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11: I TRUST FEW FOLK
DAVINA WALKED STIFFLY along the pier, to where the birlinn waited.
Breathing was difficult this morning; it felt as if an iron band had fastened around her ribs and was slowly squeezing tight.
Glancing behind her, she spied Fergus and Elliot following; the two men bore her saddle bags.
Mackay brought up the rear, his expression thunderous.
The other three of their party had ridden off after Douglas.
They’d discovered that he’d headed north out of Oban, presumably toward the Highlands.
It was no surprise that he’d stolen Mackay’s courser, the fastest of all their horses.
And he would ride as if all the demons of hell were pursuing him to get to safety.
Hot anger churned through Davina then, curdling her stomach.
She hated feeling so helpless.
Hated that she’d been unable to stop Douglas from robbing her and that she’d been taken in by him.
Her attention rested on Captain Mackay then.
Ever since he’d discovered Davina in that humiliating position earlier, trussed up like a goose at market on the bed with her night-rail around her hips, she’d struggled to meet his eye.
Of course, as she’d thrashed around on the bed, trying to make a noise so someone would come to her aid, her night-rail had ridden up—and with her wrists bound to the bed, she couldn’t push the garment back down.
But Mackay’s gaze hadn’t been lecherous, just concerned.
After he’d untied her, she’d expected him to blame her for Douglas’s treachery.
But he hadn’t.
A muscle feathered in his jaw as he approached her.
“Are ye sure about this, Davina?” he asked quietly when he reached her side.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she nodded.
She’d lost the riches she needed to give the abbess of Iona, but they were departing, nonetheless.
Davina had nowhere else to go, and she was determined to use all her powers of persuasion to convince the abbess to accept her.
The events of the past days had shaken her, but she wouldn’t be swayed.
More than ever, Iona represented an escape—a chance to reinvent herself.
Aye, she lacked the piety and reserve necessary to become a good nun, yet she’d learn.
She was determined to.
Managing a brave smile, Davina patted the fine amber brooch pinned to the breast of her kirtle.
“Douglas might have robbed me of my dowry, but I still have one or two items of worth left,” she replied before her hand moved to the coin purse at the waist. It contained a few gold and silver pennies.
Mackay’s brows drew together.
“Will it be enough?”
“It has to be,” she replied firmly.
“Surely, when the abbess hears of what has befallen me, she’ll show mercy?”
The captain’s brows arched then, and Davina scowled, daring him to disagree with her.
Closing the remaining distance to the waiting birlinn, she cursed her bad luck.
Ever since departing Kilchurn, things had gone from bad to worse.
This had been an ill-fated journey indeed.
Surely, nothing else could go wrong?
“Finally,” the birlinn captain greeted her curtly when she reached the boat.
Behind him, his crew was readying the galley for departure.
“I was beginning to think ye weren’t coming.”
“Apologies, but we were delayed,” Davina replied.
The captain, a big weather-beaten man, cast his gaze over the three men accompanying her.
“I thought there were seven of ye?”
“There were,” Mackay said, his tone clipped.
“But some of our party have been detained.”
The sailor frowned.
“It’ll still cost ye the same. Payment upfront.”
Davina frowned at the man’s mercenary attitude.
Yet Mackay merely stepped forward, dug into his coin purse, and withdrew two silver pennies.
“Half now … and half when ye have delivered me and my friends back at Oban,” he said.
The captain’s frown deepened, yet the uncompromising edge to Mackay’s voice must have warned him that it wasn’t a good idea to quibble.
Mouth pursed, the captain tucked the coins away.
“Very well,” he grumbled.
“Get on board then.”
Standing at the bow of the birlinn, Davina looked ahead to where the Isle of Mull shadowed the northwestern sky.
She didn’t look back at the mainland, didn’t glance over at her companions.
Instead, she focused on their destination: the Isle of Iona lay just off the western shore of Mull.
The galley slid across the firth, propelled by oars at first, and then—when the birlinn’s single sail billowed—by a stiff, salty breeze.
It was another warm morning, yet there was a weight to the air, warning that the weather was close to turning.
Indeed, clouds billowed across the wide sky, and those forming to the west had a threatening edge to them.
Wrapping her arms about her torso and shivering, Davina blinked as spindrift settled over her in a fine mist. She’d grown up on the coast for a time, before her father had started work on Kilchurn Castle, and loved the tang of the briny air.
It reminded her of happier times, and although Loch Awe was beautiful, she’d missed the changing moods of the coast.
At Iona, she’d be surrounded by the wild sea.
Davina’s breathing grew shallow.
She had to ensure they admitted her.
“My lady.” A man’s voice roused her then, and Davina tore her attention from the sea to where Captain Mackay stood at her shoulder.
She hadn’t realized he’d moved up to the bow.
Ever since their kiss, he’d been formal and respectful with her, almost painfully so.
“Yes, Captain,” she replied stiffly.
“Are ye well?”
She met his gaze.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His mouth pursed.
“A rogue gagged and tied ye to yer bed … ye must have feared for yer life last night.”
Davina swallowed, her pulse quickening as she recalled the terror that had twisted like a living thing within her.
“Aye,” she admitted huskily.
“He held a blade to my throat and threatened to kill me if I made a sound … I believe he would have.”
Mackay’s features tightened.
“If I ever set eyes on Douglas again, I shall gut him,” he said.
His voice was low and hard, and she didn’t doubt him.
Even so, his vehemence took her aback.
She’d thought she merely exasperated him.
Did he care what happened to her?
They continued to stare at each other, the moments drawing out.
Davina’s breathing quickened.
Hades, it was still there, the powerful pull between them.
If she let herself, she could drown in those dark-blue eyes.
Swallowing once more, Davina tore her gaze from his and focused on the glassy waves the birlinn cut through.
It was just as well their journey together was ending, for it was dangerous to spend any more time with Lennox Mackay.
When she finally spied the Isle of Iona on the horizon, the nerves that had already tied Davina’s stomach in knots twisted.
This wasn’t going to be easy, yet she was determined.
She wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that the abbess would instantly overlook her lack of dowry and admit her into the abbey.
If it were that easy to gain entry, every homeless woman from the Orkneys to Hadrian’s Wall would make the pilgrimage to the isle and beg sanctuary.
Only the daughters of the wealthy ended up here—and Davina knew she’d have to work hard to plead her case.
And she would.
The isle was small, rocky, and green, yet bare of trees.
White sandy beaches glinted in the noon sun, and as they drew closer, she spied the grey bulk of the abbey rising against the sky.
It sat back from a pebbly shore and a wooden pier.
Even from a distance, Davina could sense the serenity of this island.
It lay apart from the cares of the rest of the world.
Her heart started to thud against her breastbone then.
It was the refuge she’d been searching for.
They moored at the pier, the only boat there.
“How long will ye be?” the birlinn captain asked Mackay once his passengers had disembarked.
He motioned then to the west, where the sky gradually grew darker.
“I’d prefer to be back at Oban before the weather worsens.”
“This shouldn’t take long,” Mackay replied, his tone curt.
He then glanced at Fergus and Elliot.
“Wait here, lads. I shall escort Lady Davina up to the abbey.”
Both warriors nodded, their gazes wary as they eyed their captain.
Indeed, the look that passed between Mackay and his men warned Davina that he didn’t trust the birlinn captain not to set sail without them if given the chance.
Nonetheless, he’d forfeit the rest of his promised fare if he did that.
Mackay threw a saddlebag over each shoulder and led the way off the boat.
“Ye don’t trust him, do ye?” Davina murmured to her companion as they climbed the path toward the abbey.
Its high walls loomed above, stark against the sky.
Mackay cut her a wry look.
“As ye have already seen, I trust few folk.”
Davina arched an eyebrow.
His assertion didn’t come as a surprise.
She’d marked the cynical comments he’d made during the journey.
He’d been nakedly suspicious of Brogan Douglas too, although his instinct about him had been right.
Davina hadn’t trusted the outlaw either, yet his pushiness and compliments had swayed her.
She now wished she hadn’t let politeness override good sense.
It wasn’t a mistake she’d make again.
Curiosity wreathed up then.
She and Mackay were about to part ways, but a fascination for him had sparked and was steadily growing.
She knew very little about the man who led her father’s guard, and wished now that she’d asked him about the life he’d left behind.
“And why is that?” she asked after a beat.
His mouth quirked. “Life is easier that way.”
Table of Contents
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