Page 18 of Nyall

“Connal, laird of the clan.” He bowed to her. “I ask your pardon for neglecting you. I’ve been much occupied of late with my work. My wife tells me you’re a diver.”

“I am.” Caroline wondered what he was going to say, and then decided to ask him straight out. “Let me save you some time. I don’t want to marry the captain, the commander, or anyone else. I don’t want to live in your castle. I don’t like being told what to do. I really don’t like Shaw. What I want is to go back to my time so I can put the guy who tried to kill me in jail. Please leave me out of weddings, clan stuff, and whatever is going to break your truce with the fish people, and find me a way off this rock.”

The laird threw back his head and laughed, and it was the best sound she’d heard since coming to his island.

“Forgive me, Mistress. ’Tis a delight, meeting a lady who speaks her mind. Wherever you wish abide, we shall do our best so you may make your home on Caladh until such time as you may return to the future.” He held out his hand. “Welcome.”

On the fringes of the settlement, Bered watched from the hovel where he’d been exiled as the kelp farmers swam out for the day’s harvest. Alone, shunned and miserable, he had wallowed in his hatred and despair for weeks now. All of his wealth had been seized by the king after he had disowned him as his heir. No one would speak to him now, and he had been forced to live in such squalor that he even had to hunt for his own food. All this because he had offered advice to the unmated males who had acted on their foolish notions and attempted to abduct Lark Ambrose—a supremely unwarranted punishment in his view.

Bered wanted his hoard of pearls, to eat until he became so drunk he might crawl onto land and die gasping in the sun. The last unmated male of royal blood meant his bloodline would be forever lost to the Selseus. Then the elders would all be sorry for turning against him.

Once the farmers had passed by, Bered left his one-room dwelling and swam across the bay, surfacing to see a dark-haired female in conversation with Merrick’s second, Jamaran. The wench boldly wore pearls in her ears, as if taunting him. His hatred swelled, for the king would surely give this female to the commander if she came to the Selseus. The white-haired bastart had been born mortal, which should have rendered him unsuitable for mating. Yet since Merrick had yet to name his new heir, the Selseus would likely approve of any measure the king took in hopes of his favor.

The thought of the many tons of pearls kept in the palace that Merrick would shower on Jamaran at his mating ceremony infuriated Bered even more, for as a former mortal the commander could not be made intoxicated by eating them.

He moved close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation, which seemed nonsensical to him, and then submerged when the commander suddenly dove into the water. He found a reef ridge where he hid himself and watched as Jamaran swam to the palace. There Merrick came out, stared at him for a time, and then nodded and accompanied him to the shallows. Although the king had warned Bered to remain out of his sight, he needed to know what Merrick and his mortal pet were scheming.

They left the water and walked onto the old hermit’s islet, which had remained unoccupied for centuries. Bered swam to the other side before he came out of the sea, and trekked through the brush until he approached the shabby remains of the dead mortal’s cottage. Inside he could hear the two speaking, and crept close to one of the window openings.

“–refused you, then I shall speak to the laird on taking her to the mainland,” Merrick said. “Mayhap that alternative shall prove so unpleasant for her she shall change her mind.”

“You take offense for what I’ve expected since Nyall and I saved the lass, my king,” Jamaran told him. “She’s no’ like the other females brought here from the future. Indeed, I reckon she may choose leave for the mainland.”

“While I ken how such shall break your heart.” The sound of the king’s pacing followed. “You’ve a right here, lad, and Nyall shallnae stand in your way, for he hates females. Shouldnae you try court the lady, then?”

“She desires a friend more than a lover, my king.” The commander chuckled before he added, “Aye, women from her time, they count men as well as women as such.”

“’Tis unnatural.” Merrick hesitated before he said, “You truly wish me do naught, and yet I see every thought in your head. You desire her, so woo her. Mayhap seduce her.”

“’Tisnae Mistress Parish who concerns you so much you’d speak on such,” Jamaran chided. “For the sake of the law you’ve refused to take a mate, and Bered’s disowned. I reckon the elders shall grant you whatever you wish until you name your new heir. You desire me sire a son on the lady, which I shallnae.”

Bered had to bite his tongue to keep from howling with rage.

“You cannae conceal your true self from me,” the king chided. “Even speaking the words heats your blood.”

The commander sighed. “Shall we talk then of desire and duty, my king? For you’ve concealed naught from me these fourteen years.”

Merrick uttered a short, bitter laugh. “’Tis yet another reason I cherish you as a son born to me. Come, for I must hear grievances this day, and you shall keep me from ending the complainers.”

Bered waited until he heard both men go back in the water before he made his way to the opposite shore of the islet. As he walked into the water, what he had learned began to turn in his head, offering new hope of taking back what had been stolen from him. This landcrawler female Jamaran so desired would be the tool he would wield to force both the commander and the king to bend to his well.

All he had to do was make her his—after he bit those pearls from her ears.

Chapter Six

Speal watched as the door to the captain’s cabin slowly opened, and Derdrui peered out into the twilight dusk like a sleepy cat. The enchantress’s dark beauty, from her perfect cap of shining black hair to the pallid flawlessness of her stunning features appealed to all mortals, male or female. Even her own weathered heart beat a little faster as their sovereign stepped out onto the deck, her beautiful body draped in a richly-embroidered gown of midnight silk. Yet from the cabin also came the stench of death, which cloaked Derdrui like a poisonous fog.

As deadly as she’s lovely, Fiacail had always said of their sovereign.

During her long lifetime Speal had taken several female lovers, so she imagined her eldest sister had been trying to warn her not to lose her heart to the enchantress. She hadn’t understood in the distant past when Derdrui had gathered them together for the first time and taught them how to manage living in the mortal realm. Now that she had witnessed their sovereign’s endless desire to torment and bloody those she seduced, she was glad she’d never done more than admire her from afar.

“Why have we left the island of pigs?” the enchantress demanded. “Surely you did not kill all the mortals again.”

Speal hand-signaled for the rest of the Cait Sith on deck to stay back before she went to bow to Derdrui.

“Fair evening, my princess.” She looked into her dark eyes and smiled. “We’ve set sail so we may track the MacMar back to their island.”

“Without my permission?” The enchantress glanced around the railings. “Surely I do not have to explain how you are to serve me again. Or are you that simple that I must repeat myself over and over to you?”