Rogue of the Moors

by Cynthia Breeding

  Alasdair saw Margaret take a deep breath, adjust her stance, move her left foot forward and put her weight on her right foot. She raised her throwing arm, bending it at the elbow to bring the knife alongside her head as she’d been taught to do. Then Alasdair saw her bend her wrist a bit before shifting her weight forward as she straightened her arm and released. The dagger made a small arch, turning twice, and then struck dead center in the board.

  Silence fell. Ewan and Rauri’s mouths gaped open. Then Gavin and Braden started applauding.

  “Excellent,” Niall said.

  Alasdair caught the quick look of surprise on Niall’s face as he said it. Niall had a natural skill with knives and had given Margaret lessons before, but this particular throw had more spin and speed—plus accuracy—than any of them had seen before.

  Alasdair let his glance slide back to Bridget. She was talking to Shauna. What had that small movement of Bridget’s wrist been? It had looked like a reminder of sorts. Had Bridget and Margaret been practicing this afternoon? He suppressed another grin. If Bridget had given his sister pointers, that meant she was as good with a dagger as his brothers were. He itched to find out.

  After each of his brothers had thrown their knives—he had managed to knock Niall’s off the plank—Alasdair started to ask Bridget if she’d like a turn, but Margaret interrupted him.

  “Let’s get on with the archery before this drizzle turns into rain.”

  Aidan ruffled Margaret’s hair affectionately. He was probably the only brother bold enough to do it since Margaret tended to cuff ears. He laughed as he sidestepped her swing.

  “Do ye think to best all of us at archery, lass?”

  “I just might.” Margaret smiled smugly. “I will even let ye all go first.”

  “’Tis kind of ye,” Aidan said with mock gravity.

  Alasdair watched his sister, noting that she wasn’t asking Bridget any questions, nor was Bridget trying to get her attention. Both of them were watching the shooting intently. He was tempted to show off a bit when his turn came, canting the bow so the arrow would soar in an arch before reaching its target, but the distance wasn’t that great, and he didn’t want to take a chance of not hitting the bull’s eye, so he did a simple point-of-aim instead.

  When Margaret took her position, Alasdair watched Bridget to see if she would send any kind of signal to his sister, but she did not. Was she not an archer?

  Margaret’s arrow landed next to his inside the bull’s eye and she gave her brothers a triumphant grin.

  “Well done, lass,” Aidan said, reaching out for Margaret’s hair again, but she slipped past him.

  “Do either of ye want a turn?” Alasdair asked Bridget and Shauna.

  Shauna shook her head. “Archery is nae my sport.”

  “I did nae care to hunt,” Bridget said, “so I am nae good at it either.”

  “Have a try anyway,” Margaret said. “My bow is already braced.”

  “Aye, have a try,” Niall said. “I will help ye.”

  Like hell. Alasdair grabbed his sister’s bow. “I will assist her.”

  Margaret put her hands on her hips. “Did Bridget say she needed assistance? Or wanted it?”

  “She doesnae have to ask,” Niall said, scowling at Alasdair.

  Bridget rose and took the bow from Alasdair. “’Tis nae reason to talk about me as though I were somewhere else. I am right here.”

  Margaret snickered and handed Bridget an arrow and her arm guard. She slipped the strip of leather on and walked to the shooting line, eyed the target, and then nocked the arrow on the bowstring.

  Alasdair moved forward, but Niall got to Bridget first. “A moment,” he said and removed the arrow, his hand brushing hers as he did. “Ye have the cock feather turned sideways.” He fit the arrow to the string so the odd-colored feather was at right angles to the bow. “Like this.”

  “Thank ye.” Bridget stepped away from him and eyed the target once more, preparing to take aim.

  Niall moved toward her again, but this time Alasdair was closer. So close he jostled Bridget.

  She frowned. “Am I doing something else wrong?”

  “Nae wrong…” Niall began.

  “Just nae right,” Alasdair finished.

  Bridget gave them both an annoyed look. Alasdair wondered if maybe she was going to take an example from Margaret and cuff their ears, but she had one hand on the bow and the other on the arrow nock.

  “What is it then?” she asked.

  Niall moved toward her. “Your grip—”

  “Allow me,” Alasdair said, stepping closer and bringing his arm around Bridget’s side to create a barrier from his brother. As he did, his boot bumped against her foot, and Alasdair nearly forgot what his intention was when Bridget stumbled backwards and he felt her soft, rounded backside press up against his groin. His shaft stood at immediate attention like an alert sentry. His other arm had gone around her waist to keep her from falling, and for a moment, she stood cradled in his embrace while Alasdair basked in her scent and warmth. Then he felt Bridget suck in her breath and thought he heard her gasp.

  Bloody hell. What was he doing? Practically impaling her with his erection even though they were clothed. Alasdair swore under his breath as he released her and took a step back. His hand felt shaky as he covered hers and nudged Bridget’s fingers into the right position. “Three under, one over,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and raspy.

  Niall glared at him although no one else seemed to notice anything had taken place. Perhaps what felt like an eternity to Alasdair had only been a few seconds.

  He still stood behind Bridget, so he couldn’t see her face, but her draw was unsteady and the arrow wobbled before she finally took a firmer pull and released it. It hit the outermost white ring.

  “I will bring ye another arrow,” Margaret called.

  Before she could, the rain that had threatened them all day burst down in a torrential deluge. Even that cold, wet blast did little to diminish his wayward cock as they all ran for the cover of the house.

  * * * * *

  The Alana left for Loch Morar the next morning, much to the relief of the MacDonald men, and the Sea Wolf dropped anchor a day later. Robert rowed out to inspect the shipment of dried kelp the boat was taking from Rum to the Port of Glasgow.

  Since the ship would stay just the night and leave on the morning tide, Bridget accompanied Robert to the marine office to take care of the necessary paperwork.

  She was glad to have something to occupy her time, or more precisely, her mind. Her thoughts kept returning to Alasdair’s arms around her while she held the bow and arrow two nights ago. At least, she tried to keep her thoughts on his arms, but her traitorous body kept remembering—in quite vivid detail—how other parts of him had felt along her backside. Bridget knew Alasdair had grabbed her instinctively to keep her from falling, but she hadn’t been prepared for his arousal, thick and hard, pressed against her. Brodie had never done such a thing to her. Nor had she been prepared for her own response. An immediate throbbing had begun between her thighs, the pulsation growing stronger and spreading deep into her belly and down her legs until she thought they would not support her. Which was why she’d leaned back against him. At least, that’s what Bridget tried to convince herself was the reason. In truth, being wrapped in his warm strength and recognising his urgency had made her feel both protected and yet femininely powerful, as if she belonged in his embrace.

  Which she did not.

  She needed to leave. Every day she stayed only increased her attraction to Alasdair. Every day was also a day closer to his wedding. She knew now she could not physically bear to be present for that. The sooner she left, the less it would look like she was avoiding that event.

  Bridget looked up from the desk as Robert came into the small office. “Do you want to sit here?”

&nb
sp; “No.” He pulled the other chair to the side of the desk and handed her a bill of lading. “All the inventory is accounted for.”

  “Did ye expect different?”

  Robert shook his head. “Not really. I just wanted to compare it to what we requested before I hand it back. The captain will need it when he reaches Glasgow.”

  She took the bill and compared it to the original order that had been requested several months ago. “This tallies.” Bridget handed the paper back. “Ye look worried. Is the house nae coming along as ye like?”

  “Work on the house is going well, thanks to the MacDonalds.”

  “Is it Shauna then?”

  Robert shook his head again. “Shauna’s body has healed. Each day, she grows stronger in mind too.”

  “Then what troubles ye?”

  “The trouble is I cannae be in two places at the same time.”

  Bridget smiled. “’Twould be a feat if any of us could.”

  “That’s not what I mean exactly. Since the house burned, I’ve not given much thought to tending the office. If it weren’t for you and Alasdair, the paperwork would be a complete mess.”

  “Doona fash about that,” Bridget said. “I like to keep busy.”

  “I just want you to know I appreciate it,” Robert said. “I worry about my father’s office in Glasgow also. He won’t be back from Norway for weeks, and as the old saying goes, while the cat’s away, the mice will play. Now that Aidan is back, I’m thinking of asking him to go down and keep an eye on it for a bit.”

  Bridget felt as though an angel had descended from heaven and offered her salvation. “Aidan’s just returned from Skye. Why nae let me go?”

  Robert stared at her. “You? You’re a—”

  “Are ye going to say ‘Ye are a woman’? I would nae advise it.”

  “I…” Robert stopped and then he started again. “I know you and Shauna do not like being told you can’t do something because you are women, but in this case, it could be dangerous for you.”

  Bridget crossed her arms. “How so? Ye ken Shauna and our cousin Abigail both worked the dock office in Edinburgh.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten Abigail nearly got herself murdered, and that Shauna got whisked away aboard a pirate ship?”

  “Those were different circumstances, the results of that horrible Wesley Alton and his son. They’re both dead now.” Bridget gave Robert a determined look. “I will be perfectly safe at an office checking paperwork, even if it is on a quay. The harbour master will be about, and I will have nae need to be at the docks come nightfall.”

  Robert studied her. “Is there some reason you want to be gone from here?”

  Bridget felt her face warm suddenly and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I… Well, as ye said, Shauna is healing so ’tis nae reason for me to stay. I ken Margaret would like her room back. Your house willnae be finished for weeks. Now that all the MacDonalds have returned, their house is a wee bit crowded too—”

  “Because Alasdair is there?”

  Bridget stopped mid-sentence and nearly gaped at Robert. Did he suspect her feelings? She couldn’t tell from his expression, save for his eyes, which seemed piercing as blades of polished steel at the moment. “Why would ye even suggest such a thing?”

  He allowed a corner of his mouth to lift. “I am not blind to the looks you give each other.”

  Bridget was stunned. She deliberately avoided looking at Alasdair. Didn’t she? “I…we…doona—”

  “You do, especially when each of you think the other isn’t looking.” Robert’s mouth quirked further. “I recognize the symptoms.”

  Bridget swallowed. “Symptoms?”

  “You MacLeod women are not easy to interest, but once you turn your attention on a man, he does not stand a chance.”

  She felt her temper begin to simmer. “You make us sound like harpies.”

  “Not harpies. Sea sirens, maybe.”

  “Is that any better? I have never tried to trap any man.”

  “You don’t have to.” Robert grinned, ignoring her obviously rising ire. “Alasdair is already besotted with you.”

  Her temper—and her breath—left her in a whoosh. She stared at Robert. “What do ye mean?”

  “As I said, I recognize the signs, having felt the same way about Shauna.”

  Bridget unfolded her arms. “Ye and Shauna were free to marry. Alasdair is not.”

  “Are you forgetting that I thought myself betrothed to someone else?”

  “That resolved itself once the woman was found out to be a charlatan. ’Tis nae the case with Alasdair.”

  “Perhaps not.” Robert paused. “Why do you think he spends his evenings at the marine office instead of at home?”

  “Here at the office? I thought he was with Isobel.”

  “Nae. He comes here.”

  Two conflicting emotions warred inside Bridget’s head. The one was elation that Alasdair was not spending all his time with Isobel. The other was mortification that Alasdair was so intent on avoiding herself that he would hide in the office. Mortification won, followed quickly by total humiliation that she was keeping a man from enjoying his own home. Bridget took a deep breath.

  “If that is true, then it is all the more reason that I leave.”

  Robert steepled his fingers and regarded her intently. “Is that what you really want to do?”

  It didn’t matter if she wanted to do it. She would not be the reason Alasdair felt he couldn’t come home at night until after she was abed. Bridget lifted her chin. “Aye.”

  Robert studied her a moment longer and then slowly nodded. “All right then. I will give you a letter of introduction to both the Glasgow harbour master and to the proprietor of the boarding house where my father stays when he’s in the city. I’ll ask Aidan to escort the carriage—”

  “Nae carriage. I doona wish for anyone to ken I’m gone until I am away from here. The Sea Wolf departs tomorrow. I will be on her.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dawn’s light had not yet broken when Bridget climbed into the wooden dinghy and Robert dipped the oars into the still, black water to row out to the Sea Wolf. She was sneaking away like a thief in the night, but she wanted to be gone by the time the MacDonalds rose. Shauna knew Bridget was leaving since Robert had brought her down to the shore, and she’d also left a note for Joanna, but Bridget didn’t want to see the MacDonalds—especially Alasdair.

  Robert stayed silent during the short expanse to the ship. Bridget was grateful for that since Shauna had argued with her about leaving. She’d accused Bridget of running away from a chance for happiness. Perhaps she was running away, but not from happiness. She was running from misery. Alasdair’s story wouldn’t end as Robert’s had. Isobel was here. She’d been compromised and might be with child. Alasdair would do what he was honor bound to do. Shauna pleaded with her to stay and see if Isobel increased. In the end, Bridget had won, although her sister didn’t know how close she’d come to persuading her to stay. She’d come to care for the MacDonalds as she did her own family.

  A sailor on deck lowered the rope ladder and Robert held it taut while Bridget climbed up, grateful for the breeches Margaret had lent her the night of the fire. The sailor helped her over the rail while another took the portmanteau Robert handed up.

  Bridget leaned over the rail, and Robert gave her a small salute before he pushed away from the hull. She waved her hand and tried to smile, but she felt it wavering as he rowed back to shore. She was going to miss all of them.

  A tall man with a weathered face and blond hair going to silver approached and gave a slight bow. “I’m Captain Nels. I’ve readied the small stateroom across from my cabin below decks for you. I apologize that it isn’t the most luxurious accommodation. We usually use it for storage.”

  “’Twill be fine,” Bridget
replied. “Thank ye for accepting me on such short notice.”

  He nodded. “I’m a friend of Robert’s father.” Captain Nels looked around the deck as more sailors were coming up from below. “We will be weighing anchor soon and there are a few things that need preparing. I’ll have someone escort you to your quarters.”

  He said the words pleasantly enough, but Bridget heard the dismissal in his voice. Her presence was not wanted on deck. She knew a lot of sailors still harbored notions of women being bad luck on ships and she wondered how many of Captain Nels’s men felt that way. Still, she had no objection to staying below deck until they were well under way. Bridget didn’t want anyone from shore catching a glimpse of her or her red hair.

  The cabin the sailor escorted her to hardly had room for the fiddled, wooden plank bolted to the wall that served as a bunk and a small chest of drawers attached to the wall and fitted with brass rings and pins to keep the drawers from sliding open. On the floor, wedged between those two items, was a woven basket that held a tin basin and pitcher for washing. Although the room was small, it was exceptionally clean. The straw mattress atop the plank crackled with freshness as Bridget sat down and the woolen quilt neatly folded into a square didn’t smell of mold. She couldn’t see a speck of dust anywhere. The captain kept a tidy ship…and a tidy ship, according to her cousin Shane, meant a disciplined crew as well.

  Voices called out and boots tapped across the deck above her, the activity increasing as they got ready to leave. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the cabin had no ports, but eventually she heard the dragging of chain, which meant the anchor had been lifted. Slowly, the boat began to turn as the oarsman maneuvered it toward deeper waters. Bridget could hear the creak of the masts as sails were hoisted and wished she could be above deck, having the air hit her face as the ship listed to starboard and gathered speed, but she knew better than to disobey a captain’s orders.

  She just hoped Captain Nels didn’t expect her to stay below decks for the entire journey.

  * * * * *

  Alasdair nearly missed the ship. He’d had some cock-eyed notion that he wanted to see Bridget before he left, but when he’d knocked on the bedchamber door, a sleepy Margaret had answered and grumbled that Bridget had gotten up early to take a walk…to the hills, she thought. He’d contemplated following Bridget but realized he wouldn’t have time. Dawn had already sent bolts of red and orange searing across the horizon, and the Sea Wolf would not wait for him once the tide turned.