The Highlander’s Passion (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 3)

by Emilia Ferguson

  Seonaid turned around as he approached. She stared at him. Her face went pale and her mouth dropped open with surprise.

  “Seonaid!” he said, unable to believe it. “What are ye doing here?”

  “Same as you.” She flashed him a small smile. “I had tae find somewhere tae stay for the night.”

  “But…you have enough money?” he frowned, unable to recall that she’d had any the previous day.

  “I’m here with a friend,” she said. She jerked her head at a table where an older woman sat with, presumably, her daughter beside her.

  “I see.”

  “And you?”

  He did laugh then. “I’m here with a friend.”

  Seonaid grinned and, in that moment, he could see the girl who he’d fallen for, that evening in the town when they’d first met. He felt his heart leap.

  “Should we talk?” he asked.

  “Why not?” she raised a shoulder. “I’m sure Mrs. Miller won’t mind if we both join her. Especially not if you bring your own ale.” She jerked her head at the table that Everett had just vacated.

  He bit his lip, wondering what he should say to Camden, then took his ale off the table and followed Seonaid over to the other table. He sat down and faced her.

  When Seonaid had introduced him to her friends – who spoke a broad Lowland Scots dialect that Everett could barely follow – she whispered to him.

  “I have a plan.”

  “What?” Everett stared at her. “What sort of a plan?”

  “I thought of it after you’d gone. I had planned to do it by myself, but I reckon that, now you’re here with me, we can do it together. Will you help?”

  Everett nodded. “Of course.”

  After she’d finished speaking, Everett stared at her. “Lass. That’s craziness.”

  Seonaid grinned. “It is! But that means it’s likely to work.”

  Everett nodded slowly. He reckoned that she was probably right.

  A WILD GAMBLE

  Seonaid leaned against the wall in the darkness. She tried to recall what Logan, her father’s steward, had told her the previous evening. He had said he would meet with them in Brooke street and discuss his findings. She breathed out and forced her hands to stay still at her sides.

  Everett’s hand squeezed hers. She felt a jolt of energy as he did so, and suppressed the longing to turn around to kiss him. She felt calmer, though.

  “He said he’d be here at seven of the clock,” she repeated. “The bell’s just gone. Where is he?”

  “He’ll come soon. What’s that?” Everett frowned. Seonaid looked to the head of the alley, where a lantern was lit over the door of some dwelling. A darkly clad figure was there, his cloak bundled over his head, obscuring his face in shadow. He hurried down the alleyway toward them.

  Seonaid felt her whole body go tense – this presence was too like the ones she’d already faced in an alley not too distant from here. She leaned back and hoped she blended with the shadows. It could be Logan, but what if it was Alec?

  “Whist, lass,” Everett whispered. “Is this him?”

  Seonaid made herself peer under the cloak as the threat approached. This man had a narrow face and full lips and she guessed, from what she could see, a long, straight nose.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Grand.”

  “Sorry I’m late,” Logan’s voice apologized. He had a very mild accent, and the refined voice one would expect of a church-educated clerk. “I was working on your father’s account.”

  “I understand,” Seonaid nodded. “What was it you wished us to know?”

  “You might need to look at this book,” Logan said, opening a leather-bound volume. Seonaid squinted at the columns nervously. She didn’t know her letters, but she could read tallies. She ran her eye down the column and found that the total was surprisingly low.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  Logan looked discomforted. “This is your father’s account book – the one I kept in the warehouse,” he explained. “The tallies you’re seeing are total profits from the goods sold during last year. As you can see, the tally is very low.”

  “Aye,” Seonaid frowned. “How is that possible?” She was shocked. As far as she knew, her father had made many profitable deals last year. How could it have all disappeared so fast?

  “It isn’t.”

  Seonaid frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

  “Only this,” Logan said slowly. “That, here, in this second book – the one I had with me, in my home – you can see a record of the true profit. These expenses do not add up. Somebody, somewhere, has been taking money. Either your father, or somebody else.”

  “Westford.” Seonaid felt a sick certainty in her stomach.

  Logan raised a brow. “That is what I believe, Miss McCarrick.” He sounded quietly furious.

  “Sorry?” Everett put his hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, warmly. “Might somebody explain that to me, please?” he asked. “I didn’t understand.”

  “Somebody’s been stealing Captain McCarrick’s money,” Logan said honestly. “And we reckon Alec Westford was doing it, to make him believe he’s unfit to support Miss McCarrick.”

  “He wanted me to have to marry him. If he marries me, he gets the shipping venture Father owns – a whole two ships to add to his own fleet.”

  “What?” Everett stared from Seonaid to Logan and back.

  Logan shrugged. “Some people see the world in a peculiar way,” he said mildly.

  “You can say that again!” Everett blustered.

  “Some people see the…”

  “It’s alright, Logan,” Seonaid interrupted gently. “Everett didn’t mean it.”

  Logan blushed and chuckled nervously. Seonaid liked him a great deal in that moment. She wished she could do more to help him – he’d helped them, more than she could say! However, what could they do now?

  “If you have a copy of the accounts – the correct ones – could you lend them to me?”

  Logan licked dry lips. “I could, Miss. McCarrick. But I’d like to know they’ll be safe. I don’t want anybody else getting a hold…”

  “I’ll keep an eye on them,” Everett spoke up.

  “I see.”

  Seonaid looked from Logan to Everett and back. She smiled up at Everett, feeling quite proud of him. She had become so used to him that she had failed to notice just how imposing and strong he really was. She appreciated him anew from the steward’s perspective.

  “I know I can trust Everett, Logan.”

  “Well, then.” The steward gave her a small grin. “In that case, I will deliver the book to you tomorrow morning.”

  “That leaves us with so little time…” Seonaid felt desperate. Everett rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s alright, lass. We have tomorrow. If we can get him the night before, so much the better. Then, even if we have to fight him, it’ll even my chance.”

  Seonaid smiled up at him fondly. “Oh, Everett. The idea is that you don’t have to!”

  Everett shrugged lightly. “Well, I reckon it doesn’t matter too much – if I do, or if I don’t, I mean. Just so long as we drive him mad with worry the night before.”

  Seonaid giggled. “I like that idea.”

  “So?” Logan looked nervously from her to Everett, and back. “Are we agreed?”

  “Yes,” Seonaid nodded firmly. “We are agreed.”

  He shook her hand, and then headed back up the alley, the way he’d come.

  “I’m glad that’s done,” Seonaid murmured, looking up at Everett where he leaned on the wall beside her. He smiled down at her tenderly.

  “I don’t know how you thought of it. But it could be just the thing we need.”

  Seonaid sighed. “I didn’t think of it,” she murmured sadly. “Logan came to me yesterday with the accounts. I just hope…” she paused. “I just hope it explains what has happened to Father.”

  That was the pain that sh
e hadn’t even been able to think about, until now. Her father had been so cruel, so distant! He was not like that. Why had he been so changed?

  “You mean, he feels guilty because he’s lost so much money? Or so he thinks?”

  Seonaid let out a held breath. “I hope that’s what it is.”

  “There’s no other reason for him to change,” Everett assured her.

  “I hope so,” Seonaid whispered. She reached into the little bag that was strapped to her waist and fished out a square of linen, for a handkerchief. “I can’t bear to think I mean nothing to him.”

  “You couldn’t mean nothing to anybody.”

  Everett put his hands on her biceps and looked into her eyes. His brown eyes were strong and gentle and she felt like she was falling into their stare. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

  After a moment, he tensed and looked down into her eyes. “Lass?” he whispered. “Shall we go to the inn to sleep? We can probably bed in the stables, if they have room there.”

  Seonaid giggled. “Why not?” she asked. Suddenly, with Everett holding her, the world was nice again. She leaned against him and they walked back, slowly, through the almost empty streets.

  “We have room in the rear stable,” the innkeeper’s wife said, eyeing them both with suspicion. “If I hear any sort of disturbance, I’ll set the guards on ye, so I will.”

  “You won’t have cause tae worry,” Everett murmured.

  She gave them a suspicious glance, but didn’t do anything more to stop them as they walked down the steps to the stables.

  In the straw, Seonaid felt strong arms draw her to Everett’s chest. She gasped as his lips pressed to hers and, as he stroked his hands down her hips, she giggled.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “She said no disturbance.”

  Everett smiled into her eyes. “I can be quiet,” he said.

  She giggled and he pushed her onto her back in the straw, his hands reaching for the buttons down the back of her dress. She gasped as his fingers traced their way down her spine, shivering as he touched her buttocks, gripping them tight.

  He undressed her down to her shift and then she started undressing him, and they landed, laughing and naked, together.

  He pressed his lips to hers and drew her against him and they lay side-by-side, his member pressed to her tummy. She gasped and held him close, and then, to her surprise, he gently entered her, reaching down to part her legs.

  She let out a gasp and he grinned, pressing a finger to her lips. She chuckled, and he smiled. He pulled out of her and pushed in again, using the whole long length of him to fill her. She closed her eyes, matching his movements as they moved together, faster and faster, his body pressing on hers, filling her in a way that made a slow, wonderful tingling rise inside her and start to flood into her bones and sinews…

  She cried out. He was still moving in her, pelvis pushing against her, growling in his throat, and she could see he was trying to hold back, trying to delay the approaching climax.

  When he collapsed beside her, she reached out and held him close, feeling his strong muscles under her hands. She closed her eyes, holding him to her as if she could draw his bones into her, make him part of her.

  She might not have another chance, after tomorrow.

  PLAN IN ACTION

  Everett could hear the sounds of the nighttime street, loud and jarring on his unquiet mind. The distant rumble of carts, the odd scuffling sound as men walked, the worse for drink, back from the alehouses, the deep song of the sea. He breathed in the cold air and tried to focus on the noises around him. It was better than listening to the steady thump of his heart.

  Seonaid stood beside him. He looked at her, marveling at her fine profile, outlined by that dark hair. He loved the way she looked! He could spend the rest of the day leaning here, just looking at her. He wished he could tell her that, but he didn’t wish to distract her. Besides, he reckoned they had said much of what he wished to say the previous night. He had no words he could have shared with her, without breaking down.

  “How long should we wait?” he whispered.

  “He’s in the dining room still,” Seonaid whispered back. “Not too long now, before he goes to sleep.”

  Everett nodded and gripped her hand where it lay beside her. He was nervous, even though he had no idea exactly why. All they were going to do was break into the fellow’s house, confronting him when he was most likely to be unarmed.

  We need to find out the truth from him.

  Seonaid had the account books gripped to her chest. Logan, true to his word, had delivered the precious second book to the inn a few hours before. Now, leaning on the wall of Westford’s house, trying not to draw stares, they waited for the man to go to bed.

  “There! The lamp’s moved.”

  Everett nodded, watching as somebody inside the darkened house lifted a lamp from a table, taking it up the stairs. They waited until the light had disappeared.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Now, we wait and count to thirty. That way, we can be sure he’s not likely to come back down. Then, we go to the kitchen window. If I recall, it’s the one place in the house we could get in.”

  “That’s handy,” Everett murmured. She nodded wordlessly and he followed her around the back of the house.

  At the window, he squinted upward. Clearly leading into some sort of storeroom, the window was wide and open, easily big enough for them to clamber through. It was also very high. He swore under his breath. Seonaid cringed.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’ll go first,” she said. “You can lift me. Here – keep the books.”

  Everett looked nervously up at the window. He hated the idea – Seonaid, on the other side, would be trapped, vulnerable and alone. However, she was already turning to face it.

  “Here you are, lass.”

  He put the books on the ground, wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. She gripped the windowsill and, strong and able, dragged herself through the window. He raised a brow, surprised by how lightly she clambered inside.

  “Your turn,” she whispered, slipping through the window. He waited, then a small thump sounded, indicating she’d reached the ground. He stared up at the window. He could reach the sill – just scraping his fingers onto it. Yet how could he clamber through?

  “Blast it. I need something tae stand on…”

  He looked around the alley, then froze as he heard footsteps. A man appeared at the head of the alley, silhouetted against the backlight of a bracketed torch. Then the man disappeared again. Everett breathed freely.

  “Everett! Whist!” Seonaid called from overhead. She was peering through the window and he frowned, confused.

  “What’re you doing, lass?”

  “I’m going tae unlock the door.”

  Everett laughed with relief. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He looked around. “Which door? The one on the left?”

  “Aye. That’s the one. One, two…”

  On the count of three, the door latch bumped against the wood and Everett pushed the door, the books clasped tight. It came open and he found himself face-to-face with Seonaid.

  “Come in,” she murmured. “The door over there leads to the hallway. We’ll take the stairs to the bedrooms. They’re all upstairs.”

  “Which one is his?” he asked, frowning as they walked up the steps, trying not to make them creak. He watched how she climbed, step by well-placed step. Slowing down, leaning his weight on the banister, he emulated it.

  “We’re going to have to try and find it,” she whispered back.

  Fear curdled in Everett’s guts. Up there, Westford would have all the advantages. It was his house, and he would only have to hear one rustle, one misplaced footstep, to come charging out, armed and lethal.

  Whist, man. You’re armed, too. It’s not like you’ve never fought 'afore.

  He let his hand find his dagger strapped to his belt and felt himself be
come calm.

  I am ready if I have to be.

  He walked silently up the stairs behind Seonaid. At the top, she paused.

  “There’s light under that door, isn’t there?”

  He frowned and bent a little, peering under the door where it was raised about a quarter of an inch off the floor. She was right – there was a flicker of flame light under it.

  “A fireplace?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he left the lamp lit.”

  Everett followed her to the door. She glanced up at him, and he nodded. Slowly, she pushed the door inwards.

  They were in a parlor, and the light was a fire, burning to dark coal. The place seemed deserted.

  Everett swore.

  A creak sounded on the floorboards outside. They both went tense. Seonaid turned to him and he considered dropping the books, so that his arm was free to fight. He was still hesitating, when she nodded, relieved.

  “Nothing. Just the stairs. If it was him, he’d be in here by now.”

  “True.”

  They tiptoed onward. At the next closed door, he paused. “Shall we open it?”

  “I reckon so.” Seonaid nodded grimly, opening the door. They found themselves in a bedroom. The man in the bed was dressed in a swathing, thick linen gown, the blankets pulled up to his chin. The lamp was dark and the fireplace in the grate barely glowed. Everett saw somebody shoot upright.

  “What in Perdition’s…” he heard somebody snarl. He saw the covers be thrown back, and was about to launch himself ahead of Seonaid, when she spoke.

  “We need to speak to you, Captain Westford. You stand accused of theft.”

  “What?” Alec Westford – Everett would never forget his face – made a derisive sound. “Are you completely insane?”

  “No, I can read tallies, as well as anybody can,” Seonaid said tightly. “And the ones in my book do not add to the ones in Logan’s. Why is that, do you think?”

  “You can’t add?” Alec spat. “Why would it be anything that involved me?”

  “Where else would the money have gone?” Seonaid said slowly, ignoring the insult. “I am aware of everything that enters and leaves that warehouse. And money has disappeared that we should have earned.”