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She could be a mother to Una. Actually, the thought of that buzzed through her soul with as much excitement as the thought of staying with Aulay.

“Okay, Aulay,” she said. “I’ll be your wife. I’ll stay with you forever.”

He beamed, seeming about twenty years younger in the blink of an eye. He kissed her, and as he pulled her closer and her blood set on fire, only a small part of her wondered if she had really thought this through.

But that rock wasn’t going anywhere.

CHAPTER 29

A scream woke Aulay up. He raised his head and looked around the cave, his hand tightened around the handle of his sword, which lay next to his head. But the waves barely moved in the shielded bay of the Isle of Achleith. The cave around them was dark; the sky was visible between the wall of cliffs that shielded the cave from the sea. The carcass of the English ship still lay there, half sunken into the water, dark and dead.

He didn’t hear screams anymore. Instead, he pulled warm, soft Jenny tighter towards him. She was nestled against him, her back to his chest, her soft, incredible arse pressing into his groin. He moved his pelvis to nestle against her arse and was hard right away. Last night, they had made love on his léine-chròich, which he’d laid on the sand, and they’d covered themselves with his cloak.

His future wife… He buried his face in her red hair and inhaled her scent. Her own sweet, delicious scent mixed with the odor of wet sand and sun.

He’d claimed her, and she’d claimed him. She was staying with him. The wee precious fox was going to be his wife. She was going to make him the happiest man alive. His chest was so full and light, it was about to burst like an inflated waterskin.

The only worry he had now was Islay and the three English ships that headed there.

As though echoing his thoughts, another scream reached his ears. This time he knew he hadn’t imagined it. It was weak and far, but it was real. Another scream-grunt followed the first one.

He took his claymore in his hand and sat up. Jenny woke up and sat next to him. “What is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Ahh!” came a groan from somewhere above and closer. “Ahh!”

“Someone’s on the island,” he said. “Stay here.”

He stood up and hastily put on his léine-chròich.

He looked at her and took her shoulder. “Promise ye’ll stay here and hide, lass. There, in the depths of the cave. Aye?”

“But, Aulay, if someone’s injured—”

He squeezed her shoulder tighter. Anguish stabbed his chest. “Promise me!”

“I promise…”

“Actually…” He swallowed hard. “Ye have permission to leave the cave for one reason only. To go through yer stone again if that means saving yer life. Aye?”

Her beautiful eyes were so big and glistening and full of fear. “Aulay, you’re frightening me…”

“Lass, just promise me.”

She pressed her lips together. “I promise.”

He exhaled a relieved breath and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, not a tender one. A kiss that said, I love you, and I would rather die than let something happen to you.

Then he left and climbed the steep slope up the hill. When he was high enough to peer over the curve of the slope, his stomach sank to his heels. His Highlanders were fighting. He saw Colum and Seoras and twenty more men fighting the English. Swords and Lochaber axes swung and clashed.

The English were in chain mail and chain coifs, the Scots only in their léintean-cròich. There were twice as many English as there were Highlanders. Why had they come back here? What happened?

With a roar, he launched right into the next fight. Colum swung his sword against two English knights, both in long chain mail and red surcoats with three golden lions. With a groan, Colum slashed diagonally across, but his taller opponent brought his sword up and blocked Colum’s while the second man slashed his sword, aiming for Colum’s side.

Aulay managed to reach them before that blade could cut through his nephew’s léine-chròich and open up Colum’s kidney. Aulay’s claymore met the Englishman’s sword and pressed against him.

Colum threw a quick glance at Aulay before he was pulled back into the fight. Aulay’s blood sang the song of spilled blood and too-quick death. The island was full of battling warriors. Aulay hit the man’s shield and knocked it out of his hands. He brought his sword up and over his head for another attack. Aulay saw the fear in the man’s eyes. He stood too awkwardly, the hand holding his sword was too far back, and he didn’t have time to protect himself from what was coming from Aulay.

Aulay swung his sword down, cutting through the side of the man’s helmet and right into the bone of the forehead. The man grunted, his eyes rolled back, and he fell. Aulay pulled his sword free.