Rogue of the High Seas

by Cynthia Breeding

  “Je suis…I am sorry. I did not mean to offend,” Colette said. “I was speaking from an artist’s viewpoint.”

  “No offense taken,” Robert replied.

  Instantly, she was all smiles. “Then you will allow me to paint you?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Please,” Mr. Frazier interrupted. “It would make my daughter happy.”

  “Oui, Papa, it would.” Colette looked back to Robert. “S’il vous plaĩt?”

  Robert looked uncomfortable, but when Shane cleared his throat—which Shauna knew from past experience meant he wanted a person to agree—Robert glanced at him and must have understood, because he nodded.

  “Merveilleux!” Colette clapped her hands. “I am so happy.”

  Shauna suddenly felt nauseated.

  Lord Almighty, what had he gotten himself into this time? Robert shook his head as he left the dock office and headed down the quay, ignoring the cold spray splashing onto the dock. He should never have left his ship and ridden over here to let MacLeod know La Colette had been seen entering the port. Had he not come, he wouldn’t have been coerced into sitting like some damn fool for a portrait.

  And he was a damn fool. He knew the reason he’d decided to inform MacLeod about the ship was an excuse. He’d come to see Shauna. He’d thought if he avoided her—leaving the flat early and coming back late—he’d put her out of his mind. Instead, the memory of the near kiss only intensified. Imagining how her lips would feel and how her mouth would taste nearly drove him mad. Not even the raw, physical energy he expended in rebuilding the rudder helped. He’d bruised his thumb more than once with the hammer because his mind drifted back to her face that afternoon—lips parted, eyes darkened with passion—and what might have happened if Albert hadn’t opened the door.

  Robert should be thanking the man for that, not cursing him. He was officially betrothed if Jane were still alive. If her body were found, he’d probably be arrested when he returned to New Orleans. Neither circumstance allowed him the option of acting on his feelings. And yet he’d used every ounce of his willpower to control the rage he’d felt when he saw MacLean practically rammed against Shauna earlier.

  That anger had barely been tapped down when MacLean made his remark about Robert being bonnie. He’d managed to keep his fists clenched at his side, but he also knew Shane had taken notice—and MacLeod was astute enough to realize Robert’s anger wasn’t solely for being called bonnie. Hell, he’d been called worse, but he didn’t want MacLeod knowing the depth of his interest in Shauna, which was why he agreed to sit for that damn portrait.

  Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to see Shane striding toward him.

  “I wanted to ask if ye would be able to take the Border Lass across the Firth to Kirkcaldy tomorrow and pick up a shipment of kelp.” Shane asked as he came up to him. “Frazier has asked if I could help him interview some men for his office, and the kelp’s baled and ready.”

  “Sure. Since the New Orleans is in dry dock, it will feel good to be out on the water again.”

  “Well, ’tis just nine nautical miles over, nae the high seas.”

  “Water is water, no?” Robert grinned. “Besides, I wouldn’t turn down a chance to captain the Border Lass. She’s a fast ship.”

  Shane grinned too. “Aye. And a tasking mistress too. If ye doona keep her sheeted tight, she’ll take ye for a wild ride, even in the Firth.”

  How could something as basic as handling sails make his mind leap to fantasies? The sheets he was thinking of had nothing to do with the ones fastened to sails. The unbidden thought of Shauna taking him for a wild ride nearly made him groan aloud. Not something he wanted to do in front of MacLeod. From the way Shane was eyeing him, Robert wondered if he’d made some sort of sound after all. He decided to change the subject.

  “I wonder why Frazier brought his daughter along.”

  “He told me her mother died last year. Since the lass finished boarding school, he dinnae want to leave her alone.” Shane glanced at him. “She’s a bonnie one.”

  “Apparently, so am I,” Robert said with a dour note in his voice.

  “MacLean was goading ye.”

  “Seems like a good way to lose a few teeth.”

  Shane laughed. “He got into enough scrapes riling the other lads when he was young. I suspect he still has his teeth because he learned to defend himself well.”

  “He doesn’t look like a fighter.”

  “Doona be fooled with his English ways. All Highland lads are taught to fight.” Shane shrugged. “I doona care for violence, but a mon wouldn’t be worth his salt if he couldnae defend himself and his family. ’Tis the way of it. The MacLeans—and the MacLeods—would nae have kept their lands from the MacDonalds had they been soft.”

  The clan issue again. Apparently, MacLean had been right when he’d said neither clan had love of the MacDonalds. Perhaps it would be prudent not to mention Robert’s ancestry right now. “Somewhat like being a ship’s captain.”

  “Aye,” Shane replied. “’Tis a dangerous thing if the crew doesnae follow the captain’s orders without question. The sea is as unforgiving as a betrayed woman.”

  Robert nodded. He didn’t need to be reminded about betraying a woman—especially not when the woman he was thinking of was Shane MacLeod’s cousin. And he had no doubt Shane knew how to fight.

  As if yesterday’s meeting Colette—who wanted to paint Robert—were not enough, Shane had invited her and her father to dinner tonight. Shauna knew it was the polite—maybe even expected—thing to do, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be here. She knew she had no real reason to dislike the girl. Shauna would want to paint Robert too, if she could.

  It wasn’t like her to feel so surly, but when it came to Robert, it seemed her logic and ability to be objective simply disappeared like shapes in the swirling haar that often encased Castle Rock.

  The weather certainly didn’t help her mood. The day had been dreary and grey, with angry squalls whipping icy rain and strong winds across the water. She hadn’t gone to the dock office, which had only served to give her more time to think about this dinner.

  Perhaps if Colette and her father were the only guests, Shauna would not feel so glum, but Shane had also invited Robert. And Owen, who had claimed the chair next to hers.

  The two men were seated across the table from each other. Although they had given each other a curt hello before being seated, the chill in the air made Shauna wonder if a window had been left open somewhere. At least Abigail had maneuvered Mr. Frazier to sit beside Robert and placed Colette on the other side of Owen.

  “Papa tells me you were out on the water in this storm today,” Colette said to Robert. “Comment courageux.” She paused. “Pardon. Papa wishes that I speak English while I am here. I mean, how brave of you.”

  Her voice sounded breathless, and Shauna suspected she had a wide-eyed, innocent expression on her face like so many of the debutantes in London used. Perhaps it was a good thing Owen was blocking her view.

  “It was a bit choppy, but not bad,” Robert said.

  “Of course, Americans are known for taking foolhardy risks,” Owen added.

  Robert gave him a steady look. “The Border Lass could handle it.”

  Owen’s brows shot up. “You took out one of Shane’s ships?”

  “Aye. I asked him to,” Shane said from his end of the table. “The mon has crossed the Atlantic more than once. I dinnae think he would have a problem with the Firth.”

  “And he did not,” Abigail said and smoothly turned the conversation to Colette. “Did you have a good trip?”

  “Oui. For once, the Channel swells were small.”

  “Do you like sailing?” Robert asked.

  “Oui. I mean, yes.”

  “So do Abigail and I,” Shauna said. “Last fall, we sailed to London.”

>   Robert’s eyes began to twinkle. “Stowed away, you mean.”

  She grimaced. “And got restricted to Shane’s cabin for our efforts.”

  “For your safety.”

  “We felt like prisoners.”

  A corner of Robert’s mouth lifted. “I don’t recall it like that.”

  How did he recall it? He’d stood guard outside the door, for goodness sake. “We wouldnae have had to sneak onboard if sailors werenae such a superstitious lot.”

  “There is that,” Mr. Frazier said. “I had quite a time convincing the crew the first time Colette came with me. I still do not take her to the Mediterranean.”

  Abigail frowned. “Why not?”

  “Barbary pirates,” Mr. Frazier answered. “They lurk in the waters past Gibraltar and their Corsairs are swift. I always carry arms when I go past the Straits. Even so, if we were attacked, a woman aboard would not be safe.”

  “Actually, I have only made a few trips to England,” Colette added. “When Maman was alive, she did not approve.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” Abigail said.

  “Merci. She passed away last year. I still miss her.”

  Colette’s mother was dead? Shauna had been four when her own mother had died shortly after Fiona was born and she had only vague memories. How horrible it would have been to lose her mother after she’d grown up with her. A twinge of guilt poked at her conscience. The French girl must be hurting. Shauna needed to be more kind.

  But she had a feeling it was going to be hard.

  Shauna practically had her nose buried in the file cabinet as she tried to reach the back of the drawer when the door to the dock office opened the next afternoon. Since Albert had just returned from lunch to work on the ledgers, she didn’t know who it might be. Shauna turned, hoping Robert had come in. Instead, Owen was removing his coat.

  “Ah…Owen. Why are ye here?”

  He tossed his coat onto a wall peg. “I came to help you.”

  “With what? I am filing.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Does Shane ken ye came?”

  Owen grinned. “He is the one who suggested you might need help.”

  Shauna would have cheerfully given Shane a kick to his shin, except he wasn’t here. Why did he think she’d want help from Owen? She suspected the little interchange with Robert at dinner last night had not gone unnoticed by her cousin, and this was his way of making sure Owen had a fair chance.

  “I was about to go over the bill of lading from the Kirkcaldy shipment,” Shauna said, sitting down at the desk and picking up the paperwork. “That’s all I really have left to do today.”

  Owen came around the counter, dragged a stool over to the desk and sat down beside her. “As it happens, I wanted to go over that shipment as well.”

  Shauna furrowed her brows. “Why?”

  “Because I am interested in harvesting kelp out of Loch Shiel and maybe even Loch Linnhe if I can establish a good profit margin.”

  “I dinnae ken ye had a head for business.”

  One dark brow rose. “Do you think me a simpleton?”

  Shauna felt her cheeks heat. “Nae. I dinnae mean it like that.”

  “One of the reasons I stayed in England for seven years was because I had the opportunity to clerk for Nathan Rothschild. I learned how the financial world operates.”

  Shauna recalled Shane mentioning the name once in regard to financing the Duke of Wellington’s troops in the Napoleonic war. Rothschild was building his own dynasty, Shane had said. Did her cousin know Owen had worked for the man? Was that part of the reason Shane wanted her to give Owen a chance?

  “And ye plan to use that knowledge to help your da?”

  “In a way. My thoughts were more in finding a way to bring back the crofters who were forced out of their homes during the Clearances.”

  Shauna widened her eyes. “Ye heard about that?”

  “Of course. The Countess of Sutherland rather liked to brag about getting rich off raising sheep after she got rid of the farmers.”

  “The woman is nae fit to be called a Scot.” Shauna had trouble keeping the bitterness out of her voice. “Burning two hundred homes in one day and driving the families into the cold to freeze or starve.”

  “I agree. But since the countess prefers London society, I doubt she will venture to Scotland any time soon.”

  “She almost did last year,” Shauna said. “My uncle, Duncan, and his brother hatched a plan to waylay her, but she turned back.”

  Owen gave her a thoughtful look. “I had not heard of a plot.”

  “Because Ian and Jamie put a stop to it.”

  “Good. The countess has influence with the prince regent. Striking out against her would be akin to attacking the English. Ian could lose his lands.”

  “He kens that.”

  “Good,” Owen said again and held out his hand for the bill of lading. “If these profits are good, I can bring many of the families back from the coast and put them to work for the MacLeans—if they’re willing to switch allegiances, that is.”

  “I think Clan Sutherland may have left a wee bitter taste in the mouths of the survivors,” Shauna said.

  Owen nodded. “That is what I am hoping for, because I have plans.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Did ye send Owen MacLean to the office to see me on Monday?” Shauna asked Shane two days later when she’d finally cornered him in the library. He’d been helping Mr. Frazier with interviews as well as tending to his usual shipments, which meant he didn’t get home until the dinner hour. He spent his evenings with Abigail, and Shauna hadn’t wanted to interfere with that, but she wanted some answers.

  Shane paused in flipping through some papers. “I dinnae order him to see ye.”

  “I dinnae ask if ye ordered him.” Her cousin could be evasive when he chose. “Did ye tell him I needed help?”

  “I thought ye might since Abigail will be staying home.”

  “Abigail agreed to stay home?”

  “’Tis best,” Shane said. “I willnae have her risk harming the bairn.”

  Shauna narrowed her eyes. “Why do I get the idea ye are manipulating Abigail and me like pieces on a chessboard?”

  “I am nae doing that.”

  “I doona agree, but ’tis nae why I came here.”

  Shane eyed her warily. “I am a fool for asking, but does Owen have something to do with this visit?”

  Shauna nodded. “What do ye ken about his plans?”

  She’d been unsettled by the conversation with Owen. He’d refused to discuss his plans with her, saying she didn’t need to worry her pretty little head, which annoyed her not only because she didn’t consider herself a pretty piece of fluff, but also because she had a mind that worked. Beyond her usual irritation with the man, though was the fact that he wanted to bring the crofters back and provide a decent living for them. She couldn’t find fault him for that.

  “What plans do ye mean?”

  She told him as much as she knew. When she finished, he shrugged.

  “I doona see a problem in harvesting kelp from Loch Shiel,” Shane said.

  “Aye, but what of his other plans? The ones he wouldnae tell me about?”

  “Why should he? Ye are nae his wife or his betrothed—yet.”

  Shauna snapped her mouth shut. She had no intention of becoming Owen’s betrothed, but this was not the time to announce that. Her cousin had a point, although she doubted Owen would even consider consulting his wife like Shane did with Abigail.

  “This could be a blessing for all,” Shane said. ‘Harvesting kelp provides income to displaced crofters and strengthens Clan MacLean. I have ships in Glasgow that can take the kelp ash to Ireland for glassmaking, and Henderson might even take shipments to the States.”

  “I d
oona think Robert and Owen would care to work with each other.”

  “’Tis business. They doona have to like each other.”

  “But—”

  “Perhaps ye should nae dwell on the matter,” Shane said. “Whatever ye might think of Owen, he has good business sense. Ian had hoped he would return to Scotland one day.”

  Shauna looked at Shane suspiciously. “Did ye and Ian ken that Owen worked with Mr. Rothschild in London?”

  “’Twas nae a secret.”

  “So that is why Ian wants me to marry him?”

  “’Twould be a good alliance, lass, that would benefit a lot of people.” Shane hesitated. “Ye are two-and-twenty. ’Tis time ye wed. Since Jamie is in London and Fiona in Ireland, Ian would like ye to stay close to home.”

  “That is nae fair. I should be able to choose my own husband.”

  Shane gave her a sympathetic look. “And ye think Robert Henderson is the mon for ye?”

  Shauna felt herself blush furiously. “I dinnae say that.”

  “Ye doona have to say it, lass. ’Tis in your eyes when ye look at him.”

  Drat Shane for his observations. Growing up, he’d always caught on to things that Ian and Jamie had no inkling of. She thought she’d been so careful… Shauna lifted her chin. “Well, what if I do think Captain Henderson is the right mon? ’Tis nae a sin to marry an American.”

  Shane studied her. “Has Henderson asked ye to marry him?”

  She felt her face heat again. “Nae.”

  “And he probably willnae.”

  Shauna frowned. “Why? I ken I am nae a beauty like Fiona—”

  “Stop. Doona belittle yourself.” Shane smiled. “Ye have beauty of your own. I suspect Henderson kens it too.”

  She felt confused. “Then why…?”

  Shane shook his head. “Something troubles the mon. I doona ken what it is, but I can sense it weighs heavy.”

  Colette had said something similar. Shauna had no idea what either of them were talking about. Sometimes she wished she had some of the faerie magic said to belong to the MacLeods, but she had only logic. “I have nae noticed anything.”