He ripped the blanket off them both, exposing her damp skin to the cold air once again. “Ye’ll pay for that, you naughty little wood nymph.”
“I was joking, Will, don’t toss me in the water.” She grabbed his about the neck even tighter. He had no intention of dumping her in the tub. Instead he tumbled them both onto the bed. Neither of them was getting much sleep that night.
Epilogue
Six weeks later…
Gemma stood waiting for Will by the fire in his study. By all accounts, she was supposed to be up in her room. Stone was supposed to collect her any minute and walk her down the stairs to the great hall. They would marry in front of the fire with Mr. McLean officiating.
Her mother had arrived with Stone and his family a week ago, and she and Will had hardly seen each other since. Not that she was complaining. It had been wonderful to see her mother again and both had apologized for being so pigheaded.
“I should never have told you what to do,” her mother had cried, wrapping Gemma in her arms.
Gemma had hugged her back. “And I should have listened. I was young and stubborn. Even if I was going to do it my way, I didn’t need to storm off and tell you I never wanted to see you again. I was a fool.”
Blair had begun fixing up a cottage in the village for her mother while Stone was helping to bring in their first barley harvest. It wouldn’t make them rich, but it would keep them in business.
And while all the visitors and family had been wonderful, she’d missed Will. Before they said their vows, she wanted five minutes to hold him in her arms and tell him that she loved him.
The door creaked open and she spun about to throw her arms around him. He strode in holding Ewan in his arms. “Mum, mum, mum,” he babbled, reaching for her.
With a grin, she took the boy, kissing his fat cheek.
Fiona bounced in behind Will. “Mum, do ye like my dress?” Then she twirled about. “Delia gave it to me.”
The layers of cream silk floated about the little girl.
“I love it,” Gemma gushed, taking Fiona’s hand.
Will leaned over, Ewan pressed between them. “I ken ye wanted to meet the two of us but—”
“This is perfect.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. “Ye’re perfect.”
Another knock came at the door. “I’m looking fer the bride who is supposed to walk down the aisle in five minutes,” Stone’s deep voice rumbled through the room. “While I can’t blame her fer running away from my arse of a brother, I should probably move all the guests to the wedding breakfast if there isn’t actually going to be a wedding.”
Fiona giggled and tossed open the door. Stone swept her up into his arms. He was a fierce-looking man and yet as gentle and loving as Will. Gemma smiled. “I wasn’t running from your brother but rather to him. I just needed a minute to be alone before the business of the day.”
“Alone?” Stone wiggled his eyebrows. “Well then, Ewan, yer coming wit’ me.”
Will set the boy down and he toddled willingly into Stone’s arms. “Own…Own,” he said as Stone lifted him and carried both children out of the room.
The moment the door closed, Will swept her into his arms, kissing her over and over. “We can’t send them home fast enough,” he said, giving her another squeeze.
“It’s wonderful to see them all,” she replied but she understood. They had not spent nearly enough time alone.
“It’s wonderful to see you, here with me, and no one else.”
She eased herself out of his arms and then twisted toward the desk to grab a box she’d set there earlier. It wasn’t much. Just a kerchief that she’d embroidered with his initials but it was something to commemorate the day.
As she turned, however, her head began to swim and her eyes grew fuzzy. She reached for the edge of the desk but only found air as the world began to tilt in the strangest way.
“Gemma,” Will bit out. Strong hands grasped her, holding her in place as she tried to keep the world from going black.
She clutched his forearms, closing her eyes to clear her vision.
“Did ye remember to eat today, love?” he asked pulling her against his chest. “I thought ye’d put on weight so this wouldn’t happen again.”
“I have,” she answered weakly. “I’ve taken my dresses out twice already.” A sweat had broken out on her forehead and she leaned it against his broad shoulder. “Perhaps I’m sick. I don’t feel so well.”
He began stroking her hair. “Have you bled since you’ve been here?”
Her head sprung up which made her dizzy all over again. She hadn’t even thought about her monthlies. Had she? “I don’t think I have.” She looked up at him, her stomach sinking to her knees. “I was due two weeks ago.”
Will’s eyebrows went up and a grin spread his lips. “It looks like we’re not alone after all.” Then he took a step back and placed his hand on her stomach.
Joy bubbled inside her. A baby? They were going to have a baby? “But I thought…”
“It’s because ye’re marrying a Sinclair.” He winked at her then. “Ye’d better get used to being pregnant.”
“Fiona is going to be so excited,” she placed her hand over his. “I still want to adopt more children.”
He chuckled. “So do I.” Then he leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss, soft and tender, making her forget all about her discomfort. “Let’s go make you Gemma Sinclair.”
She grinned. “Good idea.”
Read the rest of the series:
The Duke’s Scottish Lass
Scottish Devil
Wicked Laird
Kilted Sin
Rogue Scot
The Fate of a Highland Rake
Rogue Scot
Matthew Sinclair stood at the helm of the lead ship and watched the wind whip a froth on the ocean’s surface, the grey sky adding an ominous hue to the water. A January storm was coming.
He signaled the sailor up in the eagle’s nest. “Raise the storm flag,” he yelled. In this way the two ships behind him would understand his change in course. They travelled these waters year round and they knew every safe haven on the route back to Scotland. A late cargo delivery was better than no delivery at all.
Setting a course for Heron Island, Matt listened to the ropes crackle and creak as they changed direction and swung the boom to the starboard side. His brother Blair wouldn’t be happy with the delay in the schedule but he also trusted Matt to make the correct call in these situations. Blair had started this company but he now ran the business side while Matt was tasked with keeping the fleet running with the utmost efficiency. It was a job that suited him, though lately, he considered venturing out on his own.
He had a nice sum of money set aside and each of his brothers had made their way in the world on a few coins and a great deal of moral grit. He had every intention of following in their very large footsteps.
Well, except for Reginald of course. His twin brother was no longer in this world, having died while saving their little sister. The memory still gutted him. Reginald had been the best part of this world and now he was gone.
They weren’t identical twins, and their bond had been similar to that of his other brothers. He mentioned this purely because he was sure all of his brothers were as bothered by the loss as him. But Reginald had been the kindest most understanding person in the entire family. Without him… without him, there was a hole that Matt couldn’t seem to fill.
His chest tightened. He didn’t want to fill that void. That was Reginald’s place.
Heron’s Cove came into view as the first drops of rain splattered on the deck. He could smell the scent of the storm in the air. This one would be fierce.
Within two hours, he was proven correct. The cove provided a good deal of shelter but even still, their anchored ships rocked violently on the waves.
Matt watched the weather for a bit and then descended below deck to get a few hours sleep. They were safe enough and the rest would make him a
ll the more prepared for the next day.
But he’d no more laid down in his hammock when he heard the calls of the sailors above. “Ship in distress,” one bellowed.
“They’ve hit the rocks,” another cried.
Matt bolted up. It couldn’t be one of his three ships. They were safely harbored. Was another boat attempting to seek shelter?
He scaled the ladder up to the deck and immediately noticed a fourth ship in the distance, listing to one side. His gut clenched. The vessel must be taking in a great deal of water. His teeth ground together. Rowing out in the row boats was dangerous in these swells and he’d be putting his men in danger but could he watch the people on that ship drown?
Damn his Sinclair need to save the world. His brother’s all had it. Sticking their necks out when it was dangerous. “I’m going to row out to help the men on that ship,” he shouted into the wind. “You are not required to go with me, but any man who is willing to take a boat, you’d be saving lives.”
“I’ll go,” First Officer Surrey called, stepping from the ranks.
“I’ll go too,” Ship’s Master Hennessey said.
Ten men volunteered in all and they set off in five rowboats, struggling through the surf toward the sinking ship.
It took them near half an hour, fighting against the tide and the waves to reach the boat. Only the bow stuck out of the water, a crowd of ten or fifteen people clinging to the rails and crowded together.
“You’ll have to jump,” Matt called, getting as close as he dared with his row boat. “We’ll fish you out of the water.”
Three men jumped without a look back and the boat behind him picked them up. “Head back,” Matt called to them. “Come on,” he called to those that remained on the deck. Four more hit the water and two other boats scooped them up.
Only three people remained on the bow, the captain and what he could now see were two women. One of them began to tentatively climb over the rail but the other clung to the wood. “I can’t,” she shouted. “I can’t swim.”
“Then you’ll drown,” he yelled back. How was he supposed to save someone who wouldn’t attempt to save themselves?
She clutched tighter to the rail as the captain attempted to pull her off. “If you stay then I have to stay,” the captain hollered over the wind.
Releasing a rumble of frustration, Matt looked over at the other oar man, Surrey. “Get me closer.” Damn his Sinclair sensibilities.
Surrey managed to get within a foot of the ship and Matt didn’t hesitate. In a moment a wave would roll them away again. And so, he jumped. Catching the rail. The woman above him screamed. If the situation weren’t so serious, he might have rolled his eyes. Surrey came closer again and he didn’t hesitate. He plucked the woman over the rail, her large eyes staring at him like a frightened doe. The captain heaved as he pulled and then just as the row boat came under him, he dropped down holding her in arms and landing with his feet planted in the small boat. She was light as a feather and he kept his balance despite the tossing waves.
“Bloody hell that was impressive,” the Captain called as he too scaled the rail and then, grabbing the other woman, jumped into the water. Matt shoved the woman in his arms toward Surrey as he fished the other two from the sea. “We’ll get you to the ship in no time,” he called over the wind as he took and oar and started for his boat.
* * *
Lady Bridget McDougal sat shivering in the bottom of the dinghy. Poor Mary must be frozen, wet as she was. Bridget was near soaked through with the rain but Mary had submerged into the icy ocean. They’d been clinging to that rail for what seemed like forever watching the dinghies slowly make their way through the tumultuous water. Bridget had never prayed so hard in her life that they’d make it on time.
She hadn’t considered how she’d get into that dingy but she had silently cursed her father for sending her on this journey in the first place. The man couldn’t even do her the simple courtesy of waiting until spring to ship her off so he could enjoy his new bride. Who was her age, by the by. Did the man have no shame? She was a nice Scottish lass. Not like her mother, who’d been English. Her father hated anyone who wasn’t Scottish and had only married her mother to collect her dowry. Of course, he’d only been proven right when her mother hadn’t supplied a son but only one half English daughter.
She looked at the man who’d rescued her. She supposed she should be grateful but he’d had that same expression when he looked at her that her father always seemed to wear. Lip curled, brow furrowed as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Why did he have to judge her so harshly, whoever he was? It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t swim. That she was petrified of the water. If anything, her father was to blame for that too.
Anger bubbled inside of her as she glared at his back. His rather broad back, she grudgingly noticed as his muscles flexed with the strain of rowing. He wore only a shirt that the driving rain had saturated so that it clung him revealing every bulging muscle.
She forced her breathing to calm as the dingy scraped against the side of the ship.
“I’ll go first,” he called to the other oarsmen.
The man nodded. “Very good, Captain Sinclair.”
Without warning, Sinclair plucked her up again and began climbing the built in ladder up to the deck. She clung to him as he climbed, her hands clutched about his neck, but he seemed to not to even notice her weight.
When they reached the deck, he dropped her as suddenly as he’d picked her up, and not expecting it, she didn’t get her feet under her and collapsed to the boards. “Ouch,” she cried as her elbow hit the wood. “That hurt.”
Sinclair gave the look again, the one like her father’s only he added an eye roll. “I beg yer pardon. There are nine other people to save but let me spend more time carefully setting ye down.”
She let out a loud huff of frustration. “You’ve not time to let me get my feet under me but you’ve all the time in the world to hand out a lecture,” she snapped back, pulling herself off the ground.
Several men coughed behind her, as the lines in his face deepened. “Get them below deck,” he bellowed then turned his back to her to help Mary up from the ladder.
Slowly rising to standing, she held her arms out to Mary as the other woman stumbled into her embrace. Clinging to her companion and friend, she followed one of the sailors toward a hatch. Sinclair was still bellowing orders, and Bridget let out another breath, loudly exhaling from her chest. She knew his type and she didn’t like him. Not one bit.
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A Laird to Love
Christmastide with my Captain
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Heart of a Highlander
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About the Author
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Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.
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Kilted Sin: Brethren of Stone Page 11
