Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

H e listened to the dripping water in the tub, imagining it trickling across Iseabail’s body. He could see it in his mind’s eye, goosebumps rising on her arms, droplets trickling down her throat, her breasts floating in the water, her pert nipples hard from the cold air.

Slipping into a dreamlike state, he imagined kneeling beside her while she remained in the tub. A cloth appeared in his hand, and delicately, he used it to wipe across her pale skin. He grazed it across her shoulders and down the front of her chest. The cloth then fell from his hand as his fingers continued dancing over her bosoms. Catching a nipple with his finger, he heard her gasp as he struck it, over and over again. She arched her back, pressing her chest into his hands, aching for him to caress her, over and over…

The sound of creaking floorboards brought him out of his reverie, and as his eyes flew open, he realized his cock was rock hard and clearly visible, sticking up from beneath his clothes. Iseabail moved from behind the screen, and just as she rounded it, now fully dressed again, he threw himself onto his stomach, stifling an agonizing groan as his full weight landed on his stiff member.

He heard her move across the room, but with his face still in the pillow, he couldn’t quite decipher where she was. Then the room filled with the sound of the chair scraping across the wooden floorboards.

She’s at the dresser, nay doubt about tae brush her hair.

After another minute, and now knowing his arousal had settled itself, Owen pushed himself up off the bed.

“I will sleep on the floor tonight.”

It was the chivalrous thing to do, and besides, perhaps after his daydream, it was probably also wise.

Iseabail spun in her chair and stared at him with her eyebrows high. “Ye will dae nay such thing. The bed is large enough fer the two o’ us.”

He was surprised at her suggestion, and smiled.

“Dinnae get any ideas,” she growled. “It’s only that I need ye well rested fer the morrow. We got little rest last night, and one night on the floor is more than enough.”

He flicked his eyebrows and nodded. “O’ course.”

It was sometime later that they both climbed into bed. It was an awkward moment, and Iseabail eyed him carefully.

“I can still sleep on the floor,” he said, lifting his hands in a supplicatory gesture.

“It’s fine,” she said, sounding as convincing as a one-armed juggler.

He waited until she had settled herself, pulling the coverlets over her fully dressed body. Only when she seemed comfortable did he lower himself in beside her. The bed bowed under his weight. He remained outside the coverlets. Partly to appease her worry, partly because he didn’t trust himself as he slept. His daydream had told him enough.

“Good night, Owen,” Iseabail said curtly.

“Good night, me lady,” he replied.

For a while, sleep did not come to him. He imagined it had something to do with the fact that he was lying as stiff as a board, terrified that any movement might bring him too close to her and scare her half to death. But eventually, his eyes grew heavy, and finally, he slipped into a slumber.

Strange dreams marred his sleep, a mixture of faces, old and new. The men who were after him were chasing him, and then, the girl he had saved was there, but she was no longer free. The men grabbed at her, but as Owen ran after them, she turned, and it was not the girl after all, but Iseabail, screaming for her to help him.

Owen fought the men, but then all he could hear was Iseabail reprimanding him for fighting. But still he continued, battling and battling, until, half awake, he realized that he was pushing Iseabail out of the bed.

“Och, God,” he cried, trying to grab her before she fell onto the wooden floor.

In an automatic reaction, for Iseabail still seemed fast asleep, her arm lashed out, in some way, perhaps trying to save herself. Her fist hit Owen in the eye, and he let out a howl. Iseabail was woken at the noise, and upon realizing that she was falling, gasped in fright.

“What are ye doing?” she cried.

“I’m trying tae save ye,” Owen blurted, his right eye closed over with the pain, “but ye thumped me in the eye.”

“Och, me God, I’m so sorry.”

Owen still had a tight grip on her arm, and with a final heave, he pulled her back onto the bed before dropping his head back onto the pillow and lifting his hand to his eye.

For a moment, the two lay there breathlessly, completely bewildered as to what had just happened.

“I’m sorry fer hitting ye in the eye,” Iseabail said, breaking the silence.

“And I am sorry fer shoving ye out o’ the bed,” he returned. “I was having a very realistic dream.”

They both turned to look at each other, and beginning with a smile, the two ended up bursting into laughter. They giggled for a little while and then eventually, things settled down again. Iseabail sat herself up in the bed and quickly pushed herself out of it.

“What are ye doing?” Owen cried.

“I’m getting something tae put on that eye.”

“Och, I’ll live.”

“I’d like to think so,” she said, taking a cloth and dipping it into the cold bath water. “Now here,” she said, sitting beside him on the bed, “stay still.”

While he went to protest, he felt the soothing cold against his eye and decided against it. She was trying to be helpful, even though he didn’t need it, and perhaps, he ought to just let her. It would make her feel better if nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Ye’ve already said sorry. Ye were sleeping. It’s nae yer fault.”

“Nay, I mean about earlier. Ye were right. I brought unnecessary attention tae us both and it was dangerous. I would never purposefully put ye in danger, Iseabail.”

“I ken,” she said softly. After a moment’s silence, she continued. “Let’s just forget about today, all right? We were both tired, and mistakes are always easier then.”

Owen nodded, feeling all the animosity he had held against her earlier simply slip away to nothing. They were to forgive each other and, as he lay there, her lying partly over his body to reach his face, he found it far easier than he would have imagined.

They rose just before dawn and, with the innkeepers’ words about the dawn sailing fresh in their minds, made their way to the docks in readiness for the boat’s arrival.

A bitter wind blew off the sea that even Owen’s plaid could not protect him from. It cut through to his very bones, and he struggled to stop himself from quaking. Glancing down at Iseabail shivering beside him, he wished he could offer her something more substantial than her thick cloak, but alas, the thin blankets they had brought them would hardly suffice.

“I dae believe that if this boat doesnae arrive soon, I will freeze tae this very spot,” she said, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

“Why dinnae ye return tae the tavern,” Owen said, nodding to the building in sight behind them. “I can wait, and if I discover the merchant, I will come and fetch ye?”

“Nae!” She shook her head firmly. “I need tae be here. I’ve forced ye on this mission so ye can help me. I willnae take the easy road while ye suffer alone.”

“Yer words are noble and I appreciate them, Iseabail, but I think it foolish that both o’ us must suffer out here. Besides, I am the man and thus?—”

“Thus what?” she interrupted. “Ye are the stronger o’ the two o’ us? Is that what ye’re trying tae say?”

It was indeed what he was trying to say, because logically, it was the truth. He stood head and shoulders above her, and was at least as broad again.

“Ye are choosing now tae be stubborn?” He smirked down at her.

Iseabail grinned and shrugged. “Maybe I am stubborn. And o’ course ye are stronger than I. I mean, look at ye. Ye’re built like a house.”

“Aye. Maybe all that fighting has done me some good, right?” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. “I cannae imagine ‘tis all been from fighting.”

Owen was shaking his head and about to say something else, when he heard a holler from across the water. Turning toward the sound, he watched as the small boat dropped its sails and smoothly headed into the harbor.

“This has tae be it,” he said.

When the ropes were tied and the vessel secured, a small gangplank was laid from the boat to the shore. With eagle eyes, Owen gazed at every man crossing the gangplank, but as the boat emptied, the man they were looking for did not appear. When all had descended, the only one left looked to be the owner.

Owen approached and caught his attention. “We’re looking fer a merchant. A broad man with a scar on his neck here,” he said, pointing just below his ear.

The man recognized the description but shook his head. “I ken the man ye speak o’, but I’m afraid I have sorry news. He died on the island a few days back. Someone said he drowned near a river. I’m afraid I cannae tell ye any more than that.”

Owen dropped his head and heaved a sigh. “Fer the love o’ God.”

“Did ye ken him?” the sailor asked.

“Nay, we didnae ken him. We were looking for him because he was rumored tae be trading crystals, like this one.” Once again, Owen pulled his necklace from beneath his tunic and showed the sailor.

“Och, right.”

“Thanks fer yer time anyway,” Owen said, turning back to Iseabail.

“Now how are we tae find it?” she cried.

“Are ye looking fer the crystal itself?” the sailor asked, clearly overhearing Iseabail’s words.

Owen turned and took a step closer to the boat. “Aye. We are.”

“Well, I can tell ye where he took his wares, and how tae get tae the place. Ye might have better luck there.”

Owen cast Iseabail a quick glance, acknowledging her eager nod.

“Thank ye. Aye. We would appreciate that.”

The sailor then went on to tell them that the merchant travelled to Brunswick on the island of South Ronaldsay. He told them that the merchant always headed to the other side of the island where he traded with a woman there.

“I dinnae ken if she’ll be able tae help ye,” the sailor continued, “but it’s all I can tell ye.”

“Thank ye,” Iseabail said. “This is great news. When can we organize tae sail?”

The sailor then shook his head. “Nae fer another four or five days. The water is bad over the next while. Ye’ll nae get anyone tae take ye. It’s just too risky.”

Iseabail looked visibly disappointed, and Owen could understand why. She didn’t have time to waste, and waiting nearly another week was bound to cause her to worry.

“I’m sorry, Iseabail,” he said.

She heaved a sigh. “It’s nae yer fault. Besides, I suppose there is little we can dae about it.”

Owen thanked the sailor once again, and the two returned to the tavern, their earlier excitement now entirely extinguished. They would have to wait it out, while every day, Iseabail would be forced to worry about the fate of her father and brother.

“Come on,” Owen said, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get some breakfast, and then we’ll decide what to do.”