Roderick’s Purpose: The Victorian Highlanders Book 4

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “All this time,” he had whispered with regret, “I have longed for the moment to see such a payout, and I shall not be here to enjoy it.”

  She had looked at him in surprise, then. She knew his time was coming to an end, and yet they hardly spoke of it, as if, should they ignore it, it wouldn’t come to pass. It was obvious how rapidly his strength was failing, however, and it was now but a matter of time. Gwen only hoped he could last long enough to reach his final destination. She was fairly certain he would. Doc was many things, but never in her life had she met a stronger or more determined man.

  And now Roderick was apparently wanting to crush that spirit by keeping them trapped below deck in their cabins. As her father entered his own bunk, she stopped at her door to challenge Roderick.

  “The man has but days to live,” she hissed, “and you would have him spend those last moments in a dark, cramped cabin? Imprisoning a dying man who spent his life with the stars as his roof and the trees as his walls?”

  Roderick’s eyes darkened as he looked at her.

  “You wish to be angry with me,” he said slowly. “But I am not the one that spent years terrorizing people who came to free lands to find a new life for themselves. He — you — stole what these people worked so hard for. Doc chose this fate for himself, Gwen. I didna force it upon him, so don’t be angry with me. I’ve done you the courtesy of ensuring your cabins adjoin so you can help Doc whenever you need. I’ll not expect a thank you.”

  With that, he firmly but gently put a hand to the small of her back and steered her toward her door. She closed her eyes, trying to tamp down the desire that coursed through her at his touch.

  Don’t think of it, Gwen. Don’t think of him. He hates all that you are, all you have done, and has no desire to learn the truth.

  Resolve coursing through her, she turned, nodded to him, and slammed the door in his face.

  * * *

  Roderick sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he paced the deck, the stars seeming to wink down at him from the navy sky above. It had been a long few days. He had hardly seen Gwen or Doc — only when he escorted a porter to bring them meals. Their contempt for him was hardly concealed, and he was relieved that, for the moment, neither of them had thought to question his jurisdiction or what power he held over them to keep them contained on this ship, as far as they were from home.

  He couldn’t, in good conscience toward his fellow passengers, allow either of them to have leave of the ship. Lord knew what type of scheme they would dream up to divest some of the wealthy of their valuables.

  They were but a couple of days from arriving in Glasgow, and he had to stay diligent until they landed. If he were being honest with himself — not that he would ever admit it to anyone else — he truly hated this kind of work. The waiting, the watching. He had thought joining Callum as part of the police force would mean action and adventure, but he had been so wrong. The most action he had taken part in was chasing Gwen through the woods, and look how that had turned out for him.

  He could hardly wait to be off of this blasted ship, for so many reasons, he thought as he looked out into the dark night, the navy waters nearly matching the sky, with the full moon above lighting their path. He would soon see his family, his home, his land again. His stomach would stop roiling from the motion of the ship. And he would be rid of Doc and Gwen. He paused at the last thought. Would he really be happy to be done with her? Of course. And yet … part of him knew that he was lying to himself, that he would miss having her around. She brought a sense of life and of purpose that he had been missing, and since they had boarded the ship home and he had kept her confined in the cabin, he could feel the emptiness.

  His mind wrapped around Gwen’s fire, from her hair to her tongue, Roderick was oblivious to his surroundings until he felt something heavy and solid thud into his back. He gave a loud “oomph” and fell forward, nearly tipping over the side of the ship and into the churning waves below. At the last moment, the weight was lifted, and he was suddenly free once more. Arms waving madly in the air as he fought for balance, he managed to grasp the rail before he was able to push off and finally turn around to see what had threatened him. His eyes widened and he was momentarily frozen in shock at the sight in front of him.

  A large, burly man was slapping at arms that held him tight around the neck, his fingers scraping at the person who held him in a vise-like grip. The arms were strong, slim, and sinewy, and yet they were also fairly smooth… Good Lord, Roderick thought, realizing what he was witnessing, and finally sprang into action to help.

  Gwen was straddling the man’s back, a ferocious wildcat as she held on tight, trying to choke all breath from the brute as he continued to swing about wildly, attempting to detach her from him. Roderick could see the determination etched on her face as her sole focus seemed to be finding the strength to keep the man from freeing himself.

  Roderick made it to them in a couple of quick steps, just as the attacker was finally able to loosen his grip on Gwen’s arm, leaving deep gouge marks in her satiny flesh. As she began to fall backward, Roderick came up in front of the man, swinging his arm about and planting his fist in his nose. His attacker stumbled, coming to his knees, and in the process dislodged Gwen completely and she went sprawling on the deck, arms and legs akimbo. Roderick dimly noted she had returned to her breeches, before his focus went back to the man who rose to his feet, his nose spurting blood over the planks of the deck floor.

  He and Roderick circled one another, ready to spar. The brute threw a left hook, which Roderick ducked before bringing his fist up in an uppercut, connecting with the man’s jaw. Roderick didn’t want to admit that a woman had helped him in a physical battle, but he realized that his opponent’s reflexes seemed to have been hampered from his dealings with Gwen. As Roderick’s mind drifted, he took a punch to the gut, reeling backward and trying not to be sick, as his stomach had already been threatening to empty before he had engaged in this match.

  Roderick was getting ready to charge when the man suddenly crumpled, losing his footing and going limp on the deck in front of him.

  “What in the he—” he started, before looking up and seeing Gwen, a fiery angel, brandishing a pistol — the butt of it now bloodied — in her hand.

  She looked at him, an eyebrow raised and a quirk to her lips. “You really are a terrible officer, aren’t you?”

  Chapter 9

  Why she had saved his life, she had no idea.

  It had only taken a day on the ship for Gwen to pick the lock of her cabin door and find her way out to explore. She had been careful to avoid Roderick. If he knew she had managed to escape, he would likely have found a second lock for the door, or — worse still — would not have left them alone at all throughout the voyage. So, instead, she had taken the opportunity to roam the ship at night. Doc had wanted her to search for items of value to pilfer, but she had refused, telling him she did not want to call any more attention to them than was already directed their way, which was part of the truth.

  Instead, she used the time to stretch her legs and smell the ocean, to see the workings of a ship of this size. It was rather incredible, she thought, how all of the machinery and people working together could make a beast of iron move through the waters with such ease. In only days, they had crossed from one end of the ocean to nearly the other. It was unimaginable, and yet, here they were, scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

  She had been walking in deep shadow on the top deck when she had seen Roderick leaning against the rail, taking in the sea below. Gwen had stopped for a moment, appreciating his handsome male form. For as much as he annoyed her, as he frustrated her for keeping her under lock and key — or so he thought — he had a body any woman would dream of having close to her, and a face that should be carved in stone, as his strong features came together in such a handsome visage.

  Gwen had been nearly as startled as he when she saw the figure stealthily steal in behind him, the man’s arms reaching out to Ro
derick as he attempted to push him over the rail.

  She hadn’t stopped to think as she charged toward them, leaping on the man’s back and pulling him back and away from Roderick. At some point during the seconds she rushed toward them, she had realized who it was that threatened Roderick’s life — Foolish James, they called him, a man known for his muscle and not his mind. He had been a part of her father’s gang, and was now apparently part of the chase group who was after what she held. It was as she feared — they had evaded the police, or at least some of them had, despite her description of them. The gang must have determined she would be easier to overtake without Roderick, and sought to send him overboard.

  She had taken James out before Roderick could fight him, partly because she didn’t want to see Roderick getting hurt any further on her account, and partly because she didn’t want Roderick to question him. As one of the ship’s officers had come to collect James while she kept to the shadows once more, Gwen hoped she could keep Roderick away from the former gang member and from finding out any information that could lead him to know more about her ultimate plan.

  For the meantime, however, she pushed herself from the wall and began striding back to her cabin, Roderick in her wake.

  “How did you get out?” he growled at her, and she turned from him with a toss of her head.

  “I believe you meant to say, ‘Thank you, Gwen, for saving my life,’” she said, keeping her shoulders back and her head high.

  “No, I don’t believe I did,” he responded, and she forced herself to continue facing forward. “Now tell me, how did you manage to break out of your cabin, and where is Doc?”

  “Doc is where he always is,” she said, softer now, not wanting to shout at Roderick of Doc’s condition. “Lying in his bed. He doesn’t have much longer, Roderick.”

  Roderick said nothing, apparently unsure of how to ease the pain of losing a father such as Doc. Gwen knew he wasn’t exactly a man one could list accolades of.

  “As I said, Roderick," she continued. “You are not much of an officer. You don’t know where your captives are, you don’t realize when someone is following you, and you do not even have your handgun on your person! What good are you anyway?”

  She looked back at him to see the effect of her words, which she had thrown out toward him in jest, and was surprised at the look that crossed his face. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it seemed something of shame and regret.

  “You’re right,” he finally said. “I am not much good at all.”

  “Now, Roderick, I only meant—”

  “I know what ye meant, lass,” he said as they came to her door. He pushed open the cabin door, finding it unlocked with no trace of forced entry — or exit, of course, Gwen thought with a hidden grin, knowing the skill her quick fingers held at such work. It was what she was good at, why she had become invaluable to the gang. Gwen had nimble fingers and a quick mind, and could open nearly every lock or safe she came across. It was one of the reasons why Doc had kept her as a child, and he continually called upon her to prove her worth.

  Roderick held open the door, motioning for her to enter the tiny berth. The door adjoining Doc’s quarters was closed, as he had been sleeping for some time when she left. Gwen turned to say goodnight to Roderick, but found that he had followed in behind her. The cramped quarters meant they were nearly nose-to-nose. She cleared her throat and sat on the bed, putting some space between them. After shutting the door, he leaned back against it, staring down at her.

  “How long have you been letting yourself out?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Ah… since the first night,” she said, an idea slowly forming in her mind. She hadn’t wanted him to die, no, but she did want to be free of him. Perhaps there was a way to make it so.

  She stood and sauntered over to him, trying not to be obvious, but wanting to catch his attention. Gwen saw the desire flare in his eyes, and she smiled coyly up at him.

  “Do you want me to teach you?” she asked, coming to stand as close to him as she could without touching him.

  “Teach me?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his attention clearly wavering from their conversation.

  “How to pick a lock,” she said as if it were obvious of what she was speaking, and he frowned in return.

  “I know how to pick a lock.”

  “Do you?” she asked, closing in on him.

  “I do,” he said with a nod.

  “Would you like to prove yourself?” she asked, coming to stand just in front of him, their lips but a breath away from one another.

  “No,” he said with a choked groan, and then he lost what little control he had apparently been holding on to and hauled her to him. She stood on her toes to make up for the few inches between them and brought her lips to his, tasting him with the hunger that had burned in her belly since the last time they had met in such a dance. As much as she had orchestrated this situation, she couldn’t deny the pull she had to him, nor her own wish to feel him against her. As their tongues tangled together and she wrapped her arm around his neck, she knew she wanted more, oh so much more, from him. And yet, as much as she physically desired him, she had enough rational thought to know he wasn’t the man for her. He wanted to capture her. He wanted to contain her. And no man would ever, nor could ever, do so. She wouldn’t allow it.

  Gwen would rather die than spend the rest of her life in a jail cell.

  She pulled him back from the door, slipping her hand into his pocket as she did so, discreetly, adeptly, without him knowing what she was doing. She turned him around, entirely the aggressor now, and she kept her lips on his as she pushed her body against him to move him back toward the bed, her arms still round his neck and broad shoulders. It felt powerful, to be able to hold such command over a man like Roderick, and as she pushed him backward on the mattress, a part of her held deep regret that she was not able to take full advantage of the situation.

  “Gwen,” he said, breaking the seal of their kiss. “I’m not sure if this is a good—”

  “Shh,” she said, bringing a finger to his lips, “just lay back.”

  He raised himself to his elbows now, his face twisted in seeming confusion over his morals.

  “One moment,” she said, rising and making her way to the door. She took one look back at him, and he must have read something on her face as he suddenly rose up in one quick motion.

  “Gwen, no!” But it was too late. She slipped out, shutting the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.

  * * *

  Roderick yelled out a curse that likely woke half the ship.

  He was a fool. A bloody fool who thought not with his brain but with what was in his pants. Gwen had been right. He was a terrible officer. If Angus McLaren found out about this— He pushed the thought away. Now was not the time to think of what could happen in the future. Roderick had to find his way out of here, and fast. Gwen couldn’t go anywhere, no, but she could certainly find somewhere to hide to be free of him when the ship docked. He had been given one job, and that was to turn the pair of them over to the Scottish authorities. Once that job was complete, he would be free of his responsibility. He refused to fail at what should be a simple task.

  Roderick rushed over to the door adjoining this cabin to Doc’s, but it was locked as well. He put his ear to the door, hearing rustling, and he realized Gwen had entered the cabin to collect Doc.

  “Damnit,” he cursed. He cupped his hands around the door.

  “Gwen,” he said, with as much authority in his tone as he could muster. “Gwen, let me out this instant!”

  He heard nothing but silence in response, and he went to the main door of the cabin. He wiggled the doorknob, but it remained securely locked. He had told Gwen he knew how to unlock a door, and the truth of the matter was, he had been taught how to, but he had never been particularly adept at it. They didn’t have any locks on the doors of their castle in the Highlands, and he had never had any other need
to learn.

  Roderick searched the cabin for anything he could use, but Gwen had clearly taken her tools with her. Likely in a pocket, he thought with a grumble. Well, there was one thing he had that she didn’t — force. He took a couple of steps back away from the door then took a run at it, barreling into it as hard as he could. His shoulder went into the wood of the frame, bending it slightly, but it had been well made and wouldn’t give that easily. It took more than a few tries before he was able to make any progress, but he finally splintered the door enough to get a hand through to unlock it. His shoulder was bruised and throbbing by the time he let himself out into the corridor, and he had splinters stuck in his hand and forearm where he had fit his arm through.

  He looked down the hallway one way and then the other, trying to determine where they would have gone first. Perhaps she had left a clue in Doc’s cabin, he thought, and he was surprised when the doorknob turned in his hand.

  He pushed open the door, ready for a quick search, but stopped short at the sight in front of him. Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her hair falling in loose waves. Her head was bowed as she looked down at the man in front of her. Doc Malone had been so feared, so infamous, and now he was relegated to this gaunt skeleton of a man before them. Roderick wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but it was some sort of disease that ate away at his muscle, obliterating his appetite, and reducing him to nearly nothing but a shell of a man.

  Roderick shut the door quietly behind him, and Gwen finally looked up at him, with not so much despair but resignation etched on her face.

  “I won’t run,” she said, shaking her head. “I cannot leave him. He’s too weak to move without help, and I won’t go without him, as much as he wants me to.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I’ll stay in my cabin or his, Roderick. I haven’t stolen a thing since we’ve been on this ship, and I won’t steal anything for whatever the short time we have left on it. For what it’s worth, I promise you that.”