Chapter Twelve

Tessa led Eagan past the willow tree she'd studied earlier from the window in Ida's room. Its leaves were unfurled but an unnatural green for this late time of year. In the darkness, the shadow of the dagger stuck into the trunk elongated. But she paid it no attention as she pulled him along, her gaze scanning the darkness broken only by glimpses of moonlight.

There toward the back was the kitchen garden, most of the herbs already harvested. But she'd seen the maid hang blankets out on thick ropes to dry and several remained, having been forgotten in all the drama of the day.

She ducked behind one, yanking it from the line in the darkness. Before she could decide where to put it, Tessa was pulled into the vault of Eagan's arms. Steel wrapped around her, and his mouth descended onto hers. Her hands scratched the muscles in his back through his tunic, and her body melted against his. His dominant, hard verge rose between them, pressing against the wrap around his powerful hips.

Reaching around to tug on her laces, Tessa nearly ripped her bodice down from her breasts. Her nipples pearled with the coolness of the breeze, and the moonlight glinted on the gilded birdcage that rested against her collarbone. She hitched one leg up to his hip.

Eagan's hot mouth lowered onto her nipple, sucking and bringing a soft moan from her. She desperately batted her petticoat upward, as well as his wrap until she felt his hot skin. Sliding her leg higher, she brought her naked crux against his thigh. The contact, along with the hot suction on her breast, sent a spiral of intense desire through her. She thrust her pelvis along his leg, reveling in the brush of his skin across her sensitive nub. Her breaths came in pants, and she almost cried out when his strong, deft fingers found her.

Eagan groaned and nudged his verge against her.

"Oh God, yes," she said, abandoning thoughts about keeping the upper hand in the tryst. He lifted under her arse, and Tessa's feet left the ground. She wrapped her other leg around him until she straddled him, her petticoat bunched around her.

"Do ye want me?"

She looked down in his eyes as he brought the head to her heat. "Yes."

"Do ye want me inside ye?"

"Right now," she said, pressing herself against him.

His gaze was so intense, she couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to. He thrust into her as he brought her down. Passion pinched his face, hardening his jaw. Tessa's gasp turned into a deep moan as he completely filled her body. She tightened her legs around him, squeezing as he moved. The stone wall behind her gave her more leverage, her raised petticoats cushioning her back as Eagan began to pull out and thrust back in hard, pushing her breath out of her with each stroke of his body against hers.

Her breasts bobbed, perched along the edge of her bodice as they met each other over and over. His mouth found hers again, and their kiss was as wild as their straining bodies. His mouth kissed a trail from her lips, along her jaw and to her ear where his indecent whispers tickled.

"Can I fok ye from behind?"

"You can fok me however you want."

She heard his deep chuckle, and he withdrew, setting her feet on the ground. Cool grass told her she'd lost her slippers somewhere along the way, but she didn't care as he spun her to face the wall.

He pulled her body into him, covering her with the heat from his large form, and raised her skirts. The mere tickling of the fabric against her thighs made her pulse race with want, and she spread her legs, arching her back. She felt him seeking her and then he thrust back inside.

"Mon Dieu, Eagan." It felt so glorious to be full of this man.

Her breath caught as he moved within her and rubbed against her on the outside, his other hand releasing her to palm a breast, pinching her nipple until the pleasure shot down from it to meet up with the other taut lines in her pelvis. Her breasts jiggled as he thrust into her, her locket thudding against her upper chest. The rubbing, the pinching, the thrusting: they all worked together to build her higher and higher.

And then his tongue tip slid along her ear, the heat of his breath an added pleasure. "Yer body is like a vessel of hot honey, Tessa, lass. And I'm going to sample all of it. I'm going to feast on it."

His words pushed her over the edge into hot, pulsing oblivion. Eagan followed, pumping into her, curling his arm around her to secure her as he lifted her off her feet with each thrust. Then he joined her, his yell of satisfaction muted in her thick, soft hair. They breathed hard together while the rhythm of their bodies slowed. As he slipped from her body, turning her in his arms to hold her, Tessa realized he'd released within her once again.

…

Eagan rolled over, his arm dragging across his face to block the early morning sun coming in the cottage window. Memories of his wild night with Tessa sent heat to his already-hard jack since it was morning. He should piss before touching her or he wouldn't be able to go.

Instead, without opening his eyes, he rolled toward Tessa, inhaling their joint essence in the rumpled sheets. She was a sweet dessert he could not ignore, a roasted cut of beef to a starving man, a tankard of ice-cooled ale to one dying of thirst. There was no choice but to roll toward her.

A niggling thought tried to sour his mood. He'd released his seed in her several times last night, unable to pull out at the critical moment. So much for his brothers, Rabbie, and Aunt Ida hammering into him he should never release inside a woman other than his wife. He would need to wait until her monthly courses came before he left the isle. The thought made his tight chest open back up. That meant he could spend more time with her.

Eagan's arm slid across her side of the bed unimpeded, and his eyes opened. She was gone, and his stomach gripped into a fist. "Tessa," he murmured and sat up, the sheet falling to his lap. The room was empty.

Eagan rolled out of the bed and grabbed up his white tunic, throwing it over his head. He shook out the long woolen wrap and folded it quickly around his waist to support it with his wide leather belt, throwing the end over one shoulder to secure it. His feet slammed into his leather boots, and he grabbed his sword, heading out the door.

The clearing was empty except for a red squirrel that ran across, stopped to chitter at him with a nut in his little hands, and then hurried on. He would yell her name but didn't want to alert everyone to the fact he'd once again spent the night with Tessa.

Grissell walked around the corner, her two white cats and the multicolored cat, Sia, trotting in a weaving pattern around her, somehow avoiding being stepped on or tripping the old woman. Without a word, she pointed toward the water behind her.

"Is Tessa there?" he asked and cleared his throat. "I came out here to see her this morn."

The unspoken word "liar" passed over Grissell's face, before she poked her finger toward the trees bordering the rocky shore. She continued to the children's cottage.

Tessa was easy to spot standing at the tip of a stone jetty where a rowboat was tied. She wore a thick wool robe of pale blue, but he could see the lace edge of her long white smock blowing about her ankles in the breezes off the sea. She stared at the horizon to the west, her hair dancing like dark ribbons.

As he walked closer, he heard the notes of her song flow upon the breeze. There were no words, only notes, rising and falling in clear perfection. He could imagine the song as a rope pulling him to her. He stopped next to her, feeling the spray of the sea when a wave crashed hard against the rocks as if the Greek god of the sea were trying to abduct her. It made Eagan's arms itch to wrap around Tessa and drag her back to the forest. But he didn't want to disturb her, so he stood guard against Poseidon.

Her lashes fluttered, and she let the song fade. A single tear dried in a path down her cheek before he could pull her to him and wipe it away. "What's wrong?"

"He said he'd return for me." She looked at him. "My father. And yet he does not come." Her face turned back to the sea. "I thought I saw a ship far off this morn, but it was a mere speck that disappeared around the isles to the west."

Eagan found her hand in the folds of her cape and clasped it. Her fingers were cold. He cupped them in his two hands, blowing a warm exhale onto them. The frivolous joy from the day before, the laughter and mischievous light to her large green eyes, had been squelched with worry.

"He's in the French Navy?"

She nodded. "A captain of his own ship. He's been gone too long. A year now."

"I could ask Beck and Adam if we can sail to the major ports along Scotland and France to see if ye can spot his ship." After the pirate Jandeau had attacked and Beck set his own ship ablaze to ram into Jandeau's ship, he'd rebuilt a new Calypso , and Adam was working to build a second carrack under Cullen Duffie's guidance.

"I don't know," she said. "I think he was headed south, perhaps around to the African coast."

"For the French Navy?" Was King Henri involved in the African slave trade?

She stared out at the sea. "I worry a storm has taken him. I may truly be an orphan."

He squeezed her hand. "Ye can have a family here."

She turned to him with a look that flexed between hope and dismay. "Here? On Wolf Isle? With you?"

Eagan's throat constricted, and he cleared it. "Grissell won't live forever, despite her prayers or spells or whatever she uses to cling to life. Ye could continue her work. Live here and help lasses and bairns. Ye're a midwife."

She nodded, looking back out. "She has asked me to do so."

"Stay on Wolf Isle to take over her orphanage?"

Tessa nodded.

Eagan's whole body tensed. If she stayed, would he want to stay? Would he abandon all his plans to explore the world or at least the far reaches of Scotland?

"I've told her no," Tessa said, and like a honed blade, her words cut the idea of abandoning his plan.

"Why?" he asked with more force than he wanted as relief surged through him. She didn't want to stay on Wolf Isle. Would she consider going with him?

She turned her face to study him as if she'd heard the emotion behind his question. "Because I must leave if my father comes. My mother always said he'd come for us when the king did not need him. Now that she's gone, I'm meant to be with my father."

"Then why didn't ye stay with him on ship?" Eagan asked. Mo chreach! I don't want to go to France. The words were soft in his head under the thrumming of his quickened blood, but they were insistent. At least if she remained on Wolf Isle, he'd know where to find her.

"He had king's business to do, and his men didn't like the idea of a woman on the ship. They thought it was bad luck. So he rowed me over to Grissell where I would be safe until he returned. That was a year ago."

Eagan had heard the sailing superstitions from some of the sailors who'd left the sea to live in Ormaig Village when Beck's wife, Eliza, settled on Wolf Isle. She had been raised by them on the ship, so they considered her more mermaiden than woman.

"Ye should speak with Eliza about life onboard a sea vessel. 'Tis not easy. She grew up on a ship constantly under threat by pirates, storms, and persecution. She had to learn to be as tough as the sailors and ready to kill."

Tessa stood straight, her face turning slowly to his. Her expression was set firm as if suddenly chiseled in granite. "I can and will kill if threatened. I know the danger of men, devious louses who prey on women. Men who think we are weak, but I'm not weak."

"That is fortunate," he said, not wanting to annoy her further even though the thought of her going up against a man like the pirate Jandeau curdled his stomach. "Still," he continued, "ye should speak with Eliza about life onboard ship. Saltwater baths that leave ye sticky, tainted food when supplies run low, no privacy with two dozen stinking men. The list of unpleasantries goes on and on."

Her lips quirked in a dry smile. "It sounds like you're trying to convince me not to sail."

Eagan couldn't stop himself this time. He reached for her, his hands curving around her upper arms to pull her into him. She came willingly but still looked up into his face. "Ye could stay here on Wolf Isle; whether ye settle at Grissell's or in Ormaig, it doesn't matter."

"You don't want me to sail away."

"Nay."

"And yet you plan to sail away to mainland Scotland and beyond. In fact, you should already be gone." Her brows pinched. "You would have me watch another man sail away from me. Have me always watch the horizon for a ship." She tipped her head, peering at him. "How is that fair?"

Eagan rubbed his mouth. It wasn't fair. Daingead. "Ye could come with me." The words came out before he thought better of it.

She pursed her lips tight and pushed her finger into his chest, the end hard. "Then you wouldn't be lonely. Isn't that what you said you wanted? To be all alone on your journey?" With each word, she tapped his chest and then left her fingertip against him, pinning him there as if the little appendage was a dagger.

"I'm not sure now. I've always wanted to leave, have a chance to make my own way without a cluster of brothers and kin telling me what I must or mustn't do." He grabbed her finger to pull her closer until his arm could snake around to her back. "The only thing I am sure about is that we fit well together, Tessa." He lowered his face to her neck, kissing a trail along it. "Very well together."

When he raised his head, she took his hand and silently led him back to her cottage so he could show her just how well they fit.

…

Two weeks passed with simple entertainment.

Grissell no longer discouraged Tessa from going up to Gylin Castle, and the Macquarie Clan was respectful and accepting. Even though Eagan had been staying with her at her cottage at night, the ladies of the castle still spoke with her. None of the men leered or tried to catch her alone. They seemed enamored of their wives, which was so different from court life where dalliances occurred nightly.

A few times, Tessa had nearly forgotten to study the horizon off the shore, searching for her father's ship. The gripping thought that she might be abandoned was lessening its painful hold. And Eagan hadn't said anything to his family about leaving.

The breeze blew Tessa's hair around her shoulders as she sat with the ladies on a blanket in a spot of sunshine in a pretty glen north of Ormaig Village. The woven colors of gold and brown in the blanket matched the falling leaves that the children built into a mountain for jumping. The crunch and crackle excited them even more, but their squeals weren't too sharp with the fresh air carrying the high-pitched notes away. Orphy, Tessa's fawn, leaped around with them, staying out of reach of the two-year-olds' clenching fingers.

Even Ida had accompanied them. She sat on a stump watching the children and stroked the large heads of the Macquarie wolfhounds. She'd frown at their antics occasionally, but she seemed softer than before coming to Wolf Isle. Lark's lady's maid had been trying different coiled and woven styles on her gray hair, and color was once again in Ida's cheeks.

Whether the woman wanted it or not, she'd captured the attention of the old man, Rabbie, who'd begun to wash more frequently. He carried a basket over to Ida, offering her a tart that Anna had baked that morning. Ida took one, thanking him, and turned back to the children rolling in the leaves.

"They will all need baths," Anna said.

"We'll send them to bathe with their fathers in the loch," Eliza said. "Cold water will do them good."

"As long as they don't catch a fever," Lark said.

Lia lowered her voice. "Rabbie is sweet on Aunt Ida."

All the ladies turned to see the man trying to talk with her, the basket hanging from the tips of his fingers.

"He must be," Lark said, "even though Adam says it can't be. The two have always disliked one another."

"That was before Ida had a smile," Dora said.

"She's always had a smile," Tessa said, her words soft. "Bitterness was weighing it down."

The ladies looked at her. They didn't ask, but their gazes were curious. Tessa stood, brushing her skirts. She'd never betray Ida's confidence about her love for John Macquarie and the pain his rejection caused. A woman's heart was a private landscape.

Tessa walked toward the trees. The brothers and a few men from neighboring Mull readied a thick rope, stretching it out over a five-foot-high pile of leaves to play tug-o-war. She wove through the trees, first finding a place to relieve her bladder, and then walked the short distance to the rocky coast. The glen was inside the north shoreline of Wolf Isle where an inlet stretched west out to the open ocean.

As she emerged from the trees, Tessa's breath caught at the sight of a ship. It had four masts and collapsed sails. A galleon. Men moved along the deck, and a rowboat sat against the hull in the water. Her heart hammered, her gaze scanning the deck where men moved about calmly.

The ship flew no flag so there was no way to identify it. Her father had said he rarely flew a flag, because it would draw pirates who wanted to steal the riches of France. Could it be her father who was finally coming to retrieve her?

Tessa's stomach dropped, bringing an emptiness with it. Was she ready to leave Wolf Isle? Perhaps that's why Grissell hadn't wanted her meeting the Macquaries, because she knew the pain of leaving them would be terrible. Leaving Eagan now after the weeks they'd spent in each other's arms would feel like something ripping away from her.

Maybe her father wouldn't want her to travel with him. Then she could stay and take care of the orphanage. Tessa should alert the Macquaries about the ship. She turned and gasped at the large figure standing before her. She blinked, her mind spinning away from thoughts of her father. "Master Gleeb?"

The witch hunter wasn't alone. He had a group of men with him, all of them armed with swords. One held a rifle. Gleeb's watery blue eyes gleamed with feverish zeal. "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live."