of the wolf.”
Beside her, a grim smile curved Rónán’s mouth. “Serve the bastards right.”
Confused, she shook her head. “What is the shadow of the wolf?”
“Look through the porthole,” Rónán said.
Along the shore, a shadow fractured the thick line of firs tangled with large oaks, their limbs barren except for a few stout leaves that whipped in the wind. Lathir frowned. “An entryto a waterway?”
“Aye,”Rónán replied.
She stared in disbelief. “’Tis none I haveever heard of.”
“Most have not.” Droplets clinging to his harsh, weather-beaten face, Tighearnán studiedRónán. “I admit my astonishment that he is aware of this hidden inlet. ’Tis known mostly by those who sail outside the law, and, ’twould seem, the galloglass.”
“Helmsman,” Bran called,“guide us in.”
“Aye, Captain,” the sailor manning therudder called.
Wood groaned as the vessel made a hard right, the large waves battering the craft. Wind filling the ship’s sail, they raced shoreward, the banks narrowing dangerously.
“Saint’s breath,” Lathir breathed. “We will be trapped!”
Tighearnán winked. “Which is what the English will be thinking when they follow. Nor are they aware that this vessel has ashallow draft.”
“What do you mean?” Lathir asked.
