Tess and the Highlander E-Book

May McGoldrick

• Herausgeber: Book Duo Creative
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Macpherson Series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 313

Beschreibung

A Macpherson Clan Novel   Tess Lindsay has spent most of her life on the remote Isle of May, uncertain of her identity. Raised by the two sole inhabitants of the island, she is left to fend for herself after their deaths, until a stranger washes ashore in a storm. Tess pulls him from the surf, not knowing that in saving the Highlander she is saving herself. If good looks and a taste for adventure are a curse, Colin Macpherson is destined for ruin. Until he ends up a castaway on Tess's windswept island, he's been roaming the seas, seeking fame, fortune…and a different girl in every port. But his fascination for this strong-willed lass goes beyond her wild beauty, intriguing him as no girl ever has.    As Colin gains her trust, Tess reveals what little she knows about herself and her past. From her scant clues, though, Colin comes to one conclusion: he must return Tess to the mainland to reclaim her birthright, even if it means losing her to a destiny that does not include him.    RWA RITA Award Finalist for Best Historical Romance Novel 

Leseprobe

TESS AND THE HIGHLANDER

MAY MCGOLDRICK

BOOK DUO CREATIVE

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Tess and the Highlander © 2009 by Nikoo K. and James A. McGoldrick

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher: Book Duo Creative

Cover Art by Dar Albert, WickedSmartDesigns.com

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Edition Note

Author’s Note

Also by May McGoldrick, Jan Coffey & Nik James

About the Author

For Cyrus and Samuel, our own young heroes…

1

The Isle of May, off the Firth of Forth

Scotland, March 1543

Tess poked at the corpse with a stick and backed away.

Her unbound auburn hair, already soaked from the driving rain, whipped across her eyes when she leaned in to look closer.

The Highlander appeared to be dead, but she couldn’t be sure. Long, dark blond hair lay matted across his face. She looked at the high leather boots, darkened by the salt water. The man was wearing a torn shirt that once must have been white. A broad expanse of plaid, pinned at one shoulder by a silver brooch, trailed into the tidal pool. From the thick belt that held his kilt in place, a sheathed dirk banged against an exposed thigh.

A dozen seals watched her from the deep water beyond the surf.

With the storm growing increasingly wilder, she stood indecisively over the body. In all the years she’d been on the island, she’d never seen a human wash up before. Certainly, there had been wrecks in the storms that swept in across the open water, and Auld Charlotte and Garth used to find all kinds of things—some valuable and some worthless—cast up on the shores. Never, though, had there been another person—at least, not since the aging husband and wife had found Tess herself eleven years earlier.

Tess pushed aside those thoughts now and crouched beside the man, placing a hand hesitantly on his chest. A faint pounding beneath the shirt was the answer to her prayers…and her fears. She didn’t want anyone intruding on her island and in her life. At the same time, she could not allow a living thing to die when she could save it. Or him.

The surf crashed over the ring of rock that formed the tidal pool, and the young woman pushed herself to her feet. She drew the leather cloak up to shield her face from the stinging spray of wind-driven brine. When she looked back at the body, the wave had pushed the Highlander deeper into the pool, immersing his face.

Tess immediately dropped her stick and lifted his face out of the water. Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed a flat rock at the far side of the pool. It sat higher than the tide generally rose. Rolling him forward slightly, she held him under the arms just as another wave crested the pool’s rim. The surge of water lifted the body, and Tess quickly dragged him through the water toward the rock.

He was heavier than she thought he would be. Out of breath, she finally succeeded in getting him partially anchored on the rock.

Auld Charlotte had once told Tess that they’d found her nearly drowned in this same tidal pool. The thought of that now flickered in her mind. She tried to recall the storm and the ship and the day, but those memories had long ago faded into nightmares. Now, it was all buried too deeply within her to recollect. She wondered if it was a day like this one.

The dirk at the Highlander’s side caught her eye, and Tess reached down quickly, yanked the weapon from its sheath, and tucked it into her own belt.

The wind was howling, and the salt spray was stinging her face. Tess looked out at the frothy, gray-green sea, hoping to see some boat searching for the Highlander lying unconscious beside her.

If they came, she wouldn’t let herself be seen, though. She wanted no news of her presence be carried to the mainland.

She had only been six years old when the ship had sank and she had washed ashore. But the little she allowed herself to remember from the time before that day was too painful. Tess had no desire to face that horrifying past ever again. There was no place else that she ever wanted to be but here. This island was the only home she had left.

For eleven years, the reclusive couple had kept her existence a secret. And now, with both of them dead, she could only pray to continue her life as before, undisturbed.

Her plan was the same as the one she’d followed dozens of times since washing up on this island. Whenever there was a chance of a fishing boat or some pilgrims coming ashore, Garth and Charlotte would trundle Tess off with plenty of food and blankets to the caves on the western shore of the island. She would remain there in safety until all was well and the visitors were gone.

The only difference now was that she would have to use her own judgment about when it would be safe to come out.

Ready to push herself to her feet, a tinge of curiosity made Tess reach and push the Highlander’s wet hair out of his face. Instantly, she was sorry for the action, for the man’s features took her by surprise. Even unconscious, or perhaps because of it, he was an extremely handsome man. A high forehead, a straight nose, a face devoid of the beard that she’d assumed all Highlanders wore. He had a face not even marred by scars…yet. Only a few scratches and bruises from his time in the surf.

Angry for allowing herself to be distracted, she started to get to her feet, but one foot slipped, and she had to brace a hand on his chest to catch herself.

His eyes immediately opened, and Tess’s breath knotted tightly in her chest. Blue eyes the color of a winter sky stared at her from beneath long dark lashes flecked with gold. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. Holding her breath, she remained still for the eternity of a moment until he closed them again.

She edged off the rock and ran as fast and as far as her legs would take her.

* * *

The taste in Colin Macpherson’s mouth was foul as a dried-up chamber bucket.

Rolling onto his side, he felt his stomach heave. He tried to push himself up. He couldn’t see. As he turned, Colin’s hand slipped off cold wet rock, and he tumbled into a shallow pool of water, banging his ribs hard on the stone as he fell.

“Blasted hell,” he groaned, pushing himself onto his knees. Holding his head, he blinked a few times, trying to clean the sand and salt out of his eyes.

Rocks. More rocks. And water. And bobbing heads. He pushed back a long, twisted hank of hair that had fallen across his face, obstructing his vision. He tried to focus on the creatures moving on the rocks.

Seals—a dozen or so—were staring at him from the rocks rimming the pool and from the sea beyond. Their brown eyes were dark and watchful. The image of a woman’s face immediately flashed before his mind, and he struggled to push himself to his feet. A couple of seals barked a warning to those on shore.

“H…Hullo!” he called out, only to have the surf and the wind slap the greeting back into his face.

His entire body ached. It had taken great effort to get the words out past his raw, scratched throat, but Colin tried again. He was certain someone had been there only moments before. Or was it hours?

“Hullo!”

This time a shriek of seabirds was his only answer. Taking in a painful half breath, he tried to move his feet in the shallow pool. They moved, though it felt as if they were made of lead. Colin succeeded in taking only three steps before he had to sit down on the edge of a rock. The world was spinning around in his head.

Water. Rocks. And on each side of the protected tidal pool, rock-studded banks dotted with occasional patches of sea grass sloped upward from the turbulent sea.

The Macpherson ship had been sailing north when the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It shouldn’t have been unexpected, though. The Firth of Forth was famous for its foul and quickly changing moods.

Half o’er, half o’er, from Aberdour. It’s fifty fathoms deep. And there lies good Sir Patrick Spence, with the Scots lords at his feet. Well, Colin thought, at least he had washed ashore. Wherever he was.

The last clear memory that Colin had was shoving one of the sailors to safety in the aft passageway. The lad was nearly unconscious after being slammed against the ship’s gunwales as the great vessel had continued to heel before the tempestuous blast of wind.

The storm had come on fast and hard, but they’d been riding it well. Colin and Alexander, his eldest brother, had been standing with the second mate at the tiller when he’d seen the young man go down. The sea sweeping across the deck had nearly carried the lad overboard.

Colin fought the urge to be ill. The foul, salty, bilge taste rose again into his mouth.

The lad had no sooner been secured when Colin had heard the cries of the lookout above. The dark shape of land appeared, not an arrowshot to port. And then the ship’s keel had struck the sand bar.

He remembered being bounced hard across the deck, only to have the sea lift him before plunging him deep into the brine. After a lifetime thrashing in the dark waters, he’d finally sputtered to the surface. All he’d heard then was the howling shriek of the wind before another crashing wall of water drove him under again. Somehow he’d survived it all, though he had no idea how.

He stared again at a seal, who was watching him intently. For an insane moment, thoughts of legends told by sailors clouded his reason.

A gust of cold wind blasting mercilessly across the stormy water instantly sobered him. He was soaked through and chilled to the bone. Colin managed to push himself to his feet and climb out of the tidal pool.

Another image of dark eyes looking down at him flashed through his mind. The eyes of a young woman. He remembered more now. Someone pulling him through the water. Propping him on the rock. She had been no apparition. Colin braced himself against the wind and let his gaze sweep over his surroundings.

“Where are you?” He shouted over the wind. There was not a boat or person, not even a tree in sight, and the rising slope of rocky ground straight ahead hampered Colin’s vision of what lay beyond.

“Where?” he muttered to himself.

The Macpherson ship had been too far north for him to wash ashore on English soil. The storm could not have driven them as far east as the continent. This had to be Scotland.

Colin knew he could die of the cold once night fell. He had to determine his whereabouts and find a protected place to wait out the storm.

He looked around again at his surroundings. He couldn’t shake the sensation that he was being watched, and he didn’t think it was just the seals. There was no one else in sight, though. His hand reached for the dirk he always kept at his belt, but it was missing. He picked up a solid branch of driftwood and started up the rise.

His trek was slow, but the distance was short. Upon reaching the crest of the brae, he sat on a boulder jutting through the long grass. One look and he recognized the place.

Colin Macpherson had grown up sailing aboard ships. Standing on the stern deck beside his grandfather, his uncle, and lately his older brother, he’d covered this coast many times over the years. Colin was familiar with every port, every inlet, every island from the Shetlands to Dover in the east, and from Stornaway to Cornwall in the west. He’d sailed from Mull to France and back again a dozen times. And he knew the history of this Scottish coast as well as he knew his clan’s name.

He was on the May, a small island east of the Firth of Forth. It was well known to sailors as a graveyard for errant ships. Many vessels, passing too close to the jagged rocks above and beneath the surface, had met their end along its western shore. And the sand bars to the east were just as deadly. A hill, the highest point, rose up almost at the center of the island. To the west sharp bluffs dropped off to the sea. To his right, he could see the sloping stretches of rock and sea grass that ended at the water. To his left, the low walls and the five or six ruined buildings of an abandoned priory.

Knowing where he was eased Colin’s mind a great deal. He was safe here, and it was only matter of time before Alexander would turn his ship around and come looking for him.

The wind at his back cut through his wet clothing, and he shivered as he pushed on. It was said that the island had once been a destination for religious pilgrims, drawing many across the water year after year. The priory, built centuries ago, had been dedicated to a St. Adrian, who’d been murdered here by marauding Danes in the dark time.

As Colin made his way toward the buildings, he recalled hearing that the monks had deserted the island before his grandfather’s time. Only an old man and his wife lived out here now, feeding the occasional pilgrims and lighting a large fire during storms to warn the ships off.

Colin didn’t remember seeing any fire in his one glimpse of the island before being swept overboard. But he didn’t believe the face he’d seen—a face already etched in his mind—had been very old, either.

He fought off the fatigue that was gathering around him like a fog and approached the stone buildings of the old priory. To his right he saw a protected hollow where a small flock of sheep huddled together out of the wind. Ahead, he couldn’t tell which of the decrepit buildings might have housed the couple.

“HULLO!” At his shout the animals shuffled about and bleated loudly. Colin wished he knew something more of the keeper and his wife—even a name would have been a good place to start. No one was showing themselves, and the gray stone buildings showed no sign of anyone living inside of them.

Crossing a moor of knee high grass, Colin found himself on a path, of sorts, that led past a little patch of land protected from the west wind by a grove of short, wind-stunted pines. The remains of what looked to be last year’s gardens affirmed that the couple still lived on the island.

It wasn’t until he was past the first line of buildings that he saw wisps of smoke being whipped from a recently built chimney above a squat, two-story building. As Colin grew near, his excitement grew at the tidy condition of the protected yard.

“Anyone here?” he called up the set of ancient stairs that lay beyond the door.

The lack of an answer didn’t deter him. The wind was howling behind him. The steps had been recently swept. A large pile of gnarled driftwood was stacked neatly at the foot of the stairs. Colin drew in a deep breath and started up the stairs. Reaching the upper floor, he saw the glowing embers in the hearth at the end of the room.

Someone had to be around, but the fact that they weren’t showing themselves didn’t make him feel particularly comfortable.

“I intend no harm,” he said loudly, eyeing the slabs of smoked fish and long, looping strands of shells hanging from the low rafters. His gaze swept every dark corner and crevice. The dim light coming in through the narrow slits in the walls added to the faint light from the hearth but did little to help brighten the room. “I was swept off my ship in the storm.”

He stepped cautiously into the room. A torn net—half mended—lay by a small, carefully stacked pile of bleached whale bones. Something crunched beneath his boots. He looked down. All around the room, seashells of every size and description could be seen, and a small hill of them sat on a sheepskin in the corner, beside a small loom.

The fire crackled and sparked in the hearth, drawing his attention again. He noticed the cauldron hanging over the fire. Someone’s dinner. “I think someone…perhaps it was you…pulled me out.”

One thing that he remembered hearing about the old couple that lived on the island was that they’d never been particularly hospitable. But they’d also not been afraid of the fishermen or sailors who ended up on their shores.

“My people will be back for me soon.” He spoke louder this time, eyeing the ladder resting against a wall. Near it, a line of dark boards across the beams created a loft area above. “I need to borrow a blanket…maybe some food…and I’ll repay you for it.”

He climbed the ladder and peered into the darkness of the large open space above. The room appeared to be used for storage.

“Hullo.” There was no one up here.

Colin climbed back down the ladder and looked out the narrow slit of a window at the sea. The storm was still blowing hard, and he could barely see past the shoreline. He could only imagine how upset Alexander would be right now. But there was no coming after him this night or in this weather.

Resigned to spend the night outside, Colin reached for a thick woolen blanket that sat on a shelf beside the hearth. As he picked it up, something that had been folded within the blanket fell onto the floor. He crouched and stared at a small bundle of mending at his feet. The intricate lace edging on a child’s white cap caught his attention first. He touched the soft wool cloth of a dress. Perplexed, he frowned at a child’s linen apron and again at the cap he’d seen first. He picked up the items one by one and looked at them intently, wondering why two old people would keep such things.

He looked about the room again. There was one wooden bowl near the hearth—one spoon. On the floor in one corner, there was a small bed of straw and blankets suitable for one person. He touched the dress again. The dark eyes of a woman looking down at him flashed through his mind again. Colin carefully wrapped the bundle of child’s clothing in the blanket and put it back where he’d found it.

Pushing himself to his feet, he picked up a more worn woolen blanket that he saw folded by the bed and draped it over his shoulders. With one more glance around, he descended the stairs and pushed out into the storm.

* * *

Added to the shivering that had taken control of Tess’s limbs, her teeth were now chattering, and she could not stop it. Her clothes were soaked through from her efforts to get the man out of the tidal pool. Her skin was clammy, and she was feeling chilled to the bone. The leather cloak offered some protection against the bitter wind-driven rain, but her body seemed unable to produce any warmth as she lay flat on her stomach on the rocks to the west of the priory.

Tess’s eyes narrowed as the Highlander finally came out of her house.

She had hoped to go inside and get a blanket or two and some food before fleeing to the caves on the western side of the island. In fact, it was much more than a hope, she corrected. She had to get some supplies before retreating there. Who knew how long the storm surges would require her to stay hidden or how many days it would be before the Highlander’s people would return?

Night was quickly dropping its dark cloak over the island. The storm, though, seemed to have shaken off its leash. It was now hammering the island with ten times the fury it had before. A freezing rain had been falling in fits and spurts. It was not a night to be out.

He was making a fire. She saw him walk back toward her house a couple of times. Each time he came back carrying armfuls of dry seaweed and driftwood she had diligently gathered, she felt herself growing angrier. And if this wasn’t enough, he was building his fire within the area protected by the priory walls.

A standing stone wall served as a windbreak. The location kept away the rain. There he was, safe and warm. But there was also no chance of any passing ship seeing his fire.

And what was worse, he was building it where she could not possibly get inside her house without being seen by him.

She should have left him to swallow more seawater.

* * *

The sparking flames, hissing and crackling, climbed high into the night. Colin’s clothes were practically dry now. His plaid, with the added layer from the blanket he’d borrowed from the house, was keeping the worst of the rain off him.

He was surprised to find that he was even growing hungry. He considered for a moment the food he’d seen in the priory building. Making one last trip, he entered and approached the hearth, picking up the wooden spoon beside the still-simmering cauldron. One mouthful of the thick, bitter-tasting brew, though, and his stomach wrenched. Colin ran outside, gulping down draughts of fresh salt air to keep his guts from spilling out.

His appetite was now gone, most likely for good, and he returned to the fire. Even as he walked, he could feel the eyes of someone watching him from the darkness. He settled by the wall for the night and thought about the old stories of seals who became women.

* * *

Tess started abruptly. She didn’t know how long she had been lying on the cold rocks. It was still night, and the storm was continuing unabated. Her limbs were stiff and numb. The chattering of her teeth was like thunder rolling painfully through her head. At some point, she thought, she must have fallen sleep. But she wasn’t sure.

Lifting her head off the rock required an effort that surprised her. She pushed the hood of the leather cloak back so she could see. The sleety rain continued to pelt her, but the Highlander’s fire was still burning below. In the circle of light around it, she could see his sleeping form tucked snuggly against the wall. He must be quite comfortable with her blanket wrapped about him, she seethed.

She glanced at the door of her house and back again at the Highlander. The light from the fire didn’t quite reach the entrance of the building. He seemed to have gone to sleep with his back to it, anyway.

Her first attempt at pushing herself to her feet was rejected by her stiff, half-frozen muscles, but her second effort was more successful. Carefully picking her way through the boulders, she descended, praying that her chattering teeth wouldn’t alert him.

There were other things that she had to be concerned with besides the storm. Tess recalled Auld Charlotte’s warnings about sailors and fishermen…about all men. With the exception of Garth, there was not a single male in existence that Tess could trust. The old woman had been blunt about it. And she’d continued to preach the lesson even on her deathbed.

If the filthy dogs find a young and bonny thing like ye on this deserted island, they’ll all be thinking the same thing, lassie. They’ll knock each other down, racing to see which one of them can lay his hand on ye first. But do not let them touch ye, Tess. Ye fight them, child, ye hear? Better yet, go and hide and do not let any of them see ye in the first place.

Tess circled around, staying in the shadows and crouching as she moved along the low stone wall that surrounded the ruins of the priory. All the while, she kept an eye on the man’s sleeping form as she considered what she needed to take.

The door creaked a little as she pushed it open. She looked back toward the Highlander. He hadn’t stirred.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she stood in the dark and took off the dripping cloak. Feeling for the familiar peg, she hung her cloak and turned toward the steps. After so many hours in the cold, her knees protested as she tried to climb the stairs, but she pushed herself on anyway.

Food. Dry clothes. Blankets. Flints. She wondered if the pile of seaweed and driftwood she’d gathered and stored in one of the caves a year ago would still be there. When she reached the landing, Tess saw there was some red glow left of the dying fire in the hearth. The cauldron was hanging where she’d left it.

There was nothing that Tess wanted to do more than dry and warm herself first. In her rush to get to the fire, though, she slipped and nearly fell on some seashells that the Highlander must have moved. Quickly regaining her balance, she made her way more cautiously across the room.

The heat from the embers felt heavenly after her hours in the bitter wet and cold. She crouched on the hearth and added some dried seaweed and a couple of small pieces of driftwood that were nearby. While she waited for the fire to kindle and come to life, she pressed her hands to the sides of the cauldron and almost sighed aloud with pleasure from its warmth.

“I shouldn’t eat any of that, if I were you.”

2

The young woman sprang to her feet and whirled around with the quickness of a cat. Colin stared at his own dagger, drawn and ready in her hand.

“I believe that dirk belongs to me,” he said calmly.

She waved the weapon at him in a motion that he understood meant that she wanted him to back away. He didn’t want her any more frightened than she was, but he was as far away as he could get. Sitting in the dim light against the far wall, he had seen her enter, only to slip on some of the seashells that cluttered the room. She had been lucky to not crack her head.

“Why don’t you put that weapon down.” He leaned casually against the wall.

She raised her elbow a little, ready to strike, and took a step toward the stairs.

Colin tore his gaze away from the dagger and studied the rest of her. She was the same woman that he had seen by the tidal pool. The same dark eyes sparkled in the growing firelight. But her face was stained with streaks of dirt, and in the dim light of the room, all he could see was that she was young…well, younger than he was. Her dark hair was soaked, and a loose braid lay on her back like a thick rope. The woolen dress that she had no doubt spun and woven and sewn herself was also dripping wet. She was a wee thing, all in all, and Colin knew he could overpower her if he really wanted to. But despite the show of toughness, she was shivering and pale. Colin frowned, knowing that because of him she’d been forced to stay outside.

“I had no intention of frightening you.”

He raised both hands so she could see he was not armed. She continued to inch toward the steps. Colin could see that she wasn’t too steady on her feet. He straightened from the wall. The continuing storm was whistling in through the slits of the windows.

“Listen, you rescued me yourself. You know I was washed ashore. Alone.” He kept his tone gentle. “You’ll surely catch your death in this weather, dressed in those wet clothes.”

Her foot went out from beneath her as she slipped again on the same damn shells, and Colin closed the distance between them. Before he could lend a hand to her, though, she rolled to her side and slashed at him with the dirk.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, glancing down at the torn sleeve of his shirt where the dagger had sliced through. His tone reflected his rising temper. She’d barely missed cutting his flesh. “I told you I mean no harm.”

She was struggling to her feet, but he was through trying to help her. Taking one quick step, Colin kicked the dagger out of her hand. The weapon clattered loudly against the stone wall.

“But you cannot expect me to take it kindly when someone steals my dirk and uses it against me.” He grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her slight frame to her feet. She was as light and helpless as a rag doll. He turned her around in his arm, so he could take a better look at her face. She hadn’t spoken a word. Maybe she didn’t understand what he was saying. “Now let’s start from the beginning, lass.”

She kicked him hard on the shin.

“By the devil!” He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “I told you…”

She delivered a glancing jab to his face and tried to push away from him. Angry now, he twisted one of her arms behind her and pulled her roughly against his body. The dark eyes were spitting fire at him, and she looked like she’d bite him if she got the chance.

“Now listen, I don’t know what has you so…”

Her knee connected solidly and viciously with his groin area. He gasped for breath, and his hands released her.

As Colin tried to catch his breath, he saw her run down the steps and heard the door bang open. Suddenly, he’d lost all interest in going after her. She was a witch, a devil, a madwoman.

Nonetheless, she had managed to drag him out of the water, and he felt a pang of guilt.

Grimacing with pain, he forced himself upright and took a step. Limping down the stairs, he spotted the leather cloak that still hung on a peg. This was the same one she had been wearing when he’d first seen her. He stepped outside. His fire was starting to burn lower. The bundle of blankets and sticks he’d used to fool her were still against the wall. The storm continued to lash at the island, and he braced himself against the wind. Colin let his gaze roam over the ruined buildings and the hills around him. To his left, he saw a dark shadow move quickly over the crest of a hill.

“Wait!” He set out after her. The fool! He was certain that there were no more buildings on the island. Cold and wet as she already was and without any kind of shelter, she would surely catch her death staying the night out in this weather.

Reaching the top of the hill where he’d seen her last, he stared in frustration at the wild and dark terrain around him. The sound of the storm was matched only by the loud crashing of the surf in the distance. The sleet was stinging his face and he could see very little. He had no idea where she had disappeared to.

“By St. Andrew, I told you I meant no harm,” he shouted into the night.

Still, he was not ready to give up, even though he couldn’t see much beyond his next step. The ground was shiny from the rain. Jumping down from a ledge of a stone, Colin pushed on.

She had to be a daughter to the reclusive husband and wife he’d heard about. But he recalled hearing that they were so old, and she was so young. And then there was the mending he found in the room—the young child’s dress and cap. His curiosity was definitely piqued.

He had no fear of getting lost. He could see the light of his fire reflecting on the walls of the priory buildings. What he needed to be careful of, though, were the bluffs to the west. One missed step there, and he’d drop forty feet into the surf and the rocks.

And something told him his bonny hostess would probably not pull him out again.

Colin stumbled on a mound of stone and shells. Coming to an abrupt stop, he peered down. Right before him, there were actually two mounds, side by side. Crouching before them, he could see a carefully arranged blanket of shells with large smooth stones piled on top.

Graves. Two of them.

Well, at least he knew where the old couple had ended up.

* * *

As Tess worked her way out along the cliff, the wind buffeting off the rocks nearly knocked her from the narrow ledge a half-dozen times. Once, inching across a particularly narrow ledge, her foot slipped on an icy spot. Tess clawed desperately at the slippery rocks, managing somehow to stop herself from falling into the frothy sea. A few moments later she had made it to her destination, only to realize it was all for naught.

The tide was too high. She’d never seen the water up so far on the cliff face. The waves were crashing in above the opening to her cave. The footpath on the side of the opening was completely submerged. It was no good. She couldn’t get in.

If she had been able to get inside, she knew the honeycomb of caves well. Inside, some of the underground passages climbed upward. Even at the highest surges, there were dry places where she could take shelter. She’d be safe.

Desperate to get out of harm’s way, she considered jumping in the sea and trying to swim in. On many of the lower caves, she’d seen the seals forever playing their games and riding the surf into the caverns.

Tess turned and started clambering back up the rocks the way she came. She was thankful that her miserable physical condition had not affected her state of mind. Banging her head against the rocks or having her body drawn out to sea by the tide was no solution to her predicament. Fighting with the Highlander had given her a temporary surge of strength, but as she finally climbed up over the ledge, she knew she had nothing more left.

He’d said he meant no harm. But Charlotte had warned her about the lies, too.

He was bigger. He was stronger. He was quicker.

He was a Highlander.

That alone gave Tess reason enough to distrust him.

Exhausted, she was barely able to lower herself into a cleft between two rocks. She was still exposed to the sleet and the rain, but at least she was protected from the wind.

* * *

Colin waited for the first light of dawn to lighten the sky before going out searching for her again. Other than finding the graves, no good had come out of his last attempt. But this time he was determined to find and bring her back. It had been damn cold last night. Hopefully, she was still alive.

The sleeting rain had stopped, but charred gray clouds continued to lock out the sky. The wind, though, seemed to have picked up even more.

Colin started out in the same direction he’d seen her go the night before. From there, he descended into a valley that cut the island in half and climbed the next hill. It was the highest point in the island. Standing on top of it, he now had an unobstructed view of everything, including the two piles of rock at either end, known as North Ness and South Ness. His eyes scanned the turbulent sea to the horizon in every direction. There was no sign of a ship anywhere.

The Isle of May was much longer than it was wide. And he had been right the night before. There were no other buildings. Very few trees even. No place where a stubborn woman could have taken shelter for the night. But she had to be somewhere.

Colin tried to imagine what he would do in her place. The answer was simple. He would have stayed put and heard the stranger out.

Women.