The Highland Commander

by Amy Jarecki

  “Bring that fire under control, sailors!” MacPherson yelled.

  But Aiden couldn’t stop. He surged ahead, swinging his sword like a madman, cutting down every ruthless, filthy pirate who had the misfortune of stepping in his path.

  With his next swing, a bit of plaid caught his eye. His weapon stilled, ready to strike. “MacBride,” he choked out while smoke seared his throat.

  “Lower your sword, ye mad Scot.”

  Wiping his brow, he slowly turned in place. Good God, they’d fought them off. The sloop was down by the head and sinking fast. “Good work, men,” Aiden hollered, sweeping his gaze to the source of the smoke.

  Seaman Ellis cracked open a water barrel, and the flood across the deck doused what remained of the flames.

  Aiden marched to the quarterdeck only to find two men kneeling over the captain. He pushed beside them. The man was out cold. “Is he breathing?”

  “Aye.”

  “Take him to his cabin straightaway and notify Dr. Laidlaw.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Aiden straightened and regarded the dirty faces of his men. “How many dead?”

  “Ten, sir.”

  “Prepare them for burial at sea.” He crossed himself. “How many wounded?”

  “Two dozen, sir.”

  “Take them belowdecks and see to their care straightaway.” He looked to MacBride. “What are the damages?”

  “She’s taking water in the bow, sir.”

  “Is she breached?”

  “’Tis in the forward cargo hull, but…”

  “But what?”

  “We must make haste.”

  “Unfurl the sails. Set a course north by northeast. Steady as she blows.” Aiden looked to the helmsman. “Are you ready to take us to Portsmouth, Mr. Ferguson?”

  “Aye, sir. More than ready.”

  “Mr. MacGrath, please report on the fire damage.”

  “Timbers on the main deck charred bad, sir—no one can cross them. The mainmast has been hit, too.”

  “The sails?”

  “Untouched, sir.”

  “Will the mast hold?”

  “As long as we aren’t hit by a howling tempest, we should make it to Portsmouth, sir.”

  Aiden looked to the sky. Above sailed a covering of clouds. The wind was steady, but only God knew what lay ahead. With only five and seventy leagues to Portsmouth, they’d need a bit o’ luck to make it before either the Royal Mary sank or the mast crashed to the deck.

  “I’m stepping aft to check on the captain. If anything changes, I want a report of it immediately.”

  MacBride saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maddie continued to play the harp while the cabinet ministers entered Queen Anne’s antechamber. Straightaway her fingers began to perspire, making the strings slippery.

  After plucking a sour note, she stopped and looked to the Duchess of Marlborough for direction. Her Grace rolled her hand through the air, indicating for her to continue.

  “Things are heating up. The duke is marching for Malplaquet, straight down King Louis’s throat,” said the Earl of Nottingham.

  “We’ll send them to hell this time, Your Majesty,” said the Earl of Rochester.

  The queen frowned, making her double chin more pronounced. “I do believe that is exactly what you said right before the Duchess of Marlborough’s husband led my troops into the disastrous Battle of Oudenarde.”

  The earl opened his snuffbox, seemingly unperturbed. “Ah, but this time we have the ground advantage, Your Majesty.”

  The queen shook out her skirts and adjusted her seat. Of late Queen Anne hadn’t looked well. She’d had trouble with swelling in her extremities and complained of gout.

  To better hear, Maddie selected a quiet, simple tune that she could play in her sleep. Nonetheless, another sour note blared through the chamber when the lord high admiral, Prince George, marched into the antechamber, his face redder than Maddie had ever seen it.

  He bowed to the queen. “I have grave news.”

  As prickles spread down Magdalen’s arms, her fingers plucked the harp strings faster. Ignoring the frown from Lady Saxonhurst, Maddie inclined her ear as far as she could without tipping her instrument.

  “Go on, my love,” said the queen.

  “The Royal Mary has incurred a damaged hull in a battle with a pirate ship… barely made it to Portsmouth.”

  Maddie’s fingers ran down the strings in a cacophony of jumbled notes. A lump the size of her fist stuck in her throat. Shaking, she couldn’t continue playing. She righted the harp and scooted forward in her chair.

  “And the pirate ship?” asked the queen, while all eyes in the room focused on the admiral.

  “It was a sloop—sunk, but not before cannonballs struck the Mary midship and near her bow. According to the report, the dastards boarded the ship and engaged in a bloody sword fight.” The admiral shuddered. “Worse, she was only a hundred leagues from our very shore.”

  The queen drew her hand over her heart. “My God, attacked by the French, and now we have pirates sailing this close to home? What of the crew? You said our ship made it to Portsmouth.”

  Maddie stood, wringing her hands.

  “Ten dead, dozens severely wounded. Captain Polwarth himself sustained injuries, and has been taken to hospital.”

  “Dear Lord,” said the queen, turning white.

  Maddie’s mind raced. Ten killed? Oh no, Aiden had to have survived. And if he hadn’t been injured, he would now be in charge on the ship. “Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty, but may I have leave to travel to Portsmouth forthwith?”

  The Duchess of Marlborough snapped her fists to her hips. “Lady Magdalen, how dare you speak out of turn? Collect your harp forthwith and leave us at once.”

  The queen held up her hand. “What on earth would you hope to accomplish in Portsmouth, child?”

  Maddie dipped into a hasty curtsy. “The crew is almost entirely Scottish, and I had the pleasure of meeting the ship’s officers in Stonehaven. Not to mention, you may be aware that I oversee a hospital there, I… ah… I provide a great deal of healing to the community.” Maddie wasn’t about to admit the hospital was for women. “If nothing else, I should be able to bring comfort to the wounded.”

  Lady Saxonhurst snorted, but kept her lips pursed, perhaps for the first time in her life.

  “Why did you not tell me this before?” asked the queen.

  “Forgive my impertinence, but as Her Grace pointed out earlier, it is not proper for me to volunteer information.”

  The queen eyed her. “I do believe it would send a message of goodwill if we sent a party to care for the crew of the Royal Mary.”

  “Indeed, dear,” said the admiral.

  The queen frowned at him and cleared her throat while the other cabinet ministers mumbled to themselves.

  Prince George dipped his head politely. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. But I agree. Especially since their captain is recovering from his injuries. A royal party bringing words of encouragement, and perhaps Lady Magdalen’s harp, would be most welcomed.”

  “But do we want to show favoritism to a Scottish ship?” asked the Earl of Nottingham.

  “It would be seen as reaching out a hand of peace to our northern neighbors,” said Lady Saxonhurst. Why the devil was she siding with Maddie—and saying something nice about Scottish subjects?

  “Well said. I shall allow it.” The queen flicked her fingers through the air. “Lord High Admiral, you shall lead the excursion to Portsmouth and take Lady Magdalen and her lady’s maid with you. But I shall expect both of you back here in time for the Michaelmas feast. Am I understood?”

  The prince bowed. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss Michaelmas feast with you for anything, my queen.”

  Maddie bowed her head and curtsied. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” As she hastened out, Lady Saxonhurst fluttered her fingers with a coy wave. Odd. The countess had never been remotely friendly.
But Maddie couldn’t worry about the woman’s devious smile, not when her heart was about to pound out of her chest. Besides, whatever the countess was thinking didn’t matter.

  The conniving lady-in-waiting could revel in that which her petty little mind was scheming. Maddie had far more to worry about. The good news? She was heading for Portsmouth, and prayed she’d find Lord Aiden Murray in good health.

  Aiden faced the master carpenter and snarled, “Do you think I care about how many other ships are in sore need of refit? The Royal Mary and her crew just prevented pirates from sailing up the Thames and pillaging London, you lackwit. I want first-quality timber that will withstand years at sea. Do you understand me?”

  The man scratched his head. “But the wood I brought aboard is of the best quality we are able to put our hands upon.”

  “Och, I reckon you’re blowing pish up my arse.” Aiden beckoned him to a plank one of his seamen had just shown him. “Look at this.” He jutted his finger toward the worm-eaten timber. “Infested with termites. I should throw you and your poor-quality wood off this ship.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but the Royal Buccaneer received repairs with the very same wood.”

  “That’s a pack of lies. The Royal Buccaneer did not sail with this poor quality.” Not an English ship, for certain. “Mr. Guthrie!” Aiden hollered.

  “Aye, sir?”

  “I want you to personally inspect every piece of beech, birch, hickory, or ash wood brought aboard this ship. If any shows signs of rot, toss it over the side without recompense.”

  The shipbuilder spread his palms to his sides. “But sir, you cannot.”

  Aiden stamped his foot. “I can and I will.”

  A royal yeoman marched up the gangway. “All hail the arrival of His Royal Highness, Prince George, lord high admiral of the queen’s Royal Navy.”

  Aiden averted his gaze to the overstuffed peacock. A visit? From the admiral? Now? Dear God, there was a hole in the deck the size of his bunk and a third of the crew was belowdecks wounded, or down with scurvy.

  “Bloody hell,” groaned MacPherson under his breath.

  “’Tis the last thing we need.” Aiden marched across the main deck. There was nothing to do but to meet the admiral with their best foot forward, albeit a weak one. “All hands, muster to the main deck for inspection!”

  Prince George placed his foot on the ship just as Aiden arrived at the gangway and bowed deeply. “Your Highness, it is indeed an honor for you to show your support for Her Majesty’s seamen who fought valiantly for queen and country.”

  “Indeed, Lord Aiden. It is with great respect I visit this Scottish vessel of our navy, albeit a small frigate.” The prince slapped Aiden on the back. “I hear you sank the pirate ship not a hundred leagues from our shore.”

  “That is true, Your Highness. Though we did incur damages and casualties.” Aiden led the prince toward the hole in the deck, where stood the mule-brained master carpenter. “I was just rejecting worm-eaten timbers, though this gentleman tells me the higher-quality wood is reserved for English-built galleons.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught flashes of red coats as the prince’s men paraded onto the ship. Then swishes sounded, decidedly female. That was odd. Women didn’t board warships—and the queen hadn’t been announced, so it couldn’t be Her Majesty.

  Before Aiden had a chance to see if his ears had deceived him, the prince bent down and picked up an offending piece of wood. His face turned apple red. “This is unforgiveable, sir.”

  The carpenter bowed. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I was unaware of the importance of the Royal Mary to Her Majesty’s fleet.”

  The prince looked sideways, drawing a deep breath through his nostrils. “All of the queen’s ships are important.”

  Aiden grinned. Perhaps the royal visit this day wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

  The carpenter tapped his fingers together obsequiously. “But we do have the Royal Essex in for refit, Your Highness.”

  “The Essex?” asked the prince. “Why didn’t you say so, sir? Of course first pick must go to a racing galleon. She’s one of the fastest in the fleet. Then do your best to see to it the Royal Mary receives the very finest quality available.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The carpenter shot a smug look to Aiden before he bowed.

  When the man dipped down, Aiden stared into the loveliest blue eyes he’d ever seen in his life. A pair of inordinately large azure eyes—eyes he’d thought about every hour of every day for the past year and a half. His heart leaped, his palms perspired, his fingers trembled. And then she smiled. Dear God, a winsome smile that could melt the most hardened of hearts.

  Gulping, he stepped forward. When the master carpenter straightened, Aiden scooted aside and performed a bow of his own. “M’lady.” He looked to the woman standing beside Maddie. “And Miss Agnes. Ladies, please forgive my impertinence. I was unaware you had come aboard.”

  Lady Magdalen Keith curtsied, shuttering her gaze with long eyelashes. “No apology needed, m’lord. Though it lightens my heart to see you are well.”

  Aiden’s arm, wrapped in a bandage beneath his doublet, throbbed as if on cue, though he showed no outward sign of discomfort. “Indeed, m’lady. I was one of the lucky ones.” He glanced to the prince. “Captain Polwarth has been released from hospital and is recovering in his cabin, Your Highness.”

  “Lady Magdalen and I have come to visit the infirm.” The prince gestured to a porter carrying a Celtic harp. “And the lady will play for them.”

  “Ah yes, the wounded crewmen are belowdecks. I am certain your visit will warm their hearts.”

  Lieutenant MacPherson moved beside Maddie. “I would be happy to assist you to descend the steps, m’lady. They can be treacherous, especially with so many skirts.”

  Aiden clapped the swine on the shoulder and dug in his fingers. “Third Lieutenant MacPherson, please see to it the captain is informed that His Royal Highness Prince George is aboard the Royal Mary and will pay a visit to the captain’s cabin directly after he has met with the injured.” He offered his elbow to Maddie. “Shall we, m’lady?”

  The mere touch of her lithe fingers on his arm sent gooseflesh pebbling across his entire body. He inclined his lips toward her ear. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I you,” she whispered every bit as quietly.

  The admiral and his entourage descended the ladder first.

  “I have so much I want to say.” Aiden stepped on the first rung. “You’ll need to bare your ankles, I am afraid. I’ll block you from view whilst you descend.”

  “My thanks.” Maddie nodded, her eyes filled with happiness. Aiden hoped his reflected the same. “And will you catch me should I slip?”

  His heart hammered like a woodpecker’s beak. “It would be an honor to do so, m’lady.”

  “And me as well?” asked Agnes as she followed.

  “Of course, and it is ever so good to see you, Miss Agnes.” Aiden offered his hand while Maddie hopped from the last rung. Unfortunate she didn’t fall, for he would have enjoyed cradling her soft curves in his arms, if only for a moment. Still, he couldn’t help staring into her lovely eyes, though the light was dim belowdecks. “I—”

  “Lady Magdalen, come along,” said the prince. “The wounded will be heartened by your lovely face, and then they will be enchanted by your music.”

  She cringed at Aiden apologetically. “Anon?” she asked in a hurried whisper.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for all the gold in Christendom.”

  Though his fingers drummed against his thighs, Aiden stood by while the royal party paid their respects to the injured. Then Maddie played her harp. Dear Lord, he’d forgotten how she could make the music swirl in the air. Her soothing tune calmed even the most anxious of men—almost even stilled the drumming of Aiden’s fingers, but not quite.

  Fraser MacPherson moved alongside him. “Do you ken the lass?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why ha
ve you never spoken of her to me?”

  “Mayhap you do enough talking for the both of us.” Aiden leaned in to his cabinmate and further lowered his voice. “Hands off.”

  Fraser held up his palms, a sly grin spreading across his lips. “You’re the commander of this ship. But I’ll be damned. You surely had the wool pulled over my eyes.”

  Aiden returned his attention to Maddie’s performance. He’d never spoken to anyone about the fleeting sennight of passion he’d shared with her, and he never would. Such liaisons were secret, to be treasured and remembered by him—and hopefully by the lady.

  After the performance ended, Aiden stepped forward and gestured toward the aft steps. “Lieutenant MacPherson, would you please lead the admiral and his party to the captain’s chamber?”

  “Aye, sir.” Fraser smiled as if pleased to be asked to perform such a task. Aiden should have led the entourage himself, but he had a plan.

  Grasping Maddie by the elbow, he held her back and allowed all others to pass, then led her to an empty alcove used for kitchen stores. He clasped her fingers between his much larger hands. “We haven’t much time, but I must tell you how greatly it touches my heart that you are here.”

  Her breath caught with a wee gasp. “I prayed for your good health every night.”

  “I’m certain your blessings have kept me safe.” If only he could dip his chin and kiss those lips, shiny and pink in the dim light. “Have you been in London all this time?”

  “Yes. The queen asked me to be her harpist.” Aiden ran his thumbs over the tips of her fingers, which were hard with calluses. She looked down as if embarrassed. “I received word that you visited the hospital in Stonehaven.”

  “I did.” He grinned. “I signed the guest book.”

  “Mrs. Boyd sent me a letter telling me so.”

  “Did she tell you what I wrote?”

  “Aye.” Even in the darkness, Aiden could see her blush.

  “I’ve written you so many letters.” He squeezed her hands tighter and held them over his heart.