“Aye, Captain.”
All he’d heard out of their mouths was “Aye, Captain” and he was damn sick of it.
He spat and left the deck.
The cabin provided the only peaceful area on the ship. Peace in a bottle of brandy. Just as he poured, Amit entered and stood at the doorway.
“What?”
The mate stood there with the damn unreadable look on his face. What an arse.
“The lady is gone.”
He stood and moved toward the bank of windows. He closed his eyes as memories of Faith before the glass came to him. “We shall reach Ross territory within a fortnight. Then we’ll approach the magistrate and offer the funds we have.”
A tidy sum, to be sure. Would it be enough? What if Magistrate Paddy demanded more? The uncertainty plagued him.
“Will you admit you miss the lady?” Amit pressed.
He threw the decanter against the wall. “Stop calling her ‘the lady’.”
His darling. His beautiful, bow-wielding darling.
He clenched his fist at the thought of her leaving his ship.
Leaving him.
He’d lived his life alone since his mother’s death until he’d met Dougal and decided to secure a ship and set sail.
No matter the fact he’d picked up the crew with the eye of a sympathetic man. None of them suited for life on a ship, but in the end, ship life helped them survive.
Each man relied on him, trusted him. Thinking back to each and every encounter with his crew, he realized they were a family of sorts, a group of men who’d taken blows through their lives and survived because of their place in his crew.
And his father would realize he could trust and rely on him, just as his crew did. Because he would give him back the estate, even if he had to die trying. ’Twas family honor and legacy at stake.
“Put your anger toward the magistrate,” Amit advised. He picked up the bigger pieces of glass from the floor, tsking as he did so. “’Twas a lovely decanter, Captain.”
He scoffed and leaned back in the chair. “I should have let you drown.”
Amit chuckled and shook his head. “So you have said—several times.”
“Bastard.”
“Aye, you’ve also said that several times.”
Amit found another decanter and set it upon the desk. “Don’t break this one.”
If he could, he’d throw a hundred decanters against the wall. If he could, he’d tell Faith he wanted her to stay.
More importantly, he wished back the look, the look of a person’s soul crushed by his thoughtless actions and words.
“Do not be so hard on yourself, Captain. The lady was more than we expected.” He paused at the doorway and pinned him with his cool gaze. “People come into our lives. People leave us—’tis the way of it and there is nothing we can do.”
When his mate left the cabin, he poured more brandy and thought about Amit’s words. The man had spoken of his family—how he’d been ripped from his family and forced to work for the English. And when they’d returned to Amit’s homeland, they found his family had perished in a fire. Even now, he heard the animal-like keening as Amit had crumpled onto the ground and wept as no one had wept before. Not even his father had reacted as such when his wife and son had died.
When they’d left India, Amit changed into a broken, surly man. Only recently had he begun to show a hint of humor, a bit of his old self. He wondered if his father would be the same, or if he’d mellowed and missed him.
He prayed so, for he felt as if he’d given up a part of himself in order to secure the ransom and save his family.
And mayhap save himself.
~ ~ ~
She was going mad.
Everywhere she turned someone asked how she fared, if she needed anything, could they fetch her a tart or ale. Bah, such an annoyance.
She grabbed her quiver and bow and headed toward the gate at the palisade.
“No’ so fast, Lady Faith.” Duncan moved before her and held up a hand to stop her. “The Lairds said no’ to leave the keep without an armed escort.”
“Get out of my way.” She shifted around him, but he whistled and several more clansmen stood in her path.
Three brawny Highlanders stood with arms crossed.
Faith paced to them and looked each one of them in the eye. “I can look after myself.”
Smiles crept onto their faces, damn them.
Duncan laughed outright.
Bloody men. She turned and strode away.
Her sister would hear of this. They were supposed to support each other, be there for the clan and now she made Faith a prisoner.
Remember, lasses. Through Hope, Faith, and Honor, ye can rule.
If only her father could see the happenings at Wild Thistle. If he knew her sister kept her prisoner, much like Captain Ross on the Blue Boy, he’d rumble and roar. And then her mother would soothe him with sweet words and a tumbler or two.
Since her parents were no longer with them, she’d have to solve her own problems, which meant confronting Hope about her orders.
She headed to the laird’s chamber, knowing Hope and Aidan were most likely holding council. If the clansmen could bring their grievances to the lairds, why couldn’t she? The idea of being a prisoner in her own keep prodded her to trot up the stairs.
As she rounded the corner and paced down the hall, she realized she hadn’t felt like a prisoner on the ship. To be honest, being on the ship had made her feel alive. Just as she’d felt when hunting in the wood.
The spray of the waves, the brine scent in the air, the speed in which the Blue Boy cut through the waves as if they were naught but butter.
She missed the crew, being accepted and God help her, she ached for Graeme.
Deep in the pit of her being a sharp pain stabbed at her. She swallowed tears and pushed the door open.
Aidan and Hope sat behind the desk, heads bent in conversation, their intimacy too painful to watch. And their connection obvious in every glance, gesture, and the soft, loving way they spoke to each other. Again she thought about how well the clan had done under their leadership. Regardless, her father had deemed they rule together and that didn’t mean keeping Faith held hostage in the keep. Couldn’t she still serve the clan and follow her heart?
“I want to hunt.” If she didn’t leave the keep soon, she’d go insane. She paced before them wishing for her bow and the dark forest to slip into and disappear for a while.
Her brother-in-law cocked his brow, yet blessedly remained silent.
Hope laughed. “No one is stopping you, sister.”
She tossed her hands in the air. “Aye, the three brutes who blocked my way out of the keep surely stopped me.”
Aidan leaned back in the chair. Well used to the strife between Hope and Faith, he usually stayed neutral. The man loathed discord. Most likely he thought of the training yard and how he had to keep his wife from challenging the men. A problem most men didn’t have, but when one married a MacAlister—’twas a constant issue.
A sore point with the men was how her sister could thwart them in the ring with swords. She almost smiled thinking of their vexed faces after Hope’s last challenge.
Truth be told, Hope had been a fixture in the training ring since their father passed and had trained the men, despite their displeasure. Just as Faith had trained many men to hunt.
Now, she allowed a wry smile. The MacAlister sisters had done their best to lead the clan and in many cases, vexing the elders and the men at the same time.
Her sister rose and came over to her. She grabbed her hands and squeezed. “We just got you back. I want you safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know how to be safe.”
A grin tipped up Hope’s lips, incensin
g her. “Aidan, love. Please leave us a while.”
The ever-patient husband stood. “Be gentle with her,” he said as he kissed his wife. She couldn’t discern if he meant her or Hope. Before she could clarify, he gave a cocky grin and with his arrogant stride left the chamber.
Hope poured tea, stirred in honey when her sister damn well knew she preferred cream. Regardless, she accepted, even though she longed for some of the fine wine Captain Ross offered at evening meal. The conversation with Bram came to her; the laughter and utter peace she’d felt gutting the fish and talking about his adventures warmed her heart. How she’d spoken with each member of the crew and felt as if they were thinking of her as one of their own.
“Why are you grinning?” Hope questioned. She indicated for her to sit.
With a grunt, she complied. “I’m not grinning.”
“Aye, you are.”
“Enough, Hope,” she said with a sigh. “Let me leave the keep.” She stood and knocked over her tea.
“Leave it,” Hope said with a sharp edge to her tone.
She ignored her and scrounged for a rag to mop up the mess. “We were to lead together.”
Her sister scoffed. “When have you ever wanted to help lead?” She stood and frustration flared in her eyes. “All you want to do is leave. Leave Honor and me. Leave the clan. Leave the responsibility Father pledged to us.”
“Nay,” Faith yelled. It wasn’t true. She’d fought hard to hunt for the clan—provide food all because of her father’s pledge.
Hope came close and pointed her finger in her face. “I speak the truth. When Father died, I took charge.” She held up a hand to stop her from speaking. “You were young, I understand. But after mother died? You never stepped forward.”
“I . . . I wanted to, Hope. The only way I could was to hunt.” She fisted her hands at her waist. “It’s all I know.”
“Och, Faith. You are so much more than a huntress.” Hope gripped her shoulders, gazed directly into her eyes. “You teach, you provide, you help in the kitchen. Young lads look up to you—”
She scoffed.
Her sister squeezed harder. “Aye, they do and you ken what else? The young lasses watch you. See what you do, how you provide this clan with fresh meat. They look up to you, Faith.”
She didn’t believe her sister. She’d heard the sneers, the gibes, the outright taunts.
“You are their leader—you and Aidan. They know we are sisters, but Honor and I do not garner the same respect. This is the truth.” She shook off her sister’s hold.
Didn’t Hope see? She’d never be accepted as a leader. She’d always be known as one of the younger sisters. Her heart ached knowing she’d never be able to fulfill her father’s pledge. She rubbed the back of her neck and turned to face her sister.
Eyes shining with tears, her sister opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
“Och, Hope. Just say it. Father’s pledge is for all of us to follow. We have to honor him. Honor mother.”
She nodded. “Aye, but ’tis more than that. Honor and I need you.”
“Who hunted while I was gone?” The question had plagued her and deep down, she’d been afraid to ask.
Hope shrugged. “A few of the men.”
The shrug spoke volumes. Her sister wasn’t stating the entire story. “How many and were they successful?” she demanded.
“They weren’t as good as you, Faith.”
“’Tisn’t an answer.” Silence filled the chamber. She wanted to cover her ears and not listen. But she was no longer a child who could throw a fit. “Tell me.”
Hope set her hands at her waist and watched her for a few moments.
Ropes of tension clutched her muscles.
After a sigh, her sister finally said, “Five men and aye, they brought in plenty of meat.”
So her lessons had worked. Well, in a sense, that made her feel better. But now others replaced her. Just as she feared, she wasn’t needed. Others could provide for the clan and do well.
“I should have stayed.”
Hope walked toward her. “What?”
“My God. Dinnae you see?” She raked her fingers through her hair as her voice grated along her throat in frustration. “I should have stayed with Graeme.”
When she thought back to the day she left his ship, the look he’d bestowed upon her—one filled with loathing—something lingered in his blue eyes and it had taken her until now to see it. He’d been vulnerable and she’d done the exact thing he’d feared. As his mother and father had done to him.
She’d left him.
Hope gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. “Aye, with the man who traded you for a bag of coin.”
Anger whipped through her and she clenched her fists. Hope had never believed she was capable of making her own decisions—think for herself. Graeme had a mission and not once had he harmed her. In fact, he and his men had welcomed her, made her feel as if she were a part of the crew. ’Twas dire circumstances, she recognized, that had prompted him to steal her from her clan. “He had his reason.”
Her sister jerked up her chin. “Aye and did he share his reason? Why, he’s a pirate, Faith. Can’t you see he used you?”
“He didnae use me.” She gritted her teeth and glared at her sister. “You ken nothing.” She strode toward the doorway. “You ken nothing.”
“I know you asked Honor for a draught to help you sleep.”
She stilled. Damn Honor and her loose tongue. “’Tis nothing.”
“Nothing? You can’t sleep because of this man who ripped you from your family.”
She shook her head as tears rushed over her cheeks. “I dinnae sleep because I love him and I fear I have broken his heart.”
She fled the chamber filled with frustration and fury while ignoring her sister calling for her to come back. Leaving the chamber was the normal result of a conversation with Hope.
“I asked you to take it easy on her.”
Aidan leaned against the wall at the end of the hall. He pushed away and she looked up at him. Och, he was a large man. Aye, handsome, to be sure. But arrogant beyond measure. And the way he cocked his brow at her grated her nerves.
“And why would I do that?” she asked as she squared her shoulders. “She does nothing but vex me.”
He came in close and leaned closer yet to her ear. “She loves you,” he said with a gruff voice. “She searched day and night until the foreign man came with the bastard’s demands.” His tone shifted and filled with ire on his wife’s behalf. “Not a moment went by without her worrying about you—even after the foreign man assured us of your safety.”
She ducked her gaze as guilt nudged its way into her heart. “I know what you are saying, Aidan.”
He nodded and headed into the chamber.
She waited a moment and contemplated going to make peace with her sister, but she didn’t. ’Twas the way of things with their relationship.
She knew what she needed to do—somehow she had to get word to Graeme.
In her heart she knew she loved him and she’d break her bow in two if he didn’t love her too.
Chapter 15
“M’laird, yer father isn’t here!”
He shoved past the innkeeper and into his father’s rented rooms. He covered his mouth at the horrid odor befouling the chambers.
Clothing littered the room and empty bottles of whiskey were toppled over the tables.
His father, the Laird of Clan Ross lived in squalor.
“Where the devil is he?”
The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders. “Haven’t seen him in days.”
He nodded toward Dougal. “Ask round, see if we can find where he went.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. P
aperwork littered the desk. Mayhap a clue indicated where his father had gone. After searching the desk and finding nothing, he sat in the chair and gazed out of the window.
Another day nearly gone and his father exiled from his home. He had to find his father—he must.
The sun started to set, its russet hues shining brightly.
All he saw were rays haloing Faith as she pulled back on the bow and readied to release an arrow. Och, he thought as he swallowed, she was a sight to behold.
The sun seemed to kiss each and every curve—caress her golden hair, making it shimmer with golds and hints of browns. The look of sheer joy, a knowing smile, and the twinkle in those striking green eyes conveyed the happiness flowing within her.
And he’d pushed her away.
Pushed her so hard, she’d never want to see him again.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as frustration welled.
His goal—mission was slowly becoming a folly. He had to explain. But too much distance separated them.
“Captain?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Come in, Dougal.”
His mate went to the only full bottle of whiskey, emptied out two glasses, and filled both.
“Drink up, Captain.”
He groaned and accepted the liquor. “Tell me.”
“Weel, it appears yer father has gotten himself in a wee bit of trouble.”
Bollocks.
“What kind of trouble?” He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.
“He’s in the gaol.”
Double bollocks.
“Get the men and meet me at the magistrate’s office.” ’Twas all he needed, but, it ’twould also be an opportune moment to give the magistrate the money to pay his father’s debt.
Now to focus on securing the clan castle.
Satisfaction filled him. Aye, it had taken him longer than he expected to secure the funds, but damn if the adventure along the way wasn’t worth it. At each port, he’d managed to send word to his father and the magistrate, letting them realize he worked to redeem the family legacy. And each port reminded him he was one step closer to completing his task.
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