Rogue Scot: Brethren of Stone Read online

  * * *

  Bridget leaned against the back of the door and closed her eyes. Perhaps she should have explained but he was so damn insufferable. Exactly like her father.

  Still, he was what stood between her and being left at a dock in some random port. She’d considered running away a thousand times. Maybe more. But in the end, she knew that she couldn’t take the leap. How would she support herself? Her father at least clothed her and fed her. She was fortunate that he hadn’t just married her to some heathen of a man and that he’d agreed to send her to her mother’s sister in order to make an advantageous match. Even that had taken a great deal of convincing.

  Though the storm only reaffirmed her belief that they should have waited until spring to make the journey. Her father had been eager to be rid of her and had booked the least expensive ship available, which was to say, it was a small merchant ship and not really equipped for passengers at all. What would he do with her if she landed back at his door? Just toss her out? Marry her to the first man who passed by? She was almost certain he wouldn’t pay for another ticket south.

  Unclicking the lock, she tossed open the door. “Wait,” she called to Captain whatever his name was as he started up the ladder. “Please.”

  He stopped but for a moment, didn’t turn. Then, jumping down, he landed with a thud and spun about, charging back toward her. He was almost frightening, and something in his movement made her breath catch. He was like a beast of prey the way he moved. She remembered how he’d jumped off the rail and landed in the dingy the night before. Who could do something like that?

  “What?” he growled out, his voice deep and rough. Her skin shivered.

  “Why do you sound so irritated?” She asked, pressing her lips together.

  He dropped his chin, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “You slammed a door in my face.”

  She winced, her cheeks pulling taut. “My apologies.” Her hands came in front of her even as his gaze slid down her body. That was when she remembered her arms and neck were completely exposed to his gaze. This was going terribly wrong. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “My father has remarried and he was sending me to my mother’s relatives. Our goodbye was not a happy one, nor will he welcome me back. I can’t return to his house, I need to find my way to London.”

  The captain drew up short, his eyes widening. “That’s impossible. There is no choice but to send you back.”

  She licked her lips as she searched or the right words. “He’ll turn me out. I’m sure of it. There must be some way I can earn passage to London?”

  His eyebrows rose, as his eyes swept down her again. “I beg your pardon?”

  She blinked, her entire body heating as she realized what he thought she’d meant. “Not like that!” she choked out. “I could cook, or mend, or…” Her voice tapered off. They wouldn’t care that she could play the pianoforte or read Latin. They had no use for a woman whose mother had taught her the proper way to serve tea or how to host a dinner party. “There must be some way I could earn passage for Mary and myself.”

  His mouth turned down. “The pay of a cook would take close to a year to earn that kind of money.”

  She let out a squeak. “That can’t be.”

  Mary rose from the bed and came up behind her, pressing to her back. “What’s he saying? We can’t go to England for a year? Where would we go?”

  Chapter Three

  Matt stared at the two women hugging and wondered where this conversation had gone so terribly wrong?

  He’d simply wanted a place to return them but now he was embroiled in some family drama. He let out a long breath. It wasn’t his business. “I can’t say where you’ll go. My obligation is to return you to your father.”

  Mary made a choking noise as Bridget straightened. “There must be some other way.”

  “There isn’t,” he clenched his fists at his sides. “Who is your father?”

  “Lord Fergus McDougal. He resides over the main hall in North Berwick.”

  Damn it all, he knew the man. He’d tried to gain rights to use the port there and McDougal had denied him. His only explanation. “I don’t like the look of ye.” A surly, pigheaded man that Matt had instantly disliked. He’d been rude to his own staff, his wife, and Matt’s men. The man was in love with his tiny bit of power and wielded it with blunt force.

  He cleared his throat. “I begin to understand. Let me think on it.” Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to the side and against Mary’s. “We’ve a day before we reach my brother’s home and offload the shipment.” But he already knew what he was going to do. Matt didn’t like it but he had no choice other than to bring her back to her family, if only temporarily. He couldn’t just keep a lady on his ship indefinitely. He needed her father’s permission to transport her.

  * * *

  Bridget closed the door and leaned her weight against it as Mary tossed herself back on the bed. “What do you think he’ll decide to do with us?”

  Shaking her head, Bridget closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I wish he weren’t so hard, though. It would be so much easier if he appeared more sympathetic.”

  Mary made a noise in the back of her throat. “I’m not so sure. He went out of his way to rescue us to begin with. And you’ve all but admitted you have no male protector. Some men would take advantage of that situation. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in that.”

  Bridget frowned. She was glad of course that he wasn’t attempting to take advantage of her but he was a handsome man. Tall and dark, with rippling muscles and the sort of brooding stare that could make a girl’s knees weak—if he weren’t so surly, that is. Still, it would have been nice if he’d looked at her with something other than disdain. “Do you think he knows my father?”

  “He must. It’s the only explanation for why he suddenly became more sympathetic to our cause.” Mary flopped back on the bed. “What do you think will happen to me in England?”

  She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Perhaps we can find you a husband too.” Mary had been her companion for as long as Bridget could remember. Her mother had tolerated Mary, which Bridget hadn’t understood until she’d overheard the staff talking one day. The butler had insinuated that Mary was her father’s illegitimate daughter. It was then she realized Mary had the same red hair, the same green eyes, and the same cleft in her chin as her father. She bore all the physical resemblance to their father that Bridget lacked.

  Mary shrugged. “What would I bring to the marriage table? Do you think your future husband will hire me?”

  Bridget shook her head. “I’ll marry a kind man, Mary. He won’t hire you, he’ll help you find a life of your own. I promise.” Bridget knew the just the sort she was looking for. He was nothing like Captain Sinclair, that was for certain. He’d be kind, caring, and easily swayed to Bridget’s cause. She’d lived under a domineering man far too long. She needed a man who’d give her space to discover herself.

  Mary nodded but looked to the wall rather than at Bridget. “We have to get to London first, I suppose.”

  Bridget didn’t know what to say. Mary was right. Now wasn’t the time for promises. Pushing off the door, she attempted to rearrange their clothes to better dry. She’d have to be kinder to the captain. Mary’s fate, as well as hers, rested in his very large hands.

  Chapter Four

  Bridget stood on the deck of the boat, the wind biting into her skin, not that she cared. The sunset was breathtaking. It almost made her happy to be out on the ocean. She stood well back from the rail and kept her eyes on the sky.

  She hated water. Her mother hadn’t taught her to swim, saying ladies of breeding generally didn’t partake in the activity. They’d once gone on a rare family picnic to the beach close to her home. Her father had attempted to call her into the water, but she’d refused. It was one of the few times he’d attempted to engage her, and the water as well as his sudden attention had frightened her. She’d c
lung to her mother, refusing his calls.

  He’d grown outraged when he’d realized she didn’t know how to swim. Scottish children could swim, he’d declared. Then he dragged her into the water and tossed her in over her head. She’d nearly drowned getting back to where her feet could touch as her mother screamed helplessly from the shore. She could still remember the feel of the water over her head as she stared up at the blurry sky, helpless and afraid she’d never break the surface again.

  When she’d finally dragged herself from the water, her father was gone, her mother sobbing on the edge of the shore. Bridget had collapsed into her arms, exhausted from the struggle.

  That night, her mother had her third miscarriage. She’d heard her father roaring at the doctor and then at her mother. Bridget closed her eyes, the memories so painful. She hoped for the new Lady McDougal’s sake that she could provide a son.

  “You shouldn’t be out here,” a deep voice rumbled behind her.

  A protest rose to her lips but she pushed it back down. “My apologies, Captain.”

  He stepped up behind her. “Matthew Sinclair. But my family calls me, Matt.”

  The name suited him. Strong just like he was. “Well Matthew Sinclair, I will return to my room.” She made to step around him but he held up his hand. She stopped, the sight of his broad chest blocking her face making her stomach flop about in the strangest way.

  “Since you’re here, I thought I would tell ye that after we deliver this load of cargo, we’ll pick up another to take to London. I’ve cleared it with Ship’s Master Hennessey. Ye and Mary may travel with us.”

  Her breath caught and she stepped up to him, relief and excitement making her heart hammer in her chest. And apparently addle her brain, she’d nearly hugged him. She quickly stepped back again, her cheeks infusing with heat as she planted her arms firmly against her sides. “Thank you, Matthew.”

  He gave a single nod. “On the way, we’ll stop in North Berwick. Ye’ll need some replacement items after the wreck.”

  Her heart sank. He didn’t really understand how little love was shared between her and her father. “We can stop.” She looked back out at the sunset, just a sliver of the orange ball still showing in the sky. “But he won’t give me a thing and he won’t help you transport me either. He’s done with me.” She swallowed down a lump. “If that is a problem, tell me now. I can write to my aunt. She might send the funds for my passage at least and I could find another way to pay for Mary.”

  “Yer aunt?” He asked quietly. His deep voice had a softness she hadn’t heard before and it was soothing. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sound washed over her.

  “My mother’s sister. She’s taking me in and helping to secure my future.” Bridget stopped. She was saying too much. Her father had supplied a modest dowry and her aunt was taking some measure of those funds to live on. A payment for a service. She hoped there was enough but her father hadn’t disclosed the amount or how it would be delivered to her aunt. Did she have it already? Bridget hoped they could use a portion of the money to pay for this trip but every slice that was removed, well, it impacted her future and Mary’s.

  He moved closer. She didn’t see him, but she felt his proximity. Heat seeped into her skin from his nearness and his warm breath blew across her cheek. She had the urge to press her face to his chest the way it had been yesterday. He’d sheltered from one storm could he protect her from another? “And she’ll pay for you? She has money?”

  One of her shoulders rose up. She didn’t want to admit that her Aunt Mildred was caring for Bridget to secure her own future not out of a familial bond. “She has money for this.”

  “Then why did ye offer to work?” His hand clasped her shoulder. The touch was light and warm, comforting. Shivers danced along her skin. She had to give him credit. He not only made her feel safe but excited.

  “I,” she started. There was little point in lying, she supposed. Only her pride was at stake. Captain Sinclair, or rather Matthew, was a hard man, that was obvious, but he didn’t seem cruel. He wouldn’t hurt her if he knew how vulnerable she was would he? “She is caring for me in exchange for funds. Her husband passed and—”

  “I see,” he said as his grip on her shoulder tightened. “So this money will come out of her funds or yours?”

  “Mine,” she whispered. For some reason, it had become important that he not misunderstand. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I need to make a good match to a man who will not only care for me but who will help Mary. I thought to earn passage so that I had a dowry as large as possible.”

  He drew in a long breath. “Let me escort you back to your room,” he murmured. Then his hand slipped about her shoulders, drawing her toward the hatch. “It’s cold on the deck.”

  She blinked, trying to understand why he’d stopped asking her questions. She gave a nod, however, and allowed him to lead her down to the ladder. She’d told Matt a great deal more than she’d shared with anyone for a long time. Had she just made a terrible mistake?

  * * *

  Matt led Bridget down the ladder and to her room. Something odd was happening to him. He’d had the distinct urge to fold her into his arms and shelter her from the wind, the cold, life in general.

  Which was ridiculous. She’d given him a great deal of trouble the night before. She was a woman who could take care of herself.

  They reached her door and gave her a nod. “Sleep well, Bridget.”

  Her hand rested on the knob at she looked up at him, biting at her lip. “Captain Sinclair,” she started. Her other hand rested at the base of her throat. “I hope I didn’t put you out by sharing so much. My apologies for—”

  “There are no apologies necessary.” He didn’t mean to but he grasped her shoulder again. The fabric of her dress was stiff with sea water. It flitted through his thoughts that she was a woman who should be clad in silk. “Knowing your situation helps me to make a sound decision.” He let his hand fall away. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” she replied as she opened the door and slipped into her room.

  For some odd reason, he wanted to call her back, to ask her more questions. Hell, he wanted to touch her again. He remembered the feel of those curves against his body. She fit against him in the most satisfying way.

  Yesterday, he could hardly stand the sight of her. Today? Well, she’d invoked some sympathy. She was, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. He’d lost his parents ten years ago but he hadn’t forgotten the pain. And he’d had his brothers to stand him back up on his feet. Even when he’d lost Reginald. His family had pulled him through. From the sounds of it, everyone was relying on Bridget.

  She’d appeared spoiled, but perhaps she was just tough. In a crisis, she stood strong rather than crumbling. Or she was an excellent liar. While her words seemed sincere there was the distinct possibility she was lying to garner his sympathy.

  He frowned as he reached his own room. He’d honestly be surprised if she was. Still, he had to explore every possibility. With that in mind, he knew what his next course of action should be. They’d pass North Berwick in the early morning hours. Matt was going to pay a visit to Lord McDougal.

  He’d told her they’d stop on the way back to London but he wanted to know sooner. Was Bridget telling the truth?

  Chapter Five

  As the ship docked, Matt lowered the plank and walked down to the dock. The town was quiet, which suited him just fine.

  It was an early hour to pay a house call, he knew that. The lord of the manor might keep him waiting for some time, but he’d take the chance. If he could keep this stop short, he might reach his brother only being a day behind. If they loaded and unloaded in the same day, he could still make his scheduled London stop.

  With that in mind, he started up the hill on the long winding path to Lord McDougal’s home. He had a difficult time believing Bridget was even the man’s child. Her features were lovely and refined with creamy skin and sparkling eyes. McDougal had flaming re
d hair and a rather bulbous nose. The two couldn’t look any less alike.

  Reaching the front door, he raised the knocker and let it fall back on its iron rest. It clanged metal against metal, echoing about him.

  After a few minutes, an ancient-looking man opened the door. “May I help ye?”

  “I’m here to see the lord of the manor?” Matt straightened his shoulders. “It’s urgent.”

  “Urgent?” the man asked, squinting his already wrinkled eyes. “What may I tell him specifically?”

  Matt drew in a breath. “I’ve rescued his daughter from a shipwreck.”

  That made the stooped man straighten. “Lady Bridget?” Then he stepped back to allow Matt entrance.

  Matt was shown into a waiting room. Blessedly, after a few short minutes, the door opened. But it wasn’t Lord McDougal who answered. Rather, a woman popped her head in, giving him a gapped-tooth smile. Her reddish blonde hair hung down one shoulder. “Are ye ‘im? Did ye rescue Bridget?” she asked as she stepped into the room wearing her night rail with an open robe. Bloody hell. What was the woman doing?

  Matt stood. “I did. Where is his lord?”

  “Never mind ‘im.” She gave him a large smile which showed off more crooked teeth. “I want to hear more about ye.” Then she stepped closer, her hand touching his chest. He straightened, his mouth drawing tight. “Ye’re a handsome one.”

  “Fiona,” a voice bellowed behind her. “What the bloody hell are ye doin’?”

  “He rescued Bridget,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. “I was just saying thanks.”

  In response, McDougal grabbed her hair and yanked, sending her careening toward the door. Without thought, Matt grabbed her arm to keep her from slamming into the frame. Then he quickly let her go, ready to fend off an attack. McDougal gave a low grunt, lowering is head. “How dare ye.”