The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(17)

Nor was it her initial fear of him, which under the circumstances he both understood and thought warranted.

Nay, what bothered him was her reaction to him—or perhaps he should say her lack of reaction to him. She’d been maddeningly immune to his attempts to put her at ease. He’d done what he’d always done from the first time he’d bounced on his mother’s knee, when his smiles and grins had elicited delighted coos from his adoring mother and five older sisters.

There were three things Erik knew for certain: how to sail a boat, how to fight, and how to please the lasses. It was something he could count on, like fish in the sea and birds in the sky. As much as he loved women, they loved him. It was just the way it was.

So he’d given her a smile intended to melt through any resistance, talked to her kindly, and patiently answered her questions. Yet she’d barely seemed to notice his efforts in what should have been—and usually was—effortless.

He frowned. It wasn’t often that he went to such great lengths to charm a lass, and to have it fail so miserably was vaguely unsettling.

Perhaps it was some strange affliction peculiar to nursemaids. Learning her occupation didn’t surprise him at all. It went with the brisk, matter-of-fact confidence he’d noticed earlier. And when she’d looked down her nose at him and given him that patronizing smile, it had conjured up distinct memories of Ada—the old battle-axe.

Something about the lass set him on edge, and he’d be glad when he could be rid of her. A point he’d been trying to make clear to Randolph. “I will take her back when it is safe,” Erik repeated in a low voice. They might be clear of Dunluce, but they weren’t out of danger by any means. De Monthermer’s men could be all over this place. “Which isn’t now,” he added, pointing out what should be obvious.

Randolph set his jaw mulishly. “It’s not right. Abducting innocent lasses isn’t what I joined my uncle for. This makes us look like the pirate barbarians the English call us.”

Erik gave him a piercing look. “You’d rather I’d left her to McQuillan and his men?”

The young knight bristled. “Of course not. I would have insisted—”

Erik laughed at his naivety. “You could have insisted all you like, but the lass would have had her throat cut the moment we pulled out of the cave. I got her out of there the only way I could.”

Randolph flushed. “If we can’t take her back, why not drop her ashore somewhere else? Let her find her way home.”

“Believe me, if I could I would. I’ve no more interest in dragging a lass around with us than you do. But I’m not willing to jeopardize our mission and your uncle’s chance to reclaim what has been stolen from him for the sake of one lass. Are you?”

“She said she didn’t hear—”

“I know what she said, but what if she is lying?” Erik let the question hang, then shook his head. “I won’t risk it.”

“So what do you plan to do with her?”

Hell if he knew. He was supposed to meet Bruce and the others at Finlaggan, his cousin’s castle on Islay, report on his meeting, and begin to prepare for the attack. But if the lass was truly ignorant of their plan, she wouldn’t be the moment she saw Bruce. On the other hand, if he took her to the king, Erik could get her off his hands all that much sooner, and right now that sounded very appealing.

He scanned the seascape ahead of him, seeing nothing but mist and darkness. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. The English boats were out there somewhere. “Right now all I’m thinking about is keeping us out of the path of the English patrol. Then, I’ll worry about the lass.”

“I don’t like it,” Randolph said stubbornly.

Erik glanced over at his unwelcome passenger, her slender form completely enveloped in the fur brat he’d given her. Her appearance hadn’t improved much on further study. Not plain, but not beautiful either—somewhere in between. Definitely not the type of woman to usually get a rise out of him. That she had, he supposed, was only natural with her half-naked body pressed against his. For such a skinny thing, she’d been surprisingly soft.

Looking at her, he felt a strange tingling down his spine and prickling of his skin. He frowned, realizing the same thing had happened when he’d held her against him.

And perhaps that was the reaction that bothered him most of all. He didn’t like it.

For once, he and Bruce’s young nephew were in agreement. “Neither do I, lad, neither do I.”

He liked it even less a short while later.

Erik had just given the order to turn east toward Islay, having decided to blindfold the lass and leave her aboard the birlinn until he could report to Bruce, when he caught sight of a sail behind them.

But that didn’t worry him. With their sail lowered, his boat was nearly invisible in the heavy cloak of darkness and mist. If the other boat did happen to catch sight of them, Erik could always raise the sail and outrun them.

Nay, the single sail behind them didn’t worry him at all. But the three white dots that sprang out of the night ahead of them, running parallel to shore and barreling down hard toward them—that he couldn’t ignore.

He groaned. This long night was about to get even longer. Did the blasted English never sleep? A damned hornet’s nest, he thought again. Despite the promising beginning, this “wee” trip to Dunluce was turning into a real pain in his backside.