Miss Leslie's Secret

by Jennifer Moore

  Chapter 23

  Aileen held Jamie close, hardly able to believe she’d truly found him. But she had, and he was alive and unharmed, physically, at least. The way he held on to her spoke volumes about the fear the lad had suffered. He’d not said much since she’d been thrust into the dim hold of the ship, only clung to her as if afraid they’d be separated.

  Something Aileen vowed would never happen again.

  They sat in the only available space, in the middle of the floor. The edges of the narrow cell were already occupied. The spaces where one could lean against the outer bulwark were the most valued and thus occupied by the strongest of the prisoners, followed by the spots along the bars that separated the prisoners from the other goods in the ship’s hold. As the smallest of the hold’s occupants, Aileen and her son were entitled to the wettest, least comfortable spot available.

  Jamie shivered, and Aileen glanced toward the young man wearing her son’s coat. His arms were much too long, and the garment would not even come close to fastening around his chest. He leaned back against the bulwark and gave a challenging glare, telling her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t about to return it, no matter how politely she asked. A stocky woman with a bulbous nose wore Jamie’s shoes. After just four days, the lad seemed thinner, and Aileen wondered if his food had been taken away by the other prisoners as well.

  Aileen didn’t want to imagine how it had been for Jamie down here alone. What if she’d not found him? He may not have survived the journey. The thought made tears spring to her eyes, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, kissing his hair. She’d not allow him to freeze or to go hungry, no matter the cost to herself. She’d make sure they survived and that they stayed together. ’Twas just the two of them now. She was resigned to the fact. Nobody was coming for them.

  She felt an overwhelming wave of sorrow, wishing she knew what had happened to Dores—she prayed the men hadn’t hurt the auld woman. Aileen’s heart hurt at the thought that she’d not see her dear friend again. She’d miss Dores’s quick tongue and nosey questions. She smiled thinking of the unwavering loyalty and o’ course Dores’s interference in Aileen’s personal business—namely with Conall.

  Though she didna want him to, Conall Stewart took over her thoughts. Conall, the man who had almost become her husband, the man she’d fallen in love with. In spite of his anger toward her, he’d still searched Fort William for Jamie, and for that, she’d always be grateful. But Conall and Davy would never find them now. Even if they did catch a clue of where she’d been taken, the ship was under guard, and according to the whispers of the other passengers, it was destined to sail within a few hours to a place called Charleston.

  Jamie still hadn’t moved, and his listlessness worried her. Would he become ill on the journey? How could she care for him?

  “Mam?” Jamie asked.

  “Aye, mo croí?”

  “Is Balfour truly my father?”

  “I’m afraid he is, dearest.”

  He remained still, content to be held in her arms, and Aileen brushed his curls. “Who is Sorcha?”

  Aileen went cold and felt as if the air had been jerked from her lungs. She had always known the day would come when she’d have to tell Jamie the truth about his parentage, but she felt utterly unprepared. It would change everything—how he saw her, how he saw himself. How could she possibly explain?

  She took Jamie by the shoulders, turning him to face her. She knelt on the boards of the deck and held his hands between hers. “Sorcha is yer mother, Jamie.” The words acted like a cork, unstopping a torrent of her tears.

  Jamie rose on his knees and wiped his palms over her wet cheeks. “Don’ cry, Mam.”

  “I’m sorry, mo croí.” Aileen drew in a sobbing breath. She fought to calm herself.

  Jamie knelt back down and waited patiently, seeming unbothered by the others surrounding them.

  “Sorcha was my friend, my dearest friend,” Aileen finally said. “She was beautiful and kind. Ye’d have loved her, Jamie.”

  “But she died.”

  “Aye.”

  “And ye became my mam.”

  Aileen nodded. “I did. I am. Jamie, ye didna come from my body, but yer my son, and I love ye more than anythin’. Do ye understand?”

  Jamie frowned, and a tear slipped onto his cheek. “I’m goin’ to ponder on it, all right, Mam?”

  “Take all the time ye need.”

  She shifted back into a sitting position, and Jamie laid down, legs curled into his stomach and cheek resting on Aileen’s leg. He stayed quiet for so long that Aileen thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “Mam?”

  “Aye, Jamie?”

  “Will ye tell me aboot Sorcha sometime?”

  “Anytime ye like.”

  His breathing deepened, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. Aileen anticipated more questions in the future, but Jamie hadn’t reacted with anger, only sadness for the mother he’d never known. A feeling of pride came over her at the empathetic person Jamie had become. Her worry eased a bit. She didna think she could have asked for a better response.

  Hours later, cries and the sounds of pounding feet from the deck above woke the lad. Aileen figured the ship was preparing to launch. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could keep them alive.

  The hatch in the ceiling opened, but Aileen couldn’t make out more than the outline of a man descending in the dim light. Another followed, and the pair moved toward them.

  “Conall!” Jamie jumped to his feet.

  Aileen grabbed on to his hand. The poor lad was imaginin’, settin’ himself up to be disappointed. “No, Jamie—”

  But Jamie pulled away and bolted to the iron bars.

  A key clicked in the lock, and Jamie was swept up into Conall’s arms. “I’ve got ye now, Jamie lad.” His voice sounded choked. He pressed his large hand on Jamie’s back as the boy held on around his neck, burying his face against the large man.

  “I kent ye’d come for us.”

  “Ye did?” Conall asked, a bit o’ humor entering his voice.

  “Aye.”

  “And yer ma?” Conall peered into the gloom. “Is she—?”

  “She’s here.” Jamie twisted. “Mam, Conall’s come for us.”

  Conall’s eyes found Aileen among the other prisoners. Their gazes locked, and he strode toward her, limbs and bodies of other prisoners pulling out of his way as he moved into the caged room. He knelt, still holding onto Jamie. “Are ye . . . ?”

  “I’m well, Sergeant,” she said, rising. “Thank ye.” She busied herself with brushing off her skirts, not daring to look at him again. Instead, she glanced around and saw the other occupants all staring at them, questions in their expressions. They no doubt wondered if they’d been rescued as well.

  Conall set Jamie on his feet and touched Aileen’s arm.

  At the sound of a throat clearing, the three of them looked toward the open doorway.

  Aileen smiled. “Mr. MacKay, ye came too.”

  Davy gave a bow, sweeping his hand with a flourish. “Aye, wha’ would ye do wi’out me savin’ the day?”

  “And myself as well.” Dores pushed her way into the room. “Ye didna think I’d let the villains take ye away, did ye?”

  Dores wrapped the plaid around Aileen’s shoulders. She touched Aileen’s cheek and embraced her then opened an arm, pulling Jamie into the embrace. “I’ve my family back,” she said in a small voice that Aileen had never heard her use before.

  Conall stepped out of the cage and pushed the door until it was fully opened. He turned back, moving his mouth to speak.

  A flash of movement drew Aileen’s gaze, and she screamed when she saw a man rushing toward Conall, sword raised.

  Conall turned just in time and dropped, the man’s slash barely missing the top of his head. Conall kicked out, knocking the man to the ground. When Conall came to his feet, his sword was drawn.

  The other man charged, but Conall skillful
ly parried his strikes, finally throwing the man off balance, allowing Conall to drive his shoulder into the attacker and push him to the ground. Conall placed one knee on the man’s chest and took the sword from his opponent’s hand. Both men were breathing heavily.

  “Well, if I’m no’ mistaken, ’tis the commander o’ this vessel, Captain Gregory. We’ve been lookin’ for ye.” Conall handed the captain’s sword to Davy then stood, pulling the captain to his feet. He gave the criminal a shove toward the companionway, keeping a grip on his collar.

  “Come on, then,” Conall called over his shoulder to the prisoners, raising his voice to speak to all of the cell’s occupants. “Yer free to go.”

  The prisoners looked at one another then seemed to realize Conall was in earnest. They started to rise and head for the door.

  “Jamie, Davy, see if anyone requires assistance. I’ll deliver the captain here to Colonel Ravenwood.”

  The two nodded and turned to help the others.

  “Oh, and whoever’s taken my lad’s coat and shoes had better be returnin’ them before coming on deck,” Conall said. “Or I’ll no’ be so forgivin’.”

  He took the captain above decks, and Aileen and Dores followed. Aileen’s instinct was to bring Jamie, but after his hardship, the boy needed a task, something to make him feel important and rebuild his confidence. Conall seemed to know that. He would have been a fine da to her son. Aileen swallowed her tears at the reminder.

  She and Dores climbed the first set of stairs then the next, finally emerging onto the upper deck. The early-morning sun was bright, and she blinked then looked around at the chaos aboard the ship.

  Red-coated soldiers had taken over the vessel and stood around the decks, some talking in groups, others guarding the captured sailors, and some guarding the gangway.

  Conall had taken Captain Gregory to a group of soldiers that Aileen thought, based on the stripes on their sleeves and the way they appeared to be supervising the operations, must be officers. One man with a gray mustache gave a flick of his hand, and two other soldiers hurried forward to take the captain away.

  The mustached man put a hand on Conall’s shoulder as they talked and seemed to be congratulating him.

  Aileen turned away, walking toward the bulwark rail with Dores, their arms linked together. ’Twould be a good place to wait for Jamie, she thought. Then they could figure out how to get out of this town and return home to Dunaid.

  A soldier stepped in front of them, giving a bow. “If ye don’ mind, ladies, Colonel Ravenwood has asked for all the former prisoners to deliver a statement. If ye’ll follow me, ye can wait on the constables.”

  Aileen nodded, and they followed the man toward a shaded spot at the stern, beneath the higher deck.

  As the other prisoners emerged from the hold, they were escorted to that space as well. Last of all, Jamie and Davy climbed up the companionway. Davy again wore his coat and shoes. When they spotted Aileen and Dores, they moved toward them. Davy motioned for the woman to sit on the stairs leading to the higher deck.

  “Did ye see Conall, Mam? ’Twas jes like Fionn mac Cumhaill fightin’ the firebreather o’ the Sidhe.”

  Davy stepped his wooden foot onto the stair. He stuck out his chest and rested his forearm on his knee. “And dinna Finn have a loyal and extremely dashing companion in his heroic exploits?”

  “Oh, aye, his wee teacher, Finnegas.” Jamie gave a mischevious grin then laughed. The sound was so welcome and such a change from the worry they’d all felt the past four days that they could not help but join him.

  Aileen pressed her fingers to her lips. She’d wondered if she’d ever see joy on her child’s face again, and the seein’ brought a rush of emotion.

  Davy leaned forward and ruffled Jamie’s hair. “I missed ye, Jamie.”

  Chapter 24

  “Fine work, Sergeant.” Colonel Ravenwood slapped Conall on the shoulder. “Well-planned maneuvers, no casualties, few injuries—on our side at least—and you’ve delivered the ship’s commander on a silver platter.” He grinned, giving Conall’s shoulder a squeeze—very likely thinking about the commendation he’d surely receive. “His Majesty’s military has lost a good soldier in you.”

  “Thank ye, sir.”

  “Are you certain you’re retired? In my experience, I’ve discovered some men are born soldiers, Sergeant. And you are one of the best. With the conflict in Algiers, I’m certain you’d be a welcome addition to any company.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, sir.”

  The colonel nodded and stepped back, sweeping his gaze over the ship and prisoners. “Well, this will take some time to sort out. You’ll remain in town to testify before the justice of the peace?”

  “Yes, sir.” Connal gave a sharp nod.

  Colonel Ravenwood nodded back. “Very good, Sergeant.”

  Conall turned, feeling the same sense of loss as when he’d left the service the first time. He’d been a soldier for so long, ’twas second nature to him. He loved the feeling of camaraderie between men risking their lives together. ’Twould be easy to do just as the colonel suggested and join the conflicts in Africa, but his mind couldn’t seem to settle with the idea.

  What do I do now? he wondered. Which path do I take?

  He looked over the ships berthed in the wide loch leading out to the sea. One must certainly be destined for Canada. The impulse to cross the ocean and find his family pulled at him.

  Two paths, he thought. And though both met a need within him, neither felt fully right. Neither made him a complete man. Glancing down at his hands, he rubbed thumbs over the calluses created by months of farm work. The satisfaction that came from working the land filled something inside of him that had been empty for too long. But that, still, ’twasn’t enough.

  His gaze moved to the group clustered on the companionway leading to the quarterdeck. Aileen, Jamie, Dores, and Davy were laughing, no doubt at something the lad had said. The sight made Conall’s heart leap and his chest grow warm. Well, if tha’ wasna the answer, he didna know what was.

  They were what he needed, the people of Dunaid who’d accepted him as one of their own. Aileen and Jamie—his family. The longing to be with them drew him forward like a child’s toy attached to a string.

  Jamie was saying something to his mother that Conall couldn’t hear over the waves hitting the ship’s hull.

  Conall moved closer, though they still didn’t notice him. Aileen’s face grew sad as she answered the lad, her voice too soft to make out the words.

  “What? Why?” Jamie yelled the words. He jumped to his feet, his face red and pained.

  “Mo croí, I am so sorry.” Aileen’s lip trembled. “Sometimes adults make decisions that are confusin’ to a lad.”

  Jamie shook his head. “No, Mam. Ye love him. I know it. And he loves ye.”

  Conall’s stomach dropped.

  Aileen reached for Jamie, but he pulled away from her grasp. He turned and saw Conall.

  “Conall, why are ye nay marryin’ my mam?”

  “Hush, Jamie.” Aileen stood and took the lad by the hand.

  A boulder had wedged itself in Conall’s throat, and he could not have answered if he’d wanted to. What had he done? He’d hurt the two people he loved the most, tha’s what.

  Jamie sniffed, wiping a dirty fist across his eyes. “Is it because o’ me? Because o’ Balfour takin’ me away?”

  “Nay, o’ course not . . .” Aileen began. She’d tears o’ her own now.

  Conall closed the space between them, kneeling to bring his face level with the boy’s. “’Tisn’t because o’ you, Jamie lad.”

  “Ye tol’ me ye loved her.” His look was more angry than sad now, his voice accusing. “Ye said marryin’ her would make ye happier than anythin’ in the world.”

  “I know,” Conall said.

  “Then why?” Jamie stuck out a belligerent chin.

  Conall glanced up at the others. “Perhaps ’tis a conversation I should be havin’ with yer
ma.”

  Dores darted forward and took Jamie’s hand, whisking him away before Conall could blink. Davy made an equally quick exit, remarking about having something he forgot to do.

  Aileen stood alone looking down at the deck beneath her feet.

  He walked closer to face her. “Aileen . . .”

  “Ye’ve blood on yer shirt,” she said. “Are ye injured?”

  Conall glanced down, for the first time noticing there was indeed blood there. He’d been involved in a few skirmishes while taking over the ship, but he’d not been wounded. “’Tisn’t mine.” He looked back at her.

  Aileen avoided his eyes, choosing instead to study his bloody shirt. She spoke softly. “I ken ye don’ want to talk to me, but I owe ye the truth.” She took in a jagged breath. “Jamie isna my—”

  He held up his hand, stopping her words. “Don’t say it.”

  “But ’tis the truth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering up to meet his then dropping again.

  “No. ’Tisn’t.” He lifted her chin, tipping her face upward.

  “But . . .”

  “Aileen Leslie, yer that boy’s ma as sure as any woman who ever birthed a bairn.” He held her gaze, needing her to know that he understood. “I ken why ye didna tell me. ’Tis I who owes ye an apology.” He winced. “I abandoned you when ye needed me.”

  Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “But ye came back. ’Tis the second time ye’ve rescued me, Conall.”

  “I’d do it again, every day if I had to.” Her tears escaped, and he brushed them off her cheeks with his thumbs. “I’d do anythin’ if ’twould mean earnin’ back yer trust.” He’d hurt her once. And her son. Would she allow him back into her life?

  Her cheeks pinked. “Ye don’t need to. I’ll give it to ye. If ye’ll have it.”

  “I canna think o’ anything I want more.”

  “What aboot Mrs. Ross’s haggis?” she teased.