“Four, five, six.” Eyes shut, Duncan growled under his breath. Counting was the last thing he wished to do when all he wanted was to chase Ella and bring her back to his side, only breaking her compelling demand was damn impossible. “Seven, eight, nine.”
“Duncan?” Hamish’s voice wafted over him.
“Give me a moment.” What blasted number was he up to? “Ten,” he muttered, eyes still squeezed shut, the compulsion to count overriding all else. “Eleven, twelve…” Endlessly, he continued on. “Ninety-nine, one-hundred.”
He reached the magic number and opened his eyes, dragged in a deep breath then growled at his second-in-command. “Speak to me.”
“Are you feeling well?” Hamish stared at him as if he’d grown another head.
“Ella wanted to leave, so I let her.” His gut roiled into a seething mess. Out at sea, she’d already rounded the tip of the bay and disappeared from his sight. “She insists one of my men tossed her overboard and that she’s safest away from me.” Around the fire and along the grassy verge, his men broke their fast. Each and every one had stood staunchly at his side during the war that had raged these past years. He couldn’t separate any one of them out as the possible culprit.
“I never saw anyone wish her any harm, but right now we need to focus more on what she’s clearly compelled of you. If you wish to fight her compulsion, then you must look inside your heart for the truth.” Hamish grasped his shoulder. “How do you truly feel about her?”
“She’s forced our separation.”
“You have no’ been forthcoming with her. Mayhap ’tis time you shared the knowledge of how you came to hold fae blood with her. She is blood kin to me and I can assure you, she can be trusted.”
“No one knows about my fae blood other than you and those I trust implicitly.”
“Do you no’ wish to claim her as yours?”
“How can I when that would release my secret?” Even he could no longer ignore the signs that they were soul bound, but that made little difference when he had kin to protect. He expelled a long breath, tried to calm his aggrieved thoughts. The surf washed into shore and the sun rose higher and glimmered over the blue-green surface and as it did, his mate sailed even farther away from him, so far now beyond his reach.
“You are the son of a chief, and none would ever dispute your decision to take her for yourself so you might ensure her strong fae blood flowed directly within your line. You could easily keep the truth of your fae heritage to yourself and simply weave the story you wish to tell.” Hamish leaned against the galley, tapped the heel of one booted foot in the sand and waited.
“You mean speak a mistruth?”
“I mean you should omit the truth, which you currently do regardless.”
“And what of her close ties to the MacDonald? That I cannae allow to continue.”
“There is no halting a compeller.” He grinned. “She’ll be a handful your mate, but she’s still yours all the same.”
“I cannae lose her, no matter the secrets I hold.”
“Your need to protect her rages just as strongly as her need to protect you does.”
“She sails through dangerous waters.”
“I take it then ’tis time for us to set sail as well.”
“Aye, although I will have a lot of explaining to do with her when I find her. Rally the men.”
“’Tis about time you issued that order.” With a look of satisfaction, Hamish pushed off the galley, his black leather vest pulled tight across his shoulders and his sword gleaming at his side. He trekked across the beach and yelled to the men, “Extinguish the fire! Our laird wishes to set sail after the lass who’s left. We have plenty to do this day, to find her and then to hunt down Gavin MacDonald.”
With the wind filling the sail, Ella cruised alongside the coastline of Scalpay, the isle almost perfectly round and easily navigated. She searched for any sign of Ethan and Gavin, from the smallest inlet to the wide bays where the forest butted right up to the edge. Finding them was imperative, and preferably before Duncan did too.
As the morning passed and the afternoon wore on, heavy gray cloud swept in across the skies and the waters swelled, the wind whisking through with chilling intensity. Up ahead and set a hundred feet back from the water’s edge, smoke curled into the air from the thatched roof of a wattle and daub inn, while a half dozen skiffs sat beached on the pebbly shore before it. She scanned the vessels, although none appeared large enough to hold seven hefty men.