“She told ye about Exmouth?” Colin drew up, pulling his chin in as his eyes grew more narrowed and warier. “What did she say?”
He stopped, not wanting to say too much. Colin wouldn’t be happy if he knew parts of Tom’s exchange with Fiona. “That they’d never met. That she suspected he was a man who didn’t wish to be tamed.”
Colin scrubbed his face. “All true.” His gaze cast down at the deck. “She was supposed to marry Gavin Exmouth. A good, fine man. And when he died protecting his cousin, Callum, Callum inherited the title, the lands, and my cousin’s hand.”
Tom sucked in his breath. Something protective unfurled in his chest, causing him to ache. “You can’t be serious.”
Colin shook his head. “Callum’s always been wild. And he’s taken as much care with Fiona as he does with everything else. She’s going down there to force his hand—”
“In marriage?” Tom asked, clenching his fists in anger.
Colin shrugged, but his jaw was tight, giving away his own anger. “I think so. Both she and my aunt live on the Exmouth property, though they could move in with me. I’ve told Fiona that. Still, she feels obligated to care for Aunt Edna in her twilight years.” He shook his head. “But that man won’t make her a good husband and I don’t ken if I can even watch her marry him. Might have to break his damn nose first.”
“She should break the engagement off and—”
Colin’s gaze swung to Tom’s anger radiating off his friend in waves. “And be ruined. Everyone knows of the engagement. She’ll spend her life as a spinster.”
The air rushed out of Tom’s chest.
“He’s made a fool of her. To then ruin her too…” Colin slammed his fist into the nearby mast. “I hate everything about this situation.”
“I can see why.” He didn’t feel particularly pleased with it either. “How long has she been engaged for?”
Colin made a low sound deep in his throat. “To Gavin for three years but they were about to marry when he died. Now Callum for another three.”
“Christ,” he murmured. A woman like that should be actively worshipped, not shoved onto a shelf. And this Exmouth didn’t know what the hell he was missing. Which almost made Tom laugh. He wasn’t going to be the man to tell him.
Fiona’s image rose in his mind. He thought of her gentle touch to his own skin and the way she’d cradled the bird. While beautiful and so desirable, she was also kind and gentle in a way that demanded protection. She’d be no match for a man like Exile.
Unless, of course, she gained some more experience. Perhaps with a man who understood rakes very well because…well, because he was himself a complete rogue.
Chapter Five
Fiona let out a long sigh. She’d been lying in her hammock for what felt like hours. She wasn’t used to lying on a surface that wasn’t flat, nor had she adjusted to the fact that her bed swayed with the ship.
She thought about climbing in bed with Edna but the woman’s snores filled the room as it was, Fiona couldn’t imagine being right next to her. She twisted again, attempting to get comfortable. She knew part of her sleeplessness was her reaction to a certain man aboard the ship.
His words, scent, and touch filled her with an energy she’d never known. The feeling was rising in her like a tide. Which was an apt description because tides went out again. Yes, Tom Mayweather was here now but for how long? He’d been nothing but honest. He wasn’t the man to make her his wife.
With another sigh, she twisted about again. Were all men like that? Some of them married. But even her cousin, Colin, had never settled down. He almost had once but he’d been hurt and…
She snapped her mouth closed, her lips drawing into a straight line. Tom had mentioned being hurt too. It was a shame that perfectly good men were being ruined for marriage. Was there a way to fix them?
She grasped the thick rope that framed her hammock. Fixing rogues was not her business. Well, technically, fixing one rogue, the one to whom she was engaged, should be her only plan. That, or setting him free. Which she still hadn’t decided.
Technically, she’d hardly thought about Callum Exmouth for hours. Which was odd. What to do about the man who had consumed the last two years of her life?
Was this progress or a giant step in the wrong direction? She wasn’t certain. After what seemed like hours, she finally fell into a restless sleep and woke more tired than when she’d gone to bed.
So much for beauty sleep. Judging from what she could tell in the smoky mirror above the washstand, she looked haggard with dark circles under her eyes.
She and Edna ate breakfast in relative silence. Not unusual considering Edna wasn’t much for mornings these days and then settled in to read.
Colin had been clear that she wasn’t to walk about the deck unchaperoned. Sailors were a rough lot, even loyal as they were to her cousin.
A knock sounded at the door and she lifted her head, wondering who might be there. The noon meal wouldn’t be served for hours. “Yes?” she said, rising as Aunt Edna grunted from her bunk.
“Miss MacFarland,” Mr. Mayweather called from the other side of the door. “The captain has given me permission to take you on a turnabout the deck.”
She let out a little gasp, looking at Edna who frowned in return. “I am content to stay here but ye can go,” her aunt said.
“Unchaperoned?” she whispered, her eyes growing wider.
“Colin’s on the deck.” Her aunt waved her hand. “Stay in his sight. I could use the peace from ye anyhow. Ye’ve done nothing but sigh all morning.”
She wrinkled her nose as she opened the door. “Good morning, Mr. Mayweather.”
He gazed at her, causing all those feelings she’d been fighting in the wee hours of the night to rise again.
“Good morning.” He grinned. “I find myself bored stiff and wondering if you felt the same.”
She wet her lips with her tongue, attempting to formulate a response but none came to mind. She should say no. She’d run away for a reason last night. The man was dangerous.
But if she refused that meant she’d spend the morning listening to Aunt Edna grumble. “Perhaps a short one. I could use a stretch.”
“Excellent,” he answered, offering his elbow. “It’s another sunny day and we don’t often get such fine weather.”
Fiona smiled, relief making her shoulders relax. They were back to discussing the weather. “Agreed,” she said. “I’ll have to bring my new feathered friend up to bask in the sun.”
He chuckled, deep and rich. “Last night was an interesting evening.”
She almost regretted her words. She’d been up thinking about their conversation for much of the night, she didn’t want to rehash their exchange with him. “Colin will tell ye, rescuing animals is a fairly regular occurrence for me. How’s yer finger?”
He held up the digit, now covered in bruises. She let out one of those small sympathetic noises that was somewhere between a coo and a whimper. “That looks terrible.”
He laughed again. “Colin did warn me.”
She bit her lip. “I still say he’s exaggerating.”
“And is he exaggerating when he says that Exmouth has been stringing you along for years and that you face either humiliation or ruination?”
She stopped, a gasp parting her lips. She didn’t want to discuss this with him, of all people. What must he think of her now? Her chest tightened. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to discuss any of this. I shouldn’t have told ye last night. I was—”
He held up a finger. “I’m glad you did. I have a proposal for you that I think you ought to consider.”
“A proposal?” she asked, turning toward him.
He nodded. “Being rather wild myself, I am especially knowledgeable on how to handle such boorish beasts. I thought perhaps I could help you prepare before you confront your fiancé.”
* * *
Tom watched her closely as Fiona’s eyes widened in surprise. At least she hadn’t run
away again.
She pulled her hand from her mouth. “Educate me on rakes?”
“Precisely,” he answered. They’d made a loop around the busy part of the ship and reached the aft, then he tucked them both behind a sail. “You tell me what your objective is and I’ll coach you on how to succeed.”
“And if my objective is to escort Exmouth to the altar?” She gave him a sidelong glance.
The idea of her married to another man made his insides twist but that wasn’t fair. He had no intention of marrying her himself. “Then I shall educate you in the best method to see him there.”
Her chin tilted further to the left and down. “And what do ye receive in return?”
“Clever girl.” He brushed her elbow with his free hand. “My parents have been gone for years. I thought I was in love a few years back but that lady…” He stopped. “I should have known better.”
“Should have known better?” Her brows drew together. “How so?”
“It doesn’t matter. But since her, I’ve had difficulty even trusting a woman enough to share…” He’d been going to say, her bed. But that was not information to share with a woman of Fiona’s station and sensibilities. “I haven’t been able to trust.” He was drawing her closer again. “I’m hoping you’ll mend my broken wing, so to speak.” This was supposed to be the best time in his life and he needed a healing touch so that he might enjoy himself once again.
“It’s just a bruise.” She reached for his hand and held it in both of hers. That same feeling of breathless desire and gentle calm filled his very soul. “It will heal without any help from me.”
“I’m not talking about my finger.” He drew in a long breath. She was going to make him say it. “Inside I bear wounds. Like we discussed last night. I need a gentle female to remind me that not every woman will hurt me.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Mayweather—”
“Call me, Tom.”
She nibbled on her lip. “Tom.” She was rubbing little circles on his hand, even as she meant to tell him no, she automatically soothed him. “I don’t think that’s wise. There is a pull between us and—”
“That’s why it will work.” He lowered his face so their cheeks touched as he whispered in her ear. “You’ll be receptive to my lessons and me to your healing.”
“But.” She shivered and it reverberated through him. He drew her closer. “I have to mind my reputation. I—”
“Will be ruined if you don’t get Exmouth to the altar. Which is what I intend to help you do.”
She hesitated and victory sang in his blood. Then she stiffened. “What sort of lessons do ye intend to give?”
“Well,” he said close to her ear, her heather scent wrapping about him again. “He’ll naturally want you. You’ll have to learn how to draw him in. Make him desperate for you so that he’ll be rushing to fulfill the vows.”
She gasped and her bosom pushed against his chest. His cock jumped. She leaned back, eyes wide. “Ye can teach me that?”
“Of course.” He lifted his hand to run the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip even as his palm cupped her cheek. “You naturally have many of the skills already. We’re just going to hone them. Make sure you draw him long enough to get him to the altar.”
“What then?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Her plump lip was so soft and inviting.
“Well.” She drew back a bit and he missed her softness pressed against his harder flesh. “Will it be enough to convince him to return to Scotland? Or keep up in England?”
He pressed his lips together. The answer was likely no. He knew men like Exmouth and they rarely kept their attention on one woman for long. “That isn’t the point, I don’t think. As far as I understood it.”
She looked out over the water, her eyes distant and sad, the corners pulled down even as her brow furrowed. “I suppose it isn’t. Still. I’m not sure any of my options are good. It’s like I’m trying to salvage the rest of my life into something…tolerable.”
He slid his fingers from her cheek into the thick silky strands of her hair. They made a man yearn. “I don’t have any proof for you, but somehow I feel you will end up with so much better than that.”
She looked at him then, her green eyes sparkling even as they begged him for answers. Begged him for help. “I hope ye’re right, but with each passing day, I grow more fearful of the future. I should never have come on this trip.”
Chapter Six
Fiona regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. It wasn’t like her to be so pessimistic and it wasn’t his position to answer that thought anyhow.
“Do you think staying home would have been better?” Tom asked.
She shook her head as his large hand slid through her hair. His hands were firm and strong and she had the feeling they could bolster her through this storm of emotions. “No. Likely not.” She gave him her best smile. “Apologies. That is not yer problem.”
He quirked a brow. “Well, I suppose after what I proposed, it is my problem. If I’m to help you, you have to decide what you want first.”
Her smile turned from false to genuine. She felt it in the softening of her cheeks and the relaxing of her neck. “Deciding what I want would be best. I suppose that is one of the difficulties in not knowing yer fiancé. I have no idea if I like or hate him or am just completely indifferent.”
He leaned down, his nose nearly touching hers. “Either way, I can help you.”
She rested her hands on his chest. “Ye’re certain?”
“I am,” he answered.
“Fiona?” Colin called. “Where’d ye go?”
Tom pulled back and spun her about so she was at his side again as he stepped out from behind the sail. “She’s here.”
Colin gave them a long look before he finally returned to his task of coiling several feet of rope.
“Well, if ye’re going to do this, we have to think of a way to keep from raising Colin’s suspicions.” Fiona tapped her chin. “I doubt he’d approve of this plan.”
“You’re right there.” He gave Fiona a sidelong glance. “We’ll have to begin by doing small lessons behind the sail.”
She frowned. “Ye really think ye can teach me what I need to know to bring an errant fiancé to task in the one minute we’re behind a sail?” The idea seemed highly unlikely, but she couldn’t think of a better one.
He shrugged. “We’ll find out I suppose.”
They walked in silence for several more seconds before an idea came to her. “We’ll have to meet when nearly everyone is asleep and sneak about the back of the cabin where the watchmen won’t see us.”
He quirked a brow. “Devious. And likely a good plan but also dangerous.”
“I can’t sleep in that hammock anyway. I might as well put my time to good use.” She bit the inside of her lip. If she were being honest, the idea of night meetings with him was far more exciting than she let on.
“Agreed.”
Her heart jumped with excitement. “Do ye think eleven is too early?”
He gave her a one-sided grin. “Sounds just about right. But we can start your first lesson right now.”
“Really?” she asked, her pulse picking up speed. “How so?”
“You might not be able to get him alone at first.” He knelt a bit closer, dropping his voice. “So you’ll have to learn to touch him when you’re in public but no one else can see.”
Oh, that was an excellent idea. “But what if he doesn’t want my touch?”
“He will, especially after you give him a few of your gentle strokes. He’ll be begging for more.”
She stopped to look at him. “Why? I thought rogues wanted passion and excitement.”
His mouth snapped closed and he didn’t answer. Had she said something wrong?
* * *
Tom clenched his free hand at his side. He’d already made a mistake. Most rogues did want that. Perhaps it was just him who needed healing. “Every man craves a bit
of tenderness especially if you let him know that tender touches will lead to passionate ones.”
“Oh.”
She jumped just a bit, clearly excited. Several parts of her jiggled and his own body, heaven help him, responded. This plan might have been a mistake. It hinged on his control, after all. He couldn’t ruin her, he just wanted to help her while he also healed himself.
Risky to be certain, but hopefully worth the gamble.
“Where do I touch him? Show me.”
He nearly tripped over his own feet. “Last night you held my hand and that was good for a first interaction.” His mouth had gone dry and he cleared his throat. “But as things progress, you’ll want to brush your hip against his.” They were approaching the sail again and as they disappeared from view, her body swayed closer, touching his. “Like this?”
His manhood responded like a dog begging for affection. “Yes,” he croaked. “For a woman of little experience, it doesn’t have to be much. Just enough to let him know you want him. He’ll respond in return.”
“This is very enlightening. What else?” She jumped again and landed with her body pressed to his side.
His entire length pulsed with need. “Well, you can brush his lower back with your hand.”
She slipped her arm from his elbow and ran her fingers along his spine. “Like that?”
They were about to come into view and he quickly tucked her hand in his elbow again. “Exactly.” He’d been wrong. This had been a terrible plan and he didn’t have the self-control to see it through. They’d only just begun, and he was tight as a sail in the wind.
“Anything else?” she asked, keenly looking at him. “Should I touch his face? It was quite nice when ye held mine. Do men like it when ye put yer hand in their hair? Or when ye touched my lip. Are yers as sensitive as mine are?”
This was hell. Or heaven. He hadn’t made up his mind. “You liked all those touches?”
A Lass to Love: Brides of Scotland Page 3
