How to Blackmail a Highlander (The MacGregor Lairds)

by McLean, Michelle

  She didn’t put up with his glowering for long. When it became clear he had no intention of releasing her, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and attempted to march back toward the short staircase that led below. Though with the ship rocking to and fro and the deck slick with rain, her grand escape resembled something more akin to a toddler taking her first steps than an elegant lady making an impressively sweeping exit.

  He paused barely long enough to take a deep breath of air, and then followed her below. They would have to come up with some sort of an understanding. Or they’d never survive the trip.

  Chapter Six

  Alice staggered back into their cabin, using the walls on either side of her as aids for staying upright. Fury ate through her at Philip’s overbearing ways. Yes, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. And had he given her another few seconds, she would have come back down on her own. But once he’d shown up, blustering and demanding, well, she’d had to draw out her excursion. Stand her ground. Let him know that she was not some country miss to be manhandled and ordered about. All it had gotten her was soaked through to the bone, but at least she’d asserted her independence.

  She snorted at that thought, fully aware she was being unreasonable but too frustrated to care. It seemed there was no escape from controlling, know-it-all men, no matter how far she ran.

  Philip was right on her heels, though he seemed to be handling the tossing ship with greater ease than she. He’d widened his stance to the point it should look ridiculous. But, as he was able to traverse the boards of the ship with merely a slight lurch here and there, and she was being tossed about like an empty flour sack, perhaps she should follow suit.

  He entered the cabin behind her, and the door swung shut of its own volition. He had obviously not finished with her yet, but she had no intention of being berated like a child for something so ridiculous.

  “I don’t know why you are so angry with me,” she said, reaching out to hold onto one of the bunks. “I wasn’t up there longer than a few minutes. There were plenty of crewmen about.”

  “Ye think I trust yer protection to a ship-full of ruffians?”

  She rolled her eyes at that. “To be honest, I didn’t think you cared all that much about my protection.”

  The outrage on his face would have been comical except she could tell she’d truly offended him. She bit back the urge to apologize. She hadn’t meant to malign his honor, but the man was insufferable.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “The captain couldn’t very well continue to take passengers if his crew was in the habit of accosting them.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, though she could see he wanted to. Before she could say anything else the ship tossed again and sent her flying into his arms. He caught her with a grunt. She tried to push away, but he held on tight.

  “I’ll be fine on my own,” she said.

  “Oh, I can see that.” His chuckle reverberated through her chest.

  “Let go.” She pushed away from him, though it had more to do with the fine tingle running across her skin at his touch than her desire to put distance between them. In fact, what she truly wanted was to stay right where she was. And under normal circumstances she would have followed that impulse. But she was too irritated with him to give him the satisfaction.

  “I left ye out of my sight for all of seven minutes and there ye were, soaking wet and shivering, and seconds from being tossed overboard. Oh aye, ye’ve proved ye can take care of yerself, all right.”

  “You left.”

  “I returned almost immediately. Ye couldna be patient.”

  She opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut again, unfortunately unable to refute that.

  “And, since ye couldna be patient or sensible, ye’ve proved ye canna be trusted.”

  She scowled at him. “You cannot keep me locked in this tiny box for the whole trip,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s not that long of a journey.”

  She tried to put her hands on her hips to glare at him but the tilting ship made that impossible. If she didn’t hang onto the bunk, she was going to go flying again. But she stared him down long enough that he finally let out an exasperated sigh.

  “My offer still stands. I dinna want ye wondering about the ship on yer own. However,” he said, holding up a finger to stave off her argument, “I agreed to accompany ye anywhere ye’d like to go, and I will keep my word.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s very generous of you.”

  He snorted. “I’d rather be a nursemaid than have to explain to yer father why ye’d been defiled by a seaman or fell to the bottom of the ocean.”

  “I take it back,” she said.

  “Oh? I’m no’ generous now?”

  “No.”

  “Then what am I?” The half grin on his lips and the gleam in his eyes set her stomach roiling. Though perhaps that was merely the motion of the ship. He bit his lip and her knees nearly gave out. Not the ship. Though the incessant tossing of the waves wasn’t helping matters.

  “You’re stubborn and cruel and selfish and pigheaded and…”

  “I believe stubborn and pigheaded mean the same thing,” he said, his grin widening.

  She rolled her eyes. “And rude and coarse and…and…”

  He’d been taking small steps toward her with every word, and now he stood a mere few inches away.

  “Aye? What else am I?” His voice was as deep and rough as the storm-tossed sea outside and affected her as much. Even if she stood on solid ground, his voice would knock her off-kilter.

  “You are…” She stopped and swallowed hard.

  He was overwhelming, that’s what he was. Exciting and dangerous. Mouthwateringly handsome. Potentially devastating. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “You are…large,” she finally said.

  His laugh echoed throughout the cabin, and her own lips twitched into a smile. But before she could say anything more the ship lurched again, throwing her into the bunk. Her head banged on the edge of the wood, and pain shot through her skull. She cried out and put her hand to her head. It came away wet and sticky. She glanced up, her eyes wide. She knew her head was hurt, of course. But the pain she was experiencing didn’t seem to warrant the amount of blood that gushed down her face.

  Philip paled slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees in front of her and grabbed a cloth from the small table by the bunk. He dabbed gently at her head. Then he placed the towel against her wound and pressed hard. She sucked in a breath but didn’t fight him.

  “Shh,” he said, his voice surprisingly soothing. “It’s no’ so bad as all that.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  He gave her a small but warm smile. “No, ye’re not.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am a bit.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And why is that? Have the other ladies you’ve known been so delicate?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and then gave her another smile. She steeled her stomach against the now-familiar flip his crooked grin caused.

  “No,” he said. “Actually, quite the opposite.”

  “Am I so different from them then?” She held her breath, waiting for the answer. The fondness in his eyes when he’d answered told her he admired the ladies in his life. That she wouldn’t be the type of woman he would look upon with admiration stung more than she wanted to admit.

  He didn’t answer for a moment but instead looked at her, his eyes roaming over her face before stopping to stare into her eyes. “No,” he said again. “Ye’re no’ so different at all. You’re strong like them. And intelligent. Bonnie.” He grinned again, and her heart skipped a few beats.

  “You still think I’m bonnie? Even dripping wet and covered in blood?” she asked. She hated the weakness behind the question but couldn’t help it. She wanted to hear him confirm it. Wanted to know he found her attractive.

  “Aye,” he sai
d, lightly stroking her cheek.

  He dabbed at her forehead again, but she barely felt the sting as that one soft word flowed through her like a soothing wave.

  His eyes searched hers for a moment. He moved infinitesimally closer. Her breath caught in her throat, and she bit the corner of her lip. He was close enough to kiss. All she had to do was lean the slightest bit forward. And for a moment, she was certain that was what he wanted.

  But then he sat back and continued with his description. “Bonnie, aye. But stubborn, shrewish, pigheaded…”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that what you truly think? Or is it simply easier to throw my own insults back at me?”

  His eyebrow quirked up. “Perhaps it’s both.”

  He leaned forward to peer at her forehead, and her eyes closed. She breathed him in, reveled in the heat that seemed to seep into her very bones, though he barely touched her.

  “There now,” he said, giving her head one last dab before putting the cloth down. “I think ye’ll do.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, forcing herself to meet his eyes. His breath danced across her mouth, and she bit her lip again, anything to keep from closing the distance between them. She expected him to move away, yet still he didn’t. His gaze shifted to her mouth, and she could hear the hitch in his breath. He wasn’t so unaffected by her as he liked to pretend. The knowledge burned through her with a triumphant passion. He wanted her. Whether he liked it or not.

  He placed a hand on either side of her and she hoped he’d give in. But she saw the moment he decided to back away. Saw the decision, and disappointment, in his eyes.

  But before he could move, the ship jolted again, throwing her back. And sending him toppling. He caught himself, his arms straining under the momentum. His body was a delicious weight on top of her, though he managed to keep from crushing her. The sudden contact, though, overrode whatever determination he’d had in place. He stared down at her, eyes narrowed, breathing as though he’d run the length of the ship. His arms bent slightly, allowing more of his body to rest against hers, and she gasped, her eyes nearly fluttering closed.

  That was all it took. He brushed his lips across hers, and she brought her hand up to his cheek, wanting to hold him captive. His mouth moved against hers in a demanding dance that made her head spin. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss.

  The ship heaved again, and Philip wrenched himself from her, staggering back. He stared down at her, chest heaving, his face unreadable.

  “My apologies, my lady. I—” He clenched his jaw. Every muscle in his body looked poised and ready to attack. It must be what he looked like when preparing for battle. Except this time, he wasn’t facing an enemy with a sword. He warred with himself. Or perhaps her. She knew exactly how he felt. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes flashing in a face that seemed chiseled from stone. “It willna happen again.”

  “Philip,” she said, pushing herself upright. Could he not tell how much she’d enjoyed his kiss? How much she wanted more?

  Or perhaps that was the problem. He knew. And he wanted her just as much.

  “I’ll leave ye for a moment so ye can change out of those wet clothes before ye catch yer death. I willna be long.”

  He stepped away from her, slowly, as if he expected her to launch herself at him. And she wanted to. More than he could know. But she had her pride. She wouldn’t beg for his touch. When the time came, he’d be the one begging her.

  And she’d repeat that to herself until she believed it, because she couldn’t help but fear she’d be the one begging.

  Chapter Seven

  The dock was an overwhelming cacophony of noise and bustling activity that captivated Alice. She hadn’t had time to watch the comings and goings when she’d boarded the ship. She’d been far too concerned with getting aboard before Philip arrived. But now, she watched the sailors scurry about the docks like ants on a sweet roll, her imagination running wild at all the things these men must have seen during their travels.

  She also kept a close eye on Philip. He’d been far too quiet since their kiss that first night on the ship. The following two days had been full of tense avoidance that had her on edge. Oh, he’d escorted her around the ship as he’d promised. But he’d done so with a brooding silence that drove her to distraction. He seemed to enjoy keeping her in the dark about what would happen once they reached shore, despite her constant inquiry. Or perhaps he merely didn’t want to speak to her.

  He’d agreed to take her to Elizabet. But he’d done so under duress, to keep her from alerting the authorities. Now that they were in Scotland, that threat didn’t hold much weight. Oh, there were still English authorities to whom she could turn. But this was Philip’s home. He could disappear without a trace before she could say a word to anyone—and they both knew it.

  Not that she’d risk saying anything to anyone. Unless she managed to have him apprehended right there in the street—which would certainly cause her just as much trouble, as she’d be shipped back to her family posthaste—then she couldn’t raise the alarm once he’d gone. As his destination was Elizabet and John, sending soldiers after Philip was tantamount to sending them right to Elizabet’s doorstep. Something she’d never do. So, there wasn’t much she could say now to blackmail him into helping her. She’d simply have to hope he’d honor his agreement.

  He’d overseen the unloading of the supplies he’d brought along, as well as her trunk. But while his supplies had been loaded onto a waiting wagon, with him directing the placement of each with the precision of a master clockmaker, her trunk still sat on the road beside it. And for the last several minutes, he’d been conversing with an older gentleman who stood with two women about Alice’s age. Philip clapped the man on the shoulder and handed him a small purse. Then he gestured to a couple of boys standing nearby who ran over and picked up Alice’s trunk. Except, they didn’t stow it on Philip’s waiting wagon. They carried it back down the dock toward another waiting ship.

  “What’s going on?” she said, hurrying over to them. “Where are they taking my trunk?”

  “To yer ship,” Philip said.

  She sputtered, unable to force anything out past the surprise and outrage that flooded through her.

  “This is Mr. Forsythe. He’s an associate of mine who, great fortune would have it, is returning to England. On that ship,” he said, pointing to the ship where her trunk was even now being carted up the gangplank. “And he’s agreed to chaperone ye on yer journey back home.”

  “My what?”

  “His two daughters will keep ye company. Ye’ll have to share a cabin with them, but I’m sure that’ll be no hardship.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Bring my trunk back, this instant!”

  Mr. Forsythe gave Philip a tight but amused smile and ushered his daughters toward the dock.

  “We’ll see you aboard, my lady,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  Her mouth dropped, and she rounded on Philip. “This was not our agreement.”

  He completely ignored her, instead taking her arm and turning her in the direction of the ship. “Allow me to escort ye—”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She yanked her arm from his grasp. “You agreed to take me to Elizabet. And now you’ll go back on your word of honor?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never gone back on my word of honor. However, my word was given to John, first and foremost. His safety and that of his lady supersedes all else. Especially the whims of a spoiled child. Besides, there is no breach of honor, as I never agreed to take ye to Lady Elizabet. I agreed to take ye to Scotland. And here ye are.”

  “But…you said I could get an audience with the Lion…”

  “I said maybe ye could. I never said I’d help ye and I certainly never said I’d take ye to them.”

  She sucked in a breath, momentarily struck dumb by his double-crossing. The desire to eviscerate him where he stood burned through her, but spe
nding the rest of her days in a Scottish prison for murder didn’t seem much fun. She’d have to wait until there weren’t so many witnesses.

  He smirked when she didn’t have a retort and turned back to the man loading his cart. Her head spun but she tried to keep her wits about her. She had mere moments to come up with a plan that would not land her back in her family’s and her betrothed’s clutches.

  Watching the man who was supposed to accompany her back home with his daughters, an idea occurred to her. It wasn’t the best plan in the world. In fact, she would probably be found out almost immediately. But she refused to stand by while her carefully plotted escape was thwarted. She waited until Philip was busily distracted, overseeing the last trunk being loaded onto his cart and arranging payment for whatever his helpers had done.

  “All right, then,” she said, rounding on him.

  He glanced at her briefly, eyebrows raised, before he turned his attention back to the men who waited on him.

  “I shall not force my presence on you any longer. If you refuse to keep your word, then so be it. I’ll find another way.”

  “If ye insist,” he said. “As long as ye find it after ye return to yer parents, where ye’ll be safe.”

  She glared at him, gave an exaggerated humph, turned on her heel, and marched over to where Mr. Forsythe waited with his daughters. She smiled sweetly at the trio, knowing Philip couldn’t see her with her back turned.

  Time to once again take matters into her own hands.

  …

  Philip stepped back into the sunshine, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness after the dim interior of the inn. The cart was packed, the barnacle on his back named Alice had been summarily dealt with, and his efforts had been rewarded with a bracing whisky. Time to get back to Glenlyon where he’d be free of the machinations of misbehaving ladies. He refused to dwell on the nagging pit that steadily grew in his stomach at the thought of this particular lady being sent back into the arms of a man she did not want. Who did not deserve her. Even if he wasn’t a murderous bag of slime as Alice thought, she still did not wish to wed him. And Philip, despite himself, grew more loathe to send her back.