Chapter 5
Leah considered her options. Although this had not been part of her plan when she climbed into the carriage in desperation, the result could greatly benefit her.
Two weeks without her father knowing where she was would buy her the time to finish her book. She would not have to be sent back to him like cattle to the slaughter.
If she stayed with the barbarian for two whole weeks, it would be likely that her father would return to England when he could not recover her. He would not wish to make the long trip more than once in a single month. She could spend some more time with Daphne and Oskar until she chose to return.
She studied the enormous man opposite her and felt her throat constrict.
Is this madness? I know nothing about him. Oskar warned me to be wary of him, and Oskar knows him better than I do.
She knew it was a risk, but at that moment, it seemed to be the best option in a mire of unpleasant choices.
She held out her hand. “I agree to your terms, but I have a condition of my own. I am a lady spending time alone in your castle. I will have my honor uncompromised, and any rumors to that effect will be quashed.”
She watched as he extended a giant hand toward her, calloused and worn from years of toil. His palm almost engulfed hers as they shook on it.
“Very well, lass. I hope ye ken what ye’re doin’,” he said ominously. “At some point, I shall ask ye what ye are runnin’ from. I dinnae wish to bring war on me clan, no matter how much I value a lady’s honor.”
“No war will be brought to your doorstep, I can promise you that,” she said sincerely. “In two weeks, I’ll leave, and you won’t have to worry about me again.”
She felt nauseous as she thought of her father. This was still only a temporary solution—and it might not work.
But what choice do I have?
After that final exchange, MacWatt nodded solemnly, and they fell into a companionable silence. Leah sat silently, listening to the deluge above, although she could not help but keep glancing at him. He took up so much space that it was difficult to look anywhere else.
His gaze was fixed on the window to his right and rarely wavered from it as they made their way through the howling wind and rain. Leah shivered, feeling as though she were teetering on the edge of an abyss, uncertain whether she would fall into oblivion or remain safely in the light.
As the carriage trundled on, she could hear the drivers shouting over the sound of the rain. After only a few more minutes, they slowed to a stop. She frowned, glancing out at the darkness, seeing a single flame in the distance and a great mass of water.
Of course, he lives on an island where we will be isolated from everything and everyone. Perhaps I have not thought this through.
Laird MacWatt rose, jolting the carriage violently as he climbed out into the pouring rain. He turned back to look at her, and his gaze roamed over her dress and back up to her face.
“Ye have nay cloak, I imagine,” he said.
“I did not think to store one under the carriage seat, no,” she answered sarcastically as he turned away.
A minute later, he returned with a large black cloak in his hands. It had clearly been used by one of the servants.
“Does the man not need it?” she asked, looking out into the storm and imagining him getting soaked to the skin.
“He is me man, and he’s been through worse. Do ye want to be soaked through or nae?” he asked, holding the cloak out to her more forcefully.
She took the sodden garment without comment.
As she descended into the mud and sand beside the pier, rain and bitter wind instantly assaulted her, ripping through the layers of her dress. She shivered.
Magnus immediately stepped forward, pulling the borrowed cloak from her arms with a muffled curse as he threw it over her shoulders in a shower of drops. She was just about to protest that she could quite easily have done it herself when his hands came up on either side of her face.
She froze, looking up at him, but he was not paying her any mind. His large hands gripped the edge of the cloak’s hood and pulled it gently over her hair. It was a tender and kind gesture, surprising her more than anything he had done thus far.
He stared at the hood, seemingly mesmerized by her hair but never meeting her eyes. He grunted as he noticed she was watching him, turning away and silently walking to the end of the pier.
Laird MacWatt, it appeared, did not require a cloak. He stood beneath the downpour as though he had created it from thought alone. He was at one with the storm; it seemed to Leah that he might even be enjoying himself.
As she was assisted onto the small boat that would carry them over the water, settling beneath a canopy at the rear, she watched the men begin untying the moorings from the iron rings at the water’s edge.
A few minutes later, MacWatt climbed onto the boat, followed by the captain, who was evidently the same man whose cloak she had borrowed.
The boat immediately banked violently toward the water as MacWatt’s enormous body moved to his seat. Leah gave a small squeak of alarm as she slid along the bench toward the edge, the wet cloak and the wet wood acting as a slide that she had no control over.
In the next instant, a large hand steadied her, and the boat righted itself as MacWatt took his seat.
“Thank you,” she found herself saying.
The spot where his hand had touched her felt too warm.
They set off toward the castle, the rain falling less thickly now. The captain guided the boat at the rear, and a stillness fell over everything around them. The clouds scudded above their heads, revealing a bright full moon reflected on the water’s edge.
Leah raised her head into the breeze, smelling the salty brine on the wind. Despite the nature of her journey and the turn the night had taken, she felt that same sense of contentment and freedom she had experienced with Daphne and Oskar. Perhaps her reckoning was coming—but not today.
“Ye’ll see the lights in the folly soon,” MacWatt murmured. “Betty will have lit the lamps, no doubt.”
There was something in his tone that she could not quite decipher. He almost sounded exasperated, but she could not think why someone doing such a courtesy would vex him.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, looking up at the great hulking shape above them. The island was coming into view now, and the lights from the windows could be seen glowing in the distance.
“All me life. Since me faither died.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. She imagined that in daylight, it would be a sight to behold.
He turned back to her, his head cocked. It was difficult to discern his expression, his good eye almost entirely hidden by the shadows.
“I never thanked you,” she found herself saying. “You’re practically saving my life tonight by bringing me here.”
He gave a low chuckle that traveled across the water, echoing around them.
“Dinnae fret, lass. I’m nae doin’ this from the goodness of me heart. Ye owe this barbarian now. Dinnae forget that.”
As he said those words, his gaze dropped to her lips, just as it had done in the carriage.
Leah cleared her throat, smoothing down her sodden gown and wishing she were inside, where she could hide from the feelings he stirred within her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she replied defiantly. “I’ve never been afraid of any man, and I shan’t start now.”
He leaned forward as the boat tilted alarmingly, and she put out her hands to steady herself. Only then did she feel his arms taking hold of her, steadying her, and bringing their faces inches from one another.
“Are ye sure, lass?” he asked, his voice a low whisper in the night.
Magnus had never felt so out of control with want. He hated his body’s reaction to his new guest, but somehow, every part of him felt alive in a way it hadn’t for longer than he could remember.
He knew he should keep his distance from her. She was vulnerable and needed his protection, yet she was so defiant, so alive with fury and indignant rage, that he felt desperate to possess her. Such a wee thing, and yet she burned so bright.
“We are nearin’ the island, M’Laird,” the captain shouted.
The rain had almost abated, and the bright moon was shining overhead.
Magnus let go of Leah’s arms, pulling away from her and rising to walk to the head of the boat.
They slowly made their way into a small jetty that ran along the westernmost part of the island. The castle was surrounded by trees and pathways that snaked up the hillside into the dark, and he let his eye follow their familiar lines, feeling his gut settle at the sight.
It had been a long time since he had been away from his castle at night, and he was enjoying seeing it in a new light again. He loved this place like it was his own skin. A small part of him felt excited to show Leah his home, but he knew he could not allow himself to enjoy her company too much.
Two weeks was all he would have, which was already more than enough. No woman should be around him for longer than that—he had made a vow long ago that he would keep his distance from the fairer sex, and he would keep that promise.
Just as he had predicted, some merry lights were blazing in the folly at the brow of the hill by the castle walls. Betty always insisted on a welcoming light to guide the boats home, despite the ferrymen knowing their way perfectly well in any weather.
Magnus glanced back at Leah, whose pale face was upturned toward the castle, taking it in. Her soft features were relaxed and calm, as though this were exactly where she wished to be.
He could not imagine what had driven her from her home, but he would do everything he could to make her feel welcome in his.
“Come, lass,” he said, extending a hand as they pulled up to the quay. “I’ll take ye inside.”
She rose, lifting her skirts, which he now realized were soaked with rain as she made her way over to him. She neither took his hand nor required it; she stepped up onto the quay as smoothly as a lady who had lived at sea all her life.
“Thank you, My Laird.” Her tone was playful. “I think this castle will do very well as a setting for my book.”