Page 22 of To Claim His Highland Bride

She turned towards him, and desire lanced painfully through her.

His gaze narrowed on the flush that rose to her cheeks. “Have you had a change of heart?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. He pulled her into his arms.

Her heart in her throat, Rowena willed herself to relax. The warm scent of his skin filled her senses, overriding the fragrance of the sea. She steeled herself against the allure of his presence. She couldn’t surrender to her emotions. They hadn’t even made it onto the ship yet. Straightening her spine, she dug deep inside for the necessary determination to survive this adventure without surrendering herself to him. “I have not changed my mind. It’s just that—I hadn’t considered how intimate we will be during this voyage.”

Marcus’s arms tightened around her possessively, protectively. “In order to keep up appearances, we will have to sleep in the same bed, dress in the same chamber. We will be man and wife in all ways but one.”

She stepped out of his embrace. With her head held high, but shaken to her toes, she headed for the path that led to the shoreline and the boat that waited there. Everything was happening so fast. Rowena’s thoughts were in a turmoil as she navigated the path down to the shore. Over the last six months she’d wanted nothing more than freedom from her overprotective family. Now that she had her independence, at least temporarily, because of her marriage to Marcus, she had no idea what came next.

Once they found the treasure, she would have to uphold her end of their bargain and seek an annulment, setting Marcus free to settle his debt to his men. Would she be forced to return to her family? Or could she use her own newfound wealth to secure a small home for herself in a village somewhere on the isle and live there in isolation for what remained of her days?

Rowena reached the beach and paused, watching the orange-crusted sun set over the shimmering water, its rays stretching seemingly for miles. That future sounded as bleak and lonely as her past had been.

Marcus joined her on the beach and she turned to him, watching as the sea breeze ruffled his hair. “Are you ready to go aboard?”

“Aye. I’m ready,” she said as she followed him to the waiting boat that would take them to The Cliodna. The real problem was that she didn’t want to be free of Marcus. Yet she wouldn’t trap him in a marriage he didn’t want either, no matter how much passion shimmered in her blood every time they touched.

She had learned to do difficult things all her life. She could find the strength necessary to coexist with her new husband without exposing her true emotions to him. Hadn’t she done that with her own family for years?

The days ahead would give Rowena time to determine the best way to move forward once, or even if, they found the treasure hidden deep within the Cave of Gold. If found, the gold there could buy her many things, but not the one thing she truly wanted: Marcus’s love.

Chapter Nine

Rowena stood at the railing watching the shoreline as the sixteen-gun brigantine, The Cliodna, drifted out towards deeper waters. The ragged cliffs of the Isle of Skye were stark and dramatic, filling her with breathless wonder. Seals speckled the shoreline, almost imperceptible except by their barks that were caught and stolen by the wind. Overhead, the sharp cries of gulls came keening on the currents high above. Farther down the coastline, she identified Dunvegan Castle, which stood in stark golden contrast against a backdrop of indistinguishable greens and browns. She tried to commit the shoreline to memory, as if the remembrance was a talisman she could take on the adventure ahead.

Turning away from what would, pray God, not be her last glimpse of home, she noted that Bryce stood farther down the railing. His features were pinched as he gazed at the water, then back at the men. Marcus had not immediately asked him to help. Most likely because he had no experience as a sailor.

Ignoring Bryce, Rowena clutched the wooden barrier tightly as nostalgia coiled in her chest. She was leaving the only home she’d ever known for an unknown adventure—an adventure that would challenge her both physically and mentally. She did not fear death, even though many of Marcus’s men had died while searching for a previous treasure. For she had brought with her something they did not have: Fiona’s fairy armour. The leather garments had protected her sister-in-law from the English. Rowena prayed they would keep her safe as she searched for the treasure of Uamh Oir. For only once this new treasure was found would Bryce leave them all in peace.

She searched the ship’s deck for Marcus. He stood at the helm, shouting orders to his crew. Men—dressed in blue and white striped shirts with red handkerchiefs tied loosely about their necks—hurried across the deck in response to his commands, unfurling sails and tightening ropes. The ship picked up speed as the white canvas caught the wind, propelling them forward, the Scottish shoreline gradually receding in the fading light of the day.

Rowena marvelled at the flurry of activity before her, and her thoughts turned to Marcus. Their journey had begun. There was no turning back. Marcus had married her so that she could follow him aboard his ship, but she did not do so blindly. Her reaction to him earlier was simply a warning, preparing her for the challenges that lay ahead. She lifted her chin. The wind tugged at the loose ends of her hair. A need to feel the breeze more fully came over her. Rowena reached up and plucked the strand of pearls from her hair, then removed the pins until her dark brown locks flowed about her shoulders, only to be caught and lifted by the nautical wind.

A surge of pure satisfaction came over her as she closed her eyes and leaned into the sensations. Freedom was hers at last.

“Are you ready to go to the captain’s quarters?” Marcus asked from behind her.

After a final look at the shoreline, Rowena tore her gaze away. “Aye,” she said, following him to the stern until they reached an ornately carved door with a scene of a beautiful woman with long, flowing hair standing on a rock, surrounded by the sea. Over her head flew a seabird with rays of light emanating from both. On shore in the distance was an apple tree with three birds perched amongst the branches. “Does the carving have any significance?”

Marcus nodded, pointing to the woman. “This is the Otherworld goddess Cliodna in her earthly form. She is the goddess of the sea, the Otherworld, passion and love, and beauty. In Celtic lore she is the daughter of the Sea God, Manannán, who rules over the Isles. Every ninth wave is sacred to her. If you whisper a wish between the two halves of a shell, tie it with seaweed, then cast it onto a ninth wave that reaches the shore, she will grant your wish.” He lifted his finger to the bird. “It is also said that Cliodna is followed by three brightly coloured birds who eat apples from a mystical tree in the Otherworld, and whose sweet songs heal the sick.” He turned back to Rowena. “This ship is named for her so that her spirit will provide safe passage to those who travel aboard.” His features shuttered as his hand dropped to his side. “That has not always been my experience to date.”

He was remembering the men he’d lost. She frowned. “Their deaths were not your fault. Not even some mystical goddess could have saved them from a merciless sea.”

“They were under my command.” Marcus’s voice was clipped. “Therefore, their welfare falls on my shoulders.” He turned back to the door and opened it. “The captain’s quarters.”

Before she could step inside, he offered her a bow. “I must return to my duty until we are fully underway. I will be back shortly. If you need me, ask one of the men.”

Rowena watched him leave. Part of her wished he had stayed; the other half was glad he was gone. With a soft sigh of resignation, she stepped inside the extravagantly carved chamber. Five rectangular windows were opposite the door, with two others along the sides, bathing the room in the reddish-gold tones of sunset. A canopy bed with a burgundy and gold privacy curtain was on her right. Beyond the bed, tucked beneath the side windows was a privy. On the left were a dressing table, shelves, cabinets, and a desk with an hourglass, quills, ink, and paper to record the events of the voyage. Towards the door, black cannons stood as sentinels on either side of the chamber. Hanging on the walls above the cannons were a variety of swords, knives, and pistols; a stark reminder that this was a fighting vessel. In the centre of the chamber was a table with two chairs. Fine linens protected the table from the two gold candelabras, a golden bowl, and a filigreed chest that lay upon it. The floor was covered in finely woven gold and burgundy carpets. She wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this beautifully decorated and opulent room.

A shuffle sounded at the door. She turned, half expecting to see Marcus only to find Bryce propped against the doorjamb, scowling at her. “My cousin will be living in the height of luxury while I will sleep in a hammock below with the rest of his men.”

Rowena chose her words carefully. “Not only does Marcus own this ship, he also taught himself to sail. He has earned the right to every good thing that has come his way. Whereas you only seek to steal what you want, never having toiled a day in your life from what Marcus has told me.”

Bryce’s gaze hardened. “You know nothing about me or what I’ve suffered.”

She surveyed him boldly. “Nay, I do not. I am sorry if you feel you have suffered, but most of your suffering, I am certain, comes as a result of your own choices. Be careful, Bryce. If you continue to act foolishly, you will either end up in gaol or dead.”

A sudden stiffness infused his frame. “Is that a threat?”