“I was afraid for your safety. What happened out there?”
“Nothing,” she said, swallowing and hoping the sudden flush in her cheeks didn’t show. Compared to her encounter with the brigand, this exchange was lifeless, and worse than lifeless. She felt a fleeting sorrow that he’d had to leave – at least he amused her, but all this man did was to offend her badly.
“I thought I heard you talking?”
She raised a brow. “It was a rag man,” she said. “I just told him we had nothing to sell, or to give.” She felt annoyed – how dare he suggest she was holding some information back!
“Ah. I see.”
Seonaid took a seat, noticing how her father looked from her to Westford and back, as if he was scared they might argue.
She sighed. “We have apples for baking, if you would care for another course?”
The captain smiled thinly. “You feed us well, Miss McCarrick. But no – we are seafaring men and accustomed to hardship.” He smiled indulgently at her father, and Seonaid felt color rush to her cheeks. She felt as if she was being treated like a child, shouldered out of the adult conversation.
“Since nobody wants anything more to eat, perhaps I can be excused?”
Her father frowned at her. “Are you unwell, child?”
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “Just tired. The watchmen woke me up last night with all that rumpus.”
She pushed away her chair. Her father didn’t try to argue, just watched her sadly as she walked into the hall. As she left, she heard him murmur to their guest. “She’s alright – just weary, and I think she might have caught a winter chill.”
“I see. No matter,” the captain murmured.
Seonaid walked upstairs, feeling bitterly hurt. It was silly and she knew it, but she felt as if her father and the captain had banded against her.
“Stop being a silly lass,” she snapped at her reflection. “It’s your job to do your duty, and you should thank Father for finding such a fine man to keep an eye out for ye.”
She took the linen band away and let her hair fall freely about her face, lifting her comb. As she brushed it out, she thought about the brigand and the conversation they had earlier.
He talked to me, like an equal. Not like a servant.
She couldn’t help but compare the way the brigand was to the diffident but strangely insulting way the captain spoke to her. It made her feel like she was being chosen to swab the decks. How soon did you learn to cook? Do you mend clothes?
“No – I’m a person,” she swore. “Not a clothes press.”
She heard a tentative knock at the door and spun round. “Hello?”
“Daughter.” Her father smiled at her as she opened the door. “Are you busy? I wanted to check on you – you seem upset.”
She sighed. “Sorry, Father. I really am tired. Those watchmen and their nonsense. They woke me up.” She made a face and he smiled.
“I heard less around my side of the house. But that really is the matter?” his blue eyes crinkled at the edges with care.
She nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
“You don’t have tae see Westford, ye ken,” he said sadly. “I just…when I’m away at sea, it’d be a right comfort tae know that you’re safe, and have somebody tae keep an eye over you.”
She nodded. “Yes, Papa. You make me feel like a catch of fish, you know. You need a lad to keep an eye out to keep the gulls from stealing it.”
He laughed. “That wasn’t my intention, lass. You know what I mean.”
She saw real worry in his eyes and nodded gently. “Yes, Father. I ken. And, well…Westford’s not a bad sort. Just serious. But there are worse things.”
“Aye,” her father nodded. “There are.”
After he’d gone, Seonaid leaned on the narrow windowsill, staring out over the mist-filled streets. From her window she could see the outline of thatched roofs and, in the dark distance, a wavering line that was the horizon across the sea.
“I wonder what’s out there?”
It was strange, to imagine a world out there where the margins of the ocean met the sky. In all this world, surely there was more to life than simply darning Westford’s socks and cooking for him in the few weeks he was on shore leave?
“Maybe there isn’t.”
She tried to feel resigned to it, but she couldn’t help the fact that her mind kept wandering back to the brigand and the strange fact that he kept on coming back to the house.
Feeling restless, she stepped out into the street. Mayhap a walk along the quay would clear her head.
She was walking past the inn when she caught sight of a tall man leaning in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes and stared, heart thumping.
Who is that?
She could swear the man was the brigand she’d thrown out of town. She went around the corner, then looked back. Her heart thudded faster as the man turned around. It was him! She watched as he looked about the street, then ducked into the inn.
“What’s he doing there?”
Curiosity outweighing her sense of danger, she headed swiftly back into the inn. It was not the safest place for women on their own, but Miss McCarrick was known around the docks, and the men who knew her and her father would defend her unto death.
“A pint of ale,” the man was saying as she slipped into the taproom. He was seated at a table by the window, the oil lamp spreading a ruddy glow over his features. It was a dark day, and the lamps spread greasy smoke and orange brightness around the dark wood-paneled room.
Seonaid leaned back against the wall as the innkeeper went briskly past. He knew her and she didn’t want to be spotted here – the rumpus that would ensue would ruin her plans to watch in secret.
Stepping back into the alcove by the door, she stood and watched undetected.
“Thanks,” the man grunted. He lifted the tankard of ale and took a big mouthful, then leaned back in his chair and surveyed the tap room. Seonaid frowned. She had thought he was here to get drunk, but he seemed quite alert. After his first swig, he didn’t touch the ale. The inn was filling up as the sailors came in for a late lunch or early supper, and she saw him watching them keenly.
What are you all about?
Seonaid’s curiosity was engaged now and she couldn’t look away. As she watched, she saw him lean in, eyes narrowed, as two sailors talked, noisily, about their recent voyage.
“And the French docks! Now that were a sight for sore eyes.”
“Aye. All them warships,” the second sailor agreed, wiping his mouth flamboyantly with the back of his hand.
She glanced back to the man at the table and saw his eyes widen and then narrow. He seemed to be very interested in their discussion.
Unable to stop herself, Seonaid stepped out of the alcove. She was unaware that she had done so.
A hand descended on her wrist. She froze.
“Unhand me,” she hissed. She was looking down into the brigand’s black eyes.
He smiled. “What were you doing? Why’re ye watching?”
Her glare intensified. “I was coming to the inn to visit my friend,” she said. “I have every right.”
He shrugged. “I did not say you hadn’t.”
She tensed. Pointedly, she looked at his hand, which was still fastened onto her wrist.
He let her go. She whirled around, and was about to stalk out of the inn, maybe to call the innkeeper and have this miscreant bodily thrown into the ocean – when she stopped.
“I would like to ask you the same question,” she said.
He raised a brow. “What question, then?”
“What were you doing here? Spying on people?”
He flushed. His expression twisted into something unpleasant. She tensed, ready to run. Something kept her in place – some sort of curiosity, she guessed.
“I cannot tell ye.”
“Oh.”
She felt him soften, as if something in her manner had reassured him. She watched the play of light change on his features as his scowl
melted away, becoming almost genial.
“Lass, if I could tell anybody, I’d ask ye for help. We could do with more like ye.”
She raised a brow. Her heart thumped. That was a compliment of the scale she couldn’t imagine! So much for Westford’s bland appraisals of her. This man was willing to make her a participant in his ill-planned-out rebellion.
“Sir,” she said. “I hope ye can trust me.”
His eyes held hers. She felt as if he was reading something deep in her soul. Then his shoulders slumped. He laughed.
“Though I could not say why, I do trust ye.”
She smiled.
“Well?” she asked.
He grinned at her. His one brow raised – a challenge as much as it was an invitation. “So?” he said. “Will ye join me while we sup?”
She felt her heart thump in her chest. She knew her father would be worried, but this was an opportunity she couldn’t simply ignore.
“I will join ye for small ale,” she said boldly.
He grinned. “Well, then,” he said.
She nodded, sitting on the stool across from him. “Well, then,” she said. “If you can, mayhap ye can tell me about this venture you’re pursuing.”
CONFIDING AND CONVERSING
Everett looked at Miss McCarrick, totally amazed. It didn’t seem possible that she was here, sitting in the chair opposite him!
“Um…do they offer boiled ale?” he asked nervously. It was a rather rough inn, and he was surprised they would serve something so mild. Ale, boiled so it contained no alcohol, seemed far too normal for this inn.
She grinned. “As it happens, I do know the innkeeper and his wife. If I ask for boiled ale, they’ll make it.”
He inclined his head, impressed. “You’re well-known, it seems.”
She grinned. When she was pleased, her smile stole his breath. Her eyes, crinkled at the edge, shone as if with an inner light. He caught his breath, looking sharply away before his response got too much to control.
“I suppose,” she said.
“You suppose?” he reached for his ale, wanting to swig it to calm his brain. He also didn’t want to get drunk – he didn’t want to make a fool of himself! He let his hand fall back to his side.
“Ah. Mr. Lennox. Small ale?”
The innkeeper nodded and grinned and Everett watched him leave, feeling impressed.
“You really do know everyone,” he observed.
She grinned again, cheerfully. “It is handy.”
He nodded. Having her so close to him was having a marvelous effect on his body. Under the table, he felt her boot nudge his. He looked sharply away, lest his expression betray his thoughts.
“Distracted?” she chuckled.
He went red. “Not really.”
She laughed and he looked back at her, flushing red. He tried to scowl, but it was impossible and he laughed instead.
“Lass,” he sighed. “It’s good to see ye in this place.”
“Don’t count yourself special,” she said sharply. Her eyes narrowed.
He nodded. “Alright, then.”
Their eyes held and he saw in her look that she wasn’t as vexed as she’d seemed. His loins were sore.
I never felt like this 'afore, not for a stranger.
He might have traveled to all sorts of distant lands, but he had not met a woman who affected him so profoundly. He was desperate to get to know her better, to not vex her now that he had this one big chance to speak with her without anybody to listen.
“You had guests?” he asked.
She shot him a look. “My guests are my concern.”
He swallowed his ale, feeling his heart thump with nerves. “Aye.”
She smiled as her ale arrived and sipped some. Her lips were wet where they rested on the tankard’s lip, and he felt his body respond painfully to it.
“My father and I dine together as often as we can,” she said.
“He’s a sea captain, aye? Must be away often.”
“And it’s no one’s business save his and mine when he’s away at sea,” she interjected.
He looked at his hands. “Miss, I meant no offense.”
She sighed. “I know. I think I’ve just had a difficult morning.”
“What happened, lass?”
She drank a big mouthful of ale. He looked away this time, so not to be distracted by the delicious sight of her with moist lips. He longed to lean across the table and put his tongue into that sweet warm harbor.
She sighed. “Let’s just say guests can be difficult.”
“Difficult?”
“Don’t ask too many questions.” She gave him a challenging look.
He laughed. “Aye, lass. Point taken.” He took another sip of his ale.
“My father keeps company that is…suitable to introduce to young ladies,” she said in a strange sounding way.
He raised a brow. “Well? Is that not good?”
She shot him a bland glance. “Do I look like a run-of-the-mill sailor’s daughter?”
He laughed. “Not even slightly.”
She slapped her knee. “Thank you,” she said. “I think,” she added.
He chuckled. “Trust me, it was complimentary.”
They both laughed. “Tell me about your visit,” she said.
“My visit?”
“Yes. I think you’re not just here to see the sights?” she challenged. “Besides the church and the lighthouse, there’s nothing to bring a landlubber to Leith.”
“A landlubber?” he asked. He felt somewhat affronted. “What makes you think that?”
“Oh.” She went pink. He had the very real pleasure of seeing her blush, which she did – spectacularly. “You sail?”
He smiled. “I did. Once. Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“I got sensible.”
They both laughed. She dabbed her cheek with her napkin. “You were born here?”
“I was born inland,” he said. “About as far in as ye can get, and not actually be inside a mine shaft.”
She chuckled. “Really? Where?”
“In the Highlands.”
“Really?” she was staring now. “Ye dinnae sound like it.”
He chuckled lightly. “I spent so long at sea, lass. I had to learn tae speak with Lowlanders, or stay mute forever.”
She laughed. “Well, you did.”
“Aye.” He felt sparks flare as he looked into her bright eyes. “I did. And you?”
“Me?” she frowned. “What about me?”
“Were you born here?” he asked. “Or on a ship?”
She shot him a look. “Lasses aren’t allowed on ships,” she said. “It’s bad luck.”
“I suppose so,” he murmured. “That’s sad.”
“My father took me once,” she confided. “Though he made sure I was below decks most times.”
“That’s no fun.”
He was surprised when her eyes met his and held and a slow smile spread over her. “That sounds like what I said, when I went.”
He grinned. “Ye should have heard me, first time I was on a boat,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t stop hollering until one of the sailors agreed to take me up the mast. I wished he hadn’t, after a minute.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t want to go up there.”
He shuddered, remembering. “Neither would I,” he agreed. “It’s the one thing I always skive off.”
“If you can.”
“Whenever I can, aye.”
They laughed. Outside, a church bell chimed loudly.
“Curse it,” she swore. He raised a brow. She flushed red. “Apologies.”
“I heard far worse.”
She laughed. “My father would have words.”
He nodded. “I suppose he would. My father would have had some words for me, too, if he heard me swearing.”
She made a face. “It’s worse if you’re a lass.”
“Aye,” he frowned. “It’s a rare pity.”
She laughed. “That’s refreshing.”
“It is?”
“Yes.” She stood and he found himself standing too. “I have to go,” she sighed.
“Can I walk with ye?” he offered. “The fog’s down and it’s dark about.”
She raised a brow. “That’s kind of ye.”
He grinned. “No, it’s selfish of me. But I’m glad you’ll let me escort ye home.”
She smiled and he felt his breath catch in his throat. When she smiled like that, she was absolutely stunning.
“Let me get my cloak,” he said, then turned bright red as he stumbled over her foot and made a grab for the cloak before he fell over.
She covered her lips with her hand and giggled. “Sorry,” she said, as he turned around, his face still suffused with red. “It was funny, though.”
He nodded shyly. “I suppose it was. I don’t know why my legs forgot how to walk on land suddenly.”
She smiled and her eyes twinkled happily. “No harm done.”
He stood back as she walked down the steps, waving cheerfully to the innkeeper and his wife. He reached into his pocket for the price of the ale and slapped two coins down on the counter, hoping it would be enough. The innkeeper regarded him expressionlessly and he turned swiftly away.
“You’re well known in this town,” he said.
She raised a brow. “Just here at the docks. I reckon they all got used to me following my father about.”
He chuckled. “I reckon most of the lads would break my neck.”
“Why?”
He went red. “Because they’re seeing me walking here wi’ you.”
She stared at him and he was surprised when she blushed, too. It was such a lovely expression that he had to clench his hand to resist the urge to take hers in his.
“We should hurry,” she whispered.
“Aye.”
They were walking back along the quay when she slipped. He heard her give a startled cry and he reached for her hand. She grabbed his and he pulled her upright. Her eyes went wide as she stared at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He coughed. “It were nothing.”
She flushed. “You stopped me from getting soaked,” she said shyly. “If I’d fallen, I could have landed in the surf.”
“I’d save ye,” he said.
The Highlander’s Passion (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 3) Page 5
