The Scottish Outlaws Collection, Books 1 - 5

by Lily Baldwin

  “Captain, I can hear ye pacing out there,” Rose said through the door.

  He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. For twenty-five years he had sailed the tumultuous seas. He had faced attacks, negotiated with kings, and fought for the rights of merchants. But for the first time in his memory, he was nervous. How would Rose react when she heard his proposal?

  He racked his brain for a different answer. There had to be another way forward.

  “Damnation,” he whispered as defeat forced him to tap lightly on the slatted wood.

  Rose swung the door wide. “Captain, yer going to wear a hole in the hull and sink us all to the bottom of the sea if ye keep up that pacing. What is on yer mind? Do we leave for France today?”

  Tristan rubbed the back of his neck as he considered how best to answer her question. “Well, that depends on you.”

  “On me?” she said. “I do not ken.”

  He took a deep breath before he began. “I would like to propose…” his words trailed off. He shook his head at his own discomfort with the word ‘propose’.

  He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I have a proposition for you.” He motioned into the room. “Perhaps, you should sit down.”

  She took a seat on his bed. Closing the door behind him, he stood awkwardly. “Before I begin, you must understand something about me.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the problem that Philip mentioned I might be able to help with?”

  Tristan nodded. “It does. And you may, indeed, be in a position to help, but before I go into any detail about that, allow me to first explain something.”

  She looked up at him with clear, curious eyes.

  What was he thinking?

  He could not ask this of her. She would think him mad or a scoundrel.

  Then he noticed that she still wore Simon’s hose and the oversized tunic. “Do you not like the tunic we bought you in town? Does it not fit properly?”

  She smiled. “’Tis wonderful. I couldn’t love it more, but ‘tis too fine to wear every day. I would never forgive myself if I ripped it or spilled something on it.”

  Her words struck his heart. The deep green tunic was made from fine wool, but wealthier women, his own sister included, would have turned their noses up at the plain garment. It was a reminder of Rose’s humble origins. Mayhap Philip was right. She might welcome the opportunity to better her life and the lives of her family.

  He picked up the tunic that was folded on his desk and laid it out on the bed next to her. “It would please me if you wore it. Simon’s isn’t really suitable.”

  She smoothed her hand over the soft, green fabric. “If it pleases ye, then I will change after we’ve discussed whatever is on yer mind.”

  He took a deep breath. “Right. Back to the matter at hand.” He sat on the bench in front of his desk but facing out. His knees filled the space in front of the door. “You see, Rose, the morning you drifted into my life, we had made port on Skye where a missive awaited me from my father announcing that he had betrothed me to the daughter of a baron.”

  She clasped her hands together. “That is wonderful. Congratulations.”

  He held out his hand to curb her enthusiasm. “Permit me to add that he did this without my consent or even my knowledge.”

  Her smile vanished. “But…but ye’re a grown man. Ye’re more than a grown man, in fact.”

  He smiled at her reference to his age. “At five and thirty, I am certainly old enough to choose my own wife.”

  Her brows drew together. “Why would yer father do this, particularly given yer distaste for nobility?”

  “Ambition,” he said simply. “Regardless of my father’s success and wealth, he is ever aware of the ‘inferiority’ of his birth. My marriage into a noble family would open doors I would rather stay shut whilst my father would give his right arm to walk straight in.”

  “Or, in this case, his son,” she added.

  “Precisely.”

  She frowned. “But this is terrible.”

  “It gets worse. Precious little good could be said about Lady Roxwell’s character. She is reputed to be a cruel woman.”

  Rose pressed her hand to her heart. “Captain, forgive me for saying so, but where I come from a betrothal is binding. To break it would bring shame to yer family.”

  “Now you are alighting upon the true challenges of my predicament, except that, to make matters worse, my father is a commoner who has made a contract with a nobleman. If I were to refuse to honor this betrothal…well—”

  Her eyes widened. “Then his very life might be forfeit,” she blurted, interrupting him.

  He nodded solemnly. “The only way that I could avoid this marriage and not bring shame to my father or endanger his very life, is if the missive found me and I was already wed.”

  Her brows drew together. “But ye’re not married.”

  “True,” he said. “But I’ve been away this last year. Who’s to say I haven’t taken a wife.”

  She stood up, bumping his knees. “Why do ye waste time here? Ye should be scouring Cardiff for an eligible bride. ‘Tis the only way.”

  He held out a calming hand. “That might appear to be the case except that my new bride and her family would have to lie and say we were married before I received the message from my father, which is too risky. And as trivial as this might sound, given all that’s at stake, I do not wish to be forced into any marriage.”

  She chewed her lip and stared out into space, clearly searching for a remedy to his problem. At length, she sat back down with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid I see no other solution.”

  He took a deep breath. “According to Philip it’s not as hopeless as we might think.”

  She sat straighter. “What has he proposed?”

  He laughed nervously. “Funny that you should use that word…” He raked his hand through his hair.

  No more hesitation.

  He looked at her dead on. “He thinks I should falsify the marriage.”

  “Falsify the marriage? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “As unbelievable as this might sound, Philip has suggested I take a pretend bride, and that she should be you.”

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Me?”

  “That is correct.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger, taking him completely by surprise. She stood and thrust her finger in his face. “If ye’re asking me to be yer mistress, I suggest ye cast yer nets for another woman—I am not the one.”

  “Upon my honor that is not what I meant,” he said, his hand on his heart.

  Slowly, she sat back down on the bed. “Explain yerself.”

  “What I propose is strictly a business arrangement, an accord between you and me. We will conduct ourselves as a married couple but without the…er…intimacy. Like actors.”

  The confusion fled her face. “Or spies,” she said, her eyes now bright. “Although our pretense would not be to uncover a secret, but rather to conceal one.”

  “Precisely,” he agreed.

  She didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, she dropped her hands to her lap. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He squatted down and took her hands. “I have considered my present circumstances from every angle. I would not support Philip’s plan if I had another.”

  She took a deep breath. “I understand yer confliction. I could never marry someone I didn’t love. And yer father has placed his life in grave danger.”

  “Not just his life, but my own as well. My stepmother and sister would be left to fend for themselves, not to mention what would happen to our ships and the men who rely on us for their livelihoods.” His mind was spinning, but he took a deep breath and squeezed her hands. “Despite it all, this scheme of Philip’s is fraught with risks of its own, not to mention deception. I vow to you—no harm will befall you. I will protect you with my life if need be, but do not allow the direness of my own situation to be your only guide.”


  “If I did agree to help, what would happen? How long would we play the role of husband and wife?”

  “Our charade would not last long. We journey to France and then London to spend a few days with my family. After that, I bring you home, and your obligation ends.”

  “What about after? Will ye tell yer family yer new bride died?”

  His eyes widened with surprise the instant before he shook his head. “My island bride prefers our home on Skye. Trust me when I say, my parents have passed their seafaring days.”

  She raised a skeptical brow. “But what if ye decide to marry in earnest?”

  “I am a man of the sea, Rose. I’ve no intention to wed.”

  She looked surprised. “Why ever not?”

  “It is not easy to love a sailor.”

  Rose shrugged. “That which is worthwhile is never easy.”

  “Well, what I’ve proposed will not be easy, but I assure you I plan to compensate you handsomely.”

  She sat straighter. “How so?”

  His lips lifted in a gentle smile. “I would not ask you to help me without ensuring you benefitted as well. I am a very wealthy man.” He leaned back against the door. “Name your price. But again, I insist you follow your heart and your conscience. I will understand if you wish to have nothing to do with this scheme. And please, take all the time you need to—"

  “A ship,” she blurted, interrupting him.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Pardon?”

  “Ye said I could name my price. I would like a ship, one equal to the Messenger.”

  He considered her request. “The Messenger is the finest ship in my fleet. She is yours, if you decide to—”

  She stood up. “Done,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake.

  Climbing to his feet, he took her hand. “We have an accord then.”

  She looked at him pointedly. “Ye cannot change yer mind.”

  “A deal is a deal,” he agreed.

  Now that they both stood in his confined quarters, their bodies nearly touched. Her blue eyes danced with excitement. A healthy flush colored the apples of her cheeks. He was struck by her beauty and vitality. His fingers twitched at his side as he resisted pulling her into his arms. Clearing his throat, he reached behind him to open the door. Then he stepped into the hallway and expelled a tense breath. He needed to be very aware of his powerful attraction to her. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable. Their relationship was now one of business, and that was how it would have to stay.

  He turned to face her. “We have a busy day ahead of us. There are a few tasks that demand my immediate attention. For now, why don’t you rest a while in preparation for a trip to shore.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I’m to go to Cardiff?”

  He smiled. “Indeed, you are. You need a new wardrobe among other items too numerous to list. I will be down to fetch you within the hour.”

  He started to turn away, but stopped and once more took her hand. “Thank you, Rose.”

  A cheeky smile curved her lips. “The Messenger is thanks enough, Captain.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Why is the ship so quiet?” Rose asked as she sat across from Tristan in the dinghy Philip was preparing to lower.

  “I have reassigned the crew to another ship. Before we set sail for France, we will take on a new crew, to which you shall be introduced as my wife, Mistress Rose Thatcher.”

  She pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. “I do not think I’ve blushed for ten years.”

  He smiled at her. “Not surprisingly, the rosy hue suits you.”

  She scanned the empty deck. “I had not considered the crew, but ye’re right. For this to work, we must take every precaution. Our secret must remain between us.”

  Tristan nodded. “Only Philip will continue on to France with us.”

  “Ready when you are, Captain,” Philip said.

  She glanced at the quarter master who flashed her a bright smile. “Have a wonderful time, Mistress Thatcher.”

  Again, her cheeks burned. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

  “Before you know it, we will feel like an old married couple,” Tristan promised. “We’ll start finishing each other’s sentences.”

  She laughed. “And I’ll complain about how ye snore, and ye will grumble about my cooking.”

  “I would very much like to sample your cooking,” he said.

  She bit her cheek to keep from smiling as a jolt of excitement shot through her. She wondered if her brothers experienced the same thrill when they carried out secret missions for the cause. Jack and Quinn had both pretended to be monks to gain access to English fortresses, and Alec had lived within the king’s palace for months posing as an English merchant. Now, she had her own secret mission as wife to Tristan Thatcher, English merchant. Their cause was not as grand as Scottish independence, but saving an honest man and his family from ruination was no less noble.

  Sitting straight and tall, Rose took a deep breath and scanned the side of the hull of the Messenger as they descended. She still could not believe that in a matter of weeks the great ship would be hers. The MacVies could each fish ten life times and not earn enough coin for a merchant cog.

  “Do you see how the outboards overlap one another?” Tristan asked, pointing to the hull.

  She nodded. “She’s clinker-built. The overlapping makes her stronger.”

  “You do know your ships,” he said.

  His praise made her smile. “’Tis in my blood.”

  “What else is in your blood?” he asked. “I mean, if we are meant to be married, we should know more about each other. Why did you go to Jura after the massacre?”

  She hated to continue to lie to him, but Colonsay was more than just a home. It was her family’s haven. Her brothers, all but Ian, were wanted men. No doubt their likenesses hung in every tavern from Cape Wrath to Dover. “Our father’s family hailed from Jura,” she lied. “When we were exiled from Berwick, we knew we would find welcome there.”

  “Are your parents there as well?”

  A pang of anguish struck her heart. “Nay, my parents and my wee sister were killed in the attack.”

  As were my three daughters and my husband, her heart whispered, but she kept her silence. Tristan was a kind and trustworthy man, and they had an accord. Still, he did not need to know everything about her. She wanted to protect her heart like she wanted to protect her brothers.

  “I am so very sorry for your loss, Rose,” he said, his brows drawn.

  She took a deep breath, willing away her grief. “Tell me of yer family.”

  He took up the oars and began to row toward shore. “My mother passed away when I was young, and my father remarried. Together, they have a daughter, my sister, who is quite a few years younger than I.”

  Rose smiled. “How old is she?”

  “She is five and ten.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “She is young.”

  “And spirited and incredibly kind-hearted.” A shadow crossed his face when he spoke of his sister.

  “Ye’re worried about how the current situation will affect her,” Rose said knowingly.

  “I am very protective of what I love,” he said simply.

  She nodded. “As am I.”

  Rose chewed her lip as she admired how his muscles shifted and flexed beneath his tunic. He dug the oars deep into the water, propelling them toward shore. The salty breeze lifted her unbound hair. She breathed deep the scented air and gripped the sides of the boat. Her pulse sped up the closer to shore they drew. She was about to set foot in a new town, and soon, they would set sail for France.

  “I cannot believe this is all happening,” she said unable to contain her excitement. Then she felt embarrassed by her outburst. “Forgive me. I…I just feared life held nothing more for me.”

  He smiled. “You were wrong.”

  Her heart beamed. “I’ve never been happier to be wrong.�
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  A short while later, the keel of the boat dug into the sand. Tristan leapt over the rail into the gentle surf, heedless of his hose and boots.

  She leaned over the side, eying the water lapping the shore. “I’ve been climbing out of boats since before I could walk.” She smoothed her hands down her fine green tunic. “Had I worn Simon’s hose, I would slosh right through the surf.” She lifted her shoulders and looked up at him. “Suddenly, I don’t know how to get out.”

  He laughed, the sound deep and rich, and once again, she was struck by how handsome he was. Before she knew what was happening, he reached for her. Sliding his hand beneath her thighs, he lifted her out of the boat and cradled her in his strong arms. She loosely hugged his neck as her heart started to race even faster. He smiled at her, and she smiled right back unable to look away. They were nearly halfway up the shore before it occurred to her that she was well out of the reach of the waves.

  She swallowed hard, still not able to tear her gaze from his. “I believe you can set me down now, Captain.”

  “Indeed,” he said, but he made no move to release her. She drew another breath and savored his masculine scent. When the beach was behind them, he slowly lowered her feet to the ground, his eyes never wavering from hers. Her mouth felt dry. She ached to wrap her arms around his neck again.

  He stared down at her, his gaze intense and full of unspoken desire.

  Her fingers twitched at her sides as she resisted the urge to reach up and weave her fingers through his thick, black hair.

  His lips parted, and he took a step closer, his hand moved to clasp her waist, but then he froze before he took a long step back.

  The tension shattered between them.

  “The river ferry will take us into town,” he said, his words rushed as he pointed farther ashore.

  “Excellent,” she blurted before swiftly walking away from him toward a large, flat barge. She needed to catch her breath and cool her face before she faced him again.

  What had come over her? She was not a maid, given to blushing and staring and longing. She was one and thirty, and she had made an accord with the captain. Anyway, he had no interest in marriage, and in that moment, she realized neither did she. Now, she understood that she could make her own destiny. If she were married, she would have to obey her husband instead of her own heart.