Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite Kaye
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So fascinated by the towering walls of rock, she barely glanced to the curve ahead. ‘Is this the only way into the harbour?’
‘Why?’
‘I just wondered.’
He knew exactly what she wondered. Half-tempted to let her worry, he left her to stew a few moments before he finally relented. ‘Your father and brother have both been here before. They know how to gain safe entrance to the inlet.’
‘I thought perhaps...’
When her words trailed off, Richard laughed. ‘You thought what? That I would lure your family here only to watch their ship crash against the rocks?’ He shook his head, adding, ‘Since their death is not what I am seeking, doing so would not serve my purpose.’
She closed her eyes, shivering a moment at the memory of watching an arrow find its mark in her father’s chest, before asking, ‘Then it is only Glenforde’s death you seek?’
‘As I said before—I am not interested in your family.’
He hadn’t answered her question. ‘I know you think Glenforde will come for me.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I am still not certain.’
‘And I say you are wrong.’ He leaned closer to warn, ‘You might want to pray that he does come.’
Isabella understood the unspoken warning—if Glenforde didn’t come, she could very well bear the brunt of Dunstan’s revenge. Instead of telling him the reasons Glenforde would never come, she stepped away, assuring Dunstan, ‘I will.’
As the ship eased out from the gentle curve, the harbour opened up before them. She blinked at the sight before her.
An entire town seemed to appear from thin air. The harbour was alight with countless torches. People—women, men and children—lined the full docks and streets. Some laughed, some cried, but all waved and shouted their welcomes to those aboard the ship.
Ropes were tossed to men waiting on the nearest dock and the ship swung easily about as it was wrapped and tied around the mooring post. Beyond were numerous, large storage buildings.
From the looks of it, Dunstan did more than kidnap unsuspecting women.
‘You look surprised.’
She nodded, admitting, ‘I am.’
‘Did you think me nothing more than a brigand committed to mayhem on the high seas?’
Isabella couldn’t help herself, she ran her gaze down his body. With his overlong near-black hair, dark looks and recent actions, how could she think him anything else? ‘Apparently, looks are deceiving.’
He took her elbow and led her towards the ladder. ‘This war for the crown makes pirates and thieves of us all. When in truth I am no different than your father or brother.’
But he was different. She shivered beneath his touch. So very different than either of them.
Richard easily picked Conal, his man-at-arms, out from the crowd of people on the quay. The big red-haired man looked grim, as if all were not well on Dunstan. Since there was no show of force—neither friend nor foe—crowding the docks, things couldn’t be too dire.
Certain that he would find out how Dunstan had fared in his absence soon enough, Richard turned his attention back to Isabella. ‘Since you managed to climb up here, I assume you can get down, too?’
She peered over the edge of the deck and then took a step back. ‘I can manage on my own, thank you.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to mention her mishap in his cabin a few days ago when she’d managed to be tossed to the floor.
Instead he descended to the deck below and waited for her to do the same before escorting her off the ship towards his waiting man-at-arms.
From the countless tears and seemingly overexcited cries of reunion, Isabella could only assume these men had been gone from Dunstan an unusually long time.
Extended absences were a normal way of life—especially for a community involved in sea trade. She’d been at the quay numerous times with her mother and sister when the ships had finally returned to harbour. Never did she remember witnessing such a display as this at any homecoming.
It struck her as odd. Had these men left under some cloud of doom? Had they been headed out to a known, or suspected, danger? Or did Dunstan’s shipping schedules keep them from home often enough to cause this level of emotion?
If the size and number of the storage buildings were any indicator, Dunstan prospered well from his chosen method of commerce.
How much of it was legal would be anyone’s guess. But then, less-than-legal goods had been stowed and transported on both her father’s and brother’s ships a time or two. Besides, with this never-ending battle for the crown, many not-so-legal activities occurred on a daily basis.
Her escort came to an abrupt stop. He released her elbow and pulled a flame-haired giant into his embrace.
Once the backslapping and greetings were completed, Dunstan scanned the harbour, asking, ‘Has the Lisette Reynolde returned?’ When his man shook his head, Dunstan frowned, then asked, ‘Where is Father Paul?’
Shocked that Dunstan would so quickly seek the services of the priest, Isabella was speechless.
‘He awaits you at the keep.’ The red-haired man’s gaze drifted to her and then back to Dunstan. ‘I assume this is your intended?’
‘I am not his intended.’
She waved off the man’s assumption and turned to her captor. ‘You plan to wed so quickly?’
‘That is the plan, yes.’ Dunstan glanced at his man. ‘A plan everyone knew before I left.’
‘Well, yes, but we hadn’t expected it to happen the moment you stepped on land.’ The man’s voice rose, causing those around them to give the trio a wide berth. ‘You don’t think that perhaps a little...gentler handling...a bit of ceremony, or celebration might be in order?’
Dunstan grabbed his man’s arm and turned him towards half-a-dozen waiting horses. ‘Enough. I don’t need you to tell me how to behave.’ He spared little more than a glance at Isabella, ordering, ‘Get over here. You’ll ride with me.’
Only yesterday he’d commented on her less-than-brave behaviour. If he wanted her to thwart him, she’d be more than happy to oblige. ‘Like hell I will.’
She grabbed the reins from his hands, tucked the long skirt of her gown into the girdle about her waist and then hauled herself up on to the saddle. Isabella put her heels to the horse’s side, suggesting over her shoulder, ‘You can walk, or use another beast.’
Catching up with Dunstan’s man, who’d set off as soon as he’d mounted his horse, she asked, ‘What do I call you and just where do I find this Father Paul?’
‘Conal is my name and unless you have a taste for becoming the next Lady of Dunstan this very night, you don’t want to find the priest.’
In the end, she might not have a choice in the matter, but she’d prefer not to find herself tied to Dunstan before the moon fully rose. She’d rather swim back to Warehaven.
‘Then would you—?’
Conal raised one hand, cutting off the rest of her request. ‘Before you even ask, I’ll not help you escape, nor will I naysay Lord Dunstan’s wishes.’ He cast a sidelong look at her. ‘Have you considered that he may have had good reasons for what he did?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m certain every knave has a good reason to steal a woman away from her home on the eve of her marriage.’
The ensuing bark of laughter didn’t come from Conal. Nor did the hand grabbing the reins from her fingers belong to the man-at-arms.
Dunstan