If she wasn't past the age of believing in monsters like dragons and werewolves, she'd think he was one. An atavistic chill skittered down her spine and it was all she could do not to whimper in fright.
"Are you admitting she is right then? That you are weak and a coward to take your revenge on women instead of men?"
Lachlan stood and faced the angry soldier, his own body vibrating with deadly tension. "You dare to challenge me?"
"I am not the one challenging you. She did and you do nothing to punish the insolence."
The boat swayed and a scream locked in Emily's throat, making her jaw ache with the effort it took to hold it back. She shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the reality of her surroundings, but the sounds of wind on the water would not let her.
"Perhaps he thinks forcing her to endure your company is punishment enough," Cait taunted.
There was a scuffle above Emily and the boat swayed in alarming dips first to one side and then to the other. She sank further and further into the fear swirling through her. Her eyes flew open, her despairing gaze searching out the strongest person on the boat… Lachlan.
He stood above her, holding Ulf, as if stopping him from going for Emily's throat.
Her hand flew to protect it in a totally futile gesture.
Ulf's eyes spit angry recriminations at his leader. "I won't tolerate such insults, even if you will."
"You will tolerate whatever I tell you to tolerate." The tone of Lachlan's voice was the meanest she'd heard it yet.
"You would choose your enemy over your brother?"
Ulf was Lachlan's brother? Emily supposed there was a slight family resemblance, but they seemed so different.
"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.