The Intended Page 35

  “The bitch ‘as nowheres to go! Get on wi’ ye.”

  Reed’s rough voice by the door filled her with cold dread. With one more desperate yank, the ropes gave way, and Jaime pulled her hands free. Rubbing her wrists in pain, she looked wildly about her in the dark, the smoke stinging her eyes, the dirk held ready in her fist. A stack of barrels lashed to the bulkhead offered her the only place to hide, but it would not be enough.

  There was no place for her to go but down the steep steps. Perhaps, once below, she could find a portal to slip out of. But with the brutal jailer coming in, any movement toward the steps was sure to get his attention. Her only hope was for Reed to walk past her and go below. Perhaps then, she thought with stubborn hope, she could make a break out the door and across the deck. With the battle raging, perhaps she could get over the side. Unbuttoning her cloak, she dropped it beside her in the passageway.

  She saw his shadow block the light. Pressing her back against the wall, Jaime waited and held her breath. Go down, she chanted silently. Go down the steps.

  But as if the monster could hear her silent plea, his eyes turned and stared at where she stood in the darkness. She pressed her back tighter against the wall, but he started toward her.

  “I knew ye wouldn’t go far,” he jeered. “Ye wouldn’t miss the jolly time we’ll be ‘avin’ at Norwich, now, would ye? Well, may just be we won’t wait so long!”

  “Get away from me,” she said from between clenched teeth, all the horrors of what Edward had told her about this man coming alive in her mind.

  He was now only two steps away. “Stabbin’ the master...” He shook his head in disapproval. “And then runnin’ away.”

  Even in the dark, she could see his rat’s eyes traveling the length of her.

  “We’ll ‘ave a fine time whippin’ ye into ‘arness.” Reed licked his lips and stepped even closer. “And for myself...”

  She drove the dirk upward under his ribs and straight toward his shrunken heart.

  The burly man stepped back in shock, his hands wrapped around the hilt of the weapon. He stepped back again, banging into the bulkhead, his eyes wide open in surprise, and she could see in his face that he knew his end was near.

  The crunching impact of the two ships colliding pitched both Jaime and Reed to the deck. Leaping to her feet, Jaime stared at his body twitching in the final agony. She turned and started for the door, but then stopped at the sound of shouting right outside.

  She didn’t pause. Turning, she dashed down the steps.

  In spite of the sand spread around, the galleon’s deck was slick with blood. Bodies, lines, and splintered wood littered the deck, but Malcolm—cold needles of despair beginning to creep into his soul—continued to slash his way through the throngs of fierce fighters.

  Nowhere above decks, she had to be below, he decided, driving his sword into the chest of a foe. There, beyond the riotous combat of a dozen men, a door stood open, and Malcolm lurched toward it, shoving aside those in his path.

  He had to find her.

  Blindly, she dashed down the steps. Downward she flew through wisps of rising smoke, falling more than running. But downward, ever downward.

  She knew they would be coming after her. There was nowhere for her but down. And all the while the acrid, burning smell of death warned her of what lay below.

  She slipped once, going down, clinging to the treads until she regained her footing. And then downward she went again. The sound of voices at the first landing forced her to continue, the shouts so close in the smoky air. She didn’t know what would be waiting for her at the bottom, but she knew a hellish wind was swirling about her here.

  At the next landing she stopped. Flattening her body into the shadows, she listened. There were voices again. Men cursing in anger. Then she heard the voices coming toward her. Pushing away from the wall, she moved blindly along the passage way, glancing over her shoulder as she ran.

  As she banged solidly into him, Jaime felt a viselike hand lock on her wrist, and she turned.

  Edward.

  As Malcolm ripped his dirk from the jailer’s dead body, the first of the gunnery crews attacked him. Cutting the three men down with sword and dagger, the Highlander leaped past them toward the steps.

  “Jaime!” he shouted into the smoking darkness below.

  When Malcolm dropped down to the next deck, the second group of gunners was waiting for him. They came at him from three sides at once, the bloodlust in their eyes.

  Grasping the wrist of the first knife-wielding attacker, Malcolm drove the weapon into the throat of the man behind him, and then—without pausing—the Highlander threw his attacker into the body of the third. As the two warriors scurried to their feet, Malcolm ran them both through, pinning them together against the bulkhead.

  “Jaime!” he shouted again.

  Hearing nothing but the sounds of battle above, the Highlander drew his dirk and turned once again to the steps leading below.

  “You look as if you’ve seen the dead rise, my raven.” Edward’s one hand held tightly to Jaime’s wrist. “But I suppose you are not accustomed to having someone come back and haunt you.”

  She felt the shiver race through her, and Jaime clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. But her eyes, riveted to his face, convinced her that Edward Howard was alive... and then a different kind of fear took hold of her. A patch of matted and bloody hair at the side of his head told of her failed effort to kill him before.

  Edward’s hand grabbed Jaime roughly by the hair, and with unleashed ferocity, he slammed her hard against the wall. She gasped for breath, sure that her teeth had come loose with the blow. He pressed his forearm against her chest, leaning all of his weight on her.

  “Aren’t you wondering how I come to be alive?”

  She stared him in the eye, all her hate and anger welling up within her, waiting to boil over.

  “My man Reed was waiting for us that night. It was he that came looking for me in your room. It was he that found me unconscious. You see, my raven, if your foul-serving woman hadn’t scratched me in the back with my own dagger, then the good jailer could have come and joined in our little party.” Edward’s eyes bore into hers as he released her hair and groped malevolently at her. “And where was it that we left off?”

  Jaime spit in his face. “Bastard,” she swore.

  He drew back and laughed, wiping the spittle from his cheek. “You see, I was very disappointed with the way things worked out. So to remedy the past, I thought of this little game.”

  “Only a madman like you would think of the killing going on above as a game.”

  “Ah, the ever considerate Jaime.” He jammed his forearm higher, against her throat, pushing her still harder against the wall. “But why is it, you are never considerate of me? You see, little raven, you are the reason for my ruin. Because of you, I am an outlaw to my king and a disgrace to my family.”

  “I had nothing to do with your ruin.”

  “But you did,” he insisted. “If you had not lain with the Scot like some whore—if you had come to Nonsuch Palace and wed me as we planned...”

  “You only wanted me for the power I would give you with the king.”

  Edward laughed. “So she knows!”

  Jaime felt her whole body swell with anger. “You bastard. You stupid, half-witted brute. Did you think that you could fool me forever? Did you think I would go through a marriage with you by force? How could I, when I am in love with...”

  “Your pathetic Highland dolt?” he finished. “Aye, you heard me! Who else but a dolt would pay Reed’s own spies to take you to your ship. They were waiting for you. Didn’t you wonder how you were brought back to me? It was one of them who, after dropping you off, boarded the vessel secretly. The others carried back the news to us. All we had to do was catch you. The dolt. Of course, he’ll be dead after I’m finished with him.”

  Malcolm’s voice, calling her name, cut through the darkness.

  “S
ay all you will,” Jaime responded. “But it is your ship that is now under attack. And it will be your carcass floating in the sea.”

  “But at least we will be floating together, you and me,” Jaime saw the flash of his dagger. She drew in a sharp breath as he brought the blade to her throat.

  “Perhaps in the next life, my raven, we will pick up where we left off.”

  At the sound of Malcolm's boots hitting the decking behind them, Edward whirled and backed away, dragging Jaime with him as a shield, his dagger still at her throat.

  The Highlander’s face was a steely mask of fury and hate, and he advanced on the pair, his dirk held high.

  “Hold, Scot,” Edward hissed.

  “Let her go,” Malcolm growled ominously.

  The Englishman sneered. “Lay down your dagger.”

  Jaime watched as the thought flickered across Malcolm's face. And then his face hardened.

  “Kill him, Malcolm,” she cried. “He’ll cut my throat, no matter what you do.”

  The warrior stared at her a moment, and then turned his gaze back to Edward.

  “There is no way out, fiend,” Malcolm growled. “‘Tis just you and me now, and there will be no stabbing me in the back.”

  “Aye, so it is. But if you intend to send me to hell, Highlander, at least I won’t be going alone.”

  With an evil smile, Edward Howard pressed the blade to Jaime’s throat. But the slashing motion he had planned withered in an instant as Malcolm’s dirk whistled through the smoky air, piercing his eye and coming to rest deep in the demon’s brain.

  Jaime and Malcolm clung together in the darkness at the base of the steps, their hearts pounding as one. Far above them, the sound of fighting suddenly ceased, and as they looked at each other, a rousing cheer could be heard.

  “Do you think that was a Scottish cheer?” Jaime asked, gazing into her intended’s eyes.

  “Aye, lass. I’ve no doubt of it.”

  “Then we’re truly going home?”

  “Aye, Jaime,” Malcolm answered as Alexander’s voice called down from above. “We’re going home.”

  Epilogue

  The Isle of Skye, Scotland

  Blades of golden light from the small slits of windows cut brightly through swirling clouds of incense. At the altar of the Priory chapel, in the sight of a congregation filled with islanders and family, the bride and groom exchanged loving glances, and listened to the ancient priest who stood at the altar with his back to them.

  They made an impressive pair. She, beautiful and radiant with the happy knowledge that she already carried their child. And he, magnificent and glow with the emotions that surged in his heart.

  For they had both received the blessing of the seer. He had come to them, stepping out of the crowds that had gathered outside the chapel door. There, after Ambrose and Elizabeth had placed the hand of their daughter into Malcolm's loving care, the ancient seer had appeared. He had held in his hand a golden branch of rosemary, as a symbol of their love and fidelity.

  The silence that fell over the throng had been stunning. James had come to them and gathered their hands in his own. A thousand ears had strained to hear when the old man looked into Jaime’s eyes and told her of the child she carried. The one who would be heir, and the cupbearer of peace, and the protector of all the clans of Skye and the Hebrides.

  Now, as sunlight played over Jaime’s ebony hair, Malcolm smiled into the face of his bride. Seeing her blush at his open display of affection, he reached out and entwined his fingers in hers. She smiled back at him and turned her eyes to the priest.

  Behind them, the congregation stirred restlessly in the little chapel, waiting in anticipation for the exchange of vows. The people of Skye—the MacLeods and MacDonalds—thrilled with all they had seen and heard outside, were more than eager to begin celebrating this cornerstone to future peace between the clans.

  Alec Macpherson, former laird of these lands, guardian of Malcolm’s youth, stood straight and tall, holding on to his wife Fiona’s hand. And next to them, Ambrose Macpherson gathered his own tearful Elizabeth to his side. Behind them stood John Macpherson with Maria, Regent of the Netherlands, while a legion of Macpherson children crowded around them in various stages of disarray.

  The priest’s voice rose and fell in the measured cadences of the mixed Latin and Gaelic. From behind the grate of iron bands to the right of the altar, the sound of women’s voices—the nuns of the Priory—could be heard responding to the prayers.

  The priest raised up his hands in offering, and then turned and preceded his acolytes down from the altar. Malcolm turned and faced his beautiful bride, as she gazed back at him.

  The priest paused for a moment, and the congregation seemed to hold its breath. The chapel’s silence was profound, so silent in fact that Malcolm’s eye was drawn upward at the crackling hiss of a candle on the far wall. The incense was curling upward in a lazy spiral, and the young laird’s eyes settled once again on the face of his beloved bride. There was nothing that would ever tear them apart again, he vowed silently.

  The candle on the far wall flickered again, and Malcolm became aware of a sound at the entrance to the chapel. Turning his head, he could see the great oak door had swung open, but he could not see who was entering, only that the folk by the door were backing away with looks of surprise.

  When the young man stepped quietly into the chapel, his swaggering expression only hinted at his embarrassment. Alexander Macpherson had almost slept through his stepbrother’s wedding.

  “When is that lad going to grow up?” His father rumbled under his breath to his wife.

  “Not until he finds his match, I should think,” Fiona whispered, hugging Alec’s arm. “It took you at least that long.”

  Alec turned his attention back to the altar and to the magnificent couple standing hand in hand, exchanging their vows.

  “I love you, Malcolm MacLeod,” Jaime whispered as he brought her snugly to his heart. “To the day I die, I will.”

  Author’s Note

  When we set out to write this book, we already knew so much about Malcolm and Jaime, having introduced them to our readers as mere children in Angel of Skye and Heart of Gold. So the challenge in this book lay in the portrayal of the real 16th-century Howard family, and their historical and fictional presence in the lives of our hero and heroine.

  For the many purists and history buffs among our readers, our use of the Howard family is fairly accurate—with the exception of Edward, our villain, and Mary, the cousin. In fact, even the H-shaped palace of the Howard family (with its ivy-covered red brick and its Gothic windows) existed at Kenninghall in East Anglia until 1650. And although we may have stretched Catherine Howard’s fondness for companionship, she was indeed beheaded on charges of adultery. Thomas Culpepper and Francis Dorand, two of her lovers named in the novel, were also executed for their indiscretions. Our sincere thanks to Mark E. Turner of Norfolk, England, for his help with our research regarding Kenninghall.

  And for those of you who have not yet read Heart of Gold, our representation of Jaime as Henry VIII’s illegitimate daughter originated entirely “from whole cloth,” a happy product of our mischievous minds.

  We love to hear from our readers. You can contact us at:

  May McGoldrick

  e-mail: JanCoffey@JanCoffey.com

  www.JanCoffey.com

  The 'May McGoldrick Family Tree' Book Information

  Our 16th Century books...

  In The Thistle and the Rose, Colin Campbell and Celia Muir are introduced...

  And we also introduce Alec Macpherson, who is the hero of our second book, Angel of Skye...

  Alec has two brothers, Ambrose and John, who are the heroes of Heart of Gold and The Beauty of the Mist, respectively...

  In Angel of Skye, we also introduce a little boy, Malcolm MacLeod, and in Heart of Gold we introduce a little girl, Jaime...

  When Malcolm MacLeod and Jaime grow up, they are the hero and heroine of T
he Intended...

  In Heart of Gold, we also introduce Gavin Kerr, who becomes the hero of Flame...

  In Flame, we introduce a number of characters who show up in The Dreamer, The Enchantress, and The Firebrand (the Highland Treasure Trilogy), including John Stewart, the earl of Athol and a number of villains...

  The Highland Treasure Trilogy is the story of three sisters...Catherine Percy of The Dreamer, Laura Percy of The Enchantress, and Adrianne Percy of The Firebrand...

  In The Enchantress, we introduce Sir Wyntoun MacLean, who also appears in The Firebrand...

  In The Firebrand, we also introduce Gillie the Fairie-Borne, who may just have a story of his own one day...

  Colin Campbell and Celia (from The Thistle and the Rose) also make a 'cameo' appearance in The Firebrand...

  Alec Macpherson and Fiona (from Angel of Skye) have three sons. The youngest, Colin Macpherson, is the hero of Tess and the Highlander (a young adult novel published by HarperCollins in November 2002)...

  Our 18th Century Books

  In The Promise, Samuel Wakefield, the earl of Stanmore, and Rebecca Neville/Ford are the hero and heroine...

  In that book we also introduce Stanmore's friend, Sir Nicholas Spencer, who becomes the hero of The Rebel, which is set in Ireland...

  Stanmore and Rebecca also appear in The Rebel...

  In The Promise, we also introduce Rebecca's friend, Millicent Wentworth, who becomes the heroine of Borrowed Dreams...

  Borrowed Dreams is the start of a new trilogy about three Scottish brothers, starting with Lyon Pennington, earl of Aytoun. We also meet a new cast of characters who show up in the trilogy. Violet, from The Promise, plays a big role in this book, too. She will show up again in the third book in the trilogy, Dreams of Destiny.