Wicked Highland Heroes

by Tarah Scott

  They walked a moment with the carriage following behind when Eve Crenshaw slowed, her gaze fixed on a patch of snowdrops that had sprung up wild in the grass beside the sidewalk.

  When Grace and her escort were several paces ahead of them, she said, “What will you do if Lord Halifax dies?”

  “No need to worry yourself over that.”

  “You will leave the Continent,” she persisted.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I don’t think our father will allow either of us to marry a man who is wanted for murder.”

  “I should say not,” Erroll said.

  “That is why you didn’t insist that one of us marry you in Gretna.”

  It wasn’t a question. “That was one reason,” he replied.

  “Your wish not to marry is another.”

  This was not a question either. “Perhaps I simply never found someone I wanted to marry.”

  She gave her head a frustrated shake. “That is a very convenient answer.”

  “That does not make it untrue.” Or true for that matter, he reflected with amusement.

  She studied him for a moment, then said, “Our father won’t allow you to abandon his daughter in Scotland while you return to London and carry on as you please.”

  His daughter? So the lady was softening her tactic in steering him toward her sister—and letting him know her father would continue to take an interest in his daughter’s welfare.

  “In all fairness, I was angry when I said that.”

  Erroll thought he heard a low growl from the coach, which had slowed and was trailing suspiciously close to them. He should have known that ridiculous threat would come back to haunt him. The last thing he needed was the brute leaping from the coach to teach him a lesson in how a gentleman paid his addresses to a lady.

  “I was, after all, innocent of your sister’s accusations,” Erroll said. “Not to mention, I had just endured a very long lecture from my father and a five hour race to catch my accuser. I was not about to passively walk the plank.”

  Her gaze dropped and her shoulders shook slightly. He started to ask what was wrong, but his attention fixed on the curved flesh above her bodice. Lust made a stab at his groin with a dark intent that would certainly have Oscar upon him instantly. Then Erroll realized she was laughing.

  “I don’t blame you for being testy,” she said through barely muffled laughter.

  Erroll wondered whether she was laughing at the idea of him racing to catch his accuser or him walking the plank. “Then I am not quite the cad you thought I was?”

  “You aren’t guilty of compromising Grace. But you are still a rakehell, and I think you meant it when you said you would go on with your pleasures as you always have.”

  “Perhaps not exactly as I always have.” By God, if the brute overheard that, Erroll might have to remain awake, armed and vigilant the duration of the trip.

  Miss Crenshaw lifted her head and studied his face. “I don’t want Grace to be hurt. She is without question the better choice as your wife. She has been groomed for marriage her entire life.”

  Erroll grimaced. “You make her sound like a prize sow.” And him the prize hog.

  Miss Crenshaw’s brows shot up. “If you care for your sanity, do not allow Grace to hear you mention prize sows and her name in the same sentence.”

  That was the best advice anyone had given him in some time.

  “I’m sorry you had to fight the duel with Lord Halifax,” she said. “If you have to leave because of that it would be terrible.”

  Erroll clasped the hand she had around his arm and gave a squeeze. “The duel wasn’t your fault. Halifax was angry because I interfered with his dalliance.”

  Her gaze cut to the hand he’d placed atop hers, then she looked straight ahead. “Had we not surprised them, it’s likely things would have gone badly for Lady Gallagher,” she said.

  Erroll allowed his hand to drop from hers. “Then neither of us is to blame. Neville is a bastard. It is a wonder someone didn’t shoot him long ago.”

  “In any case, thank you.”

  Erroll liked the way the words sounded coming from her. “You are welcome.”

  “We cannot stay long in Scotland,” she said. “My father must be frantic with worry.”

  “Some of his fears are most certainly allayed by now,” Erroll said. “I sent word before we left Maryport.”

  She looked sharply at him. “Oh dear. That was right, of course, but you should have told us. I have been worrying.”

  “Forgive me. You are correct. It has been a hectic few days.”

  They reached the corner and turned. The coach halted for another carriage crossing the intersection before following. Somerset and Grace Crenshaw weren’t in sight and Erroll supposed they had reached the shop and gone inside.

  “How long until we reach your home?” Miss Crenshaw asked.

  “Two days, if we’re lucky. Three or more, if the weather conspires against us.”

  “I advise buying lots of sweets at the bake shop,” she said.

  “Have you a sweet tooth?”

  “I do, in fact, but this is for Grace. The food aboard ship is not fit for civilized people. She will arrive in Scotland in a much better frame of mind if she isn’t forced to subsist on salted meat and hard biscuits the duration of the voyage. Oh dear, I am not showing her to her best light, am I? To be fair, you really cannot expect her to do well when thrust into an unplanned voyage on a cargo ship.”

  “Of course not,” Erroll agreed.

  “Once we reach Mull, you will see that she can be very sweet,” Eve went on. “Not to mention, she is an exceptionally beautiful woman. You cannot deny that is pleasant.”

  He had to agree, and willed himself not to glance at her bodice to confirm that truth. He remembered too well the pleasure of her erect nipple in his mouth.

  “There is still the one problem,” he said, aside from the lust that kept him awake nights. They reached the shop and he stopped. Miss Crenshaw looked inquiringly up at him. “I did say I would not marry a woman who lies. It is unnerving to wonder what her next lie will be.”

  She gave him a shrewd look. “Everyone lies, you included.”

  “What do you lie about, Miss Crenshaw?”

  Her mouth parted in surprise, then she pulled her hand from his arm and stepped toward the door. “As we will not be marrying, that is none of your concern.”

  *****

  Eve stared down at the dark mass in the middle of the dinner plate Oscar set on the table before her.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t know.” Using her fork, Eve lifted the corner of the charred heap. She shifted her attention to Oscar, who stood waiting. “What is this?”

  “Steak, Miss.”

  “What happened to the salted beef we ate yesterday?” As hard as it was to believe, it looked better than this.

  “His lordship had this cooked especially for you,” Oscar replied.

  “He hates us,” Grace said.

  Eve wondered if Grace was right. “That is cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “He had supplies brought aboard, but better food doesn’t mean much when the cook is no good,” Oscar said.

  Grace pushed the plate away. “I will have one of the sweet goods we brought aboard.”

  “Can we expect more of the same tomorrow?” Eve asked.

  “I think so,” Oscar said.

  Eve cast another glance at the meat and shuddered. “Call for his lordship.”

  Oscar looked uncertain. “Miss, he is busy and—”

  “Good God, Oscar, you have known the man three days and take his side against me on every occasion. I will not forgive you for this.”

  “Probably not, Miss,” he said. “But it is better you’re alive to stay mad at me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You could have escorted Grace and I from Gretna Green back to Manchester. That would have been a far safer course of action than this one.”

 
“I couldn’t let your sister go with his lordship alone.”

  Eve gave an impatient shake of her head. “We would have all returned home to Manchester.”

  “Your sister wasn’t going to go with us,” he replied.

  “He is right,” Grace said. “My only choice was to accompany Lord Rushton. This ensures we will marry.”

  Eve felt a headache looming. “Oscar, fetch his lordship before I take this piece of coal on my plate and stuff it down your throat.”

  Oscar snorted, then left.

  When the door closed behind him, Eve said to her sister, “So you told Oscar you wouldn’t return to Manchester? Very clever.”

  “You don’t give him enough credit. He saw what you refuse to admit.”

  Eve suddenly wondered if she was doing Lord Rushton an injustice. Grace wasn’t in the habit of lying, but the lie that had gotten them into this mess was fueled by a nearly fanatical desire to become the Marchioness of Rushton. Her willingness to do almost anything to attain her goal was no better than being the liar Lord Rushton thought her to be.

  “So you will spin me in your web, consequences be damned?” Eve demanded.

  Grace gave her a critical look. “You knew the risks when you had Oscar kidnap Lord Rushton, as did I when I agreed to the scheme. You must accept the consequences and not expect me to change my course of action.”

  Eve stared. “Your course of action? Grace, we’re in a serious muddle.”

  “Indeed we are, which is why the earl will have to take action.”

  “He has already taken action. What if he has to flee the Continent?”

  “That would be a dire turn of events,” Grace admitted.

  “You might well be ruined,” Eve said.

  “No, though you would be.”

  “I am ruined already.”

  Grace smoothed back a lock of hair that had escaped its pins. “If you marry Lord Somerset, you will avoid ruination.”

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t wish myself off on him, particularly after these past few days.” But that wasn’t going to stop her from accepting his marriage proposal the first chance she got.

  “What are you talking about?” Grace said. “Lord Somerset would be fortunate to have you.”

  Eve was startled by her sister’s compliment. “I am not so sure he would agree,” she said slowly.

  “That would make him a fool. But I don’t think Lord Somerset is a fool. He has offered for your hand three times. He obviously has good taste.”

  Eve snorted. “Well, good taste and good sense are two different things.”

  *****

  Erroll halted in front of the ladies’ cabin, where Oscar stood sentry. “Should I ask why they sent for me?” he asked the brute.

  “They will tell you,” Oscar replied.

  “You are no help,” Erroll said.

  “No.”

  “Back to being a man of few words, eh?” Erroll asked.

  “This is your ride, m’lord.”

  “I was dragged into it, if you recall.”

  “You did your part.”

  “As I am sure they will remind me.” Erroll knocked on the door and Miss Eve Crenshaw bade him enter. He entered and closed the door behind him.

  “How good of you to come, my lord,” she said.

  “Is something wrong? Oscar sent word that you needed to see me right away.”

  “We understand you were kind enough to purchase provisions for the remainder of the trip.” She tilted her dinner plate so that he could see its contents.

  Erroll frowned. “Good God, what is that?”

  “Steak,” she said.

  “Steak—not the steak I brought aboard?”

  “According to Oscar, yes.”

  “What the devil did the cook do to it?”

  “I believe he slaughtered the cow a second time,” she said.

  And with a vengeance. “Most ship’s cooks are not known for their culinary skills, but this is particularly bad.”

  “We would prefer the salted beef,” she said.

  “The steak wasn’t that terrible,” her sister interjected.

  Eve Crenshaw cast her a recriminating glance. “You didn’t touch yours.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Erroll said.

  “It will be a shame to waste the remainder of the provisions you brought aboard, my lord,” the elder sister said. “I want to serve as chef for the remainder of the voyage.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Of course.”

  “As interesting as it would be to see you in the galley—” and he had to admit, it would be interesting “—I must refuse.”

  Her mouth parted in surprise. “You asked if I could cook.”

  “I was curious.”

  “I can cook enough for everyone,” she said. “We are willing to share the food you bought.”

  “That would only spoil the crew.”

  “No danger there,” the younger said. “Eve is not so good a cook that she will spoil anyone.”

  “I beg your pardon. I am a tolerably good cook.”

  “I am trying to help you,” her sister said.

  “Oh. Yes, well, in that case, she is right, my lord.”

  Erroll shook his head. “I am sorry, the answer is still no. It is too dangerous for you to leave this cabin.”

  “Rubbish,” the younger said. “There are three of you, and only two of us. Eve is asking only to work in the galley for two or three hours. It will be no hardship for Oscar to be there with her, and Lord Somerset can keep watch over me.”

  Erroll started to deny the request a second time, then realized that placing Somerset in the lady’s path played into his plan. “You do not wish to accompany your sister to the galley?”

  She actually shuddered. “Heavens, no. I have never so much as made a cup of tea.”

  Erroll could believe that. He looked at the elder sister. “I assume you would like to begin tonight?”

  “Why not? It is early yet and I have nothing better to do.”

  “The books I purchased today are not sufficient distraction?”

  “They were much appreciated, thank you, but one can read only so long without moving about.”

  “I’ll speak with the captain. I imagine we can come to an agreement.”

  “Offer him some of the Irish brandy you brought aboard.”

  Erroll stared at her nonplused. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a nosy streak, madam?”

  “No. But I have never been confined to a ship’s cabin before. Lord only knows what other hidden faults might appear if my confinement grows too tedious.”

  Erroll could well imagine and, oddly, wondered how he might find out exactly what those hidden faults were.

  *****

  Preparing the evening meal kept Eve up late, but she slept well and woke early the next morning refreshed. She found that, though she spent most of her time below deck, the movement of the ship and the sea air agreed with her. Today, she planned a stew with freshly baked rolls for the evening meal. The hour was three o’clock, Oscar sat at the table keeping silent watch as it seemed he had done throughout her life, and she looked forward with pleasure to the work ahead.

  Eve opened a small cupboard and spotted several bottles half hidden behind a sack of flour. She pulled out the flour and set it on the table to the left of Oscar’s seat, then grabbed the bottle of brandy, the bottle of wine, and an unnamed whiskey. The cook obviously liked a nip or two while he prepared meals, which probably accounted for his slaughter of their steaks. The cook would likely not forgive her for filching his liquor, but the wine would go well in the stew.

  Three hours later, Eve looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She replaced the lid on the stew, and glanced over her shoulder. Lord Rushton stepped into the galley and her pulse jumped. Heaven help her, he stood in boots, buckskin breeches, and a white lawn shirt open at the neck. His tanned chest revealed a hint of hair just above the top button. Eve yanked her gaze up to his fac
e.

  Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, but he said in a level voice, “I see you made good use of the provisions I brought aboard. The smell of freshly baked bread has permeated the ship. The crew is threatening mutiny if they don’t get some.”

  Eve realized Oscar was watching him and the rogue knew it. With conscious effort, she kept her eyes on his face. If Oscar kept any closer watch on her, he would climb inside her skin. Using the same matter-of-fact tone Lord Rushton had used, she asked, “What sort of captain have we if he cannot control his men over the scent of baked bread?”

  The earl grinned and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I will lead the mutiny,” he said.

  Eve gave him a look of mock horror. “Then we had better feed all of you.” She grabbed the towel she used as a hot pad. “If I am not mistaken, the bread should be ready.” She lifted the lid of the Dutch oven that hung over the fire alongside the stew and peered inside. The buns glowed a soft golden brown. She removed the pot from the fire and set it on a tin plate on the table.

  “Oscar.” Lord Rushton nodded as he rounded the far side of the table. The earl halted beside her and leaned over the bread. “I believe I could eat all these myself.”

  “Then it is fortunate I made several batches.” Eve lifted the towel from a bowl where she’d placed the baked buns.”

  His eyes lit like a boy at the dessert table. “You made enough for an army.”

  “You did provide plenty of provisions,” she replied.

  The aroma of baked bread wafted up on a wave of heat. Lord Rushton’s stomach growled.

  “Haven’t you eaten today?” she asked.

  “No, and I am ravenous.” He reached for one of the buns.

  Eve slapped his hand like a naughty child. “The crew first, sir.”

  He straightened. “That will be a novelty for them.” His eyes twinkled. “Be quick about it. I cannot resist your goods for long, madam.”

  She looked sharply at him, but it seemed he referred to the bread and not her goods as she had perceived, for his eyes were closed as he inhaled another deep breath.

  Eve suddenly realized that Oscar couldn’t have missed her reaction. She turned to the cupboard and withdrew three bowls, and said, “Have the men come down.”

  Lord Rushton shook his head. “I will remain here and Oscar can deliver the rolls while you prepare a tray for your sister and Somerset.”