Free The Firebrand by May McGoldrick Page B

about the lad.”
    “Aye, master, I can spread the word. I’ve found, though, from place to place folks think much the same about lads like him...without much encouraging.”
    “Then we’ll just have to look after him.”
    Wyntoun turned his back on the sailor and frowned at the solid gray mass of sea and sky to the west. What Coll said was true. From the time that Wyntoun had found the infant years back, such ignorance must have been dogging the lad. He’d only seen him a handful of times while stopping at Barra, but never—during any of those visits—had he realized the depth of the hostility those islanders held against Gillie. These sailors were rough men, hardened by a life of battling both the sea and other men. It had been little more than a diversion dropping the lad overboard into the icy waters, but Wyntoun still seethed, thinking that the boy could have drowned because of such foolishness.
    “Should we try to wake the mistress, master...before arriving at Duart Castle?”
    “Let her be for now.” The ship shuddered as a strong gust swept in from the west. In a moment a blast of stinging rain struck the men. “The closer we get to the castle, the less problem we’ll have dealing with her.”
    A wry glint showed in Alan’s eye. “Wyn, I never knew you to cower before a challenge, no matter how unpleasant the possible outcome.”
    “The woman is not a challenge,” the Highlander growled. “Just a nuisance.”
    As he moved away from the two, it occurred to him that he’d do well to remind himself of that point time and again. Adrianne Percy was nothing more than a nuisance.
    He’d forced himself to keep his distance since yesterday, when she’d finally fallen asleep in his arms in the cabin. He’d had to. Seeing her so wretchedly seasick and then holding her as she so willingly melted against him as the drink had taken effect had been torture. He’d felt it then. He felt it now. Something had happened as he’d sat there with her beautiful face pressed against his pounding heart, with those magical blue eyes looking up at him so trustingly before slowly closing.
    The vision was still too alive in his memory. Far too alive.
    His manhood hardened as he thought of her body, so perfect as he had stripped off her wet clothes and worked her limp arms into a wool shirt of his own. Wyntoun was almost glad that Gillie the Protector had been sitting in the corner of the cabin, eyes riveted to the floor, as he’d tucked her into his bed. Almost glad.
    Wyntoun filled his lungs with the cold salty air and let the rain beat at his face. He stared at the surging gray-green waves and tried not to think of the smooth ivory skin of her shoulders; the firm, orb-shaped breasts; the rosy nipples, puckered into hard, tight points in the cold air of the cabin. He exhaled sharply, puffing his cheeks. He needed to try harder not to think of such things, he told himself.
    Adrianne Percy was far more of a handful than he’d thought she would be. Somehow, in spite of what he’d heard, he’d thought she would be more like her sister Laura. In reality, though, they couldn’t be more different. As he’d mapped out his scheme, Wyntoun realized now, he’d clearly miscalculated when it came to the youngest Percy.
    He frowned into the biting wind. But it wasn’t Adrianne’s willfulness that was going to cause him trouble. It was his own irrational attraction to her.
    “Distance, by the devil,” he swore under his breath. “Bloody distance.”
     
    ***
     
    The ship seemed to have stopped its insane rolling and pitching...and so had her stomach. Adrianne slowly pried open her eyes.
    There was no spinning of the chamber, no undulating walls, only the sound of sea birds and the lapping of water somewhere. Gillie’s worried face came into view above her, and Adrianne smiled.
    “Mistress,” the lad gasped with relief, touching her hand. “You’re finally awake. The master did say that you’d be sleeping for a wee while