“My men and I will distract the dragoons, allowing ye to get away,” Brogan said, his voice calm and authoritative. Then he turned to Fiona. “Get in the boat with the prince.”
Before Fiona could protest, Lady MacDonald spoke again. “We’ll meet ye at Kilbride. I’ve a friend there at Mongstat House who can help.”
“We will be there,” Brogan agreed.
“Wait,” Fiona said, gripping his arm, feeling panic rise in her heart. What was he thinking? Did he want to die? “This is madness. Ye’ll get yourselves killed. Dinna go. Come with us on the boat.”
“We need to distract the dragoons from the prince. Trust me. We’ll no’ be caught. We’ve no’ been caught yet, and ’tis our duty to protect the prince. This is why we’ve come.”
Everything he said made perfect sense. Except that Fiona didn’t want it to make sense. She wanted him to get in the damn boat with her. Separating their party now was only going to end in disaster.
“Then I will come with ye,” Fiona said in a rush.
“Nay, lass.” Brogan’s voice was the sound of reason and it made her angry. “Ye need to stay with the prince. We will meet ye at Kilbride. We’re familiar with it, we’ve ridden this entire island over the last few weeks.”
This was true, but that didn’t make her panic any less. They’d ridden the island without a bunch of firing dragoons chasing them. They’d ridden the island knowing they could go back to Dunvegan and sleep well behind the fortified walls.
“We have friends at Dunvegan,” Fiona said to Lady MacDonald. “Let us go there instead.”
Lady MacDonald’s refusal was swift. “Kilbride is closer to the mainland, and that is where His Highness needs to go.”
Flora MacDonald was not wrong. It would be safer for the prince to get off the island from there with the dragoons now hunting him down. And she should get into the boat with the prince. She should let the men go and be the distraction. All of the shoulds made her want to scream because they were not what she wanted. And yet in times like this one could not be selfish. She had to do what was best for the prince, for Scotland. All of them did.
Fiona closed her eyes, tried to swallow down the rising panic, the fear. Without thinking, she tossed herself into Brogan’s arms in full view of everyone, not caring at all who saw or who was scandalized. Or that he might push her away.
Their own men would think nothing of it since they were supposed to be married, but the prince would likely be a wee bit shocked. And she didn’t care. All she knew was that she needed to kiss Brogan, feel him hold her. Too long they’d let their differences come between them. Weeks now, and she couldn’t take it. Not anymore. Not if he was going to go away and possibly never meet her as promised.
So she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lifted herself on tiptoe and kissed him for all she was worth. At first he stiffened, not kissing her back, but it only took the span of half a breath before he too was kissing her, tugging her into his arms and melting his mouth with hers. Their kiss was intense, frantic even, and she feared its ending. Because when it did finally cease, they would part. Brogan would be on his way, the dragoons chasing him down, and she’d have no idea what happened to him. No idea if he was safe. No idea about anything until he arrived at Kilbride.
“I’m scared,” she whispered against his mouth. “I dinna want to lose ye.”
She cared about him deeply. Not something she’d ever thought would happen. But somewhere along this wild journey, she’d grown feelings for Brogan. Feelings she didn’t want to put a name to. The only thing she would admit was “If something were to happen to ye, I’d…I’d be verra angry.”
Brogan chuckled and gave her one more quick kiss. “Nothing will happen to me, other than getting a bit of exercise and having a bit of fun at those bastards’ expense. I will see ye soon, Fiona.”
That sounded like a promise, and she’d have to believe that he would hold true to it.
“I say, why do you keep pawing my messenger?” came the bristling voice of the prince.
“They’ve wed,” Sorley offered.
“Wed?” The prince sounded shocked, then said, “Oh, I see. Congratulations are in order, then.”
“I trust my wife is in good hands with ye, Your Highness,” Brogan said, pushing her gently away now as he took steps backward and didn’t deny their union.
“Indeed, very good hands,” the prince replied.
“Go now, Fiona,” Brogan urged softly. “We must make haste else the bastards find us standing here.”
Knowing he was right didn’t make walking away any easier.
Lifting her skirts as high as she dared, she walked into the creek, cold water filling her boots and soaking the hem of her gown. Well, she’d been wet most of the last couple of months. A bit more wasn’t going to do her any harm now, was it? Milla splashed after her, always eager for a swim. At the boat, Fiona and her hound were hauled over the side by the boatmen.
“Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head as she sat.
“Well met, my lady,” the prince replied.
“Lady MacDonald,” Fiona said in acknowledgment of the prince’s companion. “A pleasure to meet ye, and may I say how verra brave ye are.”
Lady MacDonald grinned. “Oh, this?” She waved her hand. “Just out for an evening sail, that’s all.” As if she were saving princes every day.
Fiona liked the lady immediately.
They pushed off the shore, and Fiona watched the shadows of her seven warriors melt into the night as they rode away. There was no doubt she was ecstatic to see the prince was still alive, that he was still in good spirits, but watching Brogan and the men she’d come to know as family ride away caused an ache in her heart that she feared would not go away until she saw them once more.
Fiona crossed herself, murmuring a soft prayer as she swiped her hand over Milla’s head and settled into the boat for the ride to Kilbride. She was glad not to hear or see the dragoons chase after Brogan, though her imagination at what was happening was not exactly kind.
Perhaps an hour or two later, she wasn’t certain of the passage of time in the dark with her mind firing one terrible thought after another, the boatmen pulled the vessel up onto a shore, and the lot of them climbed out, stretching the kinks from their bodies.
In the black of night with only a sliver of moon for light, Fiona could see that Brogan was not yet on shore. But neither were there any dragoons.
Though her men had not yet come to meet them, this didn’t mean they’d been killed by dragoons. However, her brain didn’t take that logical line of thought and instead flashed horrible images in her mind, causing her to fear they most certainly must have been murdered.