"Wild Geese" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgen Shelby)
Chapter One
"Captain MacKenzie?"
Ewan jerked awake with a start. He straightened himself, stepping out of the shadows to meet his man. "Here."
"Everything's at the ready. Five women, three bairns, four stout lads, three lasses, and six barrels of whiskey for your troubles."
"I canna' take your whiskey, MacDonald."
"Ye can, and ye will. 'Tis all I've got to pay ye with, MacKenzie, and I'll not be havin' your charity."
There was aught these clans had left but their pride. Ewan swallowed his own and took the offered hand. "Aye, then."
Working as quietly as they could, the men stowed the families and their few worldly possessions into the longboats. It was always worst for the children. Roused out of their beds in the wee hours of the night, asked to follow a stranger where he would lead them, they were frightened and tired and trying so hard to be brave. Ewan pitched his voice low, trying to quiet the little ones. "Come along, then. Move quiet now. Give your sister a hand there, that's a good lad."
"How long will it take?"
"You'll be in France in six days, lad, the good Lord willin'."
"Six? Da' told us 'twas but two!"
"Aye, and it would be, were we goin' straight across. We canna'. The North Sea's runnin' too high, lad, and we've more cargo to load, as well."
"We've to go south, then, along the coast of Eire?"
Ewan smiled despite himself. "You'd be Jamie, then, wouldn't ye?"
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"Aye. How'd ye know that?"
"You've a good head on your shoulders, lad, and a good memory for your lessons. Your Da1 talked about ye. Said ye were a bright lad, and always one for questions." "Ye knew my Da'?"
"Aye. That I did. We fought together. He spoke o' ye often. You're a brave lad, and the makings of a fine man, he told me, and I can see he had the right of it. He'd be proud of ye, takin' care of your mother and sisters the way ye have."
The young man grew pensive. "Were ye with Da' at Culloden, then?"
"Aye."
"Was he a hero?"
Memories swamped Ewan. "'We were all heroes that day, lad. But your Da' was one of the best."
"Are we goin' to France to join up wi' the Bonny Prince?"
"Why can Clan MacDonald no' come home?"
Ewan swallowed hard. "None of us could go home after Culloden, lad. There's a price on our heads. 'Twas your uncle, Angus MacDonald, who sent for ye. He's been working to build a new life for ye in France. You'll no' be alone. 'Tis many an old friend you'll find there, and others to follow."
Many others, Ewan thought. Soon the Highlands would be empty, and Dillon's Regiment would be full of "Wild Geese"ЧScotsmen and Irishmen alike searching for a place to call home.
*****
Shelby Morgen Wild Geese 10
Ewan was tempted to take a last look at the shoreline they'd left behind, but Grandmother's voice whispered again. Don't look back, boy. Never look back. He stared forward, instead, peering out through the night at the Sea of the Hebrides. The night's "Geese" were all stowed safely in steerage. Now there was just him and the seaЧand a dozen seasoned men who shared the night's solitude with him, moving silently about their tasks.
The softest of sounds distracted him. The Changeling again. Evan turned at the sound of her laughter. "There's a good lad. Get ye below now. Your mother will be worried about ye."
No, not a Changeling, but merely a woman. Someone's wife, someone's mother, her worldly possessions in a satchel slung across her back. The tight set of her shoulders, the way her elbows hugged her sides, the way she touched the child before she sent him on his way, told him more than words could. She put on a brave face for the little ones, but it was only a fagade.
He'd noticed her earlier. She was the kind of woman a man would notice, any where, any time. She was tall, for a woman, with a long, thick braid the color of the last light of a Highland sunset that reached down her back and well past her waist. As she stooped to help the boy back down between decks, the braid slid over her shoulder. Small curls escaped to wisp around her face like ivy on a gatepost.
Her head would fit neatly under his chin. He'd caught the scent of her, heather and clear mountain mornings and all the scents of the Highlands rolled into one, and nearly forgotten where he was and what he was about.
Hell. It could have been any woman. After so many months, so many years, even the roughest old crone would have looked welcoming. Women meant home, and hearth, and arms to comfort. Women meant fresh clothes and warm meals and a warm, willing body with a welcoming heart.
The Changeling's laughter sounded again. Though he heard the strain in it this time, warmth stirred in his groin at the sound of her voice. Emotions flooded him. The need
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to possess, to protect. Ewan shook himself from his daydreams. 'Twas no use to wish for what could not be. 'Twas only the scent of her, fresh, clean woman-scent, that had distracted him. Though truth be told she was no old crone. 'Twas handsome she was, a fine, bonny lass. Had he been younger, less tired, more inclined to think of his own needs and less those of others...
This wasn't the time to concentrate on the needs of the body. Had it been, his greatest need was to sleep. Sleep, that elusive balm he could not quite reach.
Changeling indeed. Who was she? Where had she come from? Which family was she with? Too many faces, too many nights collecting souls in the dark. He'd seen her with children before, but not the children she was with now. He didn't know what household she was with, couldn't be sure when she'd joined them, or where. He didn't like that. Didn't like not knowing.
He'd ask among the men. See who had brought her, what family she was from, who was to be responsible for her at the other side of the crossing. Something about her looked almost familiar, as if he should know her, know of her. The lost memory nagged at him, teasing him from just beyond his reach.
Changeling... Once again he shook off Grandmother's warning. He was getting too old for this game. Too soft. 'Twould not do to let himself be blindsided by a woman just because his body desired the comfort he might find in the softness of her curves. He would watch her for a bit, to be sure where she fit in. He had not gotten this far on blind faith and trust. He was a careful man. A cautious man.
That was the reason he'd decided to watch the woman. Aye, that was it.
That was why, once the night's consignees were safely stowed below decks and his ship but a memory in that once familiar harbor they would never see again, he found himself standing on the foredeck, instead of tucked into his cabin, stretched out in his bed, where he might at least garner a few hours rest before the nightmares jolted him awake.
He needed to keep an eye on his Changeling lass.
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