Highland Fire. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ floor. Although everyone appeared to be deep in a drink-ladened sleep, Moira inched toward the door, tense with fear that someone would wake up and see her. Discovery would mean confronting her guardian Bearnard.

      Once outside of the cabin she paused, bracing herself against the wall of the narrow passage. What should she do next? Annie could be safe and dry in some cabin. Moira shook her head. The man Annie had been cozening up to only hours ago was a mere deckhand, a poor lowly sailor of no rank. He would have no private place to take Annie except up on the deck. She simply had to look and assure herself that her old nursemaid was safe.

      Her first attempt almost proved to be her last. Moira edged onto the first step leading up to the deck. The ship lurched, the violent motion knocking her off her feet. She slammed into the hard wall. For several moments she clung to the wall, gasping for breath. Her body still aching, she tried again.

      When she first emerged onto the deck the wind and the pelting rain nearly drove her back. Moira gritted her teeth and, using anything at hand to hang on to and steady herself, started on her search for Annie. She could not believe Annie was still outside, yet the woman was not in her bed where she belonged, either. The storm had not completely dimmed the light of dawn, but it would still be difficult to find one thin old woman on the rain-washed deck. Moira heartily cursed Annie as she struggled over the pitching deck.

      Tavig saw the small figure, bent against the wind and rain, edging her way, along the deck, and cursed. He had spent the last hour trying to get back to his own cabin but, since the crew was a man short, the captain had forced him to help. Tavig knew that missing man was off with Annie. He also knew that his disguise was melting away with every drop of rain, but if he left he could easily be putting everyone’s life in danger.

      And now Moira was there. He had also spent the last hour praying that he was wrong, that she would not come searching for her randy old nursemaid. This was one time when he desperately wanted his accursed foresight to be proven wrong. The girl was stumbling her way toward a great deal of trouble, and he hated knowing that. He especially hated knowing that somehow he would be the cause. She fell to her knees, gripping the railing but a few feet away from him, and he sighed as he stumbled over to her. Now there was only one life he was concerned with.

      “What are ye doing here, lass?” he shouted, fighting to be heard over the fury of the storm. “What few sailors are on deck are all lashed to their posts. The others will soon be wisely huddled below decks. ’Tis where ye should be.”

      “’Tis where ye should be as weel.”

      “I had to help batten down the hatches.” He frowned, looking up at the sky as the wind suddenly eased and the rain grew almost gentle. “It seems the storm needs to catch its breath.”

      “Good. Now I can find Annie.”

      “Annie is off rutting with her sailor.” He shook his head when she blushed so brightly even the dark could not hide it.

      “That may be true, but she could be in trouble now. Once the storm started she should have returned to the cabin.” A gust of wind slapped her, forcing her to cling more tightly to the ship’s railing.

      Tavig looked at Moira, trying to think of a way to convince her to go back inside, and froze. The cold familiar feeling that he was caught up in circumstances he could not control or change oozed over him. He tried to keep his frustration and fear out of his voice, but knew he was failing even as he spoke.

      “Get away from that railing, lass.”

      Moira frowned. There was an odd, strained note to his voice. She tensed, wondering if Master Fraser was something more dangerous than the aging lecher she had thought him to be.

      “I will as soon as the wind eases some more,” she replied, trying to decide if she should scurry out of his reach.

      “It willnae ease any more,” he snapped. “’Tis a cursed gale. This lull willnae last much longer, and the storm will probably come back stronger than before. Now move away from that twice-cursed railing.”

      Even as she decided to do so in an effort to placate him, she suddenly noticed something that halted her. Master Fraser’s hair was no longer the dull color it had been. The gray was seeping out of his shoulder-length hair to settle at the tips in sticky clumps. She stared at him, watching closely as another of the few remaining streaks of gray slithered down his hair. Master Fraser was definitely not what he appeared to be. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she reached out to touch his hair.

      “Your age is washing away in the rain,” she murmured, her eyes widening at the curse he spat.

      “I kenned that would happen. I have to get out of this rain.” He grabbed her so forcefully she fell against him.

      “So this is where ye disappeared to—out whoring!”

      Moira cried out in surprise and fear as her guardian, Sir Bearnard Robertson, grabbed her by the arm, roughly yanking her to her feet. “Nay, sir, I swear I just came out to look for Crooked Annie.”

      “In this rogue’s arms?” he bellowed, vigorously shaking her. “Dinnae add lying to your sins, ye little slut.”

      As Bearnard raised his meaty hand to strike her, Moira quickly turned to prepare for the blow. She fought to relax, to banish all tension and resistance from her body. Over the years she had learned that such limpness robbed his blows of some of their strength. She made no sound when he backhanded her across the face, sending her slamming onto the rough wooden deck. Landing on her hands and knees, Moira quickly bowed her head, all the while keeping a covert eye on her guardian. She wanted to be ready to avoid the worst of the pain if he decided to add a few kicks to his brutal reprimand.

      An odd sound abruptly interrupted her concentration. She shook her head, but it was not a roar from inside her head, caused by the force of her guardian’s blow. A soft, low roar of pure fury erupted from the man calling himself George Fraser. Moira spun around, sitting on the deck to stare at hum. She gaped when he lunged at Bearnard, punching the bigger, heavier man and sending him sprawling onto the deck.

      “Such a brave mon ye are, Robertson,” he spat. “It takes such courage to strike down a wee, skinny lass.”

      “’Ware, sir,” Bearnard yelled, scrambling to his feet. “A man who scurries after a lass half his age has little right to speak so self-righteously of others. Ye are naught but an old lecher trying to seduce a foolish young lass.”

      “Even if that charge were true, ’twould still make me a better mon than some slinking cur who beats a wee lass.”

      A growl of pure rage escaped Bearnard as he charged Master Fraser. Both men fell to the deck with a crash. Moira cried out in dismay. Although she had no idea what she could do, she began moving toward the men. She had to stop the fight she had inadvertently caused.

      “Dinnae be an idiot,” said a deep voice as she was caught from behind.

      “Nicol!” she cried, looking over her shoulder at her cousin. “Where did ye come from?”

      “I followed Father when he came looking for you. I must have had a vision that ye were about to do something verra stupid. Sweet Lord, Moira, why would ye want to tryst with that old fool?”

      “I wasnae trysting with him. I came looking for Crooked Annie, and Master Fraser was trying to get me to go back to my cabin.”

      “Ye should never have left СКАЧАТЬ