The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (34 page)

Was she just going to give up without a fight? Return to her position as nursemaid and bottle up all that passion beneath a prim facade?

The bottom fell out of his stomach, and he nearly inhaled a mouthful of water. What if she didn’t bottle it up? What if he’d introduced her to passion only to have her share it with someone else?

Over his dead body.

He broke through the surface of the water, stood, and turned to her, scowling. If she thought this conversation was over, she was bloody well wrong. “Ellie, we’re going to talk about this.”

She tossed her head the way she’d done on the
birlinn
, and he saw red. “I don’t want—”

She stopped. Her gaze caught on something behind him. Her eyes widened with fear. “Erik, watch out!”

He turned a second too late.

Four men. English. Spear. Hurling toward him. No time …

He lurched to the left, but the spear caught him in the side, dragging him backward into the black abyss.

Ellie’s scream was the last thing he heard before the water closed over him.

Eighteen

    “No!” The scream tore from somewhere deep inside her. A dark, primal place of unimaginable, bloodcurdling terror.

So focused on her own despair and disappointment, Ellie noticed the four soldiers on the beach only an instant before she saw the spear hurtling through the air on a direct collision course with Erik’s back. It seemed to be happening so slowly, yet she felt frozen in time, unable to move to stop it. It was the worst moment of her life, watching helplessly as the man she loved was about to die.

She reached for him, but it was too late. He grunted as the spear found its mark and propelled him into the water. She dove in after him and thought she felt his hand, but someone plucked her out of the water, circling his arms around her from behind.

She fought like a madwoman, lashing out blindly in her panic, her only thought to reach him. Her captor grunted when her head connected with his jaw—one of the only parts of him not protected by mail.

Someone was screaming. A shrill, wailing sound that pierced her ears.

A voice broke through the din. “It’s all right, my lady, you are safe.”

It was her: she was the one screaming.

“Let me go!” She struggled against the soldier’s hold, staring at the place where Erik had disappeared and seeing a horrible, dark-red cloud rising through the water. Blood. Panic gripped her chest, her throat. “I need to find him,” she sobbed. “He’s hurt.”

He’d been wearing only a linen tunic, leaving nothing but skin and muscle to protect him from the piercing blow of the spear. But he was strong. The strongest man she knew.

“He’s dead,” the man said coldly. “Or will be soon. We need to take you back to the galley.”

“No!” She wrenched out of his arms.

The spear. Erik flying backwards. The blood. She didn’t care what she’d seen. He wasn’t dead and she wasn’t going to leave him like this.

She dove into the water, reaching around blindly in the darkness. But the soldier caught her again, bringing her up to the surface gasping. He dragged her kicking and screaming up to the water’s edge. He was taking no chances this time and had her in a firm vise grip around her chest, pinning her arms to her side.

“Look for him,” the soldier ordered the three other men. To her, he said, “Stop struggling, my lady; we’re trying to help you.”

The three other soldiers didn’t seem eager to get wet, but they followed the leader’s orders. The minutes tolled painfully by as the search continued. The soldier was talking to her, but she wasn’t listening. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Ellie prayed for a miracle. Erik could hold his breath longer than any man she’d ever seen. Maybe he’d been able to reach the cave.

The man holding her must have reached a similar conclusion. “Where were you, my lady? We were watching the water, but you seemed to have come out of nowhere.”

Ellie thought quickly. “Swimming around the other side of the rocks.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her, but thankfully one of the other soldiers approached, and he stopped questioning her.

“Nothing, Captain.”

Ellie didn’t know whether to be horrified or relieved. If they caught him, they’d only try to kill him again.

The man holding her nodded. “Get Richard and Will—”

He stopped, his gaze searching the waves. “Where’s William?”

The other soldier shook his head.

“Find him!”

Ellie’s heart was in her throat. It had to be …

Her faith was rewarded when Erik suddenly launched himself out of the water, thrusting the spear that had been thrown at him into the chest of the soldier called Richard. Ellie turned her gaze, but only for a moment. In that split second, he’d managed to pull Richard’s dagger free from his lifeless body and had turned to face the third soldier, who was approaching with his sword held high.

The man holding her swore and tossed her to the ground. He pulled his bow from across his back and readied an arrow, aiming it at Erik, who was fighting the hip-high waves and the longer reach of the soldier’s sword.

Ellie didn’t think. She sprang to her feet and knocked the soldier’s hand just as he released the arrow, sending it careening safely away from Erik.

The soldier in the water raised his sword again and Erik made his move, barreling into him as the sword descended. He swung his arm up to block the blow with enough force to send the sword flying through the air. Moments later it plunged into the water. Unable to penetrate the soldier’s mail with the dagger, Erik wrapped his arm around the other man’s neck and gave a harsh, snapping twist.

The soldier on the beach cursed and started to shout for help.

More soldiers had to be nearby.

Erik ran toward them from the water, looking like a demon possessed.

The soldier grabbed Ellie again and started to run toward a small, grassy hillock nestling the south of the cove. But her weight and struggles slowed him down. Before they even reached the edge of the beach, Erik had caught up with them.

“Let her go,” he boomed. His voice sounded different. Harder. Harsher. More forceful than she’d ever heard him.

The soldier stopped and forced her behind him. Sword drawn, he turned to face Erik. But Erik was already on him. Heedless of the blade hovering over his head, Erik pummeled him in the jaw with his fist, knocking the soldier off balance. She heard a crunch as he followed the punch with an immediate side-of-the-hand blow to the soldier’s wrist—opposite of the way it bent naturally—causing the sword to fall from his flopping hand. With a quick swipe of his foot, he knocked the soldier to the ground and drew the dagger across his neck.

Ellie quickly averted her gaze. War, dying, and bloodshed were all too common, but not something she ever got used to.

And Erik’s coldly efficient killing style was something entirely different. It had been the most brutal display of fighting she’d ever seen, though it was over in a matter of seconds. Seeing him like this, she no longer doubted Domnall’s story of him facing a score of warriors.

He pulled her from the rocks and drew her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. She could feel the press of his mouth on her head. The change from ruthless killer to tender lover couldn’t have been more dramatic.

“God, Ellie, are you all right?”

She nodded, her cheek resting against the cold, sodden linen of his tunic, the steady sound of his heartbeat calming her. “I’m fine.” She drew back, startled. “What about you?” Her gaze dropped to his side, where the saffron-colored fabric was now stained with a wide blotch of red. “You’re hurt,” she sobbed, pressing her hands to his wound.

He cupped her chin with his fingers and lifted her gaze to his. “It’s nothing. A graze, that’s all.”

She didn’t believe him until he showed her, lifting his shirt to reveal the thin, shallow slash on his side, and the hole in his tunic where the spear had caught and propelled him backward.

She closed her eyes, saying a prayer of thanks. A few more inches and the spear would have skewered him.

“You were lucky,” she said. Her throat thickened and tears sprang to her eyes. “They might have killed you.” As obviously had been their intent.

He grinned and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Ah, love, it will take more than four English curs to take me down. The wind at my back, remember?”

She nodded. Fortune did seem to follow him. At another time she would have rolled her eyes at his boasting, but right now she was too grateful to care.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, his face suddenly grim. “Those soldiers didn’t come alone. There must be a ship nearby.”

Ellie tilted her head in the direction of the fallen soldier. “He was calling for help.”

“That means they’re close. Go back to the skiff and get dressed; you must be freezing.”

She’d been too terrified to notice, but she was shivering uncontrollably.

“Where are you going?” Her voice sounded a little panicky, and after what had just happened, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight.

He pointed to the hillock. “To see where the rest of them are.” He leaned down to pick up the fallen man’s sword. “Hurry.”

She did as he bade, quickly donning the woolen gown, her hose, and slippers. She’d just finished wrapping the plaid around her shoulders when he joined her.

She could tell from his harsh movements and fierce expression that something was wrong. Her stomach dropped, realizing it must be bad to have penetrated that unflappable demeanor.

“What is it? Did you see their galley?”

He dressed and armed himself as he spoke. “Aye, it’s on the other side of the hill—along with about a dozen soldiers.”

“But that’s not what’s bothering you?”

He finished buckling the scabbard that held his sword across his back and turned to meet her gaze. She could see the fury storming in his eyes.

“There are four English galleys guarding the bay, and smoke is coming from the direction of the beach.” He pointed south, and she could just make out the gray wisps against the similarly colored skies. “The English have found us.”

    Time tolled at an agonizing pace as Erik waited for the English to give up their hunt. But they were relentless, turning over every rock on the small island.

It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to race back to the beach immediately. But he couldn’t. Two things stood in his way: he needed to protect Ellie—the sight of her in the English soldier’s grasp was not one he would soon forget—and he had to think about his mission.

If he were captured, Bruce wouldn’t have his mercenaries in time. Nor would he have Erik to lead the fleet to Arran. The mission had to come first. His men were well trained and could take care of themselves.

But hiding in a cave rather than joining the fight went against every bone in his body. Hours later he was going half-mad, feeling like a lion caged in a very small pen.

How the hell had they found them?

Knowing that the English would come looking for the missing soldiers, he’d dragged the skiff down the beach, making sure to leave plenty of tracks gouged in the sand. He wanted the English to think they’d fled. They didn’t know the old skiff wouldn’t last five minutes in the heavy currents of the channel.

He rowed them to the larger of the two small islets known as Sheep Island, off the northern tip of Spoon. From there he could see most of the western side of the island and the English ships guarding the bay, though not the beach itself.

He’d left Ellie in the cave under another natural arch while he watched, paced, and tried to keep a rein on his anxiousness as he waited for the English to give up the hunt. But every minute passed with excruciating slowness.

Time was his enemy. The McQuillans were expecting him tonight, and the short time frame for them to reach Arran for the attack—the very next night—left him little room for error. As the day wore on, and not knowing what he would find when he returned to the bay, the roughly fifteen-mile journey to Ireland suddenly loomed large.

He knew there was nothing he would have done differently—the prudent move had been to stay put—but he couldn’t help second-guessing himself.

The tension was tying him in knots. When Ellie came up behind him and put her hand on his arm, he jerked.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She peered through the murky, drizzly skies to the cove where they’d nearly been discovered. “Have they gone?”

He nodded. “A short while ago.”

Not long after he and Ellie had fled in the skiff, a galley had landed in the cove. It left quickly and returned a short while later with a second ship. This time the English stayed much longer. Finally, a few minutes ago, one ship had sailed south, and the other headed north to Kintyre. Erik hoped that meant the English believed they’d fled the island.

“Will they be back again?” she asked.

“Probably. But not today. It will be dark in a couple of hours.”

“What happened to the other ships?”

“I don’t know. They moved beyond the mouth of the bay and I lost sight of them.”