Chapter Three

Tamsin

Tamsin peeked out between her lashes, not wanting her evil husband to know she was awake. She'd lost their bairn, though they had no idea whether it was a lad or a lass. It hadn't been far enough along for the midwife to tell. This was a difficult event to process. She hadn't recognized the fact that she'd carried a bairn inside, hadn't felt it move yet. The midwife had guessed she was six moons along.

How had she not known?

She'd received no reaction from her husband. He'd locked her inside her chamber, sent Extilda in with a simple meal, but he said nothing. He usually wasn't that quiet about events, preferring to use his fists to add emphasis to his words.

In fact, she'd fallen asleep and awakened to find herself in her present situation, having no memory of how she'd gotten here.

She lay in the bottom of a galley ship, the waves rocking her, each movement shooting tendrils of pain through her body. Her resolve nearly broken, she didn't care if she ever saw her husband again.

The coldhearted bastard.

He'd sent their daughter to stay with his mother, without giving Tamsin the chance to give her a farewell hug. One more chance to take in her sweet scent, to inhale the breath of innocence that radiated from every moment of the wee lassie's year-and-a-half-long life.

Her cruel mother-in-law would kill the innocence in the sweet girl, something Tamsin had vowed to treat with such care that she would always have a beautiful outlook on life. It was not to be—not with a nasty father and his vindictive mother.

She'd always treated Tamsin as if she didn't deserve to eat the crumbs she dropped on the floor.

The ship slowed, so Tamsin closed her eyes again to make sure she could hear Raghnall's plans.

"Up there. On that rock. I will leave her there, see if she'll learn the lesson. Next time I wish for a son who lives. This one could not even live in her belly for the time necessary."

Raghnall had once been quite a handsome man, but he was turning to flab because he ate so much and spent his time ordering others to do all his work. His mousy brown hair had streaks of gray in it already. He didn't believe in washing his hair more than once a moon, something that repulsed Tamsin.

Had he no sense of smell?

He was taller than many, but not the tallest she'd ever seen, and at one time he'd been broad-shouldered from practicing his sword skills for battle, but no more. He shied away from doing anything that took much exertion. Thus, his belly softened, his shoulders shrunk, but his eyes, those dark eyes that carried such coldness, could intimidate anyone.

The man who commanded Raghnall's army of guards was known as Odart and traveled with him everywhere. Odart was the only man she'd ever seen question Raghnall and live to talk about it.

This time, his question even surprised her.

Odart glanced at his boss from the side. "You wish to leave her on the rock? She cannot swim, Raghnall. Or have you forgotten that high tide is coming soon?"

"I hope the bitch drowns. This way she will be forced to think about all the mistakes she's made. How she is not worthy of kissing my feet. She dared to give me a daughter and then a dead bairn. I'll tell everyone she went for a swim and drowned."

"Your pardon, friend. I've been with you for many years. I might suggest that you not put your fist to her belly if you'd like the babe to survive the next time. The midwife said if she'd kept him inside for another two moons, the babe would have lived."

"Perhaps it was not the wisest move, but a stronger woman would have protected the babe. I fault Tamsin, the lazy cow. If not for the gold I received, I would have never married her. She is too weak. Weak of mind, weak of nature. Leave her on the rock, and I vow to find myself a fierce wife, one who can swing a weapon and who will bring me many sons, not a bairn who cannot breathe. You know how difficult my life is, Odart, between my boss and my mother, the old witch. I cannot seem to make either of them happy."

"I understand, but Tamsin does not cause you any trouble."

"She does. Every day she doesn't give me a son, my mother complains at me. I'm tired of listening to her."

Tears dotted her lashes, but she forced herself to think of the vilest situation possible, anything to keep herself from crying. He did not deserve her tears.

Why had her sire chosen such a husband for her? There were so many men out there that she couldn't comprehend why he would marry her to such a cruel person.

She knew why, much as she tried to deny the truth. Her mother died when Tamsin was young, and she and her sister had always been a burden to her sire. They lived far into the Northern Highlands, and the weather could be brutal, especially to a child. He'd left the two lasses with his sister for many years, but even her aunt wished to be rid of her once she'd grown enough for men to stare at her.

Her father had sat her down and spoke honestly with her in one of his few moments when he wasn't befuddled with ale and whisky. "'Tis yer coloring, lassie. Yer hair is red, so red, like the shooting flames in the dark of night. But the worst part is your eyes. One blue, one green? They think ye are the devil sent by the fae. Too many colors."

Raghnall had said, "She's ugly enough, but I only need her to spread her legs. But it will cost you more because of the eyes."

So, her father doubled his bride price. The deal was made, and she hadn't seen her father or aunt again. And she had no idea what happened to her sister, Meg. She was only a year younger than Tamsin, so she couldn't help but wonder if she'd been forced to marry as well.

"Up there, Odart. On that rock that is its own island. No one will save her from there."

Odart's voice came out in a bit of a shriek. "That one? The small one?" Even her husband's second couldn't believe his cruelty if she were to judge by the tone of his voice alone. "But it's low tide. High tide will totally obliterate the rock."

She looked forward to getting away from the man.

"That is the one. The perfect spot for the bitch."

The man cast a quick glance back at her. "She's nearly dead now, Raghnall."

"Then let the sharks have her."

She said nothing, refusing to beg to stay with her husband. Losing the bairn had left her with little strength. The truth of it was that losing a bairn had saddened her in one respect, but there was a part of her that was relieved the child hadn't survived. Growing up around Raghnall Garvie and his mother was not pleasant. No child deserved that type of punishment. How she prayed that someday she and Alana would find themselves free of the Garvies, both of them.

She had to conserve what strength she had left, because if there was any way she could survive, she vowed to return for her daughter. Alana was the only light in her day.

She sucked in a deep breath as the vessel slowed, taking a quick moment to assess the damage done this time. Still sore from the fist to her belly, she dismissed this as something women dealt with often enough. She'd heal. The only part of it that concerned her was that she still bled. Was it usual to bleed so much after miscarrying a bairn? She had no idea.

Add to that quandary the tales she'd heard that sharks were drawn by blood.

She had a dagger hidden in the fold she'd sewn inside her gown, but she doubted it would do much to protect her from a hungry shark. Using it on her husband would be a waste of time. He'd only turn to use it on her—cut her face, slice her breast. He'd threatened to do both many times. Her ankle was swollen from the fall she'd taken when Raghnall had punched her. He'd only hit her face once, then delivered two quick blows to her belly. He'd yanked her by the arm and that had swollen quite a bit, but she didn't think it was broken.

She would survive. She had to for dear Alana. And once she had her, Tamsin would do whatever she could to please the man.

Anything to stop the beatings.