Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(66)

“We’ll win!” Drustan shouted.

Lottie’s breath was growing short with her nerves. “I must... I have to see with my own eyes, Mats. I have to understand what is happening. Stay with Drustan.”

“But I’m to help!” Mathais exclaimed.

“Aye, and you will. But I must see!”

“No, Lottie, I donna want you to go up there. Stay here!” Drustan wailed.

“She’ll come back, Dru, she always comes back,” Mathais said impatiently. “Donna weep over it. I hate when you weep.”

Lottie hurried up the steps before either one of them could stop her.

The wind had picked up and knocked her back a step as she emerged onto the deck. All around her men were engaged, pulling ropes, rolling sails or manning the yards. She picked her way through the throng, trying to stay out of their way, but finding herself in the wrong spot when someone shoved a crate and it narrowly missed knocking her right over the railing.

She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck, where Aulay, Beaty, Duff and Gilroy were gathered. Aulay stood at the wheel, his legs braced apart, his hair uncovered, whipped by the wind. She turned around to look behind them and gasped. The ship was closer than it had been earlier today. “What do they want?” she demanded of no one in particular.

“What do they ever want?” Duff said.

“You ought no’ to be here now,” Aulay said to her, sparing her a glance.

A strong wave knocked the ship to its right, spraying the quarterdeck. Lottie lost her footing and went down hard.

“Take the wheel, Beaty,” she heard Aulay say, and then felt two strong arms slide under her arms and haul her to her feet. Aulay marched her down the steps to the main deck. “Go below, leannan. I’ll no’ see you harmed.”

He turned to go but Lottie caught his arm. “Aulay, I...”

“Save it,” he said, not unkindly, but in the manner of a man who had much more important things to do than soothe her.

It was just as well. Lottie didn’t know what she meant to say, really. Sorry seemed woefully inadequate. Save us seemed too bloody obvious. Hold me, I’m frightened was unfair.

Mathais was quick to hurry back up to the deck when she returned, disappearing through the hatch before she could speak to him. “Mind you have a care!” she shouted after him.

“Aye, aye!” he called down, and let the hatch door slam shut.

Lottie and Drustan went back to waiting.

Minutes turned to hours, long enough that Lottie twice replaced the candle in the lantern that swung from a beam above their heads. She found something for them to eat, but mostly, she moved restlessly about. Occasionally she looked up when she heard shouting. She watched Drustan cover his head when they heard a lot of movement above them, sounding like a herd of cattle charging. And then there was nothing but the creaks and moans of the ship moving through water.

She realized it was dark when the hatch opened and MacLean appeared, followed by Mathais. “We’re to bring up food,” MacLean said. His face was lined with fatigue, his clothing wet. Mathais was still filled with his youthful exuberance and was rummaging about the crates and boxes stored there. “I’m to bring whisky,” he said grandly.

“Whisky?” Lottie looked at MacLean. “Have we won, then?”

MacLean snorted. “No’ at all. They followed us into the firth. They lost a bit of ground, but they remain in the hunt, still matching us, move for move. Aye, but Mackenzie is the better captain, he is—he has sailed us through treacherous water without so much as a bump. When we round Cape Wrath, we’ll hug closer to the shore. The ship behind us is bigger and canna go in as close. Beaty says there is no’ a captain on the seas other than Mackenzie who can sail as close to shore without running aground.” He picked up the last of the sea biscuits. “We’ll lose them then. Come, then, Mats, let’s bring this up, aye?”

The two of them left.

Drustan made himself a place in straw and settled in to sleep. He didn’t seem to understand the danger they were in, which was a blessing, really. Lottie couldn’t even think of sleep. Every shudder and groan of the ship, every bit of footfall overhead startled her. She moved back and forth between the stairs and where Drustan was sleeping, waiting. Her imagination soared wildly with ideas and scenes that seemed to grow more deadly as the hours wore on.

She became so lost in thought that she didn’t at first realize she’d heard nothing above her for some time. She paused, listening. Not a single footfall, not a muffled voice. Her first thought was that pirates had snuck on board and murdered them all. Were she and Drustan destined to float along, forgotten or undiscovered here, until the ship capsized or they crashed into cliffs and drowned? Or was there an ambush waiting for them above?

She couldn’t stand about like a lamb—she had to know. She looked upon Drustan, who slept soundly, then made her way to the stairs and crept up toward the hatch. She slowly, carefully pushed it open, an inch at a time. It was quite dark, but it was not night—a thick gray, fog engulfed the ship.

Lottie pushed the hatch open a wee bit more, and poked her head out. She was suddenly and violently pushed down, and whoever had done it came crashing in behind her, forcing her down to the hold’s floor, and pulling the hatch shut very quietly. Lottie caught herself on a post and whirled around. “For the love of God, Duff, you scared me half to death!” she exclaimed.