The Pirate's Temptation (Pirates of Britannia World Book 12)

by Tara Kingston

  “Evidently, there has been some mistake,” Leana said, holding her voice steady with some effort, even as her knees wobbled.

  “Aye, ye’ll get no argument from me—the mistake was that I trusted ye. Now, do ye care to tell me who the hell ye really are?”

  Miss Abernathy fanned herself with her lace-gloved hand. “Really, Captain, there’s no call for such language.”

  His scowl silenced the woman. “I’ll ask ye to leave this room. I need a few moments with Miss Fraser. Rory, will ye see Miss Abernathy to the parlor?”

  With a nod, Rory escorted the woman from the room. As the door closed behind him, Jamie pinned Leana with a dagger-filled glare.

  “Who are ye? And why did ye come here?”

  Pain lanced her heart. After what they’d shared the night before, after the way he’d touched her, the way he’d loved her, how could he look at her like that—as if she were a guttersnipe who’d invaded his home?

  “You know my name. And you know why I am here.”

  She spied the letter of reference she’d presented on his desk. Oh, dear. He snatched it up. “I had my doubts about this letter when ye first arrived. Now I see I was a fool to cast them aside. The director of the agency didn’t write this, did she?”

  Leana moistened her lips, stalling for time. “Actually, Mrs. Kirk did write the letter.”

  “But not about you.” He pointed to her name, emphasizing the slight difference in penmanship compared to the remainder of the missive.

  “Yes. That’s true.” The words tasted like bile on her tongue.

  Jamie leaned closer, his voice low and raw. “Why did ye forge this letter?”

  “I wanted the position,” she said, omitting perhaps the most crucial part of the truth.

  “Do ye think me a fool?” He tossed the letter back on his desk. “Who sent ye here?”

  “No one,” she said. “I needed a position. I wanted to settle as far away from the city as I could manage.”

  Jamie scowled. Rory returned, his movements so quiet she doubted his brother had noticed.

  “Ye expect me to believe that?” Jamie’s husky rasp was bitter with distrust. “How did ye come to possess this letter? Am I to believe ye convinced Mrs. Kirk to hand it over to ye?”

  “Bluidy hell, Jamie—ye canna possibly think one of the Lachlands sent her here,” Rory protested. “For God’s sake, she’s not a spy.”

  “At this point, I dinna know who she is. Only two things are certain—she lied to me, and I was fool enough to trust her.”

  Stiffening her spine, she met his heated words head on. “I did steal the letter. I assure you, there was nothing malicious about my motives. I needed a place to go. I needed to get away, and I thought I’d be safe here, in this castle on the edge of nowhere.” Leana held his gaze, reading the distrust and the pain. How could he believe she’d come there for some nefarious purpose? “But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  “Ye made a fool out of me. I trusted ye with my children. I trusted ye.”

  “There’s no need to go on, Captain MacArron. I know what I must do.” Leana choked back the rush of emotion threatening her composure. “I trust you will provide transportation to Inverness.”

  “Consider it done.” He shot Rory a glance. “My brother will see ye back to the city. I expect ye to depart at first light. In the meantime, I’ll ask ye to keep to yer room. I’ll have Mrs. Taylor send up yer evening meal.”

  “I would like a few moments to say goodbye to the girls.”

  A cold, cutting ruthlessness gleamed in Jamie’s eyes. She saw then why he’d been dubbed the Devil of the Highlands.

  “Absolutely not. I will inform them of yer departure in the morning. There’s no sense upsetting them now.”

  Misery seared her throat. “But Isla—she’ll think I left of my own accord. I did not want to hurt them.”

  He shook his head. “Ye should’ve considered that before ye lied to them. And to me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That was bluidy harsh. Ye dinna need to be cruel to the lass.” Rory shot Jamie a scowl. “She meant no harm. Shouldn’t ye at least find out why she lied?”

  “It’s not yer damned concern.” Jamie poured a shot of whisky and downed it in one gulp.

  “The brave lass was tryin’ not to weep.”

  “Bah, she’s got ye wrapped around her little finger,” Jamie said. The irony of his words was not lost on him. He stared down at the bottle, debating another shot. No, he needed to keep his wits about him. Soon, he’d have two young daughters wondering why the governess they adored had retreated to her room, leaving them in the care of a dour-faced stranger who looked as if a laugh—or a smile, for that matter—would be as rare an occurrence as a blasted blue moon.

  “Speak for yerself, brother.” Rory went to the door. “I’m goin’ into town. I’d rather be in the company of the tavern drunks than here.”

  “Would ye have me keep her on…a lass who lies through her teeth?”

  “Ye’re a damned fool to send her away without knowin’ the whole truth, but I suspect ye already know that.”

  With that, Rory left, the sound of his boot heels heavy against the floor.

  Damnation. I should’ve followed my gut from the first.

  I should’ve known better than to trust her.

  Jamie settled into a chair by the hearth, focusing his thoughts on the upcoming voyage.

  Mrs. Taylor rapped at the door, her mouth drawn into an apprehensive line. “Ye’ve got another visitor, Captain. Mr. Howell is here to see ye.”

  “Bugger it,” Jamie muttered under his breath. “Send him in.”

  Howell rushed into the room. “Captain, there’s been an incident.”

  His patience frayed, he shot the man a glare. “An incident? Do ye care to tell me what the hell ye’re talking about?”

  “All hell is breaking loose at the dock. Thieves attempted to board the Highland Sorceress. We’d just loaded a shipment of whisky. It looks like the bastards were after it. But McKown…he’s been hurt.”

  An invisible fist plunged into Jamie’s gut. “What’s happened to him?”

  “One of the intruders got him with a dirk. The physician thinks he’ll make it, but it’s an ugly wound. We hauled the vermin who did it to the jail, but we need at the docks.”

  “Aye. I’ll ask ye to stay here with the women and my girls.”

  Howell motioned to the gun at his hip. “I’ll watch over them, Captain.”

  Jamie’s thoughts went to his daughters. He wasn’t about to leave the girls in the care of a woman they didn’t even know. He turned to Mrs. Taylor, who’d made no attempt to hide the fact she’d been listening at the door.

  “I’ll watch over the wee ones,” she volunteered. “Of course, ye do have a governess who cares about your children still in residence. What would be the harm in it?”

  Blast it, the fates were conspiring against him. Before long, his daughters would wield their most powerful weapon—tears.

  “I trust ye will use yer best judgment, Mrs. Taylor. I expect I’ll be back after midnight.”

  “Do take care, Captain,” she urged.

  “Dinna worry over me. It’s McKown who needs yer prayers.”

  Goodness, you’re made of sterner stuff than this. Leana brushed a tear from her cheek, then tucked one of her skirts inside her traveling bag. Swiping at another rebellious teardrop, she looked into the nearly empty wardrobe. In only ten days, this place had become her home. But now that time had nearly come to an end. Soon after first light, she’d be on her way to an unknown future. Would Lord Gilford discover she’d returned to the city?

  She sighed. Somehow, the ache in her heart overruled the worry. If the earl came after her, she’d take of herself. She would find a way to survive.

  Reaching into the armoire, she removed a shirtwaist, folded the garment, and placed it in the carpetbag.

  A hesitant knock pulled her attention to her door. Isla peeked in, hesitation in
her eyes.

  “Mrs. Taylor said ye’re not feelin’ well. I wanted to come and make sure ye’re all right.”

  “I’m fine, dear,” Leana said, despite the pain of knowing she’d soon be gone. “I’ve developed a megrim, that’s all.”

  “Then ye willna mind Bridget comin’ in to see ye too,” the girl said with a faint smile. “She wanted to dance, but Miss Abernathy wouldna let her. Why is that cross old woman here?”

  “To assist with your instruction,” Leana said, not quite the full truth.

  “Well, I dinna like her. Not one bit.” Isla folded her arms, looking very much like her father when he was cross.

  “Do give her a fair chance. She’s come a long way to be with you.”

  “I dinna understand why—” Isla broke off the thought, moving toward the wardrobe as if she were suddenly transfixed.

  “Is something wrong?”

  The girl shook her head. “I…I remember.” She ran her fingertips over the door, over the louvers that allowed fragments of light into the cabinet.

  Oh, dear. Is this the cabinet where the girls’ mother hid her children?

  Isla’s gaze wandered to Leana’s traveling case. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Ye’re leaving us?”

  “Most likely,” she replied, steadying herself against another ache in her heart.

  Isla’s eyes darkened like a sea during a storm. “I knew ye would. They all do.”

  Taking Bridget by the hand, she dashed from the room. Leana hurried after her.

  “Isla, it isn’t because I want to go. It’s…well, I did something I should not have done. I was not honest with your father. But believe me when I tell you, I do not want to leave you.”

  “But you will. You’ll leave us with that miserable—”

  Like a cry snatched from a nightmare, a high-pitched scream rang out, followed by a gunshot. Then another. The girls huddled close, holding onto Leana’s skirts, their eyes wide with terror—terror she shared.

  Leana’s heart raced. God in heaven, who was there?

  Had they come after Jamie?

  Or had they lured him away with the attack on his ship?

  A terrible foreboding swept over her. Dear Lord, they’ve come for the children.

  “What’s happening?” Isla whispered.

  “I don’t know, dear. But I will keep you safe.”

  Leana rushed them back through the door to her room and turned the key in the lock. Her gaze darted about the room as she searched for a weapon. Something. Anything.

  I must protect the girls.

  She bit her lip. Fighting off the intruders would not work. She might delay their evil intent. But she wouldn’t defeat them.

  I must outwit them.

  If she could convince the blackguards there was something in this place of greater value to the captain than his children, she could save them.

  Leana pulled the girls close. “We’re going to hide. Come with me. Tiptoe.”

  She ushered them to the wardrobe. “Promise me that whatever happens, you will not cry out. You must not leave this cabinet.”

  Isla shook her head as Bridget whimpered against Leana. “But…what about you?”

  “I’ll hide under the bed,” Leana reassured her, even as she knew she wouldn’t conceal her presence. She had to distract the intruders from searching the wardrobe. “Now, get in there. Your sister needs you.”

  With a resolute little nod, Isla laced her fingers with Bridget’s smaller ones and led her into the chest.

  “Be brave, girls. No matter what happens, do not make a sound.”

  She closed the wardrobe, then dragged a chair to the entry door and shoved it beneath the latch. Beyond the chamber, the thud of footsteps pounded down the hall. Doors were opened and slammed shut. Whoever was there was searching. For something. Or someone.

  Feverish with desperation, she combed the room again for a weapon, anything she might use to deter the intruders. She tested the weight of the silver candlestick in her hand. With enough force, it could serve as an effective bludgeon.

  The door to Isla’s room creaked open, then crashed shut a few moments later. The footsteps stopped, just beyond her chamber.

  The latch jiggled.

  A thundering kick splintered the door. An arm reached through, shoving aside the chair she’d used to brace the door. Silently praying for courage, she slammed the candlestick against the intruder’s hand.

  The foulest of curses bellowed from the bastard’s mouth. Again, she raised the makeshift weapon, bringing it down hard on his forearm.

  “Ye’ll pay for that, ye bitch,” the intruder bellowed. The fury in his threat chilled her to the bone.

  The door crashed open. A towering brute of a man with a shock of pale blond hair burst through the portal. He snatched the bludgeon from her hand, blocking her path while another man, smaller in stature and slighter in size, strolled in. With his neatly combed brown hair, trousers, and waistcoat, he might’ve been any other well-dressed gentleman.

  His silver-gray eyes narrowed as he took her in. “You’ve got spirit. I’d be lying if I said I liked that in a woman.” His tone was cool, his pronunciation unlike any Scot she’d ever heard—English, most likely. Adjusting his necktie as if he’d arrived for a casual meeting, he glanced around the room. “Where are they?”

  “Captain MacArron is not here,” she replied.

  The gray-eyed man came toward her, the menace in his gaze triggering a fresh wave of fear. “His brats…where are they?”

  She steadied her voice. “He sent the children away.”

  The intruder hiked a skeptical brow. “Their shrieking fool of a governess claimed they were here.”

  “Governess?” Leana feigned surprise. “I am the children’s governess.”

  “One of you is lying.” He shot his foul-smelling partner a look. “Eddie, search this place.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” she stalled as her mind raced. If the men searched the room, they’d find the girls.

  She couldn’t allow that to happen, no matter the cost.

  He ran his fingertips along the curve of her face. “Who are you? You don’t look like a governess to me.”

  Desperate, she offered up a lure to keep their attention firmly on her. Pointing to her packed carpetbag, she gulped against her revulsion and offered a smile. “I’ve recently accepted Captain MacArron’s proposal to become…something more.”

  His other brow lifted. “Something more, eh?”

  “I’m sure you take my meaning.” She had to make the intruders think she had worth to Jamie, had to convince them he’d pay a ransom to save her. “I’ve no desire to cater to another woman’s brats for the rest of my days. The captain and I are to be married, but I certainly do not intend to take his hellions on my honeymoon. He loaded them on a train to Edinburgh this morning. Their grandparents can deal with the brats while I settle into my new role.”

  The injured man rustled her things about, his paw-like fingers tugging out one of her unmentionables and dangling it like a curiosity. “She might be tellin’ the truth. She’s packed her bag, all right.”

  The gray-eyed man clamped a hand over her arm, digging in his fingers until she winced in pain. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  A lump settled in her throat, dry as if she’d choked down raw cotton, but she swallowed hard against it and found her voice.

  “Do I look like a fool?” She pulled in a breath. “I heard the commotion downstairs. I thought you were thieves. Take whatever you came to steal and go.”

  His gaze went to the candlestick that bore his partner’s blood, and he flashed an ugly parody of a smile. “We’re not after the captain’s silver.”

  Leana’s heart thundered against her ribs. She knew what they’d come for. And damned if she’d let the brutes get to the defenseless children.

  “If you’re looking for jewels, I have only this,” she said, drawing nearer to the intruder. “The captain gave me this ring when
I promised to marry him.”

  He caught her hand in his, staring down at the ruby ring on her finger. His eyes shone with malice. “You’re his woman? Do not lie to me.”

  She met his cold gaze. “What reason would I have to deceive you?”

  His bony fingers snaked through her hair. Leana bit back a cry of revulsion. She had to stay strong. She had to keep the intruders from getting their foul hands on the children.

  The man shot his partner a look. “Well, well, this might be a stroke of luck after all. What’d you say? MacArron will come after her. After we’re done with her, she’ll fetch a fortune on the market.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Bluidy hell, what happened?”

  Rory’s anguished question sounded an alarm. Jamie rushed to the drawing room. He came upon a hellish scene. Near the door, a man he’d never before laid eyes on lay face down on the carpet, his blood staining the rug, Miss Abernathy huddled in a corner chair, hunched over her knees, quietly weeping.

  By the fireplace, Mrs. Taylor kneeled by Howell, who lay unconscious and deathly pale. She’d fashioned a bandage around his chest. He stirred with a low moan, but did not open his eyes. Rory hunkered down by his side.

  “He’s hurt badly, by the looks of it.”

  “Summon a physician. Now.” Jamie forced himself to rein in his emotions. “Mrs. Taylor, tell me what happened.”

  “Intruders came,” she said, choking back a sob. “We tried to stop them. Mr. Howell shot one of them…he killed the bastard.”

  Fear unlike any he’d felt since the night Siobhan was murdered washed over him, a chill as if a phantom had walked through him. “My girls…where are they?”

  “I can’t find them,” Mrs. Davidson said as she entered through an adjoining door. “They must be hiding.”

  Jamie’s pulse thundered in his ears. He’d faced down enemies who’d wanted to gut him, but never had such pure fear filled his veins. “Ye’re sure they’re here?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Those blackguards didn’t get to them. Miss Fraser made sure of that.”