The Highlander’s Passion (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 3)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “What has that to do with me?” Alec asked again. “If you and your miserable father can’t keep track of your earnings, how am I at fault?”

  “My father isn’t anything of the sort!” Seonaid snapped. Everett could feel her sorrow getting the better of her, and he cleared his throat.

  “You’ve been blackmailing him.”

  “What?” Alec turned to face him. With the bedclothes around him, he still managed to have a savage dignity that daunted Everett. “What makes you say that?”

  “Father told me that he thought you were my only hope,” Seonaid voiced bravely. “He has been concerned about his finances in ways he never was before. And I heard you, at dinner that night. You were deliberately scaring him, speaking about the rival merchants in Edinburgh.”

  “That is no proof of anything.”

  That stumped Everett for a moment. It stumped Seonaid too and she took the books from Everett’s arms, as if planning to search in them, for some solution. She looked around, and Everett felt her feelings as if they were his own. She looked haunted and cornered and…A thought came to him. On the wall of the bedroom was a bookshelf. He went to it.

  “It must be here somewhere,” he said loudly. “The records you kept of what Captain McCarrick actually earned, and how much you stole.” He reached up to the shelf and picked up one of the five leather-bound scripts that stood there. He couldn’t read, and he had no idea what it was. It could have been a Bible! He started paging through it, as if he knew what it meant.

  “Stop that this instant!” Alec sprang out of bed. He grabbed him and they grappled. Everett stood his ground, though the fellow was dangerously close to his wound and he held his breath lest he touch it.

  “Everett! Here!” Seonaid shouted out. “You’re right. I found it!”

  “Good lass,” he breathed. Alec’s grip on his shoulder lessened and he turned, fast as a snake, to face him. He grabbed for the book that Seonaid was holding. Everett stepped in front of her.

  “Run, lass!” he encouraged, as she ran headlong for the stairs.

  “You…you…” Alec was speechless. He was unarmed, though, and Everett, wrestling with him, wished he could get a hold of his dagger. He was taller than Alec, but the man was surprisingly strong. He had every reason to want to get past and get a hold of that book.

  Seonaid was at the foot of the stairs. “Everett!” She screamed. “Run! Leave him.”

  Everett whirled around and, giving an almighty shove, threw Alec off. The man stumbled back into the bookshelf. Everett ran.

  “I’ll have you up for theft!” Alec was shouting. Everett ran, slipped on the stairs and hit into Seonaid, who had opened the front door.

  “Out!” she yelled and, the books clutched in her arms, she ran for the door. Everett followed her, slamming it behind them. Somebody ran into the door on the inside, and he guessed it was Alec.

  “We’ll have to run!” he warned, struggling to hold the door shut from outside, while somebody within put all their strength into pulling it.

  “Everett! Let go!” Seonaid was already at the end of the alley.

  Everett risked letting go and sped around to join her, just as the door banged against the wall and somebody erupted into the street behind them.

  “Here!” Seonaid called, and took his wrist, dragging him into a fetid street, the roofs of the houses so close they shut out the light.

  Everett leaned against the wall, withdrawing as far as he could into the close space. He heard running feet, disappearing into the street ahead of them.

  “Whew.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. Beside him, he could just see enough to see Seonaid’s face. She was smiling.

  “We did it!” she laughed.

  Everett nodded. They had done it. Now, all they needed to do was to take the book to Seonaid’s father, hoping he would see reason, and hope that Alec did not want a fight so badly after all.

  A FIGHT IN THE ALLEY

  Seonaid held the books to her chest and looked up at Everett. They had evidence, now, thanks to his brilliant diversion. Now they would have to go to her father. Logan would be able to help them!

  Together they could construct a case so watertight that they would even be able to take it to the magistrate – or be able to say they would, if Alec did not stop. They had something more precious than gold here – they had a way to free themselves and her father from his grasp forever.

  “Shall we go?” she asked.

  Everett smiled down at her. He was deathly pale, she noticed, and she thought she could smell blood from one of his recent wounds.

  “You must be exhausted.”

  He chuckled. “I reckon that’s true.” He reached for her shoulder. “Lass? Should we find a place to sleep? I mean a proper place?”

  She closed her eyes. A real bed would be very heaven! Yet where could they go? She had no idea.

  “Lass?” Everett whispered. “We could go to your home. We have the proof now, and we have to speak to your father tomorrow, at any rate.”

  Seonaid stared at him. The thought of going anywhere near her father had not even occurred to her. She felt more or less like he’d thrown her out. She didn’t want to see him again.

  “I don’t…” she began.

  “Lass, you’re going to have to see him again anyway,” he said, almost as if he could read her innermost thoughts. “We need to find somewhere to rest, and tend our wounds. And you must be able to get in?”

  “Aye, I have a key,” she whispered.

  “Well, then – he won’t even know we’re in there. And, won’t it be grand to sleep in a bed, eh?”

  Seonaid nodded. The thought made her weary body want to collapse right here. Besides, they needed a safe place and a dry space to hide the books.

  “Very well,” she agreed.

  “That’s grand, lass. Thank you.”

  Seonaid squeezed his fingers fondly and together they ducked out of the alley. She breathed in fresh air, glad to be away from the close, stinking alleyway. She lifted her skirts in one hand to keep the worst of the mud off, looking around cautiously.

  “Shall we go?” Everett asked.

  “We should hurry,” Seonaid whispered.

  They darted across the street where, at the end, Captain Westford’s house stood. Then Seonaid led them to another of the warren of alleyways. She held her breath, trying to dart down the tiny corridor as quickly as possible, without smelling it.

  They reached a wider street.

  “Not too far, now,” she murmured, feeling Everett gripping her bicep. She went left, then straight, then right, the most circuitous way she could think of. Alec would have a hard time following them here!

  On the doorstep, she stopped, heart thudding.

  “Lass?”

  “The kitchen door is on the left.” She gripped the key, passed Everett the precious load of manuscripts.

  “Lass, what is it?”

  “I just don’t want to think about seeing Father again – not yet.”

  “We won’t see him until you want to,” Everett assured her. She drew in a deep breath and went to the door, opening it.

  “I hope not,” was all she said. Together, they blundered through the kitchen to the stairs and up to her bedroom. Seonaid opened the door, acutely aware that her father was nearby and what he would think of her, if he knew. She bit her lip.

  “In here,” she whispered to Everett.

  They collapsed on the bed together. Seonaid was exhausted and so, she thought, was Everett, because they had barely been lying there a second before they fell asleep.

  The next morning, Seonaid awoke to the sound of a cart rumbling across the cobbles. She shot up in bed, waking Everett, who sat up with alarm.

  “We should go downstairs,” she murmured.

  “Yes.”

  Everett, running a hand through his tangled hair, followed her down into the kitchen. Seonaid stopped dead.

  “Daughter. I thought…” her father murmured. “I thought
you’d left the town.”

  Seonaid stared at him in shock. His hair was loose about his shoulders, unbrushed and unkempt. He was wearing the same stained dark robe he had been wearing when last she saw him. His face seemed older than when she’d seen him then, and he had dark rings under his eyes as if he had not slept a wink since then.

  “Father?” she whispered.

  “Seonaid,” he said. He stayed sitting, but he reached out a hand and Seonaid stepped forward to him at once. “I…I have been so stupid.” He shook his head, looking at the table. “I thought that…I thought you needed help. I’m no good as a help to you. Alec…he could support you. I thought that. I wanted to help.”

  Seonaid reached out a hand, feeling overcome by compassion. “I understand,” she whispered. She wanted, desperately, to believe him. This was more like the father she knew! Besides, the evidence was here. He believed he had much less than he owned, and his statement confirmed it.

  “I should ask for forgiveness,” he murmured. “But I doubt I merit that.”

  “Father,” Seonaid whispered. “You were only doing as you believed was right. Of course I understand that.”

  Her father made a sound that might have been laughter. He met her eyes. “I don’t deserve that.”

  “Yes, you do.” Seonaid reached out and brushed that tousled, messy hair. Her father flinched, but didn’t move back. Seonaid glanced sideways, to note that Everett was standing at her side. She felt safer and stronger with his presence.

  “I thought I knew better than all of you,” her father whispered. “I was blind and stupid.”

  “Maybe,” Seonaid allowed, smiling. “But you’re not the first to have been that, are you?”

  “No,” he snorted. “But it’s not something I tolerate in others.”

  “You weren’t being stupid,” Seonaid said gently. “You were told by Westford that the money was almost gone, weren’t you?”

  “It’s not Westford…it’s the books,” her father groaned. “You can see them. I wouldn’t just have taken his word…but the numbers are all there! He’s right! I don’t understand how I managed to do that! How I lost track of all the expenses…”

  “You didn’t.” Everett spoke up, interrupting him. Seonaid saw her father’s head twist upright, and then he sat back, instantly on the defensive.

  “I didn’t what?” he demanded.

  “You didn’t spend it,” Seonaid murmured. “Alec Westford did.”

  “What?” her father recoiled, a look of horror on his face. She had no idea how he was going to react.

  “We have his account book,” Everett said. “It’s all in there.”

  “No!” Her father had gone puce. “It’s not possible! How can he?”

  “Logan will support us in this, too,” Seonaid said softly. “He noticed the differences himself. But he lacked any evidence to prove who was doing it, so he couldn’t come to you.”

  “Not even Logan trusted me?” He sounded genuinely hurt by that.

  “Not even Logan would risk coming to you with an empty accusation,” Seonaid demurred. “We have enough evidence to have Alec Westford locked away. I reckon we might just prefer to make sure he leaves us alone?”

  “Yes,” her father whispered. “I reckon so.” His eyes twinkled and for the first time he looked more like himself. “Good find, lass.”

  “Well, then,” Seonaid said briskly, distressed to see her father in such a downcast pose. “We will go to him later today. But first, you need some breakfast.”

  She saw her father’s head lift, and the light in his eyes grew a little brighter. “Breakfast. That sounds like a fine idea.”

  She laughed and stood, heading to the fireplace, where the fire had burned down. While she cleaned it, she heard Everett opening the shutters, putting dishes in the copper sink. He had clearly gotten into the swing of things.

  “I’ll go and fetch some firewood, if you like?” he asked.

  “That would be grand,” Seonaid murmured. “It’s around the side of the house, near the back door.”

  Everett went to the kitchen door and out. He came back with an armload of firewood and opened the door awkwardly, setting half of it on the step.

  “Here, lass. You take this lot…I’ll get the rest,” he murmured.

  He bent down at the doorway. That was when Alec Westford appeared on the doorstep.

  “You!” Alec shouted. He was not looking at Seonaid, but at Everett. “You thief! You defaming, lying, wicked…”

  He swung his sword and it would have cleaved Everett in half had he not stepped back.

  “Everett! No!” Seonaid screamed.

  Everett danced back into the doorway, but he didn’t retreat, he was already reaching back for the ax by the kitchen fireplace. It was the only thing even vaguely like a weapon in the kitchen. Lethal as it was, it would be utterly useless against a sword. Seonaid looked around, but saw nothing. Her father grabbed her arm. Everett and Alec were in the street now, and the sound of the sword blade ringing on metal or chopping into the hilt of the ax rang out like a peal from the church spire. Seonaid looked around wildly. What could she do, to help them?

  “Upstairs, lass!” her father whispered. “In my bedroom…”

  “No, Father!” Seonaid misunderstood. “I’m not going to hide. We need to help him!”

  “No!” her father said, voice urgent. His fingers clung to her arm like claws. “Listen to me! In my room, on the wall above the bed, you’ll find a sword.”

  Seonaid felt hope blossom in her chest. She could have kissed him. She smiled her thanks to him, then took the stairs at a run. She had to find it!

  A SUDDEN SAVE

  Everett felt the wound in his head start to bleed afresh as he jerked his head back out of the way of the blow that arced down, threatening to cleave him in two. He danced back just in time, but his legs were already tiring and he knew he would not be able to keep it up.

  “You stole my woman, and my future, and my fleet…” Alec was shouting. Everett thought that he looked like a man who had lost all his sanity. His eyes were wild and his voice was raw and strained. Unfortunately, he didn’t fight like a madman, but like a skilled swordsman.

  “I stole nothing,” he said tightly. By, but his chest hurt! He stepped out of the way of another strike, but this time avoided it by a hair’s width as it grated into the wall behind him.

  “I’ll put an end to your ill-fated life,” Alec promised.

  “Probably,” Everett coughed, as he swung the ax and felt it jar against the sword as Alec parried it. “But it seems I’ve done enough damage to yours already.”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed in rage. Everett saw his sword rise and knew he was driving his opponent to that point of anger where he would fight wildly and stupidly.

  Good.

  He raised the ax to block the blow, and was surprised when the sword cleaved down, then buried itself in the ax blade.

  Alec widened his gaze in surprise, then gripped the hilt and tugged, but the ax and sword were stuck together. Everett kept his grip on the handle, though Alec was pulling forward with all his force. The two men stayed as they were, locked in a bitter struggle.

  Everett felt his arms start to shiver with the strain of holding the ax above his head. He knew that if he let go, the angle would be right for Alec to pull the sword free. He might be feeling like his arms were about to give out, but Alec showed no signs of wearing out.

  “Why don’t you just surrender?” Alec hissed.

  Everett raised a brow. Through gritted teeth, he laughed. “And throw myself on your clemency?”

  Alec raised a brow. “I am an honorable man.”

  “You?” That was too much for Everett. “You don’t even know what the word means.”

  Alec tried to use his distraction to wrench the sword out. Everett felt his arms fall and the ax lowered down to his shoulders. He felt the rasp as Alec retrieved his sword. He felt the strangest calm as the blade hissed and raised. He saw it coming dow
n with a strange resignation. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

  Here it comes. I reckon this is when I go.

  He caught sight of Seonaid standing on the step, her mouth open in horror, her eyes huge. He felt his heart want to reach out and touch her. It was the strangest feeling. She would be safe now, if he died – her father knew who Alec was. He could die freely, if this was his time.

  He felt his lips form into a smile and his heart sang out, touching hers, as the sword struck down.

  Suddenly, he was falling forward. He was surprised that he felt no pain. There was no hurt, no ache. Only that wonderful feeling of freedom.

  He felt wetness on his back, warm sticky wetness. He was surprised as a weight fell on top of him. He hit the ground and the weight fell on top of him. His ax clattered from his hand and he heard it hit the stones of the street. Somebody was screaming. He frowned. He felt no pain. However, what was this weight on him? Where was all the blood that soaked his back coming from?

  “Everett!” Seonaid was crying. He wanted to reach out to comfort her, but he couldn’t make his arms move. He felt the weight fall off him, and Seonaid gripped him and drew him up.

  “Seonaid?” he rolled over. She was in his arms, lying against her shoulder. She was gripping him so tight that he wanted to choke and the wound in his chest was aching. He felt his cheeks lift in a smile. His head felt like it was floating. Oddly enough, he still felt no pain.

  “Everett?” she said urgently. “Everett! I thought you were dead.”

  He grinned. He was. Surely he was? The sword had come straight down on his skull.

  But, if I’m dead, why is Seonaid here? And where is Alec? For that matter, why can I still smell the filth in the street?

  He would have thought the afterlife had less noxious odors than that, and he winced as Seonaid hugged him close.

  “Seonaid?” he whispered. “Am I dead?”

  She bent down, stroking the hair back from his forehead. She was smiling a little distractedly, her big blue eyes worried.