Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat #5)

Josiah held onto the center mast and pointed toward the tip. “A nasal-helmed warrior just sailed out of the bay after carrying something bulky on board wrapped in a thick brown fur.”


“That’ll be them.” John bounded into his boat and bellowed to his men as they followed him, “All to oars! There can be no delay. Chase the MacLean.”

“We’ll catch him, brother.” Archie grabbed the ropes and tossed one to him as their warriors sank their oars into the waves and rowed them out of the bay.

“There were signs she struggled against her captor, Archie, and if MacLean harmed her in any way, I’ll kill him.” John gripped the birlinn’s rope alongside his brother as the crosswind filled the sail with a hearty slap. The birlinn shot off like an arrow and his men stowed their oars.

With his feet braced wide along the side of the boat, he pulled his rope until the sail tightened. As they hit the tip, the wind blasted through and the galley rose half out of the water. He and Archie leaned farther back to counter the move and his men moved into the perfect positions to ensure their balance and that they picked up even more speed.

They skimmed the high waves, the massive square sail pulled as taut as he’d ever seen it. Ahead, the MacLean’s skiff came into view along the waterway toward the south. Finlay too stood on the side of his skiff as it careened over the waves, the wind taking him swiftly toward MacLean land on Jura. “I’ll lose her if he makes it to Jura’s northern shore. There are too many places he could hide.”

“Then we’ll make sure that does no’ happen,” Archie shouted over the crashing of the waves.

John eyed the MacLean’s skiff, his heart a pounding mess as movement stirred within the hull. Katherine shoved the fur off her head and pushed one hand out. “There she is.”

The wind tore at him and the sea-spray battered his face. He’d allowed his wife to be taken from him again, and it should never have happened.

A huge wave rose and as they crested it, he gripped the rope tighter, his arms and legs burning as every muscle strained to control the wind power harnessed in the birlinn’s tight sail. “Hold tight,” he barked.

The bow rose sharply upward then slammed back down. The impact sent several of his warriors flying to the other side, but none were tossed overboard.

“’Tis slippery,” Archie yelled as he grappled to keep his footing.

A woman’s scream echoed across the raging waves as the MacLean’s skiff pitched sideways and hit the icy water. A wave rolled and twisted it over. It popped bow up and sank. Gone, swallowed whole, and by the same rogue wave that had almost toppled them.

John’s heart stopped beating. He tossed Josiah his rope, tore off his cotun and weapons as his brother did the same.

He dove into the frigid water and allowed the raging waves to close over him as he kicked downward into the murky depths.



Katherine’s head shattered with pain as icy, turbulent waters surged and dragged her under. She’d barely come to when Finlay had roared the skiff was going down. The crashing waves tossed her about. So deep.

The fur bedcover, still half wrapped around her, tore at her chest and legs. She wrenched it free and it jerked away into the swirling vortex of nothingness. She yanked out the gag and black hazed her vision. No. Clawing with all her might, she fought toward the surface. The sea wouldn’t take her, not now she’d finally found the man who was hers. She had to get back to John.

An arm cinched around her waist.

She lurched around and stared into the most piercing golden eyes. John firmed his hold on her and pushed them upward through the twisting current, and in a flurry of bubbles, they broke the surface.

“J-John?” She gulped in great drafts of air. “Is it really you?”

“’Tis I. You were down so deep.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her closer. His dark hair floated around his neck as he treaded water for them both.

He was real, his body solid, his flesh warm and his hold tight. She clutched his shirtfront as over his shoulder, a birlinn bobbed on the water. Cheers erupted from his men on board and a few others in the water surrounding her. “F-Finlay came to my chamber.”

“I know, love. I made chase as soon as I could.” He swept her hair back from her forehead and touched a spot that throbbed. “You’ve got a nasty gash that needs tending.”

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Nay, no’ a scratch. Let’s get you out of this cold water.” He cut a fast path through the churning waves toward the birlinn, gripped her waist and boosted her upward.

Josiah reached, grasped her hands and lifted her up. Another man smothered her in a thick MacDonald tartan and then John was there, sopping wet as he scooped her up and carried her to the stern. He sat on the wooden bench and cradled her on his lap, his fingers biting into her sides. He shook, whether from anger or fear, she wasn’t sure.