Forbidden Realm by Diana Cosby

Author:Diana Cosby
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2020-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“The bloody Sassenach are closing fast!” Bran shouted, his words ripped away by the howl of the wind.

Salty spray whipped Lathir as, heart pounding, she turned toward their pursuers.

Large waves battered the English warship as it cut through the rough seas.

On a muttered curse, Bran spun toward the stern of the ship. “Senach, trim the sail. Everyone else, keep emptying water from the hull. By God, we can outrun these scoundrels!”

“Aye, Captain.” Brow furrowed with determination, Senach worked with the lines, finally securing the rope.

Lathir joined the crew around her, filling buckets of water that’d washed over the bow, then passing them along to sailors who emptied the contents overboard.

The cog shuddered as another large swell crashed against the hull. A plume of water exploded upward, washed over the bow. The violent slide of frothy white stormed the deck, invading every nook, surrounding each crate as the cog was again shoved upward.

Wood scraped as Lathir slid her bucket along the fast flow, handed it to Rónán.

Jaw set, he passed the pail to Tighearnán, who emptied it over the rail.

Tighearnán’s gaze cut toward the enemy cog before shifting to his daughter, hidden beneath a shelter. “I had hoped to avoid a confrontation with the English. But the lass must learn never to fear a life of pursuing what she believes in.”

Eyes wide, the girl watched her father, but she didn’t move from where he’d ordered her to remain.

Lathir fought her fear on the child’s behalf, but Tighearnán was right. A belief her father had shared, and one, however dangerous, she understood. Naught about life was safe, there were no assurances, and ’twas those who took the risks who carved their own destinies.

And allowed others to dare to hope.

To dream.

Nor would the Sassenach deter her. Her hand settled on her dagger. Whatever it took, they’d rescue her father.

The pounding of water filled the air as Lathir bent over to scoop up the next bucket, then turned to the captain. “Are we pulling away?”

Thick brows salted with gray narrowed as Bran scowled at the large warship cresting the next swell. “Nay.” He turned toward his crew. “Man the oars!”

Boots thudded on the slick deck as his crew ran to take their places.

Salty spray from the next swell filled the air, again drenching Lathir as she slid onto the bench beside Rónán. She curled her fingers around the smoothed handle of the oars, barely registering the surprise and admiration of several men in the crew, then leaned forward as the men shoved the tips of the paddles into the water.

Bran strode before them and braced his feet, his weathered face taut with determination. “Row!”

In unison, they drew the oars through the water.

The cog surged forward with each sweep of the oars driving through the churn of the sea.

Muscles bunched and burned as Lathir pulled on the next command. On a deep inhale, she leaned forward at the captain’s next call.

Rónán’s powerful body flexed as he worked in unison beside her, hauling the oars through the churn of water.

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