8 IN HER ENEMY’S ARMS

THEY WERE IN deep trouble.

The storm had come upon them fast, and as soon as he'd spied those ominous clouds, Finn made for the Isle of Rùm. But he hadn't been quick enough. And now, his entire crew had been tossed overboard, and the ravenous sea had just swallowed the Sea Eagle into its maw.

It had taken them all. And even as Finn peered around him, trying to penetrate the sea spray and curtains of slashing rain, grief twisted his guts.

His men. Some of them must have caught pieces of the flotsam when the birlinn broke apart.

He had to believe that just beyond the walls of water that hemmed him and Astrid in, they were clinging on for their lives as well.

Dragging his attention back to his own predicament, Finn looked over at the laird's sister.

Astrid's face was pale and drawn, her dark eyes huge.

Her terror was palpable, and he didn't blame her. Right now, it took everything he had to cling to his own courage. There were few things more frightening than being in the midst of a storm at sea. Water had such power, and now it was in a terrible rage.

Finn's gaze fused with Astrid's.

For the first time in over a decade, they didn't glare at each other. Things were too desperate for them to focus on anything except the fact they were adrift in a wild sea, with no land in sight.

Astrid's breast heaved as she clung to the oaken plank, and Finn realized she was struggling to rein in panic.

"Slow yer breathing," he shouted above the roar of the storm. "Just concentrate on holding on. "

Her throat bobbed, her eyes glistening now, yet she managed a nod.

They continued to grip their precious liferaft, riding the swells as the storm raged around them. Finn stopped speaking; he was too intent on staying afloat. At this point, he'd lost all sense of direction. He couldn't see the sun or anything else that would allow him to orient himself.

Instead, he had no choice but to ride each swell and wait out the storm.

For a while, it seemed as if it would never end—and then, through his exhaustion, Finn was dimly aware that the wind wasn't quite so loud, the waves quite so high.

He was tiring fast now though, and his fingers were cramped and numb from holding on. He couldn't feel his body either. Opposite, Astrid was shivering. Not a good sign. If they didn't get out of the water soon, they'd both die of cold. Aye, it was May, and the water wasn't as gelid as in the winter months—but they'd been in it too long.

And then, when they crested yet another swell, he caught sight of something dark off to his left.

Relief swooped through Finn, and he almost sobbed. "Land!" he croaked.

Astrid didn't respond. Her eyes were glazed now as she retreated into her own world.

"Land!" he shouted, his voice raw from the salt water.

Her gaze lifted, realization dawning upon her face.

Even though his body was numb, Finn roused the last of his strength, clenched his jaw hard, and started to kick out toward the rocks that beckoned.

Astrid began to weep when she spied the wind-blasted headland drawing close. She didn't know where they'd washed up, and she didn't care.

All that mattered was that she was alive.

She didn't even protest when Finn picked her up in the shallows and carried her onto the sandy beach. He was staggering, as if drunk, and barely managed the journey either. Wrapping her arms about his neck, Astrid clung to him.

Christ's blood, she was so cold. She couldn't stop trembling .

Out of the water, the wind was equally chill, made worse by their wet clothing.

She thought Finn might set her down on the sand, but he didn't. Instead, he carried her up, above the tideline and over the dunes, to where a cave opened up under the cliff face.

Halfway there, he fell to his knees.

His rasped curse echoed in Astrid's ear, his breath feathering across her cheek. He then heaved himself up and staggered on, only setting her down once they were inside the mouth of the cave, out of the biting wind.

Astrid collapsed upon the ground, spreading her numb fingers across the solid stone floor, and silently thanking the Lord for delivering her from the storm. How good it felt to be on land again, for the horizon to be steady.

A sob welled then, clawing its way up from her belly.

The beach they'd alighted upon was empty. There was no sign of the others who'd been shipwrecked—the thirteen warriors who'd accompanied them north.

Had they all perished?

Astrid clenched her eyes shut, even as hot tears stung them.

How would they reach Skye in time now?

Loch would have already engaged the enemy, and he wouldn't get the birlinns and warriors he needed to repel the Mackinnons.

She'd failed—and managed to lose her entire escort save one.

Blinking through her tears, Astrid turned her head, her gaze fastening on the hunched figure who sat nearby.

Finn looked as miserable as she felt. He'd pulled his knees under his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

Like her, he was shivering, although it was his face that held her attention.

She'd never seen him like this, stripped of his usual mask of arrogance.

His lean features were gaunt, and his hazel eyes glistened as he stared out of the cave entrance at the rough sea beyond.

He was grieving the crew, oblivious to her stare.

"We … we … n … need to get warm," Astrid said then, her teeth chattering as she forced the words out.

Finn blinked as if coming out of a trance. His attention shifted to her, and after a heartbeat, he nodded. "I've got a flint … bu t I don't think I've got the strength in me to go in search of tinder or fuel for a fire," he admitted hoarsely. "We are going to have to use our body heat to get warm."

Such an idea was horrifying, and under normal circumstances, Astrid would have snarled at him, warning him that if he laid one finger on her, she'd claw his eyes out. But these weren't normal circumstances, and she knew as well as him the shivering that now wracked them both was dangerous.

They weren't out of the woods yet, and if they didn't warm themselves up, they wouldn't survive this.

And so, Astrid nodded before pushing herself up into a sitting position.

They both still wore their heavy cloaks, although they were now soaking. Wordlessly, they stripped off their mantles, squeezing out the water as best they could—a near impossible task with fumbling, shaking hands.

Finn then yanked off his leathers, stripping down to his skin.

Astrid hesitated, mortification intruding. However, her desperate need to get warm overrode embarrassment, and she started fumbling with the laces of her surcote. "I n … need help," she gasped.

Finn didn't answer. However, he moved close, shifting behind her so he could loosen the stays. A short while later, Astrid wore nothing but a filmy, wet lèine.

"Take that off too," Finn ordered as he attempted to wring more water out of their cloaks. "Hurry up."

Teeth gritted, Astrid obeyed. This was no time to be prudish—instead, she had to be practical. She then lay down on one of the cloaks.

An instant later, Finn had done the same and pulled the second mantle over them in a makeshift blanket.

And then his hand curved over her belly, pulling her in to spoon against him.

Astrid went rigid at the feel of his lean, hard body pressed the entire length of hers.

This whole situation was surreal. Wrong. But survival had shed them both of their inhibitions, for she was sure Finn had no desire to lie naked with her either.

The fur cloaks above and beneath them were wet, yet without her sodden, freezing clothes clinging to her skin, Astrid's shivering eased just a little. Her teeth no longer chattered like knucklebones.

Initially, Finn's body was as cold and clammy as her own, yet as they clung together under the cloak, the chill started to thaw, and slowly but surely, their shivering drew back.

He kept his arm locked tightly around her, ensuring that their bodies were flush. She was pressed against him, all the way from her shoulders to her ankles.

It was horribly intimate, and yet she craved the contact, sinking back into him and willing warmth to soak back into her bones.

And, eventually, it did.

Finn's body seemed to warm before hers did; it was as if a furnace ignited deep inside him and slowly radiated out, cocooning her.

A sigh of relief gusted out of Astrid as she sank into his heat.

Never had any sensation been more welcome. Gradually, her shivering subsided and the sensation in her hands and feet returned. And then, her torso thawed, warmth enveloping her in a blanket.

Exhaustion hit her, the shock of what she'd just endured flattening her now that she'd reached safety and could finally relax.

Eventually, still wrapped in her enemy's arms, she drifted off to sleep.