Page 8 of Nyall

Nyall almost denied it before he realized there was no point. The fact that they could speak to each other through their thoughts also made them aware of each other’s emotions. ’Tis more than her plight that moves you. She’s everything you desire in a female.

Aye, and the same for you. Jamaran reached out to touch a tendril of Caroline’s damp hair, and then touched the pearl in her ear lobe. Although she’s no’ fair, she’d stir desire in any Selseus male. Shall I offer for her, then, or do you intend make claim?

Go you mad? he countered, oddly shaken by the reminder of what happened to females found in the waters around the island.

Caroline murmured something, and turned her face toward the commander’s hand, brushing his palm with her mouth. Seeing her do that sent a surge of wild desire rather than jealousy through Nyall. He wanted to see his friend with Caroline in his arms, kissing and comforting her while he watched. Shame instantly followed that twisted notion, for he had long treasured his friendship with the Finfolk commander, and despised his own unnatural desires. He also knew Jamaran to be the better man in all things.

Dinnae, for you ken I’ve ever thought the same. You’re a man, no’ a monster, and the lady, she’s everything we’ve both longed for. The commander rose to his feet, and gave them both one long final look. I shall visit her again when I may. Take good care with her, Captain.

After his friend left, Nyall picked up Caroline’s hand to examine her long fingers. Although elegant they didn’t seem pampered; she kept her oval nails very short, and he could see some faded white scars on her knuckles and palm. The gleam of Lady Joana’s ring unsettled him, for Caroline must have been very close to death to have triggered its enchantment. Both Valerie and Lark had been nearly dead before they’d found the ring. Who would have harmed this lovely woman, and why?

I just spent most of the day swimming so I wouldn’t drown.

Caroline made a low sound, and turned over to put one of her legs across his thighs, and the weight and warmth of her made his gut clench. Nyall had never once slept with any female in this bed; when he wanted that he went to the mainland to spend the night with a woman who took coin for sharing her bed. He should have left Caroline in a guest room, but instead he’d brought her here, as if she already belonged to him.

I saved her. ’Tis why I made myself responsible for her.

Even as he thought that, Nyall wondered why it seemed like an excuse. He’d never experienced this rush of emotion with the other two women brought back in time. Nor had he been able to read them as clearly as he had Caroline; he’d known from the moment he’d seen her with Lady Valerie in the hall how angry she was, and how close to collapsing.

Why this woman, and why would his sire’s magic bring her to the island?

The two women who had come before Caroline had brought tremendous boons with them. The laird’s wife dispelled Connal MacMar’s vertigo with her touch, and ended his melancholy over losing his first wife, Lady Joana, to suicide. Proving the lady had sacrificed herself to protect the MacMar from the Cait Sith had been Valerie’s enormous gift to Connal. The touch of the seamstress, Lark Ambrose, had allowed their seneschal Fletcher to overcome his mortal weakness and see the faces of others for the first time in his life. In the end she had also exposed the obsessed woman who had caused the death of those he’d loved in the past, which relieved him of his belief that he had been cursed.

Nyall’s weakness had already been dispelled by Caroline’s touch, but he had no secret heartbreak lurking in his past. If anything, his boyhood had taught him to keep to himself and never allow anyone to become too dear to him. His màthair, Tiree, had been obsessive and extremely jealous of Prince Mar. Throughout his boyhood he’d witnessed what love had done to her before it had killed her in the end. He’d vowed never to allow himself to follow her path.

A short time later Caroline stirred and woke. She looked up at him, frowning for a moment.

“Not dreaming,” she whispered. “You’re still real.”

“Aye.” He glanced down at her hands, which tightly clutched his tunic. “Do you remember what’s happened?”

Fear tightened her beautiful face, and then vanished as she pushed herself away from him and climbed off the bed.

“Yeah, all of it. Why did you bring me to the castle?” she demanded.

“’Tis my home.” When he reached to steady her, she shrugged off his hand. “You’re no’ angry with me for saving you, surely.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress.” She stood with her back to him for a moment before turning to regard him. “I need a shower and some dry clothes.”

“We’ve no showers, and my garments, they’d prove too large for you.” He rose from the bed. “Nor may I remain at your side, Mistress, for I’ve duties awaiting me. I ken you’re badly frightened, but I vouch for Lady Valerie. She shall but help you in any manner she may.”

“I don’t like Lady Valerie. Call me Caroline.” She didn’t appear pleased or entirely convinced by his assurances, but some of the fear had cleared from her eyes. “I want a weapon.”

He nodded at the blade sheath strapped to her forearm. “You possess one.”

“I have two hands, and I want a bigger weapon.” She glanced around the room until she saw his collection of daggers and went to point up at one of the slimmest. “This knife.”

Nyall suspected she was testing him, but kept his expression bland as he went to take down the weapon. “’Tis called a ballocks dagger. I keep my blades sharp, Mistress, so dinnae trifle with the edge.”

“Caroline, not Mistress.” She watched him slide it into a hanging sheath. “I will defend myself if I’m attacked, and I’m very good with knives. You’d better let your people know they shouldn’t trifle with me.”

“Indeed, I shall.” He offered the weapon to her, which she tucked out of sight beneath her sleeve. “Now promise me you shall attack no one unless they attempt harm you.”

“Everything here may be crazy, but I’m not.” She moved toward the door, hesitated, and then stepped back and made a pushing gesture. “You go first.”

On the Isle of Orkney, Speal of Aberdeen walked up the gangway onto the last vessel still docked, nodding to the two Cait Sith shape shifters she’d left on deck as guards. Both appeared surly and exhausted; their thoughts darkly simmering with resentment. All that they did was part of their ongoing pretense. One signaled to her without words that all was well, and the other glanced at the captain’s cabin and shook her head.

Speal went to the railing to look out at the sea, which appeared calm, and then glanced at the open hatch to the hold.