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The man sucked on his teeth and rubbed his chin with his hand even though to Conall, it was obvious the greedy old bastard was desperate for the money. Any minute now, the Moncurs could appear over the dunes, so they didn’t have time for this.
‘Aye, for silver, I will take you, but only you. Not enough room on this boat for three, and besides, I’ll not take a woman to sea, brings bad luck. Your whore can stay here until you get back.’
‘She’s no whore. She is my wife, and I’ll not leave her.’
‘Well, I hope she can swim then, for I’ll not take a bitch to sea and have my mast snap or the fish refuse to bite or my hull break on the reef. Women and boats don’t mix.’
‘That’s just foolish superstition.’
‘Foolish or not, I hope the bitch can swim because that’s the only way she’s getting back to the mainland. Now clear off.’
Kenna slipped her hand into Conall’s and tried to drag him away. ‘Call her a bitch one more time, go on, I dare you,’ he shouted.
The man glowered at them, and then he snarled, ‘A boat is no place for a woman. On her back, that’s the only use for that bitch. Give me a while back there in the dunes with her and if she pleases me, I’ll take you both.’ He leered at Kenna. ‘A tug back yonder lass, that’s the price of your passage.’
Conall punched the man square in the face, and he fell back, sprawled out on the shingle.
‘Did you kill him?’ asked Kenna in horror.
‘No, unfortunately, he is still breathing. Help me haul him up the beach before the swell covers him.’ Conall bent over and grabbed the man by the shoulders.
Kenna grabbed one of the man’s arms and pulled hard. He was big and heavy, and it took all her breath to get him out of the waves lashing the shoreline. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Get this old tub out to sea. Push on the side of the hull as hard as you can,’ said Conall, putting his shoulder to it.
‘But you can’t sail.’
‘When did I say that? I offered to work in exchange for passage. I tried to do the right thing by the man, and he threw it back in my face. He insulted you, filthy old goat. So now I am going to get us out of here by taking his rotten boat and sailing to safety.’
‘Are you sure you know what you are doing?’
‘I think so. I can explain later, but right now we have to go and quickly,’ he shouted into her face.
Conall pointed down the beach where several horsemen were thundering towards them across the sand, a pack of dogs streaking ahead of them.
‘Oh God, it’s my brothers.’
‘Aye, so unless you want an unhappy reunion, Kenna, I suggest you get your feet wet and start pushing.’
***
The strong tide pulled them fast out to sea once Conall rowed the boat clear of the chop and raised the mainsail. Kenna had watched her brothers and their henchmen grow smaller and smaller until they were like ants on the broad, golden beach and just as insignificant. She would not miss them, for they were neither strong nor brave nor kind. They had been a part of her torment if truth be told. She was so much younger than them, and her father had taught them to hate her as she grew. They had never questioned his madness nor protected her from his cruelty. She was nothing to them.
It seemed an age by the time Conall had finished barking orders at her to help secure the sail, and she had sat, exhausted and retching over the side of the boat, staring in misery at the sun bouncing off the water, every heaving wave a fresh misery.
‘Tis lucky it’s a fine day. Get it all out of your guts, and you’ll feel better,’ he shouted, impervious to the misery, in fact revelling in the brisk swell sloshing against the bow. Conall reached over and grabbed her hair and tied it back with a strand of rope he had found.
He seemed so happy. It must be because he is out in the sun in the open after that terrible suffocating darkness, thought Kenna. ‘You do know how to sail, Conall. Where did you learn?’ she gasped as her stomach heaved and clenched.
‘My brother-in-law Murray lives at Shillinglaw. It is on the coast up north. I have visited many times. The villagers have a small fleet of boats, not much to look at, but they go out in all weathers and haul back a decent catch of fish. It helps them get through the winter. They salt it in barrels, mullet, mackerel and the like. Murray was at sea for a time, fighting the Dutch when he was younger. He is fearless on the ocean, loves it in fact, and he taught me how to sail, how to navigate rough waters.’
‘Are you not afraid?’ she squeaked as a huge wave swept the small boat up and then brought it crashing back down.
‘Not a bit.’
She glanced up at him, her empty stomach easing her nausea. With the wind ruffling his black hair, his stubble, dark against his pale, thin face, even now, after his deprivations, his joy made him gloriously handsome. Such fine features he had, now she could see him in all his glory - a determined jaw, hooded black eyes, lilac shadows lending them an agonised beauty. She could not look away from Conall’s strong hands, pulling and tightening, fiddling with the ropes and sail, dirty, scabbed, but such long fingers and broad they were. He was talking to himself. Kenna could see his lips moving but could not hear what he was saying.
‘Why are you muttering to yourself?’
