Redemption (Book Two of the Shipwrecked Series) (9 page)

She
wanted Quinn and it terrified her.  Sarah had never believed in love at first
sight, but this giant of a man, this gentle Highlander was causing her to
question her preconceived notions about love.

Sarah
lowered herself quietly back onto the bed, not wanting to wake them.  She
watched them for a few minutes, fighting to sear this image into her memory. 
She wanted to remember Quinn and Mairi just like this.  She wanted to remember
him this way in case she didn’t get to keep him.

Chapter Six

Quinn awoke before
dawn and had to peel Sarah away from his chest before he could crawl out of
bed.  He had taken to sleeping beside her and had found that his presence
calmed her nightmares.  He smiled as he carefully unwrapped her arms from his
chest and settled the quilts about her.  The woman slept like a log.

He pressed his
lips to her forehead and watched as her lips curled in the slightest hint of a
smile.  Damn, how she affected him.  He loved that she responded so easily to
his touch, even when she was fast asleep.

He padded across
the floor and put a log on the fire, not wanting his girls to get cold while
they slept.  He sat before the hearth and laced up his boots, then buttoned his
heavy winter coat.  Winter was upon them and it would be cold this morning.

Ever so quietly,
he walked over and knelt before Mairi’s wooden crate that sat next to the bed. 
He stroked her cheek with his index finger.

“Take care of yer
mam today, princess,” he whispered.  He touched his index finger to his lips,
kissed it and then touched his finger to Mairi’s tiny nose.

He bent down and
kissed Sarah’s cheek before he left, inhaling her sweet scent as she slept. 

What am I going
tae do with ye, woman?  How have ye done this tae me in such a short time?

He shook his head
and stepped out into the cold November morning.  His girls would need meat to
get them through the winter and if there was one thing that Quinn Murray was
good at, it was hunting.

..ooOoo..

Sarah awoke to the
welcome surprise of sunshine peering through the windows of the small cabin. 
It had been days since the sun had peeked through the autumn clouds and seeing
the glow of sunlight cast on the wall of the cabin lifted Sarah’s spirits
considerably.  She stretched languidly and noticed the dull aching sensation in
her breasts.  Mairi hadn’t awoken to nurse last night.  She would be hungry.

Sarah leaned over
from her cocoon of quilts and looked down at Mairi’s wooden crate next to the
bed.  It was empty.

Her eyebrows knitted
together momentarily and then she cast her worried thoughts aside.  Quinn or
Malcolm must have her.  They fought over her like children with a new toy.  She
had been surprised by how great the Murray brothers were with Mairi.  Or at
least how great Quinn and Malcolm were with her.  Rowan was another story.  He
was still working up his courage when it came to Mairi.

Sarah dressed
quickly and ran a comb through her hair.  They had probably taken Mairi up to
Rowan and Anna’s.  Sometimes they had breakfast there together.  Anna had been
in the mood to cook lately.  Anna’s rapidly growing belly had come with a
growing appetite and she loved to feed her Murray boys.

Smiling as the
sunlight warmed her skin, Sarah walked up the hill to the big house.  She knocked
on the door twice and was greeted with a cheerful “Come in,” from Anna.

“Good morning,”
Sarah said cheerily as she walked into the cabin and closed the door behind
her.

Rowan, Anna and
Malcolm sat around the kitchen table.  Malcolm patted the seat next to him,
motioning that she should sit down.

“Where’s Quinn?”
Sarah asked, suddenly alarmed.

Malcolm swallowed
his mouthful of food.  “He went hunting.  Left early this morning.”

“Did you bring
Mairi up here?” Sarah asked Malcolm, her heart racing now.

“Nay.  She was
still sleeping in her box when I got up this morning,” Malcolm said, concern
overtaking his face.

Sarah bolted out
the door and ran as fast as her feet would carry her back to Quinn’s cabin. 
She threw open the door and dug frantically through Mairi’s box next to the
bed.  It was empty.  She screamed now, a dull, agonizing wail.  Mairi was gone.

Sarah’s worst fear
had just come true.

Adahy had come for
his daughter.

Chapter Seven

Quinn’s heart
thundered in his chest as he made his final preparations.  He dismounted his
horse and removed the dagger from his belt, thinking it best to enter the
village unarmed.  He hastily stashed the dagger in his saddlebag.  The small
dirk would be of little defense if the savages decided to kill him.

Death was a risk
that he had reconciled and was willing to take.  He would give anything to
bring Mairi back to Sarah.

He pulled the
leather throng from his chestnut hair and ran his fingers through it roughly. 
The thick masses now fell loosely about his shoulders.  Quinn knew that this
was how the savages wore their hair, free and unbound.  Maybe it would help

His fingers worked
quickly as they dug the leather wrapped parcel from the saddlebag and undid the
twine that held the package together.  The horse whickered nervously and
stomped his feet in protest.  The scent of coppery blood had reached his
flaring nostrils, unnerving him.

Quinn took the
heart from its leather wrapping and looked down at it in his palm.  It was
huge.  Fresh blood still dripped from the vessels that Quinn had severed when
removing it from the bear.  Reaching with his free hands to grab the reins of
his horse, he began to walk into the village. 

His boots made no
effort to avoid the small sticks and dried leaves that littered the path.  He no
longer worked to stay hidden in the forest.  Quinn wanted them to see him now. 
He wanted the savages to hear his movement and confront him.

The heart was cold
in his hand, slack and lifeless in the grips of his fingers.  Blood dripped
from the large muscle and fell in small circles that splattered the forest
floor.  The contrast between the crimson splatters of blood and the bright
yellow aspen leaves that littered the autumn ground was stark.

As Quinn
suspected, the savages noticed his presence almost immediately.  They had been
watching him.  Three men revealed themselves from the cover of the trees on the
north side of the narrow path.  They stood in a human wall before Quinn,
shoulder to shoulder.

Quinn’s pulse
hammered in his veins.  He felt perspiration break out across his skin and
suddenly, he felt too warm.  He would not indicate any form of weakness to
them.  He stood straight and refused to show any sign of fear.

He regarded the
men confidently, shoulders squared and spine rigid.  His face was expressionless
save for his glowering steel gray eyes. 

The men were
dressed in buckskin clothing and each had long, straight black hair that fell
to the middle of their backs. The pitch black color of their hair reminded
Quinn of Sarah.

Focus. Doona
think of Sarah now.

Two of the men had
bows and complimentary quivers of feather tipped arrows slung over their
shoulders.  The third man was larger and held a single lethal looking spear in
his fist.

Quinn knew that
they could kill him easily if he made the wrong move.  He had willingly put
himself at their mercy.

Moving with
caution, he slowly released the reins of his horse and took a step away from
the beast.  His only weapon was in the saddlebag.  He was completely
defenseless.  Very slowly, Quinn raised his hands to show that he came unarmed.

The men chattered
amongst themselves in their strange tongue.  They maintained their grips on
their weapons as they evaluated Quinn.

“Adahy,” Quinn
said firmly as he slowly raised the heart that he held in his right hand. 
“Uzumati,” he added, remembering the word that Sarah had taught him for grizzly
bear.  He hoped that he had pronounced the word correctly.  He made a gesture
to indicate that the heart was a gift for Adahy.

One of the men
smiled and nodded.  His eyebrow arched over his almond shaped brown eye.  He
looked pleased, almost friendly.

“Uzumati?” he
asked, stepping closer and looking skeptically at the heart that Quinn held in
his blood stained hand.

“Aye,” Quinn
nodded.  “Uzumati for Adahy,” he said calmly as he raised the heart again and
gestured that he intended to give the heart to Adahy.

The man nodded in
apparent understanding and turned to chatter enthusiastically with his
comrades.  They appeared to be impressed by Quinn’s kill. 

Quinn smirked and
then quickly moved to erase the emotion from his face.  A good kill was a good
kill no matter where a man came from in the world.

Still holding
their weapons for good measure, the men motioned for Quinn to follow them into
the village.

Quinn took a deep
breath to calm his nerves and strode after them.

Lord help me,
Mairi.  Watch over me and help me tae be strong enough tae pull this off.

..ooOoo..

The small hairs on
the back of Quinn’s neck stood at attention as he was prompted to sit onto the
ground next to the fire.  The fire was centrally located in the village and was
surrounded by the conical dwellings of the savages.

Night would soon
be upon the village.  The fire felt too hot as it warmed Quinn’s adrenaline
flooded body.  Feelings of nausea began to overtake him and he fought to slow
the beating of his erratic heart.  He cleared his throat and exhaled slowly,
working hard to look confident and in control.

“Adahy,” he
demanded, voice firm as he glowered at his three companions who sat across the
fire staring at him.

The men nodded in
understanding.  The tallest of the three left the fire, presumably to go find
Adahy.  The other two men’s eyes never left Quinn.  He felt their eyes upon
him, searing his flesh as they studied him openly.

Quinn hoped that he
would be able to retain his composure and not kill the bastard Adahy when he
finally laid eyes on him.  Negotiating with him would be a struggle.

Two older men made
their way towards the fire and sat across from Quinn.  They did not greet him,
but remained stone-faced, regarding him openly in the fire-light.  One man’s
hair was completely white and was cropped closely on the top of his head.  The
back of his hair fell in long stringy clumps mid-way down his back.  The second
man’s hair was adorned with braids and feathers, all of which were braided into
a thick tail that hung down his back.

The men held and
air of importance.  Quinn wondered if they were the chiefs that Sarah had
spoken of.

A young boy,
shirtless in the chilly autumn air, settled down next to the older men.  His
eyes flashed to the white-haired man and they exchanged hushed words quickly.

“Welcome,” the boy
said, startling Quinn with his unexpected use of English.

“Thank-ye,” Quinn
responded.  The opportunity to communicate through a translator had not been
something that he expected.

“I need tae speak
with Adahy.”

The old men and
the boy nodded but did not respond otherwise.

Quinn refused to
back down on his request and he scanned their faces with his intense gray
eyes.  Maybe the boy did not speak English after all.

Show no fear.

A young man and
woman approached the fire and sat down, joining the growing circle.

Quinn knew
immediately that the man was Adahy.  He forced himself to remain expressionless
and he hid his hatred for the man that had hurt Sarah so brutally.  This was
the man that had raped his beautiful Sarah.  This was the man that Quinn wanted
to kill with his bare hands.  Quinn’s muscled tensed involuntarily.  He worked
hard to restrain himself, clenching his jaw in reaction to the man who now sat
across the fire from him.

Adahy was short of
stature yet sinewy and muscular.  His long black hair was unbound and adorned
with a single braid that framed his angular jaw.  One eagle feather was tucked
into the braid and fluttered now, lifted by the autumn breeze.  Adahy was
stone-faced and regarded Quinn quizzically.  He gave no indication of surprise
about his visitor.

Quinn wondered if
Adahy had been expecting him.

The woman that
accompanied Adahy was slight and petite.  She had an overall appearance of
fragility.  Her face was round and plain.  She kept her eyes downcast at the
ground.  She had settled against Adahy’s side and bent her knees so that she
could tuck her legs beneath the folds of her buckskin dress.  Her hand rested
possessively on Adahy’s knee.

This is Inola.

“Uzumati,” Quinn
said sternly, the sound of his confident voice breaking the hushed silence
around the glowing fire. The Cherokee language felt strange on his tongue. He
reached out his gift and offered the heart to Adahy.

Adahy hesitated
momentarily and then reached forward with both of his hands to accept the
large, bloody heart.  He looked both surprised and pleased.

Quinn’s gray eyes
locked with Adahy’s deep brown ones as the heart passed between them.  His
heart thundered as he contemplated his next move.

“I’ve come for
Sarah’s daughter,” Quinn began boldly.  He held eye contact with Adahy across
the fire, challenging him.

The boy translated
his words into the Cherokee tongue and Quinn waited, on edge as he anticipated
Adahy’s response.

Adahy responded,
speaking directly to Quinn and not to the boy.  He shook his head sternly and
spoke with resentment in his tone.

“She is my
daughter,” the boy translated softly.

“She belongs with
her mother, with Sarah,” Quinn persisted with his mouth set in a hard
challenging line.  He fought the urge to launch himself across the fire and
choke the very life out of Adahy.  “In yer society as well as mine, a child
belongs with her mother,” Quinn asserted.