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13: I’M NEVER GOING BACK THERE

IT WAS A rough journey back to Oban, for the wind had picked up.

The waves had turned huge and glassy, and all the passengers were forced to remain seated, clinging to the sides as the birlinn rode the swells.

Both Fergus and Elliot were violently sick, heaving up their guts over the edge of the boat.

Lennox also battled with nausea but managed to swallow down bile as he crouched next to Davina.

The lady herself wore a miserable expression.

Her thin face was pinched, her throat convulsing as she grasped his arm with each roll of the boat.

Meanwhile, the captain and his men moved around the birlinn, trimming the sail and maneuvering the galley back to shore.

The port was in view when the storm finally hit in its full screeching fury.

Despite that it was mid-summer, icy needles of rain peppered Lennox’s face.

Around them, the sky turned purple, and lightning lit up the heavens while thunder boomed overhead.

The birlinn tossed in the huge swells, freezing water crashing over the bow and dousing them all.

By the time they reached Oban, Fergus and Elliot were ghostly pale, their hair plastered against their skulls.

Likewise, Lennox and Davina were soaked through.

Paying the birlinn captain, they disembarked onto the storm-swept quay, hauling Davina’s bags with them.

Heads bent against the howling wind, as waves crashed against the docks, the party hurried out of the tempest, along the quayside to the inn.

As Lennox expected, Hamish and the others hadn’t yet returned—so, Lennox arranged lodgings for the night.

He also requested a hot bath be drawn for Davina in her chamber.

She was shivering as he led her upstairs, and he worried she might have caught a chill during the journey back from Iona.

Inside her chamber, he set down the saddlebags by the bed, while two lads carried in a large iron tub, followed by lasses bearing buckets of hot water.

Davina perched on the edge of the bed as others moved around her.

She hadn’t spoken since leaving Iona, and her quietness bothered him.

Lennox hunkered down before her and took hold of her hands.

They were delicate and freezing cold.

Gently chafing them between his own hands, he met her gaze.

“I shall leave ye to bathe, Davina,” he murmured.

“A lass will bring ye up some supper in an hour.”

She nodded wordlessly.

Lennox held her eye.

“Are ye feeling unwell?”

“No,” she replied huskily.

“Just a little queasy from that rough ride.” She then managed a wan smile.

“I’m sure I’ll feel better after a hot bath.”

Lennox nodded, relieved.

“Right then.” He released her hands and rose to his feet.

“I will let ye be.” He moved toward the door.

“Lennox.”

He halted and glanced back at Davina.

“Aye?”

She managed another tremulous smile.

“Thank ye.”

Entering the common room, Lennox found it full of ill-tempered men in oilskins: fishermen who were discussing how long the foul weather would last. The innkeeper had lit the hearth, and the humid air was heavy with the odor of wet wool.

Spying Elliot and Fergus seated at a table near the stairs, Lennox made his way across to them.

Fergus met his eye. “How is Lady Davina, Captain?”

“Better,” he replied, falling into a chair and raking a hand through his damp hair.

“Nothing a hot bath won’t cure, eh?” Elliot said hopefully.

Lennox pulled a face.

He certainly hoped so, although after seeing how upset Davina was on Iona, her disappointment at being refused entry to the abbey, he wasn’t so sure.

Her admission that she wasn’t pious hadn’t come as a shock.

As he’d already told her, she wouldn’t make a good nun—her sensuality aside, Davina was too willful and independent to be trapped in such a life.

No, she’d been seeking to hide on Iona, to run from her mistakes and her oppressive father.

A serving lass approached their table then, and Lennox ordered the three of them meals and tankards of ale.

Elliot and Fergus were still looking a little peaky after their rough boat ride, yet they’d recover soon enough.

The two men had previously said little to their captain, but the day’s events had made them lose some of their reserve.

It was rare that Lennox ever ate with them, and when the plates of roast mutton and fresh bread arrived, he enjoyed their company.

Later, when Fergus pulled out a pouch of knucklebones, he happily played a few games with them.

He'd missed this—the easy camaraderie between warriors. As captain, he’d felt as if he was apart from his men. In the past, he’d envied his brother Kerr his position as Captain of the Dun Ugadale Guard. But did he too find it a lonely position?

“What will Lady Davina do now, Captain?” Elliot asked finally, as he took his turn with the knucklebones, scattering them across the sticky tabletop.

“I imagine it all depends on whether Hamish and the lads manage to catch up with Douglas,” Lennox answered. His mood darkened. The thought that Douglas might escape made Lennox’s gut ache. “If they recover her dowry, we can take her back to Iona.” His mouth pursed. “The abbess won’t turn her away if she comes bearing coin.”

“And if they don’t catch him?” Fergus asked, eying Lennox over the rim of his tankard. They were onto their third round now, and the ale had loosened all their tongues.

“I suppose we’ll have to take her back to Kilchurn,” Elliot replied, his brow furrowing.

Lennox nodded, although the tension in his stomach wound tighter at the thought. Campbell had made his position clear the night before they departed Kilchurn. If his daughter departed for Iona, she would be dead to him.

He wouldn’t want her back.

Seated in the bath, knees drawn up under her chin, Davina stared at the wall.

God’s bones, she’d made a mess of things. Her breathing grew shallow, and her eyes burned at the memory of the humiliating encounter with the abbess. And then, to shame herself further, she’d fallen to pieces before the gate of the abbey. Mackay held her while she sobbed against his chest, but no doubt he thought her hysterical, unhinged.

She’d caused him nothing but trouble ever since leaving Kilchurn.

Muttering an oath, she leaned her forehead on her knees. Around her, steam and the woodsy smell of rosemary from the scented oil one of the lasses had added drifted up. It comforted Davina a little, a reminder of her mother’s herb garden at their old broch.

“What will I do now, Ma?” she whispered, wishing her mother were here to advise her. “I can’t go home.”

She’d put all her hopes into being admitted to Iona, yet the way was now barred.

Of course, Hamish, Archie, and Keith might catch up with that Douglas villain. They might return with the riches he’d robbed. But even as the hope fluttered up, so did despair.

Brogan Douglas was desperate, and desperate men weren’t easily caught.

“We tracked him east and then north, along the shore of Loch Etive, Captain … but when he turned into the mountains, we lost him.”

Hamish’s gruff words fell like hammer blows within the bedchamber.

“Aye,” Keith muttered. “We followed the bastard across the foothills of Ben Starav before he vanished like a wraith.”

Davina’s gaze swept across the faces of the three men gathered before her. She’d been seated by the fire, listening to rain pattering on the shutters, when Mackay knocked on her door, announcing that the men he’d sent after Douglas had returned.

A short while later, all the warriors escorting her had marched into the chamber. However, her gaze had seized upon those he sent after the outlaw.

They were sweaty and dirty and haggard with exhaustion. It was obvious Hamish, Keith, and Archie had pursued Brogan Douglas hard, but he’d still managed to elude them like the slippery eel he was. Of course, he’d had a good head start. Even weighed down by heavy coin, he’d gotten away.

“So, that’s it then,” she said after a weighty pause. “My dowry really is gone.”

“Aye,” Hamish replied, his voice rough with disappointment. “I’m sorry, Lady Davina … I’ve failed ye.”

Davina shook her head. “None of this is yer doing, Hamish. Ye did yer best.”

Despair pressed down upon her shoulders as she spoke. Nearly four days had passed since Douglas had robbed her. She’d spent much of her time alone in this chamber, waiting for news, while secretly knowing how it would end.

Hamish huffed a weary sigh. “Shall we depart for Kilchurn in the morning then, my lady?”

Silence fell in the chamber, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth. The rain had lowered the summery temperatures and damp crept in. Yet the warmth of the fire couldn’t thaw the lump of ice that had taken up residence in Davina’s belly.

“No,” she whispered eventually, shifting her gaze to the flickering flames. “I’m never going back there … I can’t.”

Another pause followed before Mackay cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can take ye to relatives, Lady Davina … do ye have kin living nearby?”

Davina drew in a deep breath before glancing his way. Mackay stood, leaning up against the mantelpiece, arms folded across his chest. His brow was furrowed as he watched her.

“I have no one else,” she replied.

“But what about yer uncle at Castle Gloom?” Hamish asked. The big man was scowling now.

Davina shook her head. “Angus Campbell … and his sons … are vile bullies,” she replied, suppressing a shiver. “I would never throw myself at his mercy.”

Indeed, she’d never forget the unpleasant summers spent at Castle Gloom, perched high above rocky gorges, as a child—or the way the eldest of her cousins had tormented her with spiders.

“But there has to be somewhere ye could go, my lady?” Fergus said, his voice tight with concern. “We can’t leave ye here.”

Davina’s gaze swept around the chamber, taking in the worried faces of her escort. They were all good men, and she was sorry to have put them in such an awkward position.

“Ye must,” she said finally. “I have enough coin left in my purse to pay for lodgings and meals for a short while … I will look for work as a laundress … or serving ale in a local tavern.” Nonetheless, as she spoke these words, dread curled under Davina’s ribs. Whom was she trying to fool? She wasn’t altogether useless, yet she’d been brought up in a sheltered environment. She’d never washed a garment in her life or served anyone ale but her father.

A stony silence followed these words, and the aghast look on the warriors’ faces told her they knew the truth of it. She wouldn’t survive long on her own.

Davina’s throat constricted then, and she swallowed hard to loosen it.

Eventually, Lennox Mackay answered. “Leaving ye here is out of the question, my lady,” he said firmly.

Davina’s lips parted as she readied herself to argue with him. The decisions she’d made over the past years had led her to this point. Her life was unraveling before her eyes, yet she’d find a way out of this mess—even if it meant scrubbing floors for a living. It was time to swallow her pride.

But Mackay continued before she could speak. “It’s a terrible shame yer relationship with yer father has deteriorated so far. I understand why ye cannot return to Kilchurn … but if ye will not go to yer kin at Castle Gloom, I see only one solution.” He paused then, his gaze seizing hers. “I shall take ye to my family upon the Kintyre peninsula … they will take care of ye.”