The Warrior's Winter Bride
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Most of the island rose up from the sea like a rock-faced mountain and needed little protection from unlikely intruders. Those who were brave enough to try either gave up in frustration, or drowned after their ship broke apart against the boulders.
The short, narrow strip of beach on the other side of the island existed only at the whims of the tide and wind. If a ship anchored there, it risked being either blown against the cliff face, or left high and dry on the exposed sandbar.
The other danger, as he’d learned, was anchoring just off the beach, only to later watch his ship sail away without him when the tide unexpectedly turned and the anchor failed to hold against the rapidly rising water. Chasing the unmanned ship down had proven far easier than bearing his father’s wrath.
Even with the dangers of anchoring at the beach, his grandfather had determined it the weakest point on the island. Which is why a stone-fortified keep had been built at the highest point above the beach.
If a force did manage to make landfall there, they would be unable to gain entrance to the keep without suffering the loss of many lives.
And still, even with all of this protection—natural and manmade—Glenforde had broken through Dunstan’s defences. Richard knew the man had not done so unaided. Someone on the island had to have offered assistance.
Who? And why?
A sharp gasp caught his attention. He turned to see Isabella’s head appear over the edge of the forecastle deck. ‘Go back inside.’
But instead of doing as she was told, she scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder to stand beside him. After planting her feet for balance, she tipped her head back to look up at the sheer rock cliffs flanking them.
Richard swallowed his groan. When his wife had first witnessed this sight, she’d been terrified, claiming that he’d brought her to the entrance of hell. Agnes had hidden her face in her hands and cried with fear.
Since he’d expected the same reaction from Isabella of Warehaven he’d ordered her to stay below. Following orders was obviously not one of her strengths—a lack he would see remedied quickly.
From the way she easily fell into the rhythm of the slightly rolling deck, it was apparent that the Lord of Warehaven hadn’t cosseted his daughters inside the keep on dry land. This one at least had been aboard a ship or two in her life.
Without looking at him, she said, ‘The rocks are close enough to touch.’
‘No. It only appears that way.’ Although they were close enough that men were stationed along both sides of the ship with long, sturdy poles in hand just in case they did get too close to the cliffs.
‘Has this always been here?’
Richard frowned. Did she think he built it? He could hardly imagine the feat. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Does it cut all the way across the island?’
‘No. The cliffs will become lower and level out. After the curve ahead this inlet will open into the harbour. Beyond that is a small inland river that leads to the shipyard.’
‘Oh.’ 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.’
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