by Marie Laval
McGunn and his methods belonged to the dark ages. Maybe she should be grateful he hadn’t tied her up in her room and kept her under lock and key.
‘I don’t understand why you’re still here. You said you arrived eighteen months ago … didn’t you try to escape when you were set free?’
Doctor Kilroy laughed. ‘Escape? I didn’t dare! When I first arrived, McGunn took me to a cottage and posted scary-looking men at the door day in, day out for two weeks, while villagers and people from the estate queued outside for treatment. When he eventually took the guards away, I realised that I didn’t want to leave. As a doctor, my place was here. It was my duty to stay where I was truly needed instead of in the town treating a few over-indulgent bankers for gout, or the vapours of their plump wives. So I stayed.’
‘Don’t you miss your friends? Your life?’
He shrugged. ‘My life is far richer and more meaningful than it ever was. As for my friends, I found better ones here.’
His tone full of conviction, he added, ‘In fact, I am deeply grateful to McGunn for giving me the opportunity to work on his estate. I just wish there were more landowners as caring as he is.’
‘Caring? Don’t be ridiculous! Abducting a man, tying him up and keeping him a prisoner can hardly be construed as caring.’
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ Doctor Kilroy uncrossed his legs, an earnest look on his face. ‘People are terribly poor around here, my lady. McGunn pays my fees when village folks can’t. He gives me a roof and I get to do what I was trained for. Helping people, sometimes saving their lives. What more could I want?’
‘Your freedom, for one. You’re still his prisoner.’
‘I like to think I’m his friend first and foremost,’ the doctor answered in a quiet voice. ‘Talking of desperate times, there is something I would like you to help me with.’
‘Something I could help you with?’
The doctor’s blue eyes became deadly serious.
‘You must have heard about the clearances your husband and his mother are engaged in. The people of Westmore – your people now – are in desperate need of support, of food and shelter this winter. They should be allowed to remain in their homes and work their plots of land, and I must plead with you to show mercy and compassion. Please ask your husband to put a stop to the evictions, to the inhuman treatment of his crofters and tenants. These poor people are …’
Heat rushed to her face, her throat felt so tight that for a short while she wasn’t sure she could breathe, let alone speak.
‘How can you even think that Cameron is responsible for the terrible things happening on the estate?’ she burst out at last. ‘I can assure you he would never condone these clearances should he know about them.’
Doctor Kilroy frowned. ‘But he does know, my lady, since he is the one who ordered them.’
‘No. You are wrong and I will not hear another word about it!’
She sprang to her feet, and moved away, staring into the fire. The wind blew down the chimney, causing the flames to dance high and the logs to crackle and hiss.
‘Why is everybody here so ready to blame Cameron? He is totally devoted to the welfare of his people. He told me so himself.’
Her voice broke. Cameron had spoken several times during their whirlwind courtship in Algiers about his plans for Westmore, and the improvements he was carrying out for the benefit of his tenants. His concern for his people was one of the reasons she found him so attractive, together with his boyish charm and clever, dry sense of humour. She couldn’t have been wrong about him, she just couldn‘t!
‘I am sorry if I upset you, my lady. It wasn’t my intention. Let’s talk no more about it for now.’
Doctor Kilroy frowned, pulled out his pocket watch and sighed.
‘It doesn’t look as if McGunn will be able to join us for supper. The problem at the harbour must be more serious than we thought.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. At least, she would be spared the ordeal of trying to make polite conversation to the beastly man when all she wanted was to claw his mean grey eyes out.
‘What problem at the harbour?’ she asked.
‘Don’t worry, McGunn promised to post men on board the ship to keep Captain Kennedy and his crew safe.’
‘Why do they need to be kept safe?’
Doctor Kilroy fiddled with his pocket watch a moment before sliding it back into his pocket. ‘I suppose I might as well tell you. There are rumours flying around that the two dead girls were killed on the Sea Eagle and their bodies thrown overboard as the ship sailed up the Kyle in the storm yesterday.’
He lowered his voice. ‘Some even hinted that Captain Kennedy, yourself and your husband were linked to the deaths.’
‘This is preposterous!’
Doctor Kilroy shrugged. ‘Of course, but people are angry and afraid, and they do hold a grudge against Lord McRae. A gang of hotheads led by Fenella MacKay’s father tried to set fire to the Sea Eagle earlier; that’s why McGunn went to the harbour.’
‘Then I will talk to the villagers myself and assure them we have nothing to do with these deaths. My best friend has been brutally murdered. How could I have anything to do with it?’
She stormed towards the door but the doctor caught up with her and put his hand on her arm.
‘I cannot let you go to the village, my lady. This really isn’t a good idea.’
‘You spoke of duty a few minutes ago. You have your duty towards the people of this land, and as Lady McRae I have a duty towards the crew of the Sea Eagle, not to mention towards my husband’s honour. I simply cannot ignore these terrible lies. If you won’t take me to the village, then I will walk.’
He must have seen the determination in her eyes because eventually he nodded. ‘Very well, I will take you.’
Bruce looked around the tavern crowded with sombre-looking men, huddling over their pints of ale or glasses of whisky. At least their eyes no longer shone with a lust for violence and they didn’t talk of burning the Sea Eagle, slaughtering the crew and marching up to Wrath Lodge to confront Lady McRae. Angus McKay had been taken home by a couple of friends and the pastor had been summoned to offer the grieving father and his family comfort and discuss their daughter’s funeral arrangements.
‘It took some effort but they’ve calmed down, thanks to you,’ MacBoyd said next to him.
‘For now,’ Bruce agreed. ‘Nevertheless, I posted men on the Sea Eagle; you never know. A burned ship would be useless to me and I’d rather have two bargaining chips – the clipper and the woman – against McRae.’
MacBoyd gave him a quizzical glance. ‘So you’re going ahead with that plan of yours.’
‘I told you I would. I’ll keep the woman and the ship here until I get McRae to call the bankers off my back.’
He gestured towards the counter and MacBoyd followed him. Turning away from the crowd, they ordered two pints of ale and drank in silence, each seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The men around them became noisier and livelier, until a sudden crash of glasses near the entrance of the pub put an abrupt end to their conversations.
‘How dare she come here?’ The woman serving behind the counter curled her fists on her hips and craned her neck to stare at someone beyond Bruce’s shoulder.
He turned round and groaned.
Lady McRae stared at a pile of broken glass, a lost, forlorn expression on her face.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to knock all the glasses off that table.’
Next to her Kilroy patted her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry about it, my dear. You tripped. It was an accident. These things happen all the time. I’m sure the landlady will understand.’
She looked up and saw him. Immediately her countenance changed. She sliced through the crowd in the manner of a queen, with Kilroy in tow like an oversized pet dog. Her cloak floated around her, her hair shone like a mass of gold. On her feet were the most delicate, the most ridiculous purple silk sl
ippers he’d ever seen. No wonder she’d tripped with those on.
The woman had a nerve showing up here. Right now he wanted nothing more than grab hold of her shoulders, spin her around and march her out of the front door.
Instead he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited until she was in front of him.
‘I should have known you’d rather sup cheap ale in a shabby tavern with a drunken mob than protect Captain Kennedy and his men or try to find out who killed my friend and the other young lady,’ she started in a cold voice.
He shook his head in utter amazement. Was she even aware that the top of her head only reached up to his shoulder, that he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and could snap her neck in two with his bare hands if he chose to?
Behind her, Kilroy looked as if he’d rather be on a dinghy in the middle of a storm than here right now. He looked at Bruce over Rose’s head and mouthed a silent apology.
The tavern sizzled with tension. A few angry curses shot out from the crowd. It was time to take Rose McRae out before she caused a riot.
‘My establishment may be too rough for a grand lady like you,’ the landlady said before he could say a word. She walked from behind the counter, a pint glass full in her hand, ‘but there’s nothing cheap about my ale, and I’ll prove it right now. Here, have a taste, my lady!’
The beer splashed all over Rose’s face and cloak as loud cheers and claps erupted from the crowd. Rose stood pale and still, with beer dripping along her hair and from the tip of her nose.
Bruce turned to the landlady.
‘That was totally uncalled for, woman.’ His voice was so sharp it wiped the smirk off her face and she retreated behind the safety of the counter.
Fumbling in his pocket, he dug out a handkerchief he handed over to Rose.
‘Wipe your face before I take you back to the Lodge.’
She shook her head. ‘You can keep your handkerchief, my lord. I’d rather sleep in a scorpion’s nest than return to your horrid old castle. I intend to stay on board the Sea Eagle until the repairs are finished.’
She turned and addressed the men crowding around her.
‘Before I go I want to talk to all of you. I don’t know who is spreading those vile rumours about myself, my husband and the crew of the Sea Eagle, but I can assure you that they’re all lies.’
Her voice quavered. She took a breath and carried on. ‘Never would Cameron or any of his men hurt anyone, let alone two innocent young women. So I’m warning you. Should anything happen to the Sea Eagle or its crew, I will ask Lord McRae to bring the full force of the law upon the culprits. Is that clear?’
Only silence answered her.
She swirled round, marched to the door and let herself out into the night. All eyes now turned to Bruce. At last he regained his wits, and followed her outside.
She walked fast in the direction of the harbour, the heels of her silly little shoes making clicking sounds on the cobbles.
He caught up with her in a few strides.
‘Hold it.’
She ignored him.
‘I said to wait.’ He took her arm and yanked it.
She let out a yelp of pain, but right now, he was so angry he didn’t care if he hurt her.
‘You’re coming back with me to Wrath Lodge.’
‘And I said I’m not. I don’t want to spend one more minute in your company.’
She tried to shake him off. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. Her body was soft, warm and pliable against his. Damn, what was she wearing under that cloak? His hand slid up her back, met only the softness of a woman’s body instead of the stiff outlines of a corset. His throat went dry, his heart missed a beat. Was she wearing anything at all?
She threw her head back to stare angrily at him. Her long, soft hair brushed the back of his hand like a caress, sending shivers along his skin. The bright, opalescent moon reflected in her eyes, bathed her face in its pure silvery glow. Her breath came hard and fast between her parted lips.
He saw how her pulse throbbed at the base of her throat, felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest against him. The urge to lay his lips there and taste her skin was sudden and powerful, irresistible. Blood started hammering, pulsing inside him, and his body grew hard.
He tore his gaze away from her soft white skin, but didn’t release his grip.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way, sweetheart,’ he said, his voice a harsh whisper, ‘but you don’t have a choice. You will stay at the Lodge as long as I say so.’
‘I know you’re planning to keep me hostage,’ she retorted. ‘And I won’t let you. I’m going back to the clipper.’
‘Damn it, woman, can you not see that the whole village is against you and that you need my protection? You should count yourself lucky you got out of the Old Norse’s Inn with only a pint of beer thrown in your face.’
‘I’m not afraid of your barbarian friends and I’ll take my chances without you.’ She tried to break free but he only pulled her closer.
‘I did warn you this afternoon that I’d toss you over my shoulder, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do now if you don’t come with me.’
‘Never!’
‘Then you leave me no choice.’
He lifted her up and flung her over his shoulder. Her fancy little shoes fell on the cobbles. Oblivious to her screams of rage and the kicks she aimed at his stomach and groin, he started towards the stables where he’d left Shadow.
A crowd of men stood in the door of the Old Norse’s Inn as he walked past, carrying a screaming, gesticulating Rose. Their whistles, rude expletives and salacious encouragements filled the night and echoed across the square.
‘Is everything all right, McGunn, or do you need a hand?’ MacBoyd called from the doorway. His bulky frame prevented the men getting out and forced them to peer into the street over his shoulders.
‘I’m fine.’ Bruce gritted his teeth but didn’t slow his pace. ‘I’m going home. Keep an eye out for me around here, will you? And be careful.’
‘You’re the one who should be careful. The woman is as wriggly as a bag of frogs! At least she’ll keep your bed warm tonight again.’ MacBoyd burst out laughing.
Behind him, Rose let out a strangled cry, pummelled his back with her fists and kicked him with renewed vigour.
‘Put me down, right now, you hairy brute. You have the manners of a mountain macaque. You look like one. You even smell like one!’ she shrieked.
Now why did that make him smile?
‘You certainly know an awful lot about monkeys for a young lady,’ he said, holding her more tightly as he walked into the inn’s stables. ‘I will put you down if you promise to do exactly as I say.’
‘I hate you! I hate this place!’ She wriggled so much his arm ached.
‘Well, that’s too bad, sweetheart. Now listen, if you don’t give me your word that you’ll shut up and behave, I shall throw you across Shadow to ride back to the Lodge. I wonder what your dandy of a husband will think when he hears about his beer-soaked bride being paraded bottom up on my horse in front of the whole village.’ He paused. ‘Somehow I don’t think he’ll be impressed. If there’s a stickler for etiquette and good manners, it’s him.’
She stopped moving.
‘So, what’s it to be?’
‘I will … I will do as you say.’ Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear.
He eased her off his shoulder and kept his arm around her slim waist as she slid down along his body, awakening as she did so hundreds of warm, tingling, tormenting sensations. She kept her eyes down but in the glow of the torches lighting the stables, he saw tears pearl at the tip of her eyelashes, and roll slowly down her cheeks.
Guilt stabbed at his heart. Damn. He’d made the woman cry. Again. He stood in front of her feeling big and clumsy. He could deal with blows and insults, but he had no idea what to do about a woman’s tears. He patted his coat pocket and was about to produce his crumpled handkerchief
once more when the stable boy appeared behind him, leading Shadow by the bridle.
‘Here’s your horse, my laird,’ the lad announced.
With a sigh of relief, Bruce grabbed hold of the bridle and stroked Shadow’s neck before tossing the lad a coin.
‘I’ll help you up,’ he told Rose and held out his hand.
She didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him as she put her hand in his and climbed onto the horse. He mounted behind her, seized the reins and started on the road to the Lodge. Although he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was crying. Her body shook with silent sobs all the way to the Lodge.
He gripped the reins more tightly, and set his jaw hard. Knowing he was doing the right thing by his people and his estate, didn’t make him feel any better.
Far from it.
Chapter Eight
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She rubbed them off with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t humiliate herself any further by letting McGunn see her cry. How she wished the Sea Eagle had never docked at Wrath and she’d never set foot in that horrid, desolate place. How she wished she’d never met him!
It was his fault she made a spectacle of herself tonight, his fault she’d shouted and ranted and fought like a tavern girl. Now her hair and cloak reeked of beer, she’d lost her slippers and her feet were like blocks of ice. Most of all, she was ashamed, so ashamed she wanted to curl inside a very small, very dark place and never come out again.
They rode fast in the night, the horse’s hooves ringing on the frozen track and its breath steaming. Soon the Lodge’s silhouette loomed closer. More than ever, it looked like an impregnable fortress – her prison.
As soon as they rode into the courtyard, Lord McGunn ordered one of the men standing guard to stable Shadow. He jumped down and reached out for her.
‘I’ll carry you.’
‘You’ve carried me enough for one night,’ she retorted, trying to summon what was left of her dignity. ‘I’ll walk.’
‘Don’t be silly. You can’t walk barefoot.’
Ignoring his hand she slid down from the saddle, pushed past him and started towards the front porch, wincing as her feet touched the rough, frozen ground. He muttered something about stubborn women, scooped her up in his arms and ran up the porch steps.