An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(59)

Rougher than this?

The storm sounded like it was right over them now, the flashes of lightning and the rumbles of thunder so close, the rumbles seeming to last forever. She barely had enough spit in her mouth to swallow.

“Riders with torches are making their way from the village toward my warehouse.”

Dalla felt an overwhelming sense of horror, regret, and grief. It was her uncle. She had no doubt of it. But how did they—

“How would my uncle know we were here? Why would they even think to go to your brother's warehouse?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“If your uncle learned that you were put aboard a ship to be sold as a Norwegian captive, he would have been able to find out which ship and where it docked. Then it would just be a matter of sending in spies to ask questions. Where did the women from that ship go? What happened to them?”

She stared at Hugh in growing dismay.

“And then, it would be a simple matter to learn that you had been bought. By me.” He shrugged. “A few more questions and he would have eventually spoken to the preacher who married us. Likely he even saw the document with our signatures. Learned my name.” He glanced at his brother. “And his.”

Dalla clung tightly to Agnarr's mane to prevent herself from sinking to the floor in despair.

Derek might never be able to return to the village, nor to his warehouse. And all because—

“I have no ships in the harbor. My other two are on their way to France, and there's nothing of value in the warehouse now.”

“Derek, they could burn it down—”

“Let them, and they will feel my wrath.” Derek’s expression darkened with anger.

Dalla couldn't help it. She couldn't hold back the tears. This was all her fault. Her fault!

She crumpled slowly onto her knees, a hand wrapped around Agnarr's fetlock, trying in some way to help keep him calm despite her own rising despair and regret.

Neither Hugh nor Derek said anything to her, and in a matter of moments, she heard Derek climbing back topside. Hugh sat beside her, saying nothing.

Blinking through her tears, she glanced at him, saw his own thoughtful expression, the frown marring his lips, and new that he too was uncertain.

The storm grew closer, the ship tossed more violently, and Agnarr was forced to adjust his footing against the roll of the ship. He whinnied and stomped until Hugh soothed him.

Hugh turned to her. “Relax your body,” he said. “Allow it to move with the movements of the ship.”

She tried, she really did, but she was so frightened…

Then, from above, over the crash of thunder and the sound of waves slapping against the wooden hull, she heard a noise.

At first, she didn't recognize it, but then, as she and Hugh looked at one another, she finally identified what it was.

She frowned, stared up at Hugh in open-mouthed dismay. “Is that your brother?”

After a moment, Hugh offered a short laugh. “Aye, it is!”

Dalla turned toward the opening above, saw nothing but darkness. Still, over the sound of the storm, the creaking of the ship, she heard laughter.

Curious, Hugh quickly rose and climbed the ladder. Though she didn't want to move, her curiosity also overcame her. She quickly climbed the ladder, holding tight, just to the point where she raised her head over the deck.

Her eyes wide with dismay, she looked toward the stern in amazement.

There, at the helm, Derek stood, shaking his fist at the dark, night and stormy sky, swearing and then barking harsh laughter as the waves tossed his ship about, salt water spraying over the deck.

All she could do was stare.





34





“He's gone mad!” Hugh gasped, staring at his brother was a mixture of concern and horror.

Dalla also stared. No, he's not mad… he's a warrior.” She turned to look up at him and placed a hand on his forearm. “He's a warrior, just like you.”

He glanced down at Dalla, his wife, and saw the confidence of her gaze as she stared at Derek. He turned to his brother and realized she was right. How often had he himself felt that way? That he was doing something out of normal behavior, though without any concern or anxiety. Reacting, not over-thinking it. This storm certainly drew forth such feelings, even in him.

He quickly climbed the remainder of the ladder and, legs spread wide against the roll of the ship, arms outstretched against the wind and the heaving deck, made his way to his brother. Hugh latched onto the back of Derek’s coat, then faced him, both of them now grinning, and then he too, started to laugh.

How could he have forgotten how good it was when the two of them stood together? When the two of them were together, nothing could challenge them. They each had their own strengths and weaknesses, of course, but together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

“We have to keep away from the shoals!” Derek shouted, pointing.

Hugh turned to look at the dark outline of the land and sea, saw an occasional dark area, but couldn't tell the difference between the ocean and rock.

It was too dark, the waves spraying huge gusts of salt-laden water over the deck. He felt something tug on his left arm and looked down to find Dalla clutching it tightly, the wind whipping through her hair as she too gazed toward the shoals.

She looked frightened, but not cowed. Her face shone white in the darkness and took on an almost surreal glow when the moon managed to peek its face through the blowing clouds.