Читать книгу Underneath The Mistletoe Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Marguerite Kaye - Страница 34

Chapter Six

Finally. After endless weeks of searching for Glenforde’s whereabouts and these last six days at sea, this journey was nearly at an end.

A cold wind raced across Richard’s face, bringing a chill to his cheeks and reminding him of the narrow margin in which they’d beaten the turn of the season. With the onset of winter at hand, this venture home had been a race against time. Another week at sea would have found them in dire straits. Strong winds, enormous waves and deathly cold water could have spelt doom for any foolish enough to set sail.

Yet he’d intentionally detoured this journey home by a day—long enough to set one of his trusted men ashore on the Continent with orders to return with the information he sought. The man would return to Dunstan on the last of his ships that would hopefully soon leave Domburg. Once that ship and this one reached Dunstan’s harbour his entire fleet would be safely careened during the long winter for repairs and general maintenance.

Richard directed his attention towards the fast-approaching coastline. The quickly setting sun behind them cast shadows on the rock face of the cliffs. Soon, night would fall and they would be unable to safely enter the harbour until daylight.

A quick glance assured him that Matthew had the men and ship well under control. The sail slid down the mast as oars splashed into the water.

It was imperative that the ship be manually steered through the narrow inlet into Dunstan’s harbour lest she be smashed to pieces against the jagged boulders hiding beneath the surface of the water on either side of the inlet.

Once again he looked shoreward, relieved to see the torches flare to life in the towers flanking the entrance to the harbour. It was necessary to have those lights as guideposts.

Richard positioned himself at the centre of the aft deck, noting that the bow of the ship was just off-centre of the torchlights.

‘Hard to port!’ he shouted down to the men on the rudder. When the bow pointed dead centre between the lights, he yelled, ‘Hold!’

While steering the ship past the boulders, then between the cliffs wasn’t as easy as it might appear with a crew not as well trained as this one, he was grateful for the natural protection Dunstan’s unwelcoming coastline provided.

Most of the island rose up from the sea like a rock-faced mountain and needed little protection from unlikely intruders. Those who were brave enough to try either gave up in frustration, or drowned after their ship broke apart against the boulders.

The short, narrow strip of beach on the other side of the island existed only at the whims of the tide and wind. If a ship anchored there, it risked being either blown against the cliff face, or left high and dry on the exposed sandbar.

The other danger, as he’d learned, was anchoring just off the beach, only to later watch his ship sail away without him when the tide unexpectedly turned and the anchor failed to hold against the rapidly rising water. Chasing the unmanned ship down had proven far easier than bearing his father’s wrath.

Even with the dangers of anchoring at the beach, his grandfather had determined it the weakest point on the island. Which is why a stone-fortified keep had been built at the highest point above the beach.

If a force did manage to make landfall there, they would be unable to gain entrance to the keep without suffering the loss of many lives.

And still, even with all of this protection—natural and manmade—Glenforde had broken through Dunstan’s defences. Richard knew the man had not done so unaided. Someone on the island had to have offered assistance.

Who? And why?

A sharp gasp caught his attention. He turned to see Isabella’s head appear over the edge of the forecastle deck. ‘Go back inside.’

But instead of doing as she was told, she scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder to stand beside him. After planting her feet for balance, she tipped her head back to look up at the sheer rock cliffs flanking them.

Richard swallowed his groan. When his wife had first witnessed this sight, she’d been terrified, claiming that he’d brought her to the entrance of hell. Agnes had hidden her face in her hands and cried with fear.

Since he’d expected the same reaction from Isabella of Warehaven he’d ordered her to stay below. Following orders was obviously not one of her strengths—a lack he would see remedied quickly.

From the way she easily fell into the rhythm of the slightly rolling deck, it was apparent that the Lord of Warehaven hadn’t cosseted his daughters inside the keep on dry land. This one at least had been aboard a ship or two in her life.

Without looking at him, she said, ‘The rocks are close enough to touch.’

‘No. It only appears that way.’ Although they were close enough that men were stationed along both sides of the ship with long, sturdy poles in hand just in case they did get too close to the cliffs.

‘Has this always been here?’

Richard frowned. Did she think he built it? He could hardly imagine the feat. ‘Yes. Of course.’

‘Does it cut all the way across the island?’

‘No. The cliffs will become lower and level out. After the curve ahead this inlet will open into the harbour. Beyond that is a small inland river that leads to the shipyard.’

‘Oh.’ So fascinated by the towering walls of rock, she barely glanced to the curve ahead. ‘Is this the only way into the harbour?’

‘Why?’

‘I just wondered.’

He knew exactly what she wondered. Half-tempted to let her worry, he left her to stew a few moments before he finally relented. ‘Your father and brother have both been here before. They know how to gain safe entrance to the inlet.’

‘I thought perhaps...’

When her words trailed off, Richard laughed. ‘You thought what? That I would lure your family here only to watch their ship crash against the rocks?’ He shook his head, adding, ‘Since their death is not what I am seeking, doing so would not serve my purpose.’

She closed her eyes, shivering a moment at the memory of watching an arrow find its mark in her father’s chest, before asking, ‘Then it is only Glenforde’s death you seek?’

‘As I said before—I am not interested in your family.’

He hadn’t answered her question. ‘I know you think Glenforde will come for me.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I am still not certain.’

‘And I say you are wrong.’ He leaned closer to warn, ‘You might want to pray that he does come.’

Isabella understood the unspoken warning—if Glenforde didn’t come, she could very well bear the brunt of Dunstan’s revenge. Instead of telling him the reasons Glenforde would never come, she stepped away, assuring Dunstan, ‘I will.’

As the ship eased out from the gentle curve, the harbour opened up before them. She blinked at the sight before her.

An entire town seemed to appear from thin air. The harbour was alight with countless torches. People—women, men and children—lined the full docks and streets. Some laughed, some cried, but all waved and shouted their welcomes to those aboard the ship.

Ropes were tossed to men waiting on the nearest dock and the ship swung easily about as it was wrapped and tied around the mooring post. Beyond were numerous, large storage buildings.

From the looks of it, Dunstan did more than kidnap unsuspecting women.

‘You look surprised.’

She nodded, admitting, ‘I am.’

‘Did you think me nothing more than a brigand committed to mayhem on the high seas?’

Isabella couldn’t help herself, she ran her gaze down his body. With his overlong near-black hair, dark looks and recent actions, how could she think him anything else? ‘Apparently, looks are deceiving.’

He took her elbow and led her towards the ladder. ‘This war for the crown makes pirates and thieves of us all. When in truth I am no different than your father or brother.’

But he was different. She shivered beneath his touch. So very different than either of them.

Richard easily picked Conal, his man-at-arms, out from the crowd of people on the quay. The big red-haired man looked grim, as if all were not well on Dunstan. Since there was no show of force—neither friend nor foe—crowding the docks, things couldn’t be too dire.

Certain that he would find out how Dunstan had fared in his absence soon enough, Richard turned his attention back to Isabella. ‘Since you managed to climb up here, I assume you can get down, too?’

She peered over the edge of the deck and then took a step back. ‘I can manage on my own, thank you.’

It was on the tip of his tongue to mention her mishap in his cabin a few days ago when she’d managed to be tossed to the floor.

Instead he descended to the deck below and waited for her to do the same before escorting her off the ship towards his waiting man-at-arms.

From the countless tears and seemingly overexcited cries of reunion, Isabella could only assume these men had been gone from Dunstan an unusually long time.

Extended absences were a normal way of life—especially for a community involved in sea trade. She’d been at the quay numerous times with her mother and sister when the ships had finally returned to harbour. Never did she remember witnessing such a display as this at any homecoming.

It struck her as odd. Had these men left under some cloud of doom? Had they been headed out to a known, or suspected, danger? Or did Dunstan’s shipping schedules keep them from home often enough to cause this level of emotion?

If the size and number of the storage buildings were any indicator, Dunstan prospered well from his chosen method of commerce.

How much of it was legal would be anyone’s guess. But then, less-than-legal goods had been stowed and transported on both her father’s and brother’s ships a time or two. Besides, with this never-ending battle for the crown, many not-so-legal activities occurred on a daily basis.

Her escort came to an abrupt stop. He released her elbow and pulled a flame-haired giant into his embrace.

Once the backslapping and greetings were completed, Dunstan scanned the harbour, asking, ‘Has the Lisette Reynolde returned?’ When his man shook his head, Dunstan frowned, then asked, ‘Where is Father Paul?’

Shocked that Dunstan would so quickly seek the services of the priest, Isabella was speechless.

‘He awaits you at the keep.’ The red-haired man’s gaze drifted to her and then back to Dunstan. ‘I assume this is your intended?’

‘I am not his intended.’

She waved off the man’s assumption and turned to her captor. ‘You plan to wed so quickly?’

‘That is the plan, yes.’ Dunstan glanced at his man. ‘A plan everyone knew before I left.’

‘Well, yes, but we hadn’t expected it to happen the moment you stepped on land.’ The man’s voice rose, causing those around them to give the trio a wide berth. ‘You don’t think that perhaps a little...gentler handling...a bit of ceremony, or celebration might be in order?’

Dunstan grabbed his man’s arm and turned him towards half-a-dozen waiting horses. ‘Enough. I don’t need you to tell me how to behave.’ He spared little more than a glance at Isabella, ordering, ‘Get over here. You’ll ride with me.’

Only yesterday he’d commented on her less-than-brave behaviour. If he wanted her to thwart him, she’d be more than happy to oblige. ‘Like hell I will.’

She grabbed the reins from his hands, tucked the long skirt of her gown into the girdle about her waist and then hauled herself up on to the saddle. Isabella put her heels to the horse’s side, suggesting over her shoulder, ‘You can walk, or use another beast.’

Catching up with Dunstan’s man, who’d set off as soon as he’d mounted his horse, she asked, ‘What do I call you and just where do I find this Father Paul?’

‘Conal is my name and unless you have a taste for becoming the next Lady of Dunstan this very night, you don’t want to find the priest.’

In the end, she might not have a choice in the matter, but she’d prefer not to find herself tied to Dunstan before the moon fully rose. She’d rather swim back to Warehaven.

‘Then would you—?’

Conal raised one hand, cutting off the rest of her request. ‘Before you even ask, I’ll not help you escape, nor will I naysay Lord Dunstan’s wishes.’ He cast a sidelong look at her. ‘Have you considered that he may have had good reasons for what he did?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m certain every knave has a good reason to steal a woman away from her home on the eve of her marriage.’

The ensuing bark of laughter didn’t come from Conal. Nor did the hand grabbing the reins from her fingers belong to the man-at-arms.

Dunstan looped her reins to his own like lead strings, while saying, ‘And I would think that a woman so eager to wed would have been at her betrothed’s side instead of wandering around a dark bailey alone.’

‘That still gave you no reason to spirit me away.’

He ignored her statement to warn, ‘You take off like that on your own again and I’ll make certain you rue the day you were born.’

She gasped at his obvious threat. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Behave like a wayward child, my lady, and I’ll treat you like one.’

She glared at him. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘I wouldn’t dare what?’

Isabella was almost certain that he wouldn’t lay a hand on her—damaging her wouldn’t be in his best interest. So, what would he do? She felt the heat of her flushed cheeks as she remembered his earlier warning that some injuries couldn’t be seen.

He leaned over on his saddle, closer to her, and answered his own question. ‘I would lock you away in a tower chamber without much provocation.’

Even though his deep, sensual tone gave her a moment’s pause, relief washed over her, making her response nothing more than a simple breathless, ‘Oh.’

Dunstan sat upright and shook his head. ‘I can only hazard a guess about the direction your mind took, my lady. But let me assure you that I would never force myself on you uninvited.’

Uninvited? ‘And you think for one minute that I would ever—’ The barely perceptible twitch of his lips told her that she’d once again fallen prey to his mindless prattle.

Chagrined that she’d so easily let herself be led into this absurd conversation, she lifted her chin a notch, gave a good jerk on her horse’s reins to free them and urged the beast ahead of the men.

‘Stay on this road. You’ll end up at the keep.’

Richard watched her ride ahead of them. With the ocean on one side and ever-thickening brush on the other, she had no choice but to stay on the road. Thankfully, since the ship had returned, his men and some of the men from the village saw to it that the path to the keep was lit with torches.

‘She is a high-born lady, my lord; you should not tease her so.’

‘She is Warehaven’s whelp through and through. Trust me, the lady is well able to take my jibes and hand out some of her own.’

‘That may be so, but you aren’t her father or brother.’ Conal’s bristling censure was evident in his words.

Richard ignored his man’s attitude. Something had been bothering Conal before the ship had docked. ‘No. I am not her father or brother. But I am soon to be her husband.’

Conal snorted before asking, ‘Were you able to discover how that accursed dog, Glenforde, came to be involved with Warehaven?’

‘No, I didn’t. I still have no idea why the Lord of Warehaven gave his daughter to Glenforde, but he did.’

‘Then it’s a good thing you came to her rescue by kidnapping her.’

‘She would never agree.’

‘No. And from the looks of it, she’ll agree with this marriage even less.’

Richard shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘No. But over time she might be persuaded to change her mind.’

‘You, my friend, are a hopeless sot when it comes to women.’

‘Perhaps.’ Conal nodded towards Isabella riding ahead. ‘So, what if Glenforde doesn’t come for her?’

That was the second time he’d heard that opinion voiced. ‘He stands to lose too much if he doesn’t.’

Conal’s snort startled the horses. Once the beasts calmed down, he said, ‘You’d better hope so. Otherwise you’ll end up with a wife for no good reason.’

‘I’m sure I can find some use for her.’

Conal laughed softly before commenting, ‘Careful, you might find yourself wanting this wife.’

‘Perish the thought.’ Quickly changing the subject, Richard asked, ‘How did you fare while I was away?’

The humour left Conal’s face in a rush. He turned a hard glare on Richard. ‘Next time, leave someone else in charge.’

‘What happened?’

‘The master of the inn is keeping company with the baker’s wife. So the baker refuses to supply the inn with breads or cakes. The baker’s wife tired of the bickering and has taken up residence with Marguerite.’

‘That must make your visits...interesting.’

‘My visits?’

‘Do you think nobody has noticed?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Please, don’t seek to fool me. Everyone on the island is well aware that you and Marguerite have been enjoying each other’s company for at least three years now. I keep waiting for her to one day make an honest man of you. Although, I must admit, I am starting to give up hope.’

Conal ignored the jibe about his lady friend. As if Richard hadn’t said a word, he added, ‘Now the innkeeper is declaring his lover a whore and the baker is seeking restitution for his loss.’

‘Ah.’ Richard sighed. ‘Well, good. Nothing has changed.’