They were not yet out of danger. He couldn’t even be sure they would be safe on the mainland. The Norse boats were surely quicker than their small vessel and more heavily manned. Once they realised the lady of the keep was gone, they might look for her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. How exactly had he become embroiled in all this? Oh, aye, his wee sister of course. A lady he could never deny. Under pressure from her brother by marriage to gather men and rescue his betrothed, she had asked for his aid. Ach, but Laird Gillean would never risk his own life for a lass, Finn thought bitterly. Originally the laird had planned to fetch Lady Katelyn off the isle himself but when it became apparent the Norse invasion was imminent, he was conveniently called away on business, leaving Lorna with few men to carry out such a duty. But how could a brother ignore the imploring missive of a sister?
He swivelled to glance over their precious bundle. The lass cowered and looked at him as if he were some strange creature. It was to be expected. No doubt her mind was somewhat addled after her experience. She clearly had no knowledge of warfare and no woman should have to go through near ravishment. Finn curled his fist at the memory of seeing that rancid excuse for a warrior mounting her. Ach, but at least he had the satisfaction of having drawn the man’s blood. Never again would he touch any of the fine Scottish lassies.
About to turn and take his seat, a movement caught his eye. He lunged forward as Katelyn stood and took a step over the side of the boat. They were still practically on the shore so she landed in the soft sand with ease, just out of Finn’s reach, water lapping at her thighs.
Calling her name, he leaned over the edge and cursed as the vessel rocked. The foolish lass was going to get them wet and not all the men were able to swim. Regardless of the depth, if there was a strong tide they’d be pulled out to sea. She darted a fearful glance at him and gripped her skirts. He saw the desire to run but why?
He readied himself to leap over but a sharp wave caught the boat, tossing him into the hull. Grumbling, he came to his feet once more only to see Lady Katelyn had vanished. He looked to the other men in the boat but they were still readying their oars and getting set for their journey.
“Curse ye, ye fools. The lady has gone overboard!”
The men swivelled, shouts of dismay falling from their lips and Finn shook his head. Shrugging out of his furs, he leaped nimbly over the side. The water bit at his feet through his leather boots and sloshed wildly around his legs. The push and pull of the waves tugged at him as they lapped at the island. With her heavy skirts, it was no wonder she had gone under.
He swung his gaze around, grateful the night had not yet swallowed them. A flash of green a few feet in front of him caught his eye. Hair swirling about her, gown waving like seaweed in the wash, she floated on the surface—knocked senseless.
“Damnation!”
With several strong strides, he caught up with her. The tide drew her away but it was not strong enough to defeat him. The sea now up to his hips, he dragged Katelyn into his arms. By God, her gown weighed her down. Even for a man of his strength, he felt as though he were carrying a heavy sack of grain rather than a sylph of a woman.
Wading to the boat, he hefted her out of the water and passed her to Logan. The man shook his head. “Sorry, Finn. We were concentrating on not getting tossed about in the wash. ‘Tisnae easy holding such a small vessel steady.”
“Aye, have no fear. ‘Twas my fault. The lass has clearly had a shock and I should have been watching her more closely.”
Logan laid her in the bow while Finn clambered in. He knelt by the lass and glanced up at Logan.
“She must have taken a hit to the head.”
“Aye, likely against the boat. Must have hit hard to render her senseless.”
Finn nodded. “Let us get on our way. We can do no good for her here.”
“Aye,” Logan agreed and backed away to help row the boat from the shoreline.
Leaning over her, Finn studied the gash on her forehead with a grimace. Poor lass. She’d have a mighty fine headache when she awoke. The steady rise and fall of her breasts against the soaked green wool assured him no permanent damage had been done.
“Ye’ll have to get her out of those wet garments,” Logan called out behind him.
Finn clenched his teeth. “Aye, thank ye, Logan. I’m aware o’ that.”
He ran his gaze over her. Damn his luck. He’d undressed many a fine woman but none had ever been out cold and an unwilling partner. No doubt the lady would be deeply ashamed he’d done as much. But he could hardly leave her to die from exposure. If anything, his sister would have his head.
Fingers tentatively prying at the front of her bodice, he forced his gaze onto the wood just behind her head. But the wet fabric proved too hard to tug apart so he pressed his hands to her back and lifted her lifeless form. Icy skin and sumptuous curves flattened briefly to his chest as he fumbled with the ties at the back of her gown. By God, when had he ever blundered like a whelp when undressing a woman? But he had to admit, though he’d had little time to admire her and the swelling on her face did not reveal her features properly, the flash of creamy skin was tempting enough. In other circumstances—and had she been anyone other than a lady in distress—he’d have enjoyed such a sight.