Rogue Scot: Brethren of Stone Read online

  Matt clenched his fists at his sides. “Lady Bridget has lost all her possessions in the shipwreck. I will be travelling to London on my normal route and can provide her passage but—”

  The man cackled, there was no other word for it. “Lost her possessions?” Then he laughed so hard, he doubled over. “Where is the little chit now?”

  Matt crossed his arms over his chest. This hadn’t been at all what he’d expected. “What is funny?”

  “Never mind, I’ll ken yer boat.” Then the man turned and left Matt standing in the parlor. With a growl, Matt followed. Whatever McDougal was going to say, it wasn’t good. And Bridget had been right, he shouldn’t have stopped. With that in mind, he followed McDougal. He was certain of one thing, Bridget was under Matt’s protection now and McDougal was not going to hurt her.

  * * *

  Bridget woke wondering what was happening. While she’d only been on a boat for a week, she’d learned the difference between a sailing vessel and a resting one. The ship had stopped.

  Rising, she quickly washed and dressed, heading to the deck. The moment her head crested the hatch, she knew where they were. She’d recognize the village of North Berwick anywhere. And sitting up on the hill, her father’s home.

  She swallowed a lump. Glancing off to the left was the very beach where her father had thrown her in the water. It was one of many times he’d lashed out physically but that one had nearly been her end. Ship’s Master Hennessey passed by her and she scrambled out of the hatch as she called his name. “Captain Hennessey.”

  He turned and gave her wide smile. “Good morning, lass. Sleep well?”

  She gave a quick nod. “I did, thank you. May I ask you a question?” She reached his side and took a deep breath trying to calm her racing nerves.

  “Of course,” he gave her a kind smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. Though his hair was sprinkled with grey, his build was still lean and his jaw strong. He must have been a handsome man, he still was.

  “Why have we stopped? This isn’t where Captain Sinclair’s brother lives?” She knew the answer to that. Her father was the only laird in the area.

  “No, of course not. We’ll travel another day north. Captain Sinclair has stopped on personal business.”

  Bridget’s stomach clenched. Was she that personal business? The answer came barreling down the dock in the form of her father. His shirt was untucked, his hair wild as though he’d just woken, his stride long despite his large stomach. And his face… Bridget knew the look well. He was spitting mad and looking for blood.

  The moment he spotted her, he began yelling. “Fer feck’s sake, why can’t I get rid of ye?” He spit as he yelled. She could see it even though he was several feet below her still on the dock.

  There was no point in explaining that her ship had nearly sunk, an event she had no control over. In fact, if one of them were more to blame than the other, it was likely him that should take responsibility in the first place. He had sent her to England in the dead of winter on a tiny boat. “How is Fiona?”

  His scowl darkened. “Never you mind.” Then he began climbing up the plank.

  Bridget took a step back. She tried never to show fear around him but they were surrounded by water and she didn’t trust him not to just toss her over the side of the vessel. “There is no need to yell at me,” she started. “I’m leaving and I’ll take care of my own passage south from here. I told Captain Sinclair not to—”

  “How are ye goin’ tae do that?” His face changed in an instant, his features lightened as he gave a loud laugh. “Yer dowry was in the false floor of yer trunk, sunk tae the bottom of the sea. Not even yer auntie will take ye now. Yer fecked well and good and I’m glad I got tae see it.”

  The color drained from her face. She’d wondered how he was delivering the funds to England. “No.”

  “Yer mother insisted in the marriage agreement that part of her dowry be kept for any daughters. I honored my end of the bargain.” He reached the top and hefted himself over the rail. “I’ll not give ye another penny.”

  “How could you do that to your own daughter?” A deep voice rumbled behind her father. Matt. Once again, she had the distinct urge to hide herself in broad chest. Which was ridiculous. She wanted to opposite sort of man from him. One who’d leave her to the management of her own life. Matthew Sinclair would never do that.

  Her father snorted. “That’s not my daughter. Born six months after the wedding. I needed the inheritance and she needed a husband quick.” He sneered at her. “Ye’re no child of mine and if I never see ye again, I won’t cry.”

  “And Mary?” she asked, her voice quiet but hard. “You’d leave her to fend for herself too.” She didn’t say it. She knew Mary was his but her meaning was implied.

  He stepped closer, his face pinching and darkening. “Don’t tell me my business, girl. I clothed her and fed her, didn’t I?” He grabbed the front of her dress, bunching it up in his meaty fist. “Do ye remember that time I tossed ye in the water all those years ago?”

  Remember? She was haunted by the memory. “I nearly drowned.”

  His lip curled. “I should have thrown ye further.” Then he began lifting her off her feet. For a moment, fear coursed through her but as quickly as he’d picked her up, he dropped her.

  She blinked, hardly aware of what was happening, and suddenly he was feet away from her, sailing over the rail of the ship. Matt stood next to the rail watching him fall. As he splashed into the water, Matt’s voice bellowed out, “Raise the anchor. We’re leaving port.”

  Bridget stared at him, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

  She wasn’t his child. Relief made her limp. He was an awful man and she was glad never to have to call him father again. But, nice as that was, it meant she was in the world alone. How would she survive?

  Her future, meager as it had been, had just disappeared before her eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Matt watched the man splash into the water, an intense satisfaction bringing a smile to his face. As he glanced around at Bridget, however, her eyes were as wide a saucers and her face pale. “There’s no need to be scared lass, he can’t hurt ye anymore.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “He isn’t providing for me anymore either.” He watched as a tear slid down her cheek. “My aunt was going to take a share of my dowry for the privilege of making a match. I told you that. Now the dowry is gone and I am…” She shook as she wrapped her arms about herself. “Mary and I…” she paused, looking up at him. “I’ve failed Mary.”

  He stepped over to her, grasping her by the shoulders. “You didn’t fail Mary, he did.” He pointed over the side of the boat.

  Bridget shook her head. “The result is the same.” She swayed on her feet and he brought her into his chest. She didn’t fight him and lay her cheek against his shirt. “Your heartbeat is rather reassuring,” she murmured. “I don’t see why it would be. I’ve no skills and no assets other than my body. I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

  “My heartbeat is reassuring because it is steady and warm.” He pulled her closer. “Your body understands what your mind does not. You, as misfortunate as you feel now, happened to stumble into the path of a Sinclair. If there is one thing my family is known for, it’s helping those in need. I’m not going to let you starve on the street, Bridget.”

  Her hands rested on his chest and she tilted her chin back to look up at him. Every muscle in his body clenched. Those full lips parted in question, he was sure, but from above he could swear it was invitation. “Why? You don’t even like me.”

  That made him smile. As he did, a single chuckle escaped his lips and then another. “I’m sorry,” he said as he gasped in a breath. “I don’t mean to laugh at you it’s just…” He stopped another wave of laughter taking over.

  “It’s just what?” she straightened up trying to push away but he held her tight. She clearly didn’t find this as funny as he did.

&nbs
p; He cleared his throat, trying to clear his laughter. “I suppose you’re right. I rescued you and instead of thanking me, you mostly yelled at me.”

  She let out a little noise, her nose going higher in the air. “I am deathly afraid of the water. I can’t help it. You could have been nicer—”

  “I think saving your life was relatively nice,” he quirked a brow. “But you’re not the first woman who’s accused me of being too hard.”

  Her shoulders slumped again. “Thank you for saving my life.” Her eyes focused on a point somewhere off the side. “If you’ll excuse me, I am going to take myself below deck and attempt to decide exactly what I intend to do with this life of mine that I now have.” She slowly stepped out of his grasp. He ran his hand through his hair as he watched her go. He missed her heat against him, the feel of her softness against the hard ridges of his body. And she was right. Without a dowry or a man to secure her future, it was bleak.

  Chapter Seven

  Bridget lay in bed that night and let the tears fall. Her father hadn’t said anything she didn’t already suspect. But the loss of her dowry, that was another matter entirely. How would she recover from that?

  How would Mary?

  “You’re still awake?” Mary said next to her.

  “So are you.” Mary turned over.

  “I heard what he said. I suppose that means we’re not sisters after all. I always fancied that we were.” Mary plucked at the coverlet, letting little tufts of air underneath the blanket.

  Bridget turned to her. “I don’t care what he said. You’re my best friend and my sister. If not by blood then by choice. We’ve got each other in this world, Mary. Let’s not allow him to take that from us too.”

  Mary leaned over and gave her a hug. “I agree. Maybe we can get positions in the same house. I could be a maid and you a nanny or a tutor.”

  Bridget nodded into the dark. “Captain Sinclair said he could help us. Maybe he’d provide us with recommendations.”

  “Fine idea,” Mary answered. “It’s not what we hoped, but it would be something.”

  Bridget lay her head back down. It would be something. She supposed lots of people compromised. Her mother certainly had. But dread settled in her chest. No marriage, no children of her own, hard work, and meager pay were what she had to look forward to. At least, she’d be in charge of her own destiny. That was something. Perhaps, if she could just go to sleep, tomorrow would seem brighter. They’d dock tomorrow and stop for a short time. She and Mary would leave the ship; there was little point in travelling to England now.

  Clearing her mind, she finally managed to fall asleep but when she woke in the morning she felt no better about her situation.

  Getting up, she dressed and made her way up to the deck. The coast of Scotland rolled by on their left as the ocean spread out on their right. The crew buzzed about her and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Captain Sinclair behind the wheel of the ship. Her breath caught but she forced her gaze back out over the water.

  “What are you thinking?” Matt called, as he strode toward her, his long legs eating the ground between them.

  She shook her head. “Good morning to you too.” Her hands twisted together, as she met his gaze. “Mary and I wondered if you might be willing to provide us with a recommendation. We’ll have to seek positions here and—”

  “Why would you seek positions here?” he asked raising a brow.

  “That’s a silly question.” Bridget stopped, her hands spreading out on either side of her. Searching his face, she momentarily forgot why she was irritated. Gads, the man was handsome. “There is little point in going to London without a dowry.”

  He scratched at his head, giving her a long stare. “I told ye I would help ye.”

  “I know,” she huffed. “That’s why I am asking you for a recommendation. I might as well seek employment here in Scotland.”

  His hands rested on either of his hips as he leaned to one side. It was casual stance and yet, somehow, it conveyed power and prowess that she didn’t understand. “Yer boat went down in Heron’s Cove. While the boat is submerged during high tide, at low tide, we should be able to walk right in and fetch yer trunk.”

  Her hands rested on her hips, matching his pose as desire and annoyance fought for control. “It would have really helped me if you mentioned that yesterday.”

  “Ye’re welcome,” he answered. “My sister-in-law will get you something else to wear and then we are off to recover yer belongings and to deliver ye to London.”

  “How can a man who is so helpful, be so annoying?” she asked his back as he retreated.

  He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. It was the second time she’d seen him smile but it was no less devastating. It lightened his features, as his one side of his lips curved irresistibly toward his cheek. “It’s a mystery.” Then he turned. “Here’s another. How can a woman, down on her luck, be so sharp with the one man helping her?”

  She lifted her nose into the air. “It’s a gift.”

  That made him laugh. “Yer not boring, Bridget McDougal. I’ll give ye that.”

  “And you’d be handsome if you smiled more.” She started to follow him. She was suddenly curious about what sort of man he was off this boat. Come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about him. One question immediately popped into her head. “Are you married, Captain?”

  He stopped then, spinning about. “No, and don’t get any ideas.”

  She stopped too, her chin drawing back. “Oh please, as if I would want to marry an ogre like you. You’re the last man in Scotland I’d want to be with. My husband will be gentle and kind. Considerate in his manner and willing to—”

  She heard the laughter around her and she stopped, her hands pressing to her cheeks. She shouldn’t have said that bit about him being the last man she’d marry.

  He turned away again and started back for the wheel. She couldn’t take the words back now. Would he still help her? And what was wrong with her? She never let her temper flare like this. There was only one thing left to do.

  * * *

  Matt stomped back toward the wheel wondering why he was even helping that troublesome little minx of a woman.

  “Captain Sinclair,” she called after him. He ignored it, continuing toward the wheel. “Captain,” she yelled again. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned then, only to realize she was just behind him. Bridget attempted to skid to a stop but the wet deck prevented her from doing so and she continued careening toward him, her arms flailing at her sides. Matt caught her about the waist and pulled her against him to steady her.

  She gasped as their bodies came into contact. The sound, coupled with the feel of her pressed against him made him hard as the rocks along the shore and he clenched his teeth together attempting to gain control of his body.

  Her arms grabbed at his shoulders as she turned her face up to him, her lips parted in surprise. He nearly came undone. The sudden urge to lift her, as he’d done the other night, made his arm tighten about her middle. He didn’t want to rescue her this time, he wanted to feel her in his arms with a great deal less clothing.

  “Captain?” she asked as she stared at him.

  The question hung between them. What did he say? What was she even asking? Did she want to know why he was holding her so close? How much effort it was taking to do the right thing and not carry her off like a beast? Did she want him to kiss her?

  She swallowed then and that sweet little pink tongue darted out to lick at her upper lip. What would she taste like? “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I said those things. Please don’t be angry with me. Can you forgive me?” She squeezed his shoulders.

  That was the question? His body was burning with desire and she wanted to apologize for a few flippant words? “Of course.”

  She nodded. “I know that you are not bound to help me and you do so out of the goodness of your heart. Thank you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I shudder to think of what would ha
ve happened to myself and Mary if our paths hadn’t crossed with yours.”

  He drew his brows together, still holding her close. Her last statement should have made him happy. She was thanking him for his efforts rather than insulting them. Still, they unsettled his stomach. He wanted more from her than a bland declaration of gratitude. “You’re welcome.”

  Loosening his arms, he brought his fingers to her waist and moved her away from his body. Her hands, however, stayed on his shoulders. “I only asked you about marriage because I realized that, while you’ve learned the intimate details of my situation, I know nothing about you other than you run a fleet of boats.”

  He dropped his hands from her waist and reached for her fingers, removing them from his shoulders. Which meant they were now holding hands. “I’m not married and I’ve no intention of ever doing so.”

  She raised her brows. “Married to the sea?”

  Likely, he should just say yes. As he looked down at her warm brown eyes, words started falling from his lips that he hadn’t intended to say. “I have, or rather I had, four brothers. Three of whom are happily married and making parcels of babies to carry on the Sinclair line.” He squeezed her hands. “The fourth died saving my sister. Since then, I prefer to be alone.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, stepping closer. “Were you close?”

  “We were twins,” he found himself murmuring. “The loss came just a few years after the death of my parents.” He shuddered at the memory. “I love my siblings but every person you open yourself to is a risk. A potential loss. I don’t need a wife and children to worry after.”

  She gave a small nod. “I see your point. My parents’ marriage likely should have frightened me away from the institution forever.”