by Stobie Piel
"So she had her baby there?"
"She had a son, David. And there she met the Seneca chieftain's son"
"Your father."
"My father."
"I expect he was very handsome."
Nathan grinned. "Handsome again. As a matter of fact, I do indeed resemble him."
"His conceit can't possibly have equaled yours."
"My conceit, Miss Lindsay, is well fueled by your attention."
Miren drew a quick breath to clear her senses. Nathan looked kissable in the extreme. "How did Simon escape MacCallum's wrath? They stayed friendly, didn't they?"
"As irritating as he can be, Simon is a quick thinker. He told MacCallum that my mother escaped on her own, that he'd hunted her down on MacCallum's behalf, and that she'd died before giving birth."
"Which wasn't the case. She'd found your father instead." Miren paused. "Were they happy?"
"The only darkness between them was the fear that MacCallum would learn of his son, and come for her."
"So you were born. Did you and your brother get along?"
Nathan smiled. "Most of the time. David was much calmer than I, more content. We grew up among the Seneca, though we went to a farmer's school together to learn English. At school, David met a girl, and they married."
"What happened to her?"
"She died."
"In the fire?"
He hesitated, and Miren knew he hid something away. "She died a few years before."
"What did you do after school?"
"David built a small farm for his new wife, near the reservation. My father wanted me to return, but I refused." Nathan sighed, and his voice turned sad. "Instead, I joined the Union army and became a scout on the western front. I ended up on a steamboat going down the Mississippi, transporting supplies. When we reached the Gulf of Mexico, we came under attack by a rebel blockade runner. The ship caught fire, the captain died. The first mate panicked, and I took over."
Miren held her breath as he spoke, her mind filled with images of fiery ships on dark water, cannons roaring, explosions rending a quiet sea. "Did you escape?"
A glimmer of pride lit Nathan's dark eyes. "We did more than escape. We contained the blaze, and crept our vessel in close. The rebels thought we'd all been killed, so they didn't back off to a safe distance. We ran alongside, boarded their vessel, and acquired a fine new ship for our efforts."
Miren beamed with excitement. "What happened to their crew?"
"We tossed a few overboard, but we weren't far from shore. Half their crew consisted of black slaves. It didn't take much persuading to get them to join us. One or two white sailors stayed on, too. Said they didn't care if I was an Indianor a black man or a spider, so long as I could keep a ship afloat that way."
"Did they stay with you all through the war?"
"They did. We made our way up and around to Virginia. Engaged in a few more battles, but nothing like the first. The war ended, and our reward was to keep the ship we'd stolen. My sailors renamed the ship Half-breed, and we went into business for ourselves."
"As pirates?"
"As merchants, Miss Lindsay."
Miren tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. "Merchant, sir, is just another word for pirate."
Nathan didn't argue. "Those years after the war were enjoyable, I must admit. I thought I'd finally found a place where my lack of heritage didn't matter, a place where I could live free."
"It sounds good."
"And while I was sailing free on the water, my brother was sliding into poverty. I wasn't there to help him. Simon MacTavish stepped in and promised to set him up with his real father. Simon had come to us every few years, to check on David and remind me that my existence was a thorn in the side of all decent humanity."
"No wonder you don't like him."
"The truth is, Simon loved my mother, and he always had. He was too much a gentleman to take her, but it didn't set well that she'd fallen in love with a seventeen-year-old warrior, either."
"Your father was young?"
"A good ten years younger than my mother. Didn't hold them back, though. I have four sisters, all living happily with Seneca husbands."
"Still, I don't see that as reason for Simon to pick on you."
Nathan hesitated. Miren thought he looked guilty. "Our antagonism was mutual. I left snakes in his cot, poured water in his Scotch . . ." Nathan sighed, distant pleasure in hisbrown eyes. "Oh, and put red paint in his hair tonic."
Miren giggled. "That was bad of you."
"Yes . . . You should have seen him. He looked like a carrot, beard and all. Looked a bit as if he'd really been scalped, something he always accused me of doing." Nathan paused. "The temptation was there."
"It's a good thing you didn't need his help."
"He did his best to help David, and maybe it would have worked. David belonged here, in Scotland. His nature wasn't suited to farming. I can imagine him here. He was born to gentility, but he did his best with what he had."
"Like you, Nathan."
"I was lucky."
"Saving a burning ship sounds like more than luck."
Nathan didn't argue, but he didn't look convinced. "I lived for myself, Miren. Even at sea, even in the war. While I was living a boy's thrill, my father lost his farm in New York and was sent to a reservation in Kansas."
Miren's heart expanded with pity. "It's not your fault."
"Not that it happened, no. But I could have helped if I'd been there. My father needed me, but I was gone. He has never forgiven me, and we haven't spoken since. My brother needed me, and I was gone. By the time I returned, he was dead. Simon found me, told me what happened, and we came here."
"What do you expect to find, now that you're here?"
"Patterson didn't act alone, Miren. He had nothing to gain from Kenneth MacCallum's death, but there are some who profit if the old laird died . . . without an heir."
"Lady MacCallum and her son?"
"They are obvious benefactors, yes."
"So accuse them and have done." Miren stopped herself. "I suppose you need proof."
"That would seem wise, yes. Simon is off researching Patterson's life to see if any connection can be found."
"And if you succeed, do you keep the MacCallum estate, Nathaniel?"
"There is another more deserving."
"Your mother?"
"My brother's son."
Miren sat back and nodded. "You have a nephew. And you've given up your freedom to secure his inheritance. You're placing yourself in danger for another. Again. Because you think you failed your father and your brother."
"A good summation. It is my duty. I'd rather not fail again."
Miren slipped her hand onto Nathan's arm. "You won't fail. I'll help you."
Nathan seized her hand and held it in a firm grip. "No, you won't. Miren, if you offer yourself, I'll take you. And you and I can revel in as much bliss as we can steal. But I can't give you anything more, and I won't place you in danger."
Miren withdrew her hand. "I haven't asked for anything." She paused, annoyed. "Including 'bliss.'"
"If you want the use of my body, that's one thing." Miren rolled her eyes, but Nathan didn't stop. "But you can't depend on me, woman. My ship is anchored off Oban. When I've done what I came here to do, I'll leave, and I'll never look back."
"You're going to leave your nephew here by himself? How old is he?"
"Five years."
"Five! You can't leave a five-year-old in a new country all by himself!"
"I'll see that he's well tended."
"He needs a father, a family."
"You need that, too. I can't provide that for either one of you."
Miren tensed in irritation. "I need nothing. True, I would like a family. But I don't require one. A child is different."
"He'll be cared for."
"'He.' What's his name?"
Nathan hesitated. "Nathaniel."
"So there is a Nathaniel MacCallum. What's he go
ing to think when you leave him?"
"He barely knows me. He's a child. I'm not well equipped to deal with a child, anyway." Nathan paused. "They make me nervous."
"Where is he?"
"Never mind." Miren arched her brow, and Nathan sighed. "On my ship."
"I take it no one knows of his existence?"
"That's right, and no one will until I've ensured his inheritance, and his safety."
"I won't tell anyone."
Nathan smiled. "I know."
"You are honorable to tell me you won't stay. So that I don't engage in frivolous dreams." Miren tried to keep her voice steady, but she couldn't deny a pang of regret; better never to think of it than to be disappointed. "I will remain focused on my own task." She straightened her back. ''My sheep. I'll need a new ram. Are you still planning to secure a shearing opportunity?"
Nathan laughed. "You're a practical little wolf, aren't you?"
Miren's eyes narrowed to slits. "What do you mean, 'wolf'?"
"You've got a way of targeting opponents and going in for the kill."
"I do not." Miren liked the comparison. A small, rakish smile grew on her lips as she imagined herself in that role. "Perhaps I do. Be that as it may, I must plan for the future."
"As a matter of fact, part of Simon's task in Aberfoyle is to secure a shepherd to aid your progress."
Miren brightened with excitement. "Truly? As long as he remembers I am boss."
"No man is likely to forget that."
Miren frowned, but her glee didn't abate. "They are my sheep, after all."
"Maybe I can convince you that a night of fulfilled desire is worth a lifetime of dreams."
Nathan's voice changed, it grew low and softly teasing. Miren peeked at him from the corner of her eye. "That seems unlikely." She paused. "How?"
He didn't answer. He just smiled. Miren's gaze fixed on his lips. Lips she had kissed in wanton, reckless abandon. Lips she had tasted. He was looking at her lips, too. "Oh, no . . ."
He kissed her before she could move. She considered hopping up and fleeing, but her limbs went wooden, her eyes drifted shut. He didn't touch her, nor hold her in place. He just brushed his sensual mouth over hers. Miren trembled, her fingers tingled, itching to seize him, to touch his hair, his face. She gripped her skirt to stop herself.
He ran his tongue along her closed lips. He probed sweetly. Her teeth parted, allowing him slow entrance. She was afraid of what he might do, but she couldn't stop the desire to find out. His tongue met hers. Not demanding, just teasing.
Miren opened her eyes. His were closed. His long, thick lashes cast a shadow on his cheekbones. A small moan escaped from her throat and she snapped her eyes shut. If she placed her arms around his neck, he would take it as a concession. She wasn't ready to concede. However much she longed to hold him.
His tongue slid over hers, and shivers cascaded down her back, across her chest. Everywhere. Her insides turned molten. She wanted to do the same to him. She caught his tongue between her teeth and sucked.
It worked. A low, harsh groan tore from deep inside him. He caught her shoulders and pulled her closer. He conceded. She could concede, too. Miren sighed happily and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Kissing provided untold bliss, yet she found herself wanting something more. To be closer.
to touch more of him. To get deeper inside him. To have him deeper inside her. That thought stirred another moan. Miren's fingers wound into his hair. She moved to kiss his face, his neck. Nathan drew a harsh breath, ripe with desire, then cupped her face in his hands.
"I warned you . . . Indians settle lots of things with kissing."
She nodded, breathless. They stared at each other for a moment, then kissed again.
"I knew it! I knew it!"
The harsh voice came so loud that Miren screamed, jumped up, and fell back in one moment. Molly squealed, bristled, then burst into barking.
Nathan just groaned.
Simon MacTavish stomped around the corner of the byre, face flushed in anger. "Knew if I'd be leaving you alone, you'd be into more trouble than you're worth."
Nathan sighed. "Simon."
"Aye. Not expecting me, were ye, boy?"
"Shouldn't you be on your way to Aberfoyle?"
"Why? So as you can bed this wench, squeal all yer secrets, and send us all to ruin?"
"How do you know what he told me?" Miren braced before he could answer. "You were listening!"
"Long enough to hear him squealing his blasphemous heritage like as it's something a MacCallum would boast of!"
Nathan took Miren's hand. "Simon feels my heritage is an offense to God."
Simon nodded vigorously. "Told her everything, didn't you?"
Miren met Simon's furious gaze. "He did. I assure you, Mr. MacTavish, I am completely trustworthy"
"You're a wench! A greedy wench with an eye for a man's purse." Simon cast a disparaging glance Nathan's way. "And his trousers, no doubt."
Miren frowned. "You're upset, I know, because of whathappened with Nathan's mother, but that doesn't give you the right"
"Hell's bells, boy, is there nothing you didn't squeal? Suppose you told her how you've set up Brent, too?"
Nathan sighed. "I hadn't, no, but she knows now."
Miren beamed at the disclosure. "You've set him up? How? And I don't think it's completely fair of you to accuse Mr. Edgington. He seems quite nice, in a stuffy sort of way. His mother, on the other hand, is quite capable of any number of crimes."
"Fegs! Double fegs! The lass is feeling free to give advice!"
"I am, and it's good advice, so you should listen."
"I say we kill her. Bury her out with her sheep, and pretend this whole disastrous event never happened."
Nathan didn't react, so Miren guessed that Simon's words weren't to be taken literally.
"Had to get her out of jail, didn't you, boy? Led by your groin, you are."
Nathan didn't argue, but Miren frowned. "Weren't you supposed to be researching Dr. Patterson in Aberfoyle? Incidentally, you won't find anyone who knows him there. His family mostly died off, and his mother is dotard, living up in Fort William."
"Which is what I found out when I went asking, lass. Which is why I turned back, not wanting to waste my time."
Miren's frown tightened. "Then I suppose you didn't secure a shepherd to assist my shearing."
Simon grumbled incoherently for a moment, then sighed. "Don't need no shepherd." He sighed again, more dramatically, then held up a pair of long, flat shears. "I'll be doing that myself."
"Truly?"
"My sire made his living as a shepherd, and I got stuck shearing until I took up as a sailor. We got enough folks here without adding another, who'd start nosing around where it'snone of his, or her, business . . ."
Miren chewed her lip. "The only trouble is . . . Molly isn't exactly an experienced sheepdog. She may need a little help rounding them up."
"You don't need to tell me that, girl. I've seen her in action. Which is why I spent the day getting . . . this."
Nathan and Miren exchanged a doubtful glance as Simon placed a small whistle in his mouth. He sighed for effect, then blew a shrill note. Molly braced, crouched, then hid behind Miren.
Something black moved stealthily along the far side of the stone wall. Simon blew again. It leapt over the wall, and aimed not for the cottage, but for Miren's sheep.
"It's a dog!" Miren stared in amazement as the black dog stalked her sheep, maneuvered with artful precision around their southern flank, and began edging them into a bunch.
Molly peeked over Miren's shoulder. Her ears pricked, her eyes widened.
Miren chuckled. "Handsome, isn't he?"
Simon blew the whistle again, and the dog dropped. "Name's Flip. His breeding isn't impressive, he's old, but he knows his way around sheep. Got him off a farmer down by Campbell's residence. Had to give up his sheep due to Campbell's saying they drove off his deer. So the old fellow's gone into retirement. Di
dn't want Flip to retire before his time, so he let me take him. Dog lives to work."
Molly's left ear drooped as if in disappointment.
Flip didn't look their way. He focused on the sheep and nothing else. Molly eased down from the steps and sniffed casually along the cottage wall. She cast a furtive glance Flip's way. He didn't notice.
Miren watched her little dog in surprise and swelling affection. Molly spotted a squirrel racing toward a rowan tree. She barked an alert, then darted after it. Flip cocked one ear, tensed, then resumed watching the sheep.
Miren eyed Simon, who was glaring around at nothing. "Isthere a way to blow that whistle and tell him he's off duty?"
"A sheepdog is always on duty, lass. Keep that in mind and you might get your little slackabout into shape faster."
"Molly isn't a 'slackabout.' And I want to meet our new dog."
"Flip! That'll do, lad. That'll do."
Flip eased up from his crouch, still focused on the sheep. Blossom and the other ewes made their way to the far side of the pasture. Miren rose and clapped her hands. "Flip! Come, Flip!"
The dog trotted toward her. Molly positioned herself between Miren and Flip, but he ignored her and made his way to Miren. He sat in front of her like a small soldier.
Nathan nodded to Molly. "Maybe she'll learn from watching."
Miren glanced at Nathan. He sat on her steps, his long legs stretched out, boots crossed at the ankles. He was so handsome, pure and confident. He had kissed her. Miren took a quick gulp of air and forced her attention back to the dogs.
Miren patted Flip's head. He was bigger than Molly, heavier boned. He wasn't quite as pretty, but he looked stronger. His eyes shifted to the ewes as if he'd prefer duty to human companionship. "He's not exactly chummy, is he?"
Simon huffed. "A sheepdog isn't a pet, lass."
Nathan gestured to Molly. "Tell her that."
"We'll be teaching her, and she'll be following orders as right as rain."
Molly's expression became intensely suspicious. She circled around Flip and positioned herself beside Miren. Flip noticed her now. "Molly, this is Flip. Flip, Molly. Good dogs."
Molly crept forward, low in a posture of submission. Her exchange with Muffin had obviously taught her to take extreme care with new dogs. She sniffed at Flip's nose. He braced, then sniffed her, too. They circled each other. They sniffed each other's tails.
