The continuing saga of Catrìona Robertson which began in the windswept mountains of the Scottish Highlands, now takes us on a voyage to the rugged coast of 18th century Maine in this exciting historical novel of adventure, magic and romance ...

 

 Catrìona Robertson has faced the perilous voyage across the sea to be with her father, Angus Robertson, one of the many injured Jacobites of the Rising of 1745 in Scotland. He was sentenced to seven years of indentured servitude in the American Colonies. Cat, the former Seer for clan Donnachaidh, has to keep a low profile in colonial Boston while she tries to fit into the growing commonwealth. However, her visions are guiding her to a place wild and untamed, not in the bustling town of Boston, but in the Province of Maine.

But trouble follows Cat wherever she goes, as Scottish pirate Greame Hay finds out. He may live to regret the day he finds the feisty redhead aboard the ship he was looting, when he takes her to the land of her visions and they settle with the Lobster Clan of the Penobscot Indians. As battles are fought for the country she lives in, Cat is faced with a different kind of fight—one in a supernatural realm with a Mohawk Shaman bent on seeing the Penobscot people decimated. Will her abilities be strong enough to overpower this madman, or will he destroy her and the new family she’s found?

 

 

 

An Eyes of Garnet Novel: Sightless © Mary Duncan 2007

 

 

 

The space was dark and moist, smelling of sweat and ale. Cat knew she was in the hold of a ship. Whose ship it was, and where it was going, were two questions that first came to her mind. When she tried to sit up, she realized her hands were bound and she was attached to a pole. Wriggling herself to get into a sitting position, Cat drew her legs together to see if her dirk was still there. It was, but she had no idea of how to remove it from its sheath with her hands tied in back of her. Her head ached terribly as she tried to remember the last thing that happened. It wasn’t the blow to her head, but that’s what it must have been.

Closing her eyes to stave off a wave of nausea, she rested her head against the pole for support. Cat needed to locate her captors and the only way to do that was through her mind. It would have to wait until her head stopped pounding first.

After a while her head cleared. She was ready. Releasing herself from her body, she was now free to roam. She went up on deck in search of the name of the ship and was almost positive it was going to be the Rose Ellen, but it wasn’t. Charles must be very well connected to hire someone else to do his dirty work and take her … where?

The ship cut through the waves as effortlessly as air. The wind was icy and the shadows of the sails danced along the deck. She searched the faces for someone she recognized. It was becoming clear that they knew her, but she didn’t know them. She walked back below decks to locate the captain’s quarters, hoping for an indication of her captor and destination.

The door to his small cabin was open. He sat facing the window, watching the foamy sea play along the back of the hull. His hair was the color of honey and fell freely around his shoulders. His frame was small and wiry, thin through the hips and lean legged. He must have sensed her there, because he turned around. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she now knew who he was. He was in line at the office where she received the news about her father. There was no evidence that he was looking for her then, but he must have worked for Charles, since she was now a captive aboard this ship. The quest for who was complete, but where she would be relocated was still a mystery.

As he walked past her and closed the door, Cat stepped further into his quarters to read his ledger. At the top of the page, it read, Marianne, 23 December, 1746. After a few insignificant recordings of what went on during the first watch, Cat found her answer. They were bound for Virginia. She had no idea where Virginia was, but knew it wasn’t where she wanted to go. This posed another question. How could she get off this ship?
Suddenly, she was back in her body down in the dark hold. Cat rested for a few minutes, then decided it was now or never to release her bindings. In her mind, she saw the rope that tied her hands together. She had done this a few times before—moving objects with her mind—but never on herself. It was a strange procedure, feeling the ropes move on her hands from behind her, but she soon had them loose enough to slip out of. Now that she was free, what was she going to do? Were there places to hide? Not for long, she imagined.

Cat got up and stretched, letting circulation return into her limbs. She rubbed her arms vigorously to eliminate the prickly feeling of being asleep. Her cloak wasn’t offering much in the way of warmth; she had been cold for too long. She wished for some light to get her bearings inside the small confines, but the only glimmer came from under the door. She felt her way around the place, stubbing her toe on a crate. Ah, a place to sit. Anything was better than the dampness of the deck floor.

Edging her way to the door, she placed her ear to the wood and heard muffled voices in the cabin next to hers. They were whispering and she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the hair started to rise on her neck. Not a good sign. Pulling up her skirts, she unsheathed her dirk and stood behind the door. Slowly, the latch was lifted and with a slight creak, it opened. The light hadn’t hit where she should have been sitting yet, but she saw two shadows in the flood of brightness that illuminated the floor.

A head poked in and she grabbed his hair and yanked him into the cabin. The second man hesitated for a moment, but in pure instinct entered the cabin to see what had happened to his mate. When they were both inside, Cat kicked the door shut. She had her dirk under the first man’s neck. He was either very short or just a boy, because his head only came up to her chest.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” he cried. His voice cracked as teenagers’ do.

His friend, though Cat could not see him, was already trying to get the door opened. He was nearly whimpering in fright fiddling with the latch.

“Stop,” Cat hissed, “Or I’ll slit his throat.”

The boy stopped fighting with the door, but his whimpering increased. He was actually crying.

“Do ye hae a lantern wi’ ye?” Cat asked.

“Aye,” said the boy against her chest.

Cat released him and told him to light it, keeping the point of her dirk between his shoulder blades. When the lantern was lit, she saw clearly that they were indeed just boys, maybe in their early teens.

“And what might the two o’ ye been plannin’ to do wi’ me when ye got a chance?” Cat mocked, staring at the wetness on the front of the boy’s pants who was trying to escape.

“N-n-nothin’, miss. Really!” he whined.

“And what about ye?” Cat asked the lad at the end of her dirk, giving him a little poke.

He exuded a little more bravery and cockily said, “We were goin’ ta scare ya an’ torment ya some.”

Stifling a laugh, Cat said, “Oh really? And then what? What if I screamed and someone came in to see what ye were doin’ to me?”

He just shrugged, not having thought his plan out all the way through.

“Well, I’ll be glad for the comp’ny, lads. Go hae a seat at the pole. Ye’ll hae to be tied up, but I’m hopin’ ye wilna hae to be gagged as well,” she said, indicating they had a choice in the matter.

The lads shook their heads vigorously to the gag. Cat tied their hands behind them and sat on the crate, placing the dirk beside her in plain sight.

“So tell me of Virginia.”