Moon Awakening

'Balmoral warriors do not prey on women.'

'She insulted us all!' he yelled, jerking his head toward Emily.

'She is English, and therefore ignorant of our ways. She will learn.'

A tiny part of her mind was offended by the pronouncement, but she was too preoccupied with the prospect of dying at sea to work up any real anger.

The summer sun had not quite set when they reached the Balmorals' island.

Emily was breathing shallowly, her fingers curled like talons around the edge of the wooden slab she and Cait sat on. Her usually resilient nature had been eclipsed by the ongoing torture of crossing the roughened waters and doing it sitting across from Ulf, who glared at her like he hated her.

Lachlan had traded places with his brother moments after their brief scuffle and she'd spent the rest of the trip being glowered at by the angry soldier. She'd wanted to turn around, to face Drustan's back, but her fear of the water had complete hold again. Moving even an inch had been beyond her… and continued to be.

The sight of land so close was so welcome, tears sprang into her eyes, but she could not utter a word.

The brown-eyed soldier with the red hair, whom Emily had heard Lachlan refer to as Angus, jumped out to pull the boat to the shore while Ulf and the blond soldier went to tend to the horses. It took less than fifteen minutes to bring both the boat and horses ashore. Drustan lifted Cait to dry land and turned to do the same for Emily.

'Come.' He put his hand out.

She stared at it. He expected her to stand, she knew he did, but for the last hour or more, her only grip on safety had been her tight hold on the bench beneath her. She willed her fingers to let go, but they did not move.

'What is the matter?' Lachlan asked Drustan.

'The English lass is being stubborn about getting out of the boat.'

Lachlan turned to her, his frown fierce. 'Do not try my patience.'

'You don't have any,' she muttered.

'If that were true, I would not be waiting for my apology.'

She didn't respond to that bit of arrogance. She couldn't. She was too busy trying to make her fingers obey her.

'Come here,' he barked, his gaze searing her.

Her body jerked and her fingers finally unbent from the seat. She shot to her feet, grateful for his brusqueness, but with no intention of telling him so.

Drustan's hand was still outstretched, but she ignored it, swaying toward Lachlan. He reached into the boat and grabbed her by the waist with both hands, then lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He set her on the ground, frustrated anger emanating off of him in waves that buffeted her overwrought emotions as powerfully as the water had crashed against the boat's bow.

She turned away and her attention was caught by the horses. They appeared no worse for their journey across the channel. She wished she could say the same. In order to return to the Sinclair holding, she would have to go back the same way. Sick at the thought, she barely stopped herself from praying she would remain captive until the end of her days.

'How far to your holding?' she asked Lachlan without looking at him.

She got no answer and sighed. 'I am sorry for being difficult about getting out of the boat.'

When she received no reply to that either, she looked back to see if Lachlan was still behind her.

He was, a strange expression in his gold-rimmed eyes. 'You're wasted on Talorc, English.'

She shook her head, not knowing what he meant.

'Aye, you are.'

Cait made a sound of distress, but when Emily's gaze found her, she could see no reason for her friend's upset.

'My home is there,' Lachlan said, drawing her attention back to him.

He was pointing and Emily followed the direction of his finger with her eyes, then gasped at what she saw. A sheer cliff rose fifty feet in the air and on top of the cliff was a huge stone castle that looked worthy of a king.

'It's massive,' Cait whispered, her voice filled with awe as she came to stand beside Emily. 'My brother's forces will never make it inside.'

Emily had to agree. She didn't think the king of England would have much luck in a siege against the Balmorals.

'What we have we hold,' Drustan said arrogantly, laying a proprietary hand on Cait's shoulder.

'Except Susannah,' Cait pointed out.

'Rest assured, whatever mistake led to her mating with Magnus will not be repeated with you.'

'I should hope not. I have no desire to mate with my brother's blacksmith,' Cait said teasingly.

Drustan did not smile at the joke. If she hadn't thought it improbable, Emily would have said he looked severely offended by the remark. But even a too-serious Highlander had to realize Cait's words could have been nothing but a jest.

For no reason she could discern, he turned his glare from Cait to encompass Emily as well.

'How many live within the castle walls?' Emily asked, trying to turn the topic, her mind still boggling at the size of the castle atop the cliff.

'Think you we would give secrets like that away to our enemy?' Ulf asked, his contempt flaying her.

Emily's emotions teetered on the edge of an abyss as deep as her fear of the water. 'I am not your clan's enemy.'

She'd spoken in a whisper that was barely audible, but Ulf laughed deridingly. 'You say that after the insults you leveled against our clan? You are our enemy right enough. Not only are you the wife of the Sinclair laird, but you are English. That makes you our enemy twice over.'

The words poured over her like acid, burning and destroying what was left of her emotional well-being.

She'd been met with almost nothing but hatred since coming to the Highlands. Ulf's words told her that she would be despised even more amidst his clan than she had been among the Sinclairs'. She could not bear to face such a prospect.

Back in her father's keep, she was well-liked by the servants, if not valued by her family. Some, like her old nurse, even loved her. Her sister Abigail certainly did.

But here, she was surrounded by people who believed she was beneath their contempt. Even Lachlan had shown he found her more annoying than anything else and that hurt more than all the rest, though she could not have said why. She'd only just met the man and he wasn't exactly pleasant company.

On top of it all, Cait thought it was Emily's fault the laird might try to kill her brother. Emily didn't understand her friend's reasoning, but in that moment, she understood very little. Only that she could not bear one more scowl leveled her way simply for being born.

She turned and started walking. She didn't know where she was going, but it didn't matter. She could not go to that castle, an impregnable fortress where she would meet nothing but more rejection and malice. She shivered as she remembered the look of the stone wall and the towers rising up above it.

There would be no Cait there, ready to stand sister. She would be taken from Emily… by Drustan. It had been decreed.

For a moment, her thoughts left her own dire straits and her worry centered on Cait. Would the women of the clan shun her as the Sinclairs had shunned Emily, or would they accept her as the Sinclairs had accepted Susannah? She hoped for her friend's sake it was the latter, but she wasn't going to the Balmoral holding.

She had been shunned enough.

In fact, she wasn't going anywhere other people told her she had to go. Never again. If she disappeared in the forest, Talorc could not send her home. Then Abigail would be safe. Yes, that was the way of it. As hard as life within her father's keep was, it would be easier for Abigail than braving the sickening prejudice she would face in the Highlands, and that was before the Highlanders discovered her deafness.

Emily stumbled on something, but managed to stay upright. She could not see what it was through the moisture glazing her eyes. She was not crying. She would not cry; it was merely that she was cold and her eyes stung because of it.