Rogue of the Moors

by Cynthia Breeding

  Annie ignored Isobel and poured tea for Bridget and then offered her the tray of biscuits. “The shortbread is fresh from the oven,” she said.

  “Thank ye,” Bridget replied as she took a piece and bit into and let it dissolve in her mouth. “’Tis heavenly.”

  Alasdair suspected Mrs. Ferguson had made it just for Bridget after seeing the state she had been in that morning. The shortbread wasn’t sweet and would help settle a queasy stomach. He took a piece too.

  Isobel looked at the shortbread and then at the other plain biscuits. “Have you no filled tarts with powdered sugar? I would like something with berries.”

  Annie forced a smile. “This is all we have at the moment.”

  “I suppose I will have to make due,” Isobel replied as she selected a flat round that had sprinkles on top of it. “With this kind of service, I cannot believe the place is full.”

  Alasdair silently thanked God there were no accommodations to be had here. He heard Bridget breathe a sigh of relief as well. Having Isobel staying here would definitely cause complications. Complications he didn’t want to deal with just now.

  “Where are ye staying?” Bridget asked.

  “With my aunt. She lives near Buchanan Street in the modern part of town.” Isobel suddenly smiled at Bridget. “Why don’t you come stay with me? My aunt has extra rooms.” She looked around again. “Her place is so much…nicer.”

  “I prefer to be closer to the quay,” Bridget replied, “since I am working at Robert’s office.”

  Isobel’s gaze sharpened, but she kept her smile in place. “Really, this is not an appropriate place for a single woman, even if you are a widow. You should consider your reputation and accept my invitation.”

  Before Bridget could reply, Annie cut in. “We have female boarders here. They are all quite safe.”

  “But there seem to be so many single men about,” Isobel said. “And my dear Alasdair will not be able to escort her now that I am here. We have too many things that we need to do.”

  Like hell they did. And no one was going to tell him who he would be escorting and who he would not. “Both Bridget and I have business to attend to in Glasgow. That is my priority.”

  Isobel looked annoyed. “I have business for you to attend to as well. If you remember, we discussed your seeking a seat in Parliament. I have friends I need to introduce you to.”

  Bridget gave him a searching look. “Ye want to run for Parliament?”

  “Of course he does,” Isobel answered, “although there is no reason for him to have discussed it with you. Still, since you now know he will be quite busy, you might want to reconsider staying with me at my aunt’s house. She has servants who can escort you to where you need to go.”

  “There’s nae need to concern yourself about that,” Annie said. “Alasdair’s brother arrived this afternoon as well. He will be all the escort Bridget needs.”

  Alasdair frowned. “Which brother?”

  Annie grimaced. “He said his name was Niall.”

  He should have known that Niall would follow him. But Niall didn’t usually cause lasses to frown when speaking his name.

  “Are ye sure he said Niall?”

  “My hearing is quite good.”

  “Aye, I doona doubt it, but Niall does nae usually offend lasses, and ye doona look exactly pleased. What did he do?”

  Annie hesitated. “The fool tried to flatter me by saying my eyes were as blue as Loch Shiel.”

  They were, but Alasdair thought it better to hold his tongue. “My brother tends to use smooth words. I am sure he dinnae mean to offend.”

  “Hmph.” Annie picked up the empty biscuit plate. “My mother put him in your room since we’re full.”

  Alasdair groaned. He knew why Niall had followed him. Now it looked as though he was going to have to share a room with him as well.

  This day just kept getting worse.

  * * * * *

  All Bridget wanted to do was fall into bed and pull the covers over her head, but Annie had followed her up the stairs. From the determined look on her face, she wanted to talk.

  They’d barely closed the door when Annie burst loose.

  “I cannae believe the gall of that Isobel woman! She gives herself more airs than even the Duchess of Sutherland did when she came through here.”

  Not really caring to discuss Isobel, Bridget grasped for the new topic. “The Duchess of Sutherland came here?”

  “Aye. Two years ago.”

  That might have been the time Bridget’s uncle and his brother planned to waylay the woman because of the Clearances. “I think I remember hearing something about her coming to Scotland. Did she stay long?”

  “Nae. The weather turned bad, and she went back to London.”

  Yes, that would definitely have been the time. The duchess was known to favor London society to the wilds of Scotland, but Bridget’s uncle nearly causing a rebellion wouldn’t have helped matters. “What was she like?”

  “She hardly spoke to us. Just let her servants tell us what she wanted.” Annie shook her head. “I cannae believe that horrible woman said she is betrothed to Alasdair.”

  Bridget blinked, for a moment thinking Annie meant the duchess, then she realized the girl meant Isobel. Annie was not about to be distracted from her original subject. Bridget sighed. “Isobel was seen coming down from the hills shortly after Alasdair did with her clothing torn and disheveled.”

  Annie snorted. “What does that prove?”

  Bridget was inclined to agree with her, but she didn’t like gossiping. “Isobel claimed she was compromised.”

  Annie looked skeptical. “I doona believe that Alasdair MacDonald would do such a thing.”

  Again, Bridget wanted to agree. She knew how attracted she was to Alasdair and she also sensed his own desire. He hadn’t compromised her—and she was widow, not a young lass—so she was certain he wouldn’t have done so with Isobel.

  “At any rate,” Annie went on, “if the woman let him take advantage, the fault is hers as much as his.”

  “That would seem fair, but the English put great stress on a girl’s reputation being ruined.”

  Annie snorted again. “English girls are overly concerned with things that are nae important. ’Tis one of the things our club talks about. If we want to have the right to earn decent wages and be independent, we also have to take responsibility for our actions.”

  Bridget grimaced. She hadn’t exactly been a good example of that at their meeting, getting foxed the way she did.

  As if reading her mind, Annie grinned. “I doona mean we cannae have a good time. Ye just let your hair down a little yesterday, and ’tis probably long overdue since ye are a widow and all, not that ye are asking for my opinion. My point is if a woman wants to be loose with affections, she should nae expect the mon to take complete blame for it.”

  Bridget didn’t want to add that Isobel might very well be with child…although she didn’t look like she was increasing. Still, she had put her hand to her belly when she made the remark about the wedding date. Bridget felt tears stinging behind her lids and closed her eyes tightly. She never cried. What was wrong with her? She must really, really be tired. She felt Annie put a hand on her arm and opened her eyes, hoping the tears would hold back.

  “Ye love the mon, don’t ye?” Annie asked.

  “I…ah…nae, I doona.”

  “And I doona believe ye.” Annie tilted her head. “And I think the mon loves ye as well. Not that ye are asking for my opinion.”

  No, she wasn’t. Yet… Bridget felt a tingle slide down her spine. What if it were true? What if these strange feelings and reactions she had were signs of love and not just lust? Maybe Alasdair’s overprotectiveness meant he cared? He’d been considerate of her today too, not criticizing her drunken state or teasing her about it like her brother
s would have done. Did that mean something? She felt the tears sting again. Even if it did, there wasn’t anything they could do about it.

  “Are ye going to cry?”

  Bridget shook her head quickly. “Nae. I am just very tired. I think I need my sleep.”

  Annie gave her a troubled look. “I will leave ye then.” She walked to the door and then turned just before she left. “My mother says things always work out for the best…and we both ken that Isobel woman is nae the best choice for anyone.”

  Bridget stared at the closed door as she sank down on the bed, a hysterical bubble threatening to rise in her throat. Isobel might well not be the right choice, but it was one Alasdair had made. Bridget was also well aware of the desire she and Alasdair felt for each other. Instead of his kisses fading in her memory, it seemed each night she relived them even more vividly, and each night, her body reacted, if not in her waking state then in her dreams.

  As a widow, society would look the other way if she gave in to passion, and society turned a blind eye to a man taking a mistress, but something else was also at stake here.

  Her honor and Alasdair’s. She would not let either of them compromise that.

  Bridget lay back on the pillow and let the tears come.

  * * * * *

  Alasdair opened the door to his room a short time later to find Niall propped against the headboard of one of the beds sipping on a brandy.

  Spying the bottle and an empty glass on the dresser, Alasdair walked over and poured a healthy swig, downed it, and poured another. Then he turned to his brother.

  “Ye could have met me downstairs.”

  Niall grinned. “And spoil all the fun of a surprise?”

  Alasdair grunted. “I doona like surprises. Why did ye bring Isobel with ye?”

  “I dinnae. The woman had a full day’s head start on me. Luckily, a carriage is slower than a saddled horse.”

  “So ye escorted her here?”

  “Ye wound me with your words, brother. Do ye think me that daft?”

  Alasdair glowered at him. “Do ye want me to answer that?”

  “Nae.” Niall stopped smiling. “When I caught up to the carriage, I deliberately trailed behind. Do ye think I want anything to do with that woman?”

  “It certainly dinna take her long to find out I was gone.” Alasdair’s frown deepened. “I had hoped one of my nine brothers could have persuaded her to remain at Arisaig.”

  “We might have been successful at that if Bridget had not been aboard the same ship as ye.” Niall gave him a disgruntled look. “It would have been better if ye had nae left together.”

  “Do ye think it was my choice?” Alasdair ran a hand through his hair. “I dinna ken the lass was on board until we were well underway.”

  Niall mulled that over. “I suspected as much. ’Tis why I came to Glasgow.”

  Alasdair’s frown turned into a glare. “I do nae need a chaperone.”

  “Hmm. Bridget might though.”

  “What does that mean?” Alasdair tried to hide his irritation. “I willnae take advantage of Bridget. I admit I desire her more than I have any woman, but ye insult me if ye think I canna control my urges.”

  “I think ye do more than desire her, brother, but that is a topic for another day.”

  Alasdair started to retort but thought better of it. Niall was right. Lately, his thoughts of Bridget had been more than just lust and desire. Those emotions were there, as he could attest to by the discomfort he felt inside his breeches whenever he was near her, but there were also other feelings, like enjoying her company, caring to hear her opinions, and wanting to protect her. That wasn’t his brother’s business though. “So ye think to be her guardian?”

  “I think she needs one.”

  “I told ye I would nae—”

  “Nae from ye, Alasdair. From Isobel.”

  Alasdair snapped to attention much like a wolf scenting prey. “Why do ye say that?”

  Naill shook his head. “Ye are the one who is daft, I think. Whether ye like it or not, ye are still betrothed to that woman.”

  “Ye doona need to—”

  “I ken,” Niall interrupted, “but when Isobel heard Bridget was on the same ship as ye heading for Glasgow, she all but ran home to get a carriage. As I said, as soon as I found out, I followed her.”

  Alasdair nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I should thank ye for that.”

  “Ye might hold your thoughts on that.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  Niall finished his brandy before he answered. “When we arrived at the hotel this afternoon, I told Isobel the reason I had come to Glasgow was because I was courting Bridget and could nae bear to separated—”

  “Ye did what? I willnae have ye trifle—”

  “Hear me out.” Niall held up his hand for silence. “’Tis safer for Bridget if Isobel thinks I am the one interested in her and nae ye. I will escort her to wherever she needs to go from now on and play the besotted swain.”

  Alasdair held on to his temper through pure will. “Bridget willnae agree to such foolishness.”

  “Is it foolish, brother? Or is it wise?” Niall studied him. “Would it nae be better that Isobel be tossed a red herring? Lachlan does nae trust that woman and his instincts are rarely wrong.”

  Alasdair didn’t trust Isobel either. Niall was also right about their brother’s instincts. Better to keep Bridget safe, even if he had to tolerate Niall’s presence.

  “All right then. But be sure ye do nae make wild promises to Bridget.”

  Niall shrugged. “If Bridget should happen to choose me after my attentions have been showered on her, ’tis her decision. She is a grown woman.”

  As if Alasdair needed reminding. He wasn’t sure how serious Niall was about courting Bridget though. Rivalry had always been strong between them, but he had to trust that Niall would not take advantage of the situation. And he had to trust that Bridget would understand.

  He had about as much hope for that as he did Isobel suddenly deciding to pursue another man.

  Niall slid off the bed and walked to the dresser to pour himself another brandy. He held up the glass. “To Bridget.”

  “To Bridget. May she be safe from ye as well as Isobel.”

  Niall grinned. “May the best man win.”

  Alasdair scowled.

  * * * * *

  Isobel stood behind several oak trees that lined the street across from the marine office the next morning and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she watched Niall escort Bridget up the stairs and inside. Isobel was not at all convinced that Niall was serious about paying court to Bridget, in spite of his rather fervent insistence yesterday afternoon that it was why he had come to Glasgow. It seemed too much of a coincidence that he arrived shortly after she did. And why had he not joined them for tea?

  Her reception at the boarding house had hardly been welcoming. The middle-aged woman behind the counter had eyed her askance, and the subtle set to the woman’s mouth when Isobel announced she was Alasdair’s betrothed had not been lost on her either. Her daughter, Annie, had been rude, ignoring Isobel while doting solicitously on Bridget. It only brought slight comfort to Isobel that Bridget was obviously not feeling well. The bitch had still walked in with Alasdair. Even worse, he had the audacity to excuse himself shortly after Bridget went upstairs, using the excuse that he had to talk to Niall.

  This would not do. She wasn’t about to let anyone get in the way of her goals. If she couldn’t convince Bridget to come to her aunt’s, then Isobel would go to Bridget. If she pretended to be Bridget’s friend, she would feel too guilty to bed Alasdair. A friend’s betrothed would be off-limits to women like Bridget. And it would buy Isobel some time to get pregnant.

  Isobel waited until she saw Niall leave and then she crossed the street and went into the marine office. />
  A man of middle years with a weather-beaten face looked up inquisitively as she entered. “Are you lost, miss?”

  She gave him a bright smile. “I do not think so. I am looking for Bridget MacLeod.”

  His expression turned wary. “Are you a sister or cousin?”

  Hardly. She kept her smiled fixed in place. “No. I am just a friend in town for a few weeks. I thought to call on her.”

  “She stays at Mrs. Ferguson’s boarding house. That might be a better place to visit.”

  Isobel gave him a disappointed look. “That means I would have to wait until this evening. I know how devoted dear Bridget is to getting her work done here.”

  “Yes, well.” He glanced toward a closed door and then back to Isobel. ‘Er, the office is quite small and she shares it with Gordon Munroe, the accountant who already thinks there is one woman too many in that room.”

  She could handle a crochety old man. All she’d probably have to do is flutter her lashes a bit and make some stupid compliment about his work. Isobel waved her hand daintily. “I assure you I will not be a bother.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the harbour master said as he walked over to the closed door and opened it for her.

  “Thank you,” Isobel said and stepped inside.

  A man had his back to the door, was bent over and rifling through a file cabinet. Bridget looked up from a small table, her expression fixed at the sight of her in the doorway. “What are ye doing here, Isobel?”

  “I came to keep you company. Alasdair does not think women should be working alone this close to the quay.”

  That got her an annoyed look from Bridget as well as causing the man at the file cabinet to stand and turn around quickly.

  Isobel hid her surprise. Gordon was not the elderly man with spectacles she had expected. He was much younger and looked every inch an English dandy. His clothing was well-tailored, his cravat immaculately turned, his hair short as was favorable with what was left of Beau Brummel’s crowd. What was someone like Gordon doing in Glasgow?

  “That is the first sensible thing I have heard all day. Perhaps you could take Mrs. MacLeod for a stroll up the hill to the shops?”