“What ails ye?” Bram asked with concern etched on his face.

The world started to spin and Lara’s stomach felt as if it was tossing back and forth along with the ship. She opened her mouth to explain but strained to speak as she felt bile rising in the back of her throat.

“Ye dinna look too well, Lass. Yer skin is pale,” Bram said as he raised his hand to her forehead. “And ye feel as cold as the winter air.”

“Must...stop…rocking,” Lara mumbled as her hand went to her mouth. “Please, stop the ship from rocking,” she pleaded.

Bram chuckled.

“Lass, I can no’ stop the ship from rocking back and forth. We are in the middle of the sea. I warned ye that ye were goin’ to get sick,” he reminded her.

Lara could see the smug, satisfied grin on his face. Now was not the time to be arrogant and thick-headed, she thought, as she saw him trying to cover his smile.

“Ye are finding enjoyment in this, nay?”

“Aye. Dinna say I dinna warn ye lass. Most people think they won’t be affected by the motion of the sea, but most of the time the sea wins,” he replied.

Lara’s stomach clenched. Holding on tightly to the railing, she retched over the side of the ship. As she continued to empty her stomach, Lara could feel one of Bram’s hands on her back and the other holding her hair up and out of the way. After a quarter of an hour, Lara felt her stomach ease and slumped down to sit on the deck. Bram joined her, scooting himself beside her. He handed her a handkerchief so she could wipe her mouth.

Against her better judgment, Lara leaned into him. Bram instinctively wrapped his arm around her. As much as she wanted to, Lara did not allow herself to take comfort in his arms. Within three days or so, he would be gone from her life, and she could not bear the disappointment she was already beginning to feel at the thought of leaving him. If only things were different, and she could express her feelings; but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she would lock them away in the deepest recesses of her heart.

Bram’s humor faded as Lara rested against his chest and in his arms. They were still two days away from port and there were no healers on board to ease her discomfort. He had only hoped that rest would offer her the comfort she needed.

Bram did not understand why Lara couldn’t see how he felt about her. He had tried to be agreeable and careful of her, but apparently it wasn’t enough. He was becoming angry with himself. He was a coward.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but he was either too proud or too daft to say the words. He had never felt this way about a woman, and he didn’t like having so little control over his own heart. She was opinionated, stubborn, brash, irrational, and completely illogical, but he loved her with every fiber of his being. He was certain of it. But did she love him in return? Aye, she was married, but their union was just a minor inconvenience, and one that he would make certain was rectified.

As she lay there in his arms, Bram could still smell the lavender scented soap she’d used in her hair days ago. Her nearness was the sweetest torture he had ever endured. He would do anything to be with her, even ride across Europe to Italy and demand that the Pope terminate her marriage contract; or take his blade to that bastard husband of hers, leaving her a widow. He would ride to the ends of the earth and back for her. But first, he needed to win her heart.

In the following two days at sea, Lara’s condition worsened. She threw up several times and was not able to keep much food down. Bram encouraged her to rest as much as she could, as it was the only relief she had. Lara swore that she would never set foot on a boat again.

As if angels were answering her prayers, she heard the captain call out to his men, “Ease off the line laddies, ‘tis land ahead.”

Lara looked over the side of the hull. The inland waters were as blue as the brightest bluebells she had ever seen. The water reflected the land above the shore like a perfect mirror. The pine-covered, hilly land looked much different than the rocky terrain she was accustomed to. But it was the thought of standing on solid land that brought her the most joy.

Heading into the channel, the crew lowered the sail and dropped anchor. After they’d docked and the passengers had disembarked, the captain and his entourage went barreling down the boarding plank, carrying with them barrels and boxes of fresh supplies.

“How long do ye think it will take us to get to Bergen?” Lara asked Bram, hoping to reach her father soon.

“By tomorrow evening, if all goes well,” Bram replied.

Lara was elated by his answer. Finally, after several weeks, she could seek justice for Dermot’s treachery.

Chapter 14

“Where is he?” Dermot hollered at the guard.

Dermot and five of his guards had ridden four days from Foley Castle to Stearns to demand an audience with Laird Fergusson for the rights to Lara’s dowry. Upon their departure after the wedding ceremony, he had only been given a trunk full of worthless trinkets. Laird Fergusson had told him about the treasure, and promised that Dermot would possess it in due time. But Dermot was determined not to wait any longer.

Now, with Lara’s unexpected disappearance from the English prison, he found it necessary to retrieve the remainder of her belongings before the truth got out. Of course, if the Fergussons knew the truth of it, they would surely deny him his percentage of the treasure and kill him on the spot.

“I am afraid, my Laird, that Laird Fergusson is nay here. He has gone to Norway,” the guard stuttered and shrunk in fear.

At that moment, so consumed by rage, Dermot wanted nothing more than to pull out his dirk and put it through the man’s throat. He struggled for restraint.

Dermot knew that he needed to get to Norway and get his hands on that treasure before they found out the truth about Lara. He started to regret his hasty decision to send her off with the English guards. Dermot had not thought what to do if Alban, Lara’s father, demanded to see her.

“I am sure, my Laird, that if ye make haste, ye can catch up wit’ yer wife.”

Dermot’s eyes narrowed. Grabbing the guard’s collar with both hands, he forcefully pushed him against the wall and lifted him into the air.

“What do ye mean catch up wit’ my wife?” he demanded.

“To…to Norway, my Laird. She left here two days ago,” the guard said as he began to shake.

“Lara! Lara was here? Impossible!” Dermot roared.

“I speak the truth, my Laird. Saw her wit’ my own eyes.”

Dermot thought on the man’s words. How could she have escaped? Was someone helping her? Did her father already know what he’d done?

“Was she traveling by herself?” he growled.

“Nay, my Laird. She had a mon accompanying her.”

“What did she say?” Dermot asked.

“Nothing, my Laird. I did no’ speak to her. Moira the housemaid did.”

Worry came over Dermot that she’d already revealed what he had done. He did not trust the guard and believed he was lying to protect her. He tightened his hold on the man for a moment longer before suddenly letting go. The guard fell to the ground, holding his arm up over his head, waiting for a blow, but Dermot just stared at the man.

He needed to leave, and fast. If Lara was two days ahead of him, he had little time. He would either have to catch up with her in Aberdeen or reach Norway before she arrived. If she did arrive before him, all would be lost.

Dermot ordered his guards back to the horses. Jumping into the saddle, he kicked his horse’s sides hard, forcing it to take off at a full gallop.

Looking out the window slit, Moira watched as Laird Moray and his men threatened the guard, Adrian, in front of the gate. Pacing back and forth inside the kitchen, she prayed that Adrian did not reveal too much information. If he did, he would surely lead Dermot right to Lara. If that happened, Moira knew, something terrible would happen to her. She cursed herself for not saying anything to Adrian about keeping Lara’s arrival secret, but she’d had no cause to believe that Dermot would be following.