The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(38)

Her father had been backed into a corner and knew it. Beatrix was lost to him.

Christina couldn’t believe it. Her sister was safe. Truly safe. The unexpected gift from her husband more than made up for the disappointment of their wedding ceremony.

Playing the good host, MacDonald moved to soothe her father’s pride. “Come, Fraser, join me in the solar. We’ll find some cuirm and attend to that arm. We have much to celebrate this day. Let us not forget it.” To Tor he added, “You’re certain you won’t stay for the feast?”

He shook his head. “I’ve delayed long enough already. From the amount of food I saw being loaded on the birlinn, I think we are bringing half the feast with us. We’ll leave as soon as the lass is ready.” He gave her an expectant look.

“I have only a few trunks,” she said. “The rest will have to be sent for.”

“And your servants?”

Christina motioned to the maid who’d been watching the proceedings from a safe distance. “Mhairi has agreed to come with me.” The poor girl was only too eager to be away from Christina’s father. Christina was grateful for the familiar face.

Her father and MacDonald had started to make their way out of the chapel, with Lamberton close behind. Her father had taken that well—too well. He must have wanted their alliance greatly to acquiesce so easily. They were planning something; she was certain of it.

Tor stopped MacDonald’s henchman before he could follow. “MacSorley, stay for a moment.” He turned to her. “If you’ll tell me where your sister has gone, I will see that she has arrived safely.” Christina hesitated, and he seemed to anticipate the reason why. “Your father will keep his word. I will see to it.”

The steely certainty in his voice checked her doubts. There was very little she did not think this man could do. In her mind, he’d become even greater than the magnificent heroes in her books. Her moment of hesitation suddenly seemed disloyal. What was the matter with her? She should be grateful for his thoughtfulness. They’d been married for only a few minutes and already he was offering to help her. Besides, she was anxious to assure herself that Beatrix had arrived safely as well.

“I’m sorry; of course I will tell you. Thank you, for everything. Beatrix has gone to the nunnery on Iona.”

He arched a brow, clearly impressed. There were other places she could have gone that were far closer. He eyed her speculatively, as if something suddenly made sense. “You arranged a boat?”

She nodded.

He held her gaze for a moment before turning to MacSorley. “Catch up with them and make sure that the lady arrives safely. Tell her she has nothing to fear.”

MacSorley gave him a curt nod and started to turn away. Christina didn’t know what surprised her more—that Tor was giving orders to MacDonald’s henchman or that he was following them.

“But the boat left at dawn,” she said. “You’ll never catch them.”

The two men exchanged amused glances, and then the big pirate gave her a jaunty grin. “Consider it done, my lady. Is there anything you wish me to tell her when I catch up to her?”

Christina admired his brash confidence, crazed as it seemed. She thought for a moment. Their leave-taking this morning had been hurried and tainted by the fear of discovery. Just as Christina worried about sending Beatrix off, she knew her sister worried about leaving her behind. But Christina was even more certain that she’d made the right decision. Not only had her husband calmly listened to her explanation and stood up for her, he’d ensured her sister’s safety and happiness.

“Tell her …” She hesitated, gazing into those piercing blue eyes. Her heart swelled with admiration for this handsome man who’d burst into her life just when she needed him. “Tell her that I believe she was right the first time.”

Maybe what had happened was for the best.

She’d kept her vow to her sister, escaped her father, and found a knight as honorable and gallant as Lancelot.

Her future looked promising indeed.

Eight

Islanders were as at home on the sea as they were on land, and Tor was no exception. The cold, icy wind that tore across the waves invigorated his blood as surely as it filled the sails. Feet braced wide, he handled the ropes to the sails like the reins of a horse, feeling the power of harnessing the wind flex through his arms and hands.

There was nothing like it, and no place that he would rather be than on a birlinn with his men, the wind ripping through his hair, the scent of the sea filling his nose, the taste of salt on his lips, with nothing but blue as far as the eye could see.

Which today wasn’t very far. As the light faded, the clouds had thickened and descended into mist. With about an hour of daylight left, visibility had decreased to less than a half mile or so. They’d lost sight of the mainland coast some time ago, but he didn’t need it to navigate. He could find his way back to Skye blind.

They’d made good time. The wind had been at their backs for most of the journey. If it continued, they would be at Dunvegan Castle within the hour.

His gaze drifted toward the woman huddled at the bow of the boat. His wife. From the slumped position of the figure beside her, he guessed her maidservant had fallen asleep. After the amount of time she’d spent with her head over the edge of the boat, he wasn’t surprised. That his new bride was not plagued by seasickness pleased him. Perhaps she wasn’t as ill-suited to this way of life as he’d feared.