This wasnotElise’s idea of fun. Salt spray stung her cheeks, her stomach swayed unhelpfully with every roll of the boat, and the wind seemed determined to shove them off course.
Nope. She wasnevergoing to like sea travel.
Behind them, Islay was quickly disappearing into the heaving gray waves, and in every direction all she could see was endless ocean punctuated every now and then by a rocky, uninhabited islet that looked lonely and desolate.
Yet Jamie didn’t look worried. In fact, he looked anythingbutworried. He moved through the raging wind as though he’d been carved out of the elements themselves. When the boat rocked, he shifted his weight to keep it steady. When they were pulled off course, his hands adjusted the rope and sail fluidly, instinctively. His wet hair was plastered against his forehead, the muscles in his forearms taut, but his eyes shone with a savage kind of delight. He looked like he belonged here—like he was born of salt and wind and wildness.
Here he wasn’t Lord of the Isles, chieftain of Islay, liege lord to so many who depended on him. Here he was just Jamie Donald.
“You should have been a fisherman,” she called over the wind. “You’ve missed your calling!”
He grinned at her and gave a delighted laugh. “Aye. I was sailing almost before I could walk. When I was a lad, I won the Cloud Rocks Race three years in a row!”
“Did you now? Are you sure they didn’t just let you win because you were the chieftain’s son?”
He laughed again. “Aye, perhaps they did. But I was mighty pleased all the same.”
Elise liked this side of Jamie. Lighthearted. Unburdened by all the demands made on him. What would it be like if they just carried on sailing? What would it be like if they left the Isles and its burdens behind and kept going, just the two of them? It was an enticing thought, but one which Elise didn’t entertain for long.
Jamie could no more give up his responsibilities than he could stop breathing—and Elise would never want him to. They were part of what made him the man he was—the man she loved with her heart and soul.
And she could not stop being a MacFinnan spellweaver any more than Jamie could stop being chieftain. He wasn’t the only one with responsibilities.
The boat lurched over another swell, and she grabbed the side, swallowing hard. “Ugh,” she muttered. “This is horrible.”
Jamie glanced over his shoulder and gave a crooked smile. “Keep yer eyes on the horizon. And try not thinking about all those fathoms of water beneath ye.”
“Thank you,” she said dryly. “That’s extremely helpful.”
His laugh rolled through her like warm sunlight.
They sailed for what felt like forever and spotted no other ships, for which Elise was grateful. Late in the day Jamie put in at a rocky islet that was home only to birds and seals. Jamie caught fish for their supper while Elise used her magic to start a fire, and they spent the night camped on the beach. It was a far more enjoyable experience than Elise had expected, but the fact that they spent most of the night exploring each other’s bodies probably had a lot to do with that.
They were up and away at first light, and Elise was so tired that she found herself dozing in the boat, trusting Jamie to get them where they needed to go. It was past midday when she blinked herself awake and then bolted upright.
“Wait!” she cried, pointing. “Is that—?”
“Aye.” Jamie nodded. “Barra.”
The island rose from the mist like something from a dream. Low, rugged hills, a scatter of cottages, a smudge of smoke drifting lazily from chimneys. And there—the gleam of a wide, sheltered bay and the small harbor tucked into its curve.
Elise stood—ignoring the way the boat rocked dangerously—and gripped the mast as the island came into view.
Barra. Rose. Her sister.
Excitement burned in her chest. She hadn’t realized quite how much she’d missed her until now. And Jenna too, her bright, brilliant niece, who was over on Skye. She had so much to tell them. Where would she even start?
She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the harbor as they drew closer. To her surprise, people began to gather on the quay, and as they neared, she heard voices drifting over the water.
“Is that him?”
“Aye—aye, it’s Laird Donald!”
“The Lord of the Isles has come to Barra!”
Jamie stiffened slightly and shared a glance with Elise but kept his expression neutral. By the time the boat scraped against the quay, quite a crowd had gathered: men with nets slung over their shoulders, women still wearing aprons dusted with flour, children peering around legs to get a better look.
Jamie threw out a rope and one of the men grabbed it, tying it off to a bollard on the end of the quay. The man gave a perfunctory bow.
