By Fire and by Sword (19 page)

Kenna had a cup in her hands, and spent some time looking over the side of the ship before Colin came to stand beside her. She sipped her tea, and the two of them began talking about her time in France, and Lord Walter’s horrible impact on her, her family and her life. They talked about the reason she went to France, and the family she missed so much; how difficult it was to go to Durness Castle without seeing any of her sisters.

“When was the last time you visited?”

“Goodness, I don’t know…I was quite young…nine or ten, perhaps younger. What I remember most was my grandfather, a giant of a man, with obvious Norse blood. He was my mother’s father, you know, and all I remember about him was his red beard and bright blue eyes that always seemed to be shining like little lights, strung together with mischief.”

“So that is where you get it,” he said.

She smiled but remained silent.

“Who owns the castle now?”

“I do. My mother was well entailed and possessed many properties…at least enough to see that each of her daughters received something of their own.”

“Who has been taking care of things since your grandfather died?”

“The MacKays have a strong clan. They have kept it in order for me, and once a year, one of them comes to Inchmurrin to give me a report on it. My father managed that part of it until he died.”

“After such an absence, I hope there is still a stone left.”

“It will be in decent shape. The MacKays would not allow it to fall into ruin. Family pride, you know.”

“Oh, so that’s where it comes from… MacKay pride and red hair?”

“There is red hair in both my mother and father’s family,” she said with a hint of stubbornness in her voice. “The MacKays and the Sutherlands.”

“Oh dear,” he said.

“What do you mean, oh dear? You had best be careful, for some ancestors come back as ghosts to haunt those who are disrespectful.”

“I meant no disrespect to your ancestors. I was only thinking some of our children will undoubtedly have red hair…perhaps all of them.”

“Oh, it is children we will be having, is it? And spoken as if I have no say in the matter at all.” Her eyes sparkled like fire, and there was raw passion in her voice. “Our children! Bah! And more fool you! Are you daft? You must be to talk that way. Why, I have only met you, and here you are planning to have children with me, as if all it takes is a simple declaration. You had best be revising your plans for the future, for there is no marriage with you in mine.”

“You can have a say in the matter of children. You can name them.”

“You can go to the de’il! I believe you call it
devil
in America, although I do not know why you don’t recognize the name. I am certain he must be a close relative of yours.”

Colin watched her stomp off, amused at how easily riled she could get about certain subjects. She was both
passionate and fierce, a lot like her beloved Highlands, so wild and uncharted, with ironbound cliffs, swirling whirlpools, hard winds and rough seas, and yet she had in her a reserve of romance, which saw her through life’s hardships and perils, so she could find beauty and happiness in the thunderous crash of breakers, the haunting silence of desolate moors.

There were not many like her, who could accept the life of a resident recluse, in a lonely castle that hugged a cliff at the farthest end of Scotland, and find satisfaction in a meal of nettle soup and cold lobster, surrounded by people timid as sheep and ignorant as limpets, and through it all, stick like a burr.

Half to forget the wandering and the pain,

Half to remember days that have gone by,

And dream and dream that I am home again.

—James Elroy Flecker (1884-1915),

English poet, playwright and novelist.

Collected Poems
, “Brumana” (1916).

Durness Castle, Cape Wrath, Scotland

T
he sky was growing darker, which made it difficult to see Alejandro and Colin where they stood together at the ship’s bow. Kenna and Josette sat with their heads tilted back, studying the vast blackness overhead, amazed at the clear sky and abundance of stars. They placed bets as to which of them could identify the most constellations, and discovered they were both equally terrible at the task.

At last, the need for sleep sent them belowdecks for
the night. Josette dropped off almost instantly, but Kenna remained awake for a long time, gazing upon the moonlight that stole quietly into their cabin, while her thoughts focused upon the gaping jaws of the unknown that lay ahead.

When she fell asleep at last, her slumber was short-lived, for the frequent banging of the sheet blocks on the foredeck ended any ideas she or Josette might have had about a quiet night. Cruelly jerked from deep slumber into groggy wakefulness, they both shot into a sitting position at the sound of a loud, booming crash.

“What was that?” Josette asked.

Kenna listened for a moment. “I don’t know, but it sounded frightfully close to the ship,” Kenna replied, then added, “way to close.”

“It sounded like a tree crashing through the roof during a storm,” Josette said.

“I know, only we don’t have any trees out here, so it had to be a part of the ship. I hope we haven’t lost a mast. I’m going to have a look.” Kenna slipped out of bed and took up her cape.

“You aren’t going on deck, are you? It could be dangerous.”

“If so, I will come back. I only want to find out what happened, and whether we should remain calm or jump into the briny deep.”

“Well, that is a pleasant thought,” Josette said. “Thank you very much.”

Kenna smiled to herself. “You can think upon that while I am gone.”

Kenna encountered Colin the moment she stepped on deck.

“I was coming down to check on you,” he said.

“It is comforting to know you didn’t jump overboard and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves.”

“If I went overboard, it would be with you tucked safely under my arm.”

His words were touching by virtue of the fact that there were two kinds of truth, one that revealed, and one that warmed the heart, and by his declaration, he had done both.

“What happened?” she asked, gazing toward the place where most of the crew had gathered.

“A sail lashing fell through the open hatch,” he said. “There is quite a bit of damage, but it’s nothing life-threatening.”

But her line of thinking was taking a different direction. “It is an evil omen,” she said, and suddenly felt bereft and full of apprehension.

“Don’t worry your superstitious self about it. We are fine…the ship is in no danger. The worst part is, once we drop anchor, we will not be able to leave until the repairs are made. The best part is no harm will come to you.”

“How do you know that it won’t?”

He wrapped his arms around her and whispered the answer against her hair. “Because I won’t allow anything to harm even one of these priceless red strands on your head.”

She knew misfortune would come whether he let it or not, but there was something comforting in hearing
Colin speak so. It made her feel all warm and sleepy inside, and for the first time in many years, safe.

Colin was rubbing her back, and she found she liked it enough to allow him to continue, until he suddenly said, “Oh, lord…”

She pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized that you don’t have anything on beneath your cloak, other than your nightgown.”

“I was asleep when I heard the crash. Do you expect me to sleep in my clothes?”

“Just the opposite. I was thinking a gown was too much.”

“You are too much,” she said, and moved away from him, but he caught her and led her into a dark corner behind the mizzenmast, where it was dark and quiet and hidden from view.

Her breathing quickened. “I should go back.”

He pulled her closer, and she felt as if she was stepping into the unknown, but she followed, blind and trusting. She knew she should not go with him, yet knew that she wanted this as much as he, for it had been so difficult being around him, on his ship like this, and never having a moment alone to share her need with him.

Fabric rustled in darkness as her cloak brushed against him, when he stepped closer. Half hidden by the surrounding darkness, she could see little more than deep shadow and shades of light. His arms went around her, and he eased her back until she felt something solid against her spine. His hands were on her face, her throat, her shoulders and then skimming
lightly over her breasts to encircle her waist. He held her as if afraid to let her go, and the thrill of knowing it left her breathless and wanting more.

She opened her mouth and drew in a breath of air, only to feel the shock of the penetrating warmth of his kiss. She felt every point of pressure of his body, knew the places where he was hard and soft, while her own body throbbed with unfamiliar yearning. She did not push against him or pretend she did not want this as much as he. They were simply two people who met as equals, in desire, honesty and lack of pretense.

She was warmed by the thought that he wanted to be with her like this, and that he had yearned to have a moment to share the loving caresses, the stolen kisses that every young couple strives to have, and finds so difficult to achieve. She was weakened by the nameless desire that gripped her. She felt emboldened by the absence of shame, and the thrill of being secreted like this, of being in the dark with him, as if he were a stranger that came to her like a thief, who stepped out of the shadows of the night. The urge to be with him coursed through her, silent, swift and as deep as an underground river.

She had a vague thought that she should return to her cabin, but the perfume of seduction came, like a quickened breath, and held her here, and she stayed where she was. He kissed her again, more firmly this time, a kiss that held a question she was afraid to answer.

New awareness. Unknown yearning. Burning desire. A flowing inward, into herself, and she was swept along
by a spiraling curl of need that was warm, and growing warmer, until it melted, as a candle left too long in the sun.

She knew the warm texture of his mouth, his taste, the smell of his breath, the curl of sensation at his touch, and the spirit of the night came into her and swept her back, far back, into the primitive world where two people stood, naked and full of new knowledge in a long-lost garden, and she knew she wanted to be like that with him—naked, in love and unafraid.

The kiss was long, longer than her thoughts of resistance, but not as long as her desire for more. Everything about him, his ship, the very idea of being on it was surreal to her, as if she stood in a room of mirrors and saw her own reflection on a ghost ship, in the midst of an ocean with mysterious currents that pulled her under. Nothing seemed real. Nothing except the kiss that left a burning reminder imprinted on her lips.

Her hand came up to spread over his chest, a mute show of resistance that was born of the need to touch him, and the moment she did, she found her fingers captured by his and drawn downward to press upon his need.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “I want to hold you and touch you all over, but I know that we cannot, so we will have to be satisfied with the little moments we can capture. Your mouth is sweet, like nectar,” he whispered, his lips touching her mouth, then lower to kiss her throat and shoulders.

Kenna shuddered. “I should go back now.” She had difficulty talking for her breathing kept getting in the way.

“I don’t think I can let you go. You don’t know what it’s like to stand at the wheel and watch you, knowing you are so close, and that I cannot hold you.”

He kissed her again, and Kenna knew this had to end soon, while they still had the strength to make the choice, and the knowledge of it hit her like cold water, for now she was afraid…not of Colin or what he might do, but of herself, and what she wanted to give him.

“Please,” she whispered, “we cannot stay here any longer. I don’t want one of your men or Alejandro to see us like this.”

“I know, and yet how do I let you go?” He released her and stepped back. “Stay here. I will get the men on deck to help me clear some of the debris from the mast. You will be able to return to your cabin without being seen.”

“I hope so,” she whispered, “but it is difficult to hide a fire.”

His hand caressed her cheek and she turned her head to plant a kiss against his palm. “It will be daylight soon,” she said. “I will dress and return in time to watch the sunrise.”

“I think you don’t want to miss the first glimpse of your grandfather’s castle.”

She smiled. “That, too,” she said, and waited until he had the men working, and then she went below-decks.

Later, as the sun came up, she returned, fully dressed, with her hair tucked up in a braid. He watched her walk, and wondered if Josette had been teaching her how to use her hips to torment a man, because he
had not noticed that about Kenna before. It was part of her charm and her attractiveness, to discover, day by day, new revelations about her.

He smiled when she took her customary place on the coil of rope. It occurred to him that he would never be able to gaze upon that spot again, without thinking of it as
Kenna’s place.

Josette joined her half an hour later and the two of them sat quietly talking as they watched the sun rise over the water, turning everything a glorious shade of ruby married to bronze.

Alejandro appeared on deck and mentioned to Colin. “The shoreline is smooth.” When Kenna inquired as to what he meant, he replied, “It means I don’t see anything I recognize. There are no prominent landmarks. A great deal of sailing is done by landmarks you identify on shore.”

“Oh, you are right. I never thought of it from that perspective,” she said, studying the coast. “With no promontories or the like, it is impossible to tell precisely where we are, or to gauge our progress.”

“Unless I break out all of my fancy equipment and take measurements.” And with that, he turned and went back down to his world of maps and charts.

After that, Kenna and Josette waited quietly until Alejandro came on deck again, to gaze carefully up and down the shoreline. “Good,” he would say, and then he would turn and go belowdeck again, leaving Kenna and Josette to stare at each other with amazement.

Josette was clearly in a state of confusion resulting
from an inability to understand or to deal with something, but Kenna had no idea what that was. She was certain, though, that it was connected to Alejandro in some way. A clearer understanding of it came with Josette’s next words: “The man moves to another level of existence when he is working, for everything else around him seems to disappear. He certainly makes a concentrated effort to focus on his area of responsibility, and here I thought him incapable of such,” she said.

After viewing this odd behavior several times, Josette said to Kenna, “I am beginning to find this truly irritating.”

“Alejandro, or his frequent trips on deck?”

“Both,” she said, “for every time he says
good
, I can neither concur nor argue with him.”

“Hmmm…” was Kenna’s only response to that, for she spotted a familiar town, and felt her excitement mount. “It’s Tongue,” she said. “It won’t be far to Durness Castle now.”

“Tongue?” Josette asked, in a squeamish way. “You mean tongue, as in the mouth?” She shuddered. “What a frightfully awful name for a town…or for anything, for that matter.”

“Except a tongue,” Kenna said.

Josette shook her head and spoke, as if thinking out loud. “What have I done…going from Paris to Tongue? I must be out of my mind.”

“Then be happy we won’t be sailing up the estuary to visit it.” Kenna was laughing now, for in truth, Tongue did sound awful, and when used in the same
sentence with Paris, it sounded quite rustic and backward, which it was. “The good part is, we won’t be living there.”

“Where will we be living, then? What is the name of the town?”

“There isn’t a town, only a big castle on a cliff.”

“How far to the nearest town from the castle?”

“That would be Durness, which is a tiny village, smaller than Tongue. You can judge the distance yourself, for Durness is not far from here.”

They passed the winding channels and pastel colors of a
benbecula
, or ford, which was the part of the river or tide pool, shallow enough to cross to the other side. Overhead, terns were screaming and diving in a burst of energetic activity.

“A terrible noise,” Josette said, watching the raucous birds. “What are they doing?”

“When the tide starts to flow into the sea pools the terns feed upon the eels, and they aren’t quiet about it.”

“I had no idea it was so primitive and wild here.”

“You have only seen the top of the tree.”

“It gets worse?”

Kenna answered with a knowing smile.

Josette pointed toward land. “Is that your castle?”

“No, that is the ruin of Castle Varrich. The next thing we see should be Durness, which is very close to Durness Castle.”

A moment later, Durness appeared just ahead. It was a tiny village, with a sprinkling of stone cottages. They did not stop at Durness but sailed on past, Kenna’s heart pounding wildly. The same could not be said
for Josette, who exclaimed, “I have yet to see a
real
city, or even a town. You do have them in Scotland, don’t you?”

“Yes, but not many in the Highlands, and almost none this far north.”

“It is quite different from France, in both the land and the architecture…or lack of it.”