Chapter 14 #2
"'Tis broken, too, but that happened after you saw them. They were only pretending to be married back then. They wed after they arrived here."
"Oh." Elsea observed him, searching his gaze. "Are you nay glad their curses are gone?"
"Of course." He frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem displeased about it."
He shook his head. "I wish them the best of everything. They're like true brothers to me."
'Twas simply that they wanted him to destroy his curse, too. But he was not yet ready to give up being a selkie.
The men's rowing song continued, though more of a hum now, so that no one on shore would hear them.
He and Elsea settled into an uncomfortable silence.
Drawing away from him mentally, she stared toward the shore, which he wanted her to do, searching for the castle.
But all that was left unsaid between them agitated the tension within him.
They surveyed the rugged coastline for an hour or more, going past a few castles along the way. Some were ruinous and abandoned, while others were inhabited. They were traveling farther north than he would've guessed they would need to.
Elsea finally pointed at an ancient keep with tumbled down walls. "That's it there."
"Dunrhyne," Brodie said. "He must have purchased it recently." A score of years before, it had belonged to the MacCulloch clan.
Half the roof was missing from the dark-stoned building, but smoke wafted from a couple of the chimneys. The whoreson or his minions were in residence.
"There's a galley." Brodie took the brass spyglass from his sporran, extended it, and inspected the beach and the castle close-up. Aside from a couple of horses picking grass near the walls, the area was deserted.
"Are they still there?" Elsea asked. "Can I have a look? I've never used a spyglass."
"Aye." He handed it to her. "Close one eye and peer through."
She held her breath as she moved the spyglass into position.
His gaze dropped to her rosy lips when she licked them. She gently bit the lower one, holding it between her teeth. Saints, but that action riveted him with a sharp kick of arousal.
He should not consider biting lips when around her.
She gasped, her mouth opening halfway.
"What do you see?" His gaze darted to the castle, and something moved in the distance.
"A guard on the battlements. 'Tis Randall!" She handed Brodie the glass.
"Who's Randall?" he muttered.
"He used to work for William but abandoned his post when he heard the earl pays far more on selkie raids. And he's the one who caught me approaching the castle."
"I see." Brodie looked through the spyglass. "I wonder how many guards he left there."
Another one emerged from the exit door. Brodie was glad the curtain wall lay in ruins. An easy target. A few more unsaddled horses ambled into view, picking grass. Appeared to be less than a dozen. Mayhap he and the selkies would outnumber them.
"He may be holding the females there." Brodie lowered the glass and said to his men, "Head to Rònmòrach Isle." He pointed toward the southwest.
His clansmen turned the galleys about by rowing forward on one side and backward on the other.
They moved farther out to sea, the oarsmen resuming their song.
Elsea hummed along. When he glanced at her, she met his gaze and gave him a wee smile, celestial eyes sparkling exactly as they used to.
Strong emotion slamming into his gut, he looked away.
Damn her, how could she look so charming?
He tried to turn away from the pain as he forced himself to consider her good qualities.
Selflessly, she had saved the lives of several females.
And perhaps with her help and information, they would find and rescue the rest. Was she trying to make amends?
Was that her motive for going out on a limb so far and risking her own neck?
He wished he could study her at length, look into her mind, and discover the truth, but that was impossible.
Rònmòrach Isle came into view in the distance. Elsea touched his forearm with the tips of her fingers, sending a shock wave through him.
"What should I call them, the selkie elites?
" she said in a low, intimate tone, their gazes locking.
'Twas so like she used to speak to him during supper when they were visiting that he could scarce draw breath.
He forced himself to ignore the battle of emotions inside him.
'Twas clear she still respected him, still trusted him.
He could easily tell when people didn't.
And she wished to honor and respect the selkies, which he appreciated.
"Chief Scarth is the tribe leader," Brodie said.
"You may call him chief. I call his wife m'lady or Lady Una.
The forms of address are human, but they ken 'tis respectful and it pleases them.
I've taught the younger males a few words of English.
Most of them understand Modern Gaelic, except for the chief.
He stubbornly refuses to learn it, saying he's too old.
Though he is nay what I would call old. Their primary language is Old Gaelic, from ancient times. "
"That's interesting. The young women I helped on the galley understood what I said."