Tess and the Highlander (26 page)

Restless, Killian looked back at the wake
left by the boat’s engine.

A real ferry traveled between Hyannis and
Cuttylea Island twice a week. The website said the crossing took
three hours, one way. Killian hadn’t been able to get to Cape Cod
for the trip out to the island on either of those days. So here she
was, plowing through the increasingly heavy seas of the dark
Atlantic. On a boat no bigger than a pickup truck. 

She heard the rumble of thunder over the
steady roar of the boat’s engines. Killian shivered again. She slid
her butt along the wooden bench, moving closer to cockpit of the
boat. Stretching up, she glanced ahead. The single headlight on the
bow barely illuminated anything in their path. The dim light rising
and dropping as the boat pitched forward into the growing swells
did nothing to quell the uneasiness in her stomach.

“Do you think the storm will catch us before
we reach the island?”

Thomas cocked his head and relit the pipe.
Killian already knew there was no point in repeating the question.
The old man wasn’t much of a talker. Half of the questions Killian
asked had gone unanswered.

Lightning suddenly lit the choppy, rolling
sea. Almost immediately, thunder exploded around them like a sledge
hammer on an empty drum. The boat vibrated from the concussion.
Killian dove inside the backpack between her feet, frantically
dragging out her iPod and earpieces. Plugging herself in, she was
stunned when no sound came out. The screen was lit, but no music.
She turned the device off and on and watched as the screen came
back to life. Still nothing. Killian tore the earpieces away and
stuffed everything back in her bag.

She was shivering uncontrollably now. Here
it was, the first week in June, but she was freezing. Reaching back
into the bag, she pulled out a windbreaker. It belonged to her
father. She’d snatched it at the last minute on her way out of the
house. 

Some of the literature she’d printed out
about Cuttylea Island came out with the jacket, flying free in the
sharp wind. Dropping the garment, she grabbed for the loose pages.
They were gone, sweeping over the stern and fluttering like falling
snow into the dark sea. Killian stared after them. Picking up the
windbreaker, she yanked it over her head. She could smell her
father in it. She welcomed the added warmth.

Killian had still been at school a month ago
when the invitation came. It was from her mother’s great aunt,
Hannah Winthrop. The note had asked her to come and spend the
summer working on Cuttylea. At the time, Killian equated the offer
with death by boredom. Three weeks later, reality reared its ugly
head. She graduated and had to move back home.

Killian knew she wouldn’t fit into her
father’s picture-perfect New England family. The new wife, the
two-point-two kids, the dog, and the white picket fence. It was the
family Rick had all-too-quickly constructed after her mother died.
The picture didn’t include her. From her first week in Middlebury,
she’d felt like a weed in the suburban flower patch.

So Hannah’s offer had begun to sound very
attractive.  

The rising and plunging of the boat was
getting to Killian. At the top of each wave, her stomach lifted and
hung in mid-air as the bow dipped and then dropped with a bang onto
the next wave. Killian panicked. She hadn’t told Thomas that she
didn’t know how to swim. She looked around. Not a lifejacket in
sight.

Suddenly, the boat rocked as the driver cut
the speed.

“What’s wrong?”

Without a word, the old man swung the wheel
and gunned the engine. The boat carved a sharp arc, forcing Killian
to grip the side to keep from sliding off the bench.

As they came around, Thomas was peering just
ahead and then over the side. Killian turned in her seat, looking
down into the water.

Then he cut the engines and the boat
stopped.

Her great aunt trusted this man. She’d sent
him to Hyannis to get her. Or at least this was what Thomas had
told Killian on the dock. Her mind now started questioning even
that. She peered over the side, following his gaze.  

Suddenly, a hand shot up from the dark
waters. Before she could move, it was gripping the edge. Their
fingers touched.

Killian gasped aloud and sprang backward.
But there was nowhere to go. She tripped over her pack, landing
hard against the bench running along the other side.

Her heart raced. The hand had been warm.
Dead bodies don’t reach up out of the water.

The boat rocked sharply. When she
straightened and turned around, Killian was astounded to see a
young man, a head taller than Thomas, standing in the boat. Her
legs gave up and she sank down onto the bench. The old man had
draped a blanket over the swimmer’s shoulders.

His eyes were fixed on her. Killian felt her
face flush hot under his steady gaze. Then the newcomer ducked down
into the cabin space in the bow.

Thomas moved back behind the wheel and
revved up the engines. The boat leapt forward, cutting through the
waves.

“Who…who is that?”

“That’s Perth,” Thomas said over his
shoulder. He pulled the pipe from between his teeth and banged out
the contents on the side of the boat. “He’s training to swim the
channel.”

“In this weath—?”

The old man cranked the wheel, turning the
boat at full speed. Killian clutched the bench to keep from sliding
into the sea.

For the first time, she noticed that it had
begun to rain.

Swimming the channel.

Names jumped at her. Cross Rip Channel.
Muskeget Channel. Great Rip Channel. Killian couldn’t remember
which of them went with what island off Cape Cod, but she recalled
reading about inter-island swim competitions.

What kind of idiot would be out swimming in
a storm like this?

A handsome one, that’s for sure.

She peered toward the door of the cabin
where Perth had disappeared. She’d taken her suitcase down there
earlier. The space hadn’t been tall enough for her to stand in.
Crammed with boat gear and fishing stuff, it smelled dank and
fishy. She couldn’t wait to come back into the open air.

Killian saw him emerge. As he came through
the doorway, their gazes locked for a brief moment, and she felt a
sudden jolt.  Instinct told her to back away. Handsome or not,
there was an intense, almost predatory look in the way he was
sizing her up.

The blanket was gone. Perth was wearing a
plain dark tee-shirt that was too small for him. An old pair of
shorts. She wondered if the clothes belonged to Thomas. His feet
were bare. Standing next to the old man, Perth seemed unaffected by
the rain and the cold bite of the wind.

Thomas leaned toward him and whispered.
“She’s the one.”

Killian was surprised at the words.

Perth made no reply. He moved easily on the
bouncing boat and sat down on the bench across from her. Suddenly,
Killian felt crowded. His long legs stretched out, filling the
space. She had nowhere to look but into his face, half-hidden in
the darkness. What she could see were chiseled features, a straight
nose, a strong chin. She couldn’t guess his age. His hair was dark
and on the long side. The wind was whipping it about his face. Her
gaze moved downward. The shirt was stretched across the muscles of
a broad chest. He made Michael Phelps look scrawny.

The boat hit the sea with an extra hard
slap. Killian’s forgotten backpack bounced down the deck. She
grabbed for it. Perth put out a foot to stop the slide. She
accidentally touched his leg before getting hold of the bag.

Strong and muscular legs, amazing chest,
warm skin, a handsome face. He was all raw power. She felt
flustered just noticing his body. She blamed it on spending the
last four years at an all-girl boarding school. Killian yanked the
bag between her feet. She forced her gaze back to his face without
pausing anywhere along the way.  

He was still staring.

“Hi, I’m Killian,” she shouted. “I can’t
believe you were swimming in this.”

Before she could finish, a clap of thunder
exploded practically in her head, causing her to jump. The boat’s
pitch and roll were becoming more severe. She looked over her
shoulder as a branching bolt of lightning streaked down, burying
its tips in the sea not far away. Another thunderous blast
immediately followed the light show. The storm was almost on top of
them.

Killian felt insignificant as nature slapped
the boat every which way. She had no control over what was going to
happen to them.

“I don’t know how to swim,” she called out
over the noise of the storm.  

Perth gave no sign that he’d heard her, but
Thomas turned and motioned to Killian. “Life vests are in the
storage space under your seat.”

She scrambled to her feet, trying to keep
her balance. She opened the compartment and offered the first vest
to Thomas. He never turned, but waved a dismissive hand, letting
her know he didn’t need one.

The boat suddenly became airborne for a
couple of seconds. It smashed down on the water with enough force
to throw Killian across the narrow deck. She landed against Perth.
Strong hands grabbed her by the waist and helped her to right
herself. She held out the life vest to him. He tossed it back into
the bin.

“Okay, drown. Both of you,” she said. Moving
unsteadily, she hauled the life vest out again. In a moment, she
was pulling the straps tight.

Two shirts, a heavy sweatshirt, windbreaker,
the life vest. Killian felt as big as a Goodyear blimp. But it
didn’t matter. They were going to die. The waves around them loomed
high over the boat. She struggled to close the storage bin. Perth
reached around her leg and closed it. She sat down, her hands
searching for something to hold on to. Seawater broke over the side
and smacked Killian across the back, drenching her and sending her
sliding down the bench and onto the deck.

There was no point in trying to get back to
her seat. The boat was hitting one wave after another, and they
were airborne between the collisions. She huddled in the corner
against the fishing gear.

The next dive through the air was hell.
Killian felt her stomach lurch. She grabbed a bait bucket. The
smell of dead fish finished the job. Her stomach emptied.

But that was only the beginning. The world
as she knew it was coming to an end. She couldn’t stop heaving.
Sharp cramps, nausea, the helplessness of being thrown around the
deck actually made drowning sound like a death she could live
with.

The storm was getting stronger, the sea
rougher, her stomach more determined to punish her. She couldn’t
stop shivering. Each time the boat rose and landed, she struggled
to stay put. Killian wrapped her arms around the foul bait bucket,
dreading the next wave.   

A large hand took hold of her wrist. Strong
fingers slipped beneath the cuff of the windbreaker and sweatshirt,
touching her skin. Shock, pleasure, comfort, an assortment of
sensations rushed through her, all having to do with the
realization that she wasn’t alone. Someone was taking care of her.
Perth had slid down the bench and was leaning over.

“Feel free to throw me overboard.”

Her weak attempt at humor didn’t register
with him. His fingers remained locked around her wrist. He didn’t
pull her up onto the bench. He didn’t say anything to calm her
nerves. But there was something about the touch. A feeling of
warmth from his fingers slowly seeped into her. Her stomach’s
violent protests eased. Thoughts of impending death disappeared.
Even her fear lessened. She let go of the bucket.

Killian struggled to come up with a rational
explanation.

“Pressure points?” she managed to ask. “I’ve
read about that for motion sickness.”

Killian pushed herself away from the bucket
and fishing gear. She leaned back against the bench Perth was
sitting on. The storm wasn’t letting up. She peered at the waves
and the lightning. She was no longer afraid. 

“Hypnotism, maybe,” she muttered. “Better
than Dramamine. You could make a lot of money bottling this
stuff.”

The howl of the wind was her answer.

She chuckled absently, amused by her own
talkativeness. She looked at her wrist, caught in his grip. His
skin was darker than hers. She studied the line of his knuckles.
She felt the pressure of his thumb. He seemed to control her pulse,
the very beating of her heart.

Killian rested her shoulder against his
knee. She suddenly felt tired, drowsy. Nothing bothered her. She
had no fears. She leaned her head against his leg and closed her
eyes.

The 'May McGoldrick Family Tree' Book
Information

Our 16th Century books...

In The Thistle and the Rose, Colin Campbell
and Celia Muir are introduced...

And we also introduce Alec Macpherson, who
is the hero of our second book, Angel of Skye... 

 Alec has two brothers, Ambrose and
John, who are the heroes of Heart of Gold and The Beauty of the
Mist, respectively...

 In Angel of Skye, we also introduce a
little boy, Malcolm MacLeod, and in Heart of Gold we introduce a
little girl, Jaime...

When Malcolm MacLeod and Jaime grow up, they
are the hero and heroine of The Intended... 

In Heart of Gold, we also introduce Gavin
Kerr, who becomes the hero of Flame... 

In Flame, we introduce a number of
characters who show up in The Dreamer, The Enchantress, and The
Firebrand (the Highland Treasure Trilogy), including John Stewart,
the earl of Athol and a number of villains...

The Highland Treasure Trilogy is the story
of three sisters...Catherine Percy of The Dreamer, Laura Percy of
The Enchantress, and Adrianne Percy of The Firebrand...