by Arnette Lamb
If you wish to know how many women have engaged my affections, I can truthfully say one.
He had meant Virginia, she was certain of that. Or had he? She looked up and found Agnes staring at her. So was MacAdoo, but the instant Virginia’s eyes met his, he glanced to Cameron. Scanning the others on deck, she found them all watching their captain.
Among the crew, Virginia had made a few friends. Most of the seamen were shy; none of them were sallow faced, as MacGowan’s crew had been. To a man, this crew would not have countenanced what had been done to Virginia. These men were husbands, fathers, brothers . . . gentleman all.
And they watched Cameron with what could only be anticipation. For what?
Virginia didn’t know, and before she could ponder it longer, Cameron led them below and commenced toasting the voyage. During the casual ceremony, Agnes stayed very close to Virginia. But the moment word came that the Napier carriage approached, Agnes put down her glass and raced to the deck.
Virginia followed but stopped in her tracks at what she saw.
Chapter
12
Carriagelike only in that it rolled on very large wheels and was drawn by horses, be they only two, the round conveyance moved swiftly through the traffic in the crowded lane adjacent to the docks. Passersby gawked. Virginia marveled. The carriage didn’t bounce or sway, teeter or lurch, but whipped around wagons and drays like a swift pinnace among lumbering battleships.
Perched on the driver’s box that wasn’t a box at all, but rather a cushioned shelf, were two boys. As they came closer, she recognized the younger from Mary’s sketch book. He was Napier’s son, thirteen-year-old Christopher.
The other lad, who was older and unfamiliar to Virginia, hauled back on the reins. The carriage rolled to a stop. A pair of doors on the side opened, and a man stepped out. His hair was pale auburn, and he wore a blacksmith’s apron. He was Edward Napier; Virginia would have known him anywhere, even without Agnes jumping up and down beside her.
Raising an arm, he waved and called out, “Ho, the Maiden Virginia and Agnes.”
“Edward!” Agnes yelled back.
As he walked in a brisk, yet careful pace, he held his other hand over a bulge in the bib of his apron.
Agnes hugged Virginia, then took off down the gangway, her plumed hat fluttering as she ran. Agnes was faster, and she reached him before he made it to the quay. He looked down at her with such joy and love Virginia grew weepy. Holding Agnes at his side, he pulled back the bib on his leather apron to reveal a baby. Virginia’s heart lurched; Agnes had left her newborn behind. Until now, she hadn’t understood or truly appreciated the extent of Agnes’s loyalty and unselfishness.
Loyalty and unselfishness, two qualities Virginia had once possessed.
Make amends, her conscience urged.
Once more, she vowed that she would. When her new life didn’t seem like a garden maze fraught with thorns and dead-end paths, she’d clean the slate.
Agnes reached for the child, and to Virginia’s surprise, Edward held her back and motioned toward the ship. Watching him, a nobleman respected by everyone in America, cradling his child with the ease and confidence of a midwife, Virginia thought Edward Napier the third best man in world.
A hand touched her arm. “That carriage is Napier’s latest invention,” Cameron said. “ ’Tis twice as fast as the Edinburgh mail coach and uses only one-fourth as many horses.”
Her feelings were still in turmoil over that rosescented letter. Moments ago, during the celebration with the crew in Cameron’s quarters, she had seen him slip the letter from his tartan and put it in his sea chest. He’d been discreet, but she’d been watching him.
Thinking of that, she tried to summon civility. She managed to say, “Who is the lad with Christopher?”
“You recognized Napier’s elder son?”
“Yes, from Mary’s drawings.”
“The other lad is one of Sarah’s orphans. His name is Oliver Wallace, but we call him Notch.”
From Agnes, Virginia had heard of Notch; Sarah was sponsoring him at Glasgow University.
Cameron tightened his grip on her arm. “Shall we join them?”
Knowing full well that she shouldn’t, that rummaging through another’s possessions was wrong, Virginia couldn’t help herself. Her heart was involved. She’d given herself to Cameron Cunningham, and she had to know if she’d blundered.
She smiled up at him and pulled her arm from his grasp. “There’s something I’ve forgotten. I’ll be right back.”
He frowned, and fearing he’d follow, she shook a finger at him. “If you leave without me, I’ll never forgive you.”
Cameron relaxed as he watched Virginia go below; she hadn’t noticed the letter from Adrienne; he’d hidden it in his tartan, and Agnes had avoided Virginia’s question about the owner of the carriage. With a careful maneuvering, he’d get Adrienne out of Glasgow and his life quickly—before Virginia became the wiser. Odd that he’d changed his mind about that. At first, he’d planned to tell Virginia about his mistress, because he believed she’d understand. But considering their shared passion during the last three days, he’d reconsidered. Better that he avoid the subject or, at the least, broach it after the fact.
He’d go with Virginia to Napier House, get her settled in. Then he’d go home and deal with Adrienne.
“Cunningham!” Napier called out. “Permission to come aboard?”
“Permission granted.” Cameron glanced at the hatch and wondered what was keeping Virginia. He considered going after her but thought better about it. Or did guilt hold him back? Before he could ponder it longer, she returned to the deck, her MacKenzie tartan draped over her arm, the cat’s basket in her hand. Why she’d gone back for those things in particular he did not know, but one thing was certain. Having them gave her confidence, for she held her head high and her steps were smooth and sure.
Thinking that she’d need help until she found her land legs, he hurried to her side. “Be careful walking as you leave the ship.”
“Why?”
Her smile was friendly, but a new aloofness glittered in her eyes. What had put it there? Probably the prospect of meeting Napier, a man she admittedly held in high regard.
Cameron took the basket from her. “Because you’re still wearing your sea legs.” When her expression turned bland, he decided she was much too serious. “Your very beautiful sea legs.”
She gasped and flushed, but the sound was soft and the blush subtle.
“Virginia!” Agnes called out as she stepped on deck. “Come meet Edward.”
Still confused at Virginia’s behavior, Cameron let her pull the basket away from him. Without a word, she went to meet Edward Napier.
Cameron followed.
A beaming, teary-eyed Agnes said, “Darling, meet Virginia.”
Reaching out, Edward grasped both of Virginia’s hands in his. “Welcome home, Sister. We prayed for your safe return to the family.”
Cameron didn’t particularly like the way she smiled at Napier or the length of time they held hands. Then he laughed at his own jealousy. It was just because he faced a separation from Virginia. But they wouldn’t be apart for long; he’d make certain of that.
“I’m grateful that Agnes found me.”
Agnes? Cameron’s temper flared. How dare Virginia give the credit to Agnes? Fate had led him to Glasgow at the right moment, else Agnes would have been the one to discover the damned kegs.
“Agnes said you suffered a trauma to your cranium,” said Edward, his physician’s demeanor in place.
Virginia frowned and Cameron knew why, so he said, “Your head.”
She nodded in understanding but omitted any expression of gratitude toward Cameron. “Yes, my lord. A fall from a horse when I was young.”
“How young?”
“I cannot be sure, but of late, my memories are returning.”
Agnes beamed. “In bits and pieces. She recalled that Cameron used to spit in her hand.
”
Napier looked askance at Cameron. “Rather an ungallant lad, weren’t you?”
Bits and pieces, ha! She remembered at planned intervals and used her conversations with Agnes during the voyage as an excuse.
All he could think to say was, “My sordid past is behind me.”
Edward turned her hands over and examined her palms, which she tried to withdraw. “Have you experienced any odd memories?” he inquired. “Remembrances that do not fit?”
“Yes.” She took back her hands and glanced at Cameron. “I keep having visions of Cameron as a gentleman.”
Napier and Agnes laughed, but Cameron was slow to grasp the humor. Something in Virginia’s demeanor troubled him, not to mention her testy dispostion. What had come over her?
“Cameron, ’twas meant to be funny,” Napier caoled. “Be a good sport and laugh along.”
Excellent advice. Smiling, he shook Napier’s hand. ‘After weeks at sea with your wife?” For effect, he rolled his eyes. “Now there is a jest.”
“Hoots! Cameron. You’re a troll with scales and parnacles.”
“Shush, Agnes,” said Napier, patting the baby’s head. “You’ll wake Juliet. She had a fretful night.”
Wide-eyed with alarm, Agnes peered at her downy-haired child. “She’s ill?”
“Only from too many cousins feeding her too much clotted cream. The lads can’t abide her closing her eyes for more than half an hour. The wee thing’s exhausted. I’ve kept her in the laboratory with me today.”
Agnes relaxed. “Whose lads?”
“Lottie’s.” He sent Cameron a pained glance. “She arrived a fortnight ago.”
Cameron chuckled; Lottie had spent three months at his house while decorating it. After a week, he’d moved to Napier House. “My condolences, Napier. I’d say we’re fellows evenly tormented by MacKenzie women.”
Putting her palm against her husband’s cheek, Agnes murmured, “Poor, dear man. A fortnight with Lottie. Tisk, tisk. You must feel like Job on his last forbearance.”
In his typical, gentlemanly fashion, Napier shrugged. “I should like to boast that I had reformed her bossy ways, alas . . . I failed. But ’tis better with Sarah there. She arrived yesterday.”
Virginia stepped forward. “Oh, Agnes. You said they’d be here. I cannot wait to see them.”
Cameron felt left out. How dare she ignore him completely, family reunion or no family reunion. He moved closer and took her arm. “Shall we go meet them?”
“Yes, but I’ll carry my own basket.”
She didn’t look at him, so he couldn’t see the expression that accompanied that ambiguity. She wasn’t referring to any courteous gesture on his part, and she wasn’t joking. What had come over her? Did she worry that he intended to keep the kitten? Was that why she’d gone below just moments ago? Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually told her the kitten was hers to keep, not in so many words. He’d been too busy thinking of ways to get her alone.
He gave himself high marks for his efforts in that respect. The last three days and nights had been heaven.
“Shall we?” Napier said, holding out an arm toward the smoothest-riding and fastest carriage on earth.
As she exited the ship, Virginia said, “Carriages have certainly changed since I left Scotland.”
Cameron pounced on that. “Do you remember leaving? The name of the ship that took you?”
She kept walking toward the carriage but closed herself off. “No, I haven’t remembered that.”
Nor would she ever, he was beginning to suspect. That troubled him, for if she did not unburden herself before word of her father’s return reached them, Cameron would have to tell her all he knew. Lachian would take his revenge whether she approved or not. Cameron did not relish her reaction. But he had time to deal with that later. Now he must learn why she sat tiffly beside him in the carriage and spoke not one word to him during the ride to Glasgow.
It couldn’t be that she knew about Adrienne; Agnes had sworn herself to silence on the subject, and Agnes MacKenzie never went back on her word. Could it be that Virginia was having second thoughts about him? No, not after her eagerness to evade Agnes and share intimacies with him. Virginia could be apprehensive about meeting Lottie and Sarah.
He was still pondering the subject when the carriage entered the gates of Napier House.
Edward pounded on the roof, and the carriage stopped short of the residence. Taking Agnes’s hand, he stepped out of the carriage. “Give our regrets to Lottie and Sarah.”
“Aye,” said his wife. “We are indisposed.”
Napier pulled a laughing Agnes from the carriage. ‘Notch,” he called up to the driver.
“Aye, sir.”
“You and the carriage are at Lady Virginia’s disposal.”
“Anytime, my lord.”
Cameron remembered Mary. “Edward, wait. Mary’s child. What did she have?”
“A girl.”
Her husband had wanted, demanded a son. “Poor Mary,” Cameron said.
“Nay,” Edward called back. “Through Sarah’s husband, Michael, Mary placed a bet at White’s that her child would be a girl.”
“How much did she wager?”
He laughed. “A million pounds, and guess who matched the bet?”
“Robert Spencer?”
“Aye, Mary’s own husband.”
Mary had gotten the idea of betting a million pounds from Lottie. “Does Lottie know?”
He nodded. “She was inconsolable for days.”
A laughing Agnes said, “Lottie’s always inconsolable but especially when someone mentions that wager she lost to her husband.”
Arm in arm they strolled across the greensward and disappeared behind the new greenhouse.
Virginia eyed the empty seat. If she moved, he’d take her back to his ship right now and sail to France. With all his might, he willed her to shift that pretty bottom to the facing seat.
“You were right about this carriage.”
How could Virginia witness the obvious affection between her sister and Napier and not be moved by it?
She glanced up at him, started, then looked away. He had every right to scowl.
“It’s a wonderful home. Look, Cameron. There’s an old round tower in the back.”
Small talk didn’t suit her.
“What is wrong with you?” he blurted.
The carriage began moving again. She checked the position of the cat’s basket when it was obviously unnecessary.
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
Oh, he knew that female trick. He just hadn’t expected it from Virginia. Since learning of her deception, he’d helped her at every turn. When she grew too comfortable with Agnes and almost let the truth slip, Cameron had come to her rescue.
“Yes, something is. Tell me now, or I’ll tell Notch to take us back to the ship.”
“What about Lottie and Sarah?”
She wasn’t supposed to ask about her sisters. She was supposed to talk to him. But if she couldn’t be honest about her feelings now, she could face her sisters alone. “You’re distant to me, and I demand to know why.”
Her expression grew chilly, and she lifted one brow. In that imperialistic MacKenzie way, she said, “You demand?”
He’d earned the right. She loved him. She was just too distracted by her own lies to admit it. “Aye, and with good cause.”
“Remember what I said. You will not rule my life because we . . .”
“Because we made love standing at the ship’s wheel ’neath a full moon?”
A blush started at her breasts, which were displayed a little too lavishly to suit him. “Or were you thinking about the bath we shared on the night before last?”
Her neck flushed pink.
“No? Perhaps you were remembering our lengthy inventory of the purser’s closet? You were ever so helpful, you know.”
Color blossomed on her cheeks.
“Not that either? Then you must have been thinking
about the luncheon we shared in the crow’s nest.”
“Haud yer wheesht!”
What an interesting time for her to remember Scottish. That she told him to shut up seemed particularly clever. Now he must recognize it and encourage her or give himself away.
He followed his conscience. “You’ve remembered how to speak Scottish.”
She gave him a coy smile.
He couldn’t help saying, “Although your choice of words is questionable.”
The carriage stopped. She picked up her basket. “Obviously your understanding of the language is poor”—she opened the door—“for you are still talking.”
Virginia left him sitting in the luxurious carriage, his mouth agape, his pride sizzling with offense.
The deceitful troll.
Later, she’d find out where he lived, and she’d go there. She had to see for herself if what she’d read in Adrienne’s letters were true. Letters. A dozen or more tucked neatly in Cameron’s sea chest. No wonder he hadn’t taken her to his cabin during the voyage, the room was a veritable shrine to Adrienne Cholmondeley. Well, that was an exaggeration. But the knowing saddened Virginia. Were it not for her own deception, she might have thought twice about spying on him and certainly regretted it later. And why hadn’t he opened the last message the woman had sent?
He stepped out of the carriage, and she fought the urge to stomp on his toe and kick him in his manly parts. Parts he’d spent the last few years sharing with Adrienne Cholmondeley.
“You can be sure we’ll visit the subject again, Virginia.” He looked beyond her, at something over her shoulder. Indecision clouded his features, as if he were grappling with something that bothered his conscience.
“What issue?”
Notch and Christopher climbed down from the box. Cameron held up his hand. They kept their distance. “The issue of why you refuse to carry on a conversation with me. What has happened to you?”
Struggling for nonchalance, she shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is fine. Neither of us has reason to doubt the other.”
Looking completely baffled, he said, “What, in the kingdom of Neptune, is that supposed to mean?”