Warrior's Bride Read online

  "It is about time you awoke."

  The ship. The man. Izzy turned toward the sound of his voice. He sat on a wooden stool across from her, one leg propped atop the other. He sank his teeth into a hunk of meat.

  At the sight of the meat her stomach clenched. Despite her sudden nausea, she tried to sit up, but the ship dipped crazily.

  "Lie still. You will only make yourself ill once more."

  She sank back against the heather mattress, defeated for now. She brought her fingers up to press against the lump at her forehead. She remembered it all—the ship, the cannonballs, her own confinement and panic. An overwhelming sense of suffocation, bringing back memories of the dark, dank tower, and her many years of imprisonment alongside her mother, had broken her restraint In her panic to escape, she had struck her head on a low-slung beam. Then, once above deck, she'd fallen asleep, exhausted. Izzy closed her eyes, pushing the memory of her panic deep inside herself with other painful memories from the tower.

  This man, this stranger, had freed her from the dank quarters below deck.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked, his tone gruff. She heard a soft shuffling. A moment later, the mattress dipped beneath his weight and the savory scent of roasted chicken touched her senses.

  Roasted chicken.

  Her eyes flew open and she stared at the platter of meat he had set near her bedside. She sat up, ignoring her queasy stomach. "You didn't..." she tried to talk, but her throat felt suddenly dry and thick. "Mistress Henny—"

  "Is perfectly safe." He scowled at her then, no doubt offended by her unspoken accusation. He motioned toward a nearby barrel. "Your belonging is not pleased with her accommodations."

  Izzy turned her gaze to the wooden barrel. "Mistress Henny?"

  He nodded and took another bite of his chicken, regarding her through narrowed eyes that were framed by thick, dark lashes. "You have very little trust in people."

  "I've had little reason to trust anyone in my life." The thumping of a soft body followed by the rustling of feathers sounded against the wooden slats of the barrel. Izzy knew the sound well. The chicken was irritated by her confinement, but safe. Just as Izzy was now.

  "Interesting." He reached out and lightly traced the curve of her cheek. Warm little tendrils of sensation danced beneath the brief touch. His fingertips were callused, his hands large, but his touch was soft as gossamer silk.

  She tensed to pull away, expecting his touch to turn harsh as it always did when Aldous MacDonald touched her. But Wolf's fingers remained light, his eyes searching her own.

  Seconds clicked by before his gaze clouded and he pulled his hand away. In the silence that followed she realized the rain had stopped and the ship had settled into a slow, rhythmic dip and heave. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Only a few hours this round, but you've been fading in and out of sleep for the last three days," he answered. "How is your head?"

  "Three days?" She brought her fingers up to gently examine the lump that throbbed at her temple. "It hurts."

  He continued to appraise her, but his expression shifted to something darker, more dangerous. "Why would someone send a ship full of men to harm you?"

  Her fingers froze. "Harm me?"

  "Why else would the king send me to keep you safe?"

  Izzy brought her fingers to her lap, fighting the tension that threatened to overwhelm her. "Marriage is no guarantee of safety." Her mother's experience had taught her that much.

  A crooked, bitter smile curved his lips. "Marriage has worked to protect women and trap men for ages."

  Izzy had expected a certain arrogance in his words. Instead they sounded hollow, an echo of a deed that must be done, not something he chose to do. "You do not wish to marry me?"

  "Because of the king's decree, neither of us has a choice in this matter."

  Feeling suddenly confined, Izzy pushed at the down ticking that covered her legs, then struggled to her feet, ignoring the dizziness the motion brought.

  "Where are you going?" he asked, a dark frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.

  She did not answer. She needed space, needed to feel the wind in her face. Only then could she think clearly. On leaden legs she made her way to the railing of the ship. She drew a slow, steady breath, allowing the sharp air to fill her lungs. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the stiff wind as it buffeted her body, tugged at her skirts, and whipped her hair into wild disarray.

  Only in moments filled with sensation did she find release from all her fears. A moment's peace. That's what she experienced now. Yet even as she tried to hold on to the feeling of the wind brushing past her cheeks, Wolf’s words about neither of them having a choice crept into her thoughts, weighing her down.

  Her ankles were no longer bound by shackles as they had been while locked away in the tower. At times she found it hard to remember that. Times such as now.

  Izzy planted her feet firmly upon the deck. Her chains were gone. She was free, and would remain that way no matter what she had to do. Nothing or no one would restrain her again. Away from the isle and the threat of being returned to the tower, away from the MacDonalds, she would decide the course of her own life.

  Bolstered by the thought, Izzy leaned farther over the rail, catching the breeze fully in her face.

  "Can you swim?"

  She snapped her eyes open and turned to find him standing beside her. Anger and fear reflected in the obsidian depths of his eyes. "Nay," she replied, watching as he shuttered his emotions once more.

  "Then I do not have to fear you throwing yourself overboard."

  Izzy frowned not at his words but at the relief that sounded in his words. She could almost believe he cared what happened to her. Almost. "I value life more than that."

  "Good." He took a step back, putting some distance between them. "Because nothing short of death can spare us from our fate as husband and wife."

  Husband and wife. This was not a course she chose.

  "When do we arrive at your home?" she asked with what she hoped sounded like nonchalance.

  "Tomorrow evening."

  "And the marriage?"

  "Will proceed that night." He paused, and a shadow passed once again across his face. Had she imagined a reflection of uncertainty there? "Are you disappointed in your bridegroom?"

  "I had hoped for a man who might…”She let her words fade away as his gaze returned to her face. What was wrong with her? What had possessed her to give voice to something so personal? She never exposed herself like that. Had her early years not taught her that others would only use her dreams against her?

  "Love? Is that what you speak of?" A flicker of amusement brought a spark of life to his cold, unyielding eyes. "Is that what you speak of? Such a sentiment plays no role in marriage."

  A stab of disappointment seized her, but she willed it away. He was right. That romantic sentiment was no more than a fantasy created from the fairy stories she'd overheard as a young girl. Love had never been part of any marriage she'd ever witnessed.

  She turned away to stare at the sea, ignoring him. Her reward came a moment later when she heard the soft tread of his footfalls retreat below deck.

  He was gone. But her problem remained. He did not want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. If he would not do anything to spare them, then she would. If they would arrive at his castle tomorrow, then that gave her tonight to free herself from a matrimonial trap worse than any tower prison.

  The tower ...

  A feeling of foreboding crept through her. Confinement, darkness, death. Her breath hitched and a familiar panic crept along her nerves until she heard the soft shuffle of feathers from the barrel beside her. Mistress Henny. Izzy shook off the overwhelming sensations and moved to the barrel that confined her friend. She removed the wooden lid and scooped the chicken into her arms. It responded with a soft squawk.

  Izzy nestled against the hen's soft, downy feathers, letting her pet's soft coo settle her nerves. There had to be s
ome way to escape this ship. She stared out at the water and frowned.

  She could hide. She'd seen his quarters below deck and the stores the hull contained. Several hammocks hung at various angles alongside the crates and barrels of supplies, and most likely filled with dozing men between their watches on deck. If she tried to conceal herself aboard the ship, the men would surely see her. Besides, below deck would be the first place the man, the Black Wolf of Scotland, would look if she turned up missing. Nay, she had to be far cleverer than that.

  The silence on the deck gave way to the soft caress of the water against the hull as she searched for a solution. Her gaze moved across the deck to the dory winched near the ship's railing. A boat.

  And just as she took two steps forward, two sailors brushed past her on their way to the mizzen deck. As they arrived, the two sailors who were already there departed. A change in the watch.

  She continued walking slowly along the railing, her eyes never leaving the men. Could she use the change in the watch to her advantage? Her stroll down the deck brought her to a second dory. She examined the rigging and saw that it could be easily released should an emergency arise and the crew had to abandon the ship.

  Izzy tried to contain a smile when she noted that this dory was beyond the watchmen's line of sight. Her hand moved to the winch handle. Could she launch the boat and escape?

  Then, as quickly as it had come, her smile faltered. Not in the daylight she couldn't. She would be easy to spot as she rowed away. But perhaps when the watch changed at night... Darkness could cover her escape.

  As casually as possible so as not to arouse suspicion, she searched the sea beyond the boat for any signs of land. The coastline had to be out there somewhere. Izzy bit down on her lip. To put out to sea without knowing of any refuge would be foolhardy. She continued to look for a glimmer of land as she retraced her steps back to her mattress, awaiting the perfect time to act.

  It seemed to take forever for night to fall. Izzy lay awake, staring at the white canopy overhead, listening to the soft creaks and groans of the ship as it glided through the open water. When the final streaks of orange and red vanished into the sea, a soft whistle cut through the fragile darkness signaling the change in the watch.

  Shuffling footsteps sounded from behind her before heading below deck. The crew that had served the evening watch would wake their nighttime replacements.

  Hushed voices came from inside the ship, followed by the soft thumping of the men rolling from their hammocks. She must be quick.

  Her heart racing, Izzy returned Mistress Henny to the brown sack and crossed to the railing, racing to the dory in the back of the ship. She carefully placed Mistress Henny in the boat, then moved to the winch and froze as she gazed into the sea of blackness beyond the railing.

  A familiar panic seized her muscles and stole her breath. Could she do it? Willingly launch herself into that void of black? She staggered backward with the force of her fears. No matter how much time had passed since her imprisonment in the tower, the darkness always transported her back, crippling her body as well as her thoughts. She sucked in a painful breath, forcing a calmness she did not feel. Could she willingly thrust herself into that eternal darkness?

  Footsteps sounded on the ladder coming up to the deck. Not knowing what else to do, she scrambled inside the boat and pulled the sack containing Mistress Henny to her side. She could wait until dawn, until a gray haze could blanket her escape.

  At least then when they discovered she was gone she'd be far enough away. She could contain her fear of darkness as long as she knew the dawn would come shortly after.

  Until night fell once more.

  Izzy stifled a groan. If only she weren't so afraid of the dark.

  Chapter Five

  Time passed slowly as Izzy lay silent beneath her blanket of dark, cold night. Her muscles ached from her confinement in the small boat. Just when she could stand the strain no longer, a hazy gray dawn lightened the horizon.

  Careful not to make a sound, she climbed out of the boat. Grasping the winch with both hands, she prepared to launch the vessel into the water.

  "Remove your hand," Wolf threatened from behind her, making no effort to disguise his annoyance.

  Izzy spun to face him. A soft cry escaped her as the force of her motion set her off balance.

  Wolf lunged for her, but too late.

  With no one and nothing to stop her, Izzy fell over the side of the ship.

  Water slammed into her back like the lash of a switch. Pain streaked across her flesh with red-hot intensity, driving the breath from her lungs and blackening the edges of her vision.

  Icy water surged around her, sucking her down. She flailed her arms, trying to fight her way out of the void, but the barrier was too solid, too strong. Pain seared her chest as the need for air became all-consuming. She tensed, every muscle becoming rigid. She could not give in—giving in would bring certain death. She could endure the pain, she had done so before and survived, but fear of the darkness threatened her where even pain could not.

  She had to relax, had to force away the despair that trapped her. Izzy closed her eyes, allowing her muscles to go limp. Her life could not end this way. After all she had gone through, all she'd endured, to drown now seemed so unfair.

  The words had barely formed as thought when weightlessness replaced the heaviness of her limbs. A warm arm snaked about her waist and pulled her up. Buoyant and free, she broke through the surface of the water. Wind touched her face, and despite her desperate need for air, she could not breathe.

  Wolf held her cocooned in his arms, his warmth, his strength as the water rippled around their bodies. Dark, angry eyes searched her own. "Isobel! For mercy's sake, breathe." He shook her. "Breathe, damn you. Breathe!"

  At his command she dragged in a shallow breath. Her lungs clenched, then spasmed. Pain radiated across her back as she tried to force more air into her lungs.

  He turned her in his arms, then pulled her against the solid wall of his chest. "You are safe," he whispered from behind her, his tone surprisingly calm. "Take another breath."

  Shouts from the ship carried back to them across the water. "Man overboard!" Beneath her back she could feel the steady rhythm of Wolf’s chest as it rose and fell with each breath. "Drop the sails!" The beat of his heart punctuated each shout from aboard the ship. "Launch the dory. Quick!"

  She drew in a slow, deep breath this time, then another, until the pain in her back receded, replaced by something else—something even more unsettling. Warmth fluttered inside her, underneath her skin like a burst of radiant sunshine surrounded by a sea of ice. She tensed at the contrasting sensations, determined to hide her reaction. A wave rolled past, sliding against her chest and into her face. She turned her head to avoid the full force, only to press her cheek into the sodden fabric of Wolf's clothes. "Relax or you will drown the both of us." His tone was firm, yet not unkind.

  "I have no wish to die ..." Her teeth chattered with each word. "I only want..." She let her words trail off. How could she explain what it was she wanted? How could she describe the need that burned inside her to make her own choices, to have a say in the way her life unfolded? Only one word came to mind. "I want freedom."

  The sky overhead continued to lighten around them. The ship sat still in the water not far in the distance. Wolf shifted her to face him, holding her by the arms. Any warmth she'd gained from his nearness dissipated, an icy chill taking its place. Dark, cool eyes searched her face. "Do you realize what it is you ask for? Or are you so young and naive that you have no understanding of what freedom might mean to you?"

  "I know what... I want."

  "Do you truly?"

  She bridled at his harsh tone.

  "How will you survive without a protector, with no money, with no food?"

  "I..." She had survived worse, but she would not tell him that. She had nothing of value that she could trade for money—nothing except one last remnant from her mother's own li
fe. Izzy felt the weight of her mother's necklace against her chest. It was the only thing she possessed except her own will to survive. And that will brought a lie to her tongue. "You are right... I have nothing," she forced the words out through chattering teeth.

  The slapping of oars in the water filled the silence that fell between them. She felt the heat of his midnight eyes rake over her. "You have me."

  Saying nothing more, he pulled her hard against his body. She swallowed roughly as all her senses became centered on the feel of his steely muscle against her breasts. Time seemed to stop. She smelled the salt on his skin, saw the beads of water glittering in his hair, dropping onto the sodden linen covering his broad shoulders. This close to him, she felt small and insignificant and vulnerable and cold.

  As though reading her thoughts, he drew her even closer, sharing the last vestiges of his own warmth with her. "Thank you," she said, knowing the word did not express all she felt, though she would not give him anything more.

  Something reckless and sinful reflected in his gaze. "You are welcome," he replied.

  The sound of the oars cutting the water grew closer and the muffled voices of the men became more distinct with each beat of her heart.

  Wolf shifted her body slightly, bringing one hand up to toy with loose strands of her hair as he softly kicked his legs, keeping them both afloat. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight in the lee of his arm. He curled a delicate strand about his finger, brushing the edge of her jaw before he cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his. "I shall make you a promise if you will make me one in return."

  "What promise is that?" she asked, unable to keep the breathlessness from her voice.

  His gaze moved to her lips. A mindless drumming filled her ears, her blood, as she brought her gaze to rest on the sensual curve of his lips. "Remain in my care with no further attempts to escape and I promise to protect you by marriage and only marriage. Anything beyond that will be up to you."