Wild Highland Magic (The Celtic Legends Series Book 3)(30)

While the closest sailor juggled his shock along with the barrel he was balancing, she flattened her hands on the casks to try to maintain her footing. She’d drunk the last sip of her water over a day ago, so her tongue was swollen and dry. Her muscles were cramped from the small space she’d fitted herself into. Her legs felt as wobbly as rope.

“Captain, we’ve got a stowaway,” the sailor shouted. “And it’s a girl.”

The men’s thoughts above deck had been burbling at a lowly simmer, but at the word girrrrrrrrl those thoughts shot to a boil. She winced at the surge, a cacophony that swelled above the rumbling hum of the town of Derry where they’d just anchored.

A second sailor dropped from the ladder and approached. Backlit by the sunshine pouring through the hatch, his face was in shadow, but she knew his name was Ruari. Before she’d made her appearance, Ruari had been dreaming of a fleshy woman that worked in The Good Plough.

Now she made herself concentrate on his thoughts and only his thoughts. She had discovered, after five excruciating days trapped in the belly of this ship, that focusing on one man’s thoughts helped dim the noise of the twenty-two others. It was like focusing on the chatter of Dairine sitting across from her at the dinner table while her parents and siblings prattled heedlessly all around her—except on ship it was twenty-two times worse. She could only hope that this hard-earned lesson functioned just as well against the threatening hum of the hundreds of inhabitants of Derry, not so far away.

“Come on, girl, you can’t stay here anymore.” Ruari held out his hand. “Climb over and let the captain take a look at you.”

She tried to get a knee on the cask in front of her, but she was weak and her balance uncertain, and she couldn’t coax words from her dry mouth. The sailor didn’t notice her attempts because his mind was alight with questions. He was wondering who on board would think to hide a wench in the hold for swiving. It’s got to be Brochan. I knew he was hiding something.

The mention of “Brochan”—Lachlan—made her whole body go prickly with anxiety.

After she made another flailing attempt to climb on top the casks, the sailor finally mustered the sense to roll the barrels away to make a path for her. She stumbled her way out. He grasped her arm to keep her upright. She winced against the light as the men urged her up the ladder onto the deck. She stumbled on the highest rung, but was saved from falling by the grasp of a strong hand. Hauled bodily out of the hold, she closed her eyes against the light until her feet found the deck.

“What the hell?!

She didn’t hear the mind but she knew the voice. She looked up into Lachlan’s beautiful face, dark across the jaw with unshaven scruff. At the sight of him so close, all the blustering bravery she’d mustered buckled, along with her knees.

“Water.” Lachlan’s words were clipped. “Don’t just stand there, Ruari, fetch a ladle.”

She sagged against the grip of his hand. Black spots winked before her eyes. Her knees just brushed the deck. A gentle hand eased her head back as a ladle full of water wobbled before her.

The water tasted sour like vinegar but she drank it deep. As she wiped her lips, into her sight came a pair of well-shined boots just as into her mind came the thoughts of an Irish captain who was supremely annoyed to discover a stowaway.

“Brochan,” the captain barked. “You know this woman?”

“Aye.”

“I take you on my ship,” the captain said, “and you betray my trust by stowing—”

“I didn’t stow her.” He tightened his grip. “She’s the daughter of the doctor who took me in at Inishmaan. I don’t know why she’s here.”

Because I love you, you stupid fool, and I’m trying to save your life.

She searched for something in his expression—a glimmer of tenderness, an expression of regret—but any warmth was subsumed by shock and a growing fury.

The captain swiveled on a heel, barking, “Who was on watch the last night outside of Inishmaan?”

Ruari and another sailor came forward, babbling their surprise and ignorance. Lachlan drew her upwards until she stood on her own two feet.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “What,” he said in a biting whisper, “were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could help.”

“Your father and mother will be mad with worry.”

“My mother knows. I didn’t tell her, but she knows.” She met his eye and dared to break a promise. “She’s like me, just with a different gift.”

Lachlan’s jaw tightened. He straightened up.

“Captain,” he said, interrupting the man berating the sailors, “when is your next trip back to Galway?”

“Two weeks.”

“I’ll pay for her return.”

“You have no coin,” the captain said. “If you did, you wouldn’t have worked that wounded shoulder—”

“I’ve got resources.”

“Do you plan to conjure coins out of your arse?”

“Will you take her or not?”

The captain shook his head. “A woman on a ship is bad luck.”

“I’ll pay well. In advance.” He jerked his head toward the shore. “I have a cousin in Derry. He’ll give me coin.”