Rogue Scot: Brethren of Stone Read online

  But he stayed where he was until the piece was over. As the last note floated through the air, he rose from his seat and stalked across the room to retrieve her. He didn’t question his need to be close to her. That was for tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to be close to her.

  She was lovely. As her hand slipped into his, he was glad that he’d rescued her. Glad that she was here now.

  His niece’s teacher slipped into the room and seated herself at the instrument, striking up a merry song. He didn’t say a word as he led her to the open space in the room and took her waist. Her steps were light as he held her close, leading her about the room.

  He tightened his grip on her tiny middle, wanting to feel her pressed against him again. She smiled up at him. “If you’d told me I’d be doing this a week ago, I would have never believed it. Thank you for rescuing us.”

  “Ye’re welcome,” he replied, pulling her a bit closer. “I’m getting quite warm. I suppose I’ve gotten used to a sea breeze. Care to step outside with me?”

  Her eyebrows lifted but she gave a nod and he spun her toward the balcony doors. Pulling one open, Blair gave him a long look but said nothing as they stepped outside. They were in plain view of his family but it was darker and quieter out there. Making sure Blair had turned back to the pianoforte, Matt pulled Bridget close. Her body fit against his, molding to his harder edges. Inwardly he groaned. “I’m glad I rescued you, Bridget.” He leaned down so his lips were nearly touching hers. Her heart beat wildly against him as her breath came out in shallow gasps. It gave him an immense amount of pleasure to know that he affected her so. “But I’m hoping to ask ye for a small act of gratitude.”

  She drew in a quick breath. He glanced into the room to make sure no one was watching.

  “I want to kiss ye,” he whispered and then tilted his chin to capture her lips. She tasted of sweets and wine, her lips silkier than the fabric under his hands, the soft press of her flesh making him rock hard.

  He pulled away again, knowing they only had a moment before one of his family looked up and caught the kiss. But he wanted more. Much more.

  This was a dangerous endeavor. He was a man who prided himself on control, on maintaining emotional distance. He’d let that slip and now he didn’t want to put that veil back on. Were his brothers right? Was marriage a better path?

  But what of Reginald? Would he hate himself for giving into his body instead of honoring his brother’s memory?

  “Matt?” Bridget asked as she looked up at him. Her lips were dew-covered from being kissed and her features soft and warm.

  He reached for her cheek, grasping it in his hand. She was so tempting like that. Part of him wanted to forget everything else again and live in this moment for a little longer. “Ye are truly lovely, Bridget. Ye’ll make some man a fine wife.”

  “Some man?” she repeated stepping back. Her parted lips closed and her features tightened. “But not you.”

  He slowly shook his head. “I already told ye, lass, that I won’t marry. That doesn’t mean I won’t help ye.”

  She drew in a breath, her body shuddering as she did. “Most generous,” she said slowly, the last syllable dropping low. There was nothing soft about her face now, and she straightened, pursing her plump lips. Then she swished her skirt and disappeared into the music room.

  Matt watched her take a seat next to Mary, her back straight, her hands folded. Part of him wanted to call her back but he didn’t. Instead he went back inside for one more song and then excused himself. He had a boat to prepare for its first winter journey and a treasure hunt to oversee. He’d do what he always did. He’d work.

  Chapter Ten

  Once again, Bridget should have been grateful for Matt’s help. Instead, she was, once again, irritated with the man. He gave with one hand and took with his oafish personality.

  She stomped the deck boards below her feet as their new ship slowly left the harbor. Gemma and Elle waved from the dock and she waved back. They had been generous and kind and Bridget sincerely hoped she saw them again.

  Matt stood several feet behind her in the broad stance he often took on deck. His arms were crossed his feet apart, his head tall. Damn the man for looking so good. It was annoying.

  Turning back, she watched the shore slip by and as the wind picked up, she retreated to her and Mary’s room. It would take close to two days to reach the wreck. If she wanted to avoid Matt, and she was fairly certain that she did, then she’d have to stay here.

  Mary opened the door, having followed. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she mumbled, tossing herself onto the bottom bunk of the bed. “You?”

  May nodded. “Maybe we should go back to the Sinclairs instead of going to London. Even if your dowry is recovered.” Mary sat next to her. “They are kind and generous and not motivated by selfish reasons. There is a great deal to be said for that.”

  Bridget’s shoulders slumped. Being with the Sinclairs meant seeing Matt. “My aunt is family. And we’ve only known the Sinclairs a short time.”

  “True,” Mary touched her shoulder. “And you’ve kissed Captain Sinclair, so that does complicate things.”

  Bridget whipped her head off the pillow as she looked at Mary. “How did you know?”

  Mary giggled. “You were standing right on the balcony. I looked back.”

  Heat filled Bridget’s cheeks. “It was a mistake. I was swept away by the moment.”

  Mary shrugged. “If you say so. I think he’d make a fine husband. Keep a woman safe and warm.”

  Bridget sat up. Mary did have a point, though she wouldn’t say that out loud. Besides he was too much like her father, hard and uncompromising. Instead, she smoothed her skirts. “He lost his twin brother in an accident and has decided he won’t marry. He’s afraid of suffering more loss.”

  “Oh my,” Mary pulled her mouth taut, showing her teeth. “That is awful.” Then she reached for Bridget’s hand. “Still. It’s easier to have people to depend on in this world, especially when you’ve lost. Perhaps instead of stomping around, you should try being understanding. Prove to him that you would be a comfort.” Then Mary stood.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Bridget scrambled up, her hands coming to her hips. “I’m comforting.”

  Mary raised a brow. “If you say so.” Then she opened the door.

  Bridget took a step toward her. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re acting as though I should be chasing him. What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want such a hard man? Doesn’t he remind you of father?”

  Mary stopped then. She drew in a deep breath. “You told me once, you wanted a man who was kind. A man who would help you and others, including me. The captain is all that and more. He’s nothing like Lord McDougal. Strong, handsome, capable, and wealthy. Why wouldn’t you want to marry Matthew Sinclair?”

  Bridget’s mouth fell open. Well that was just…of all the things to say… Mary didn’t wait for her to answer as she left the room and closed the door behind her. What irritated Bridget the most was that Mary’s words were absolutely true.

  * * *

  Matt stood at the ship’s helm lost in thought. The new boat sailed like a dream and the crew was used to working together. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had a great deal of time to think.

  They’d passed an easy day and night and were making excellent time to Heron’s Cove. He hadn’t seen Bridget since they’d set off, she was hiding in her cabin.

  Which he should be grateful for. No kissing, no temptation.

  Somehow, that was a very small consolation. He closed his eyes, remembering the press of her body against his, the silkiness of her lips. He should have tasted the skin of her neck. Was it as sweet as her breath?

  Just the thought of laying a kiss behind the shell of her ear had his body hard and throbbing. He gritted his teeth as a gust of wind smacked him in the face, cooling his burning skin.

  Then he tilted his head. The wind persisted as moist, warmer air pulled at his clothing. When warm air hit the cold sea like this, it meant only one thing. A storm.

  Blast, they were a day from Heron’s Cove. He’d have to cut toward the shore and find a harbor in which to shelter, hopefully one that wasn’t overly rocky. They’d just passed North Berwick, not that Bridget’s father would allow them haven there anyway. After the way he’d treated Bridget’s father, the man was as likely to light their ship on fire as he was to provide shelter.

  Dunbar wasn’t too far, they could make it in a few hours but as another gust of wind pulled at his hair, rippling his shirt like grass on the Highlands, he saw the black wall of storm clouds coming toward them.

  Damn it it all to hell. They’d have to make a break for the shore.

  He yelled several commands and then swung himself down below deck. He knew Bridget enough to know the storm would frighten her and he wanted to warn her.

  Secretly, he just wanted to see her but no one need know that but him.

  Knocking on her door, he called. “Bridget. I need to speak with you.”

  “Go away,” her muffled voice called.

  He knocked again, louder. “A storm in coming, I want you to—” He stopped as the lock rattled and the door flew open.

  “A storm? How bad?” The color had drained from her face as she clutched at the door.

  His mouth pulled. “Bad.”

  She reached a shaky hand toward him. He didn’t hesitate as he stepped into the room and gathered her into his arms. “Can we make it to shore?”

  “Aye, we can make it. The question is will there be suitable shelter. Some of the shore is more dangerous than the open ocean.”

  She shook as she looked up at him. “Matt?” She wrapped her arms about his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve hidden away. I’m sorry that I’m always so cross. You’ve been trying to help me and I—”

  He kissed her lips quiet. They tasted as sweet as the last time as they clung to his. “Don’t apologize. I shouldnae have kissed ye, ye’ve a right to be mad. And I ken I just did it again but…”

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I’m glad you did. At least I know what it feels like if we don’t…” She swallowed and looked away. “If the storm is too strong.” She tucked her head under his chin. “Thank you for helping me. It’s been so long since anyone has. And I just want you to know that you’ve restored my faith in this world.”

  Her words hit him like a blow to the chest. “Don’t say that. How can that be true when I’ve so little faith myself?”

  She leaned her head back to look at him, her chin tilting to one side. “If we make it through all of this, I’ll make it my job to restore yours.” Then she lifted on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his again. They were tentative, soft, and achingly sweet. Dropping back down, she stepped away. “Now go save us, would you?” Giving him one last look, she closed the door.

  He headed back up toward the deck but he hadn’t even made it to the ladder when the ship pitched violently.

  What was wrong with him? Storms didn’t usually take him by surprise like this.

  As his head crested the hatch, the sky opened up as torrential rain drove down on the deck. The ship started up a wave and then crashed down again as Matt held on, waiting for the boat to settle.

  The waves were driving perpendicular to the coast. He winced, knowing it would take them longer to reach the shore. They’d have to cut an angle. To head straight in was to risk capsizing.

  Striding to the helm, Matt took the wheel. Men scurried about, the sound of ropes the only thing louder than the wind and rain.

  Matt gripped the wheel, his knuckles turning white. He needed to focus but Bridget’s words kept echoing through his thoughts. “I’ll restore your faith the way you’ve brought back mine.” Could she bring Reginald back? Likely not. His brothers were living full lives despite the loss. Maybe they were right. And Bridget too. Maybe it was time to have some faith.

  Chapter Eleven

  The storm on the Saint Mary had been awful. It was nothing compared with this. Bridget and Mary lay in her bunk, holding on to each other and the frame of the bed for dear life. It went on for nearly an hour, Mary praying the entire time until the roll of the boat finally slowed.

  Bridget looked up, had the storm abated? She could still hear the wind and the rain and the clouds, which she could see through her tiny porthole, were black as night, but the boat pitched less violently. Rising, she crawled along the floor until she reached the porthole. Using her hands along the wall to slowly stand herself, she peered out the window. Land. They’d reached a harbor.

  Tears of relief pricked at her eyes. Matt had done this. He’d once again kept her safe. She pressed her forehead to the glass. She’d meant what she said. Somewhere along the way, he’d made her believe in people again. It had been so long since she’d trusted anyone, she’d nearly forgotten how. But now, it was her turn to help him.

  How did she do that? He’d lost and now he didn’t want to open his heart for fear of losing again. She’d have to prove to him that he could care without being hurt. A knock at the door, pulled her from her thoughts. “We’ve made it to a harbor. We’ll wait out the storm.” Matt called from the other side.

  She rushed to the door, nearly falling as the boat pitched. Swinging it open, he stood on the other side as though the boat didn’t move at all. “Thank you,” she murmured as she reached for his hand.

  He drew her into his chest once again. “Ye’re welcome.” Then he kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know how long the storm will last but we can stay here until it ends.”

  She nodded then slowly backed away. “I’m sure you have work to do.”

  He gave a single nod. “Stay here where it’s warm and dry.”

  Her mouth turned down as she watched him walk away. She wanted to be next to him. That was where she was safest.

  Three hours later, the storm still blew, but the boat had calmed and Mary lay in her own bunk, snoring away. Bridget tossed and turned as she listened to the clomp of feet upon the deck. “G’night Captain,” one of the sailors called.

  Bridget jumped out of bed. She knew she should stay in her cabin but she wanted to see him again. And so, she slipped open the door and snuck out into the hall just in time to watch Matt climb down the ladder. He turned toward her, likely heading for his room, a single candle lighting his way. He stopped as he caught sight of her. “What are ye doing?”

  She nibbled her lip. “Today was awful. I just wanted to—” She didn’t bother to finish. Instead, she reached out her arms to him.

  He came down the hell toward her and scooped her into his embrace. “Sweetheart, this isnae a good idea. I already told ye that I wouldnae marry.”

  “I know.” She rubbed her cheek along his wet coat, the feel of the wool rough and scratchy but somehow comforting. “I’ll go back to my room in just a minute. I just wanted you to hold me. I was so frightened.”

  He rumbled, she felt it as much as heard the sound and then he was pulling her down the hall. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” she asked though she wasn’t sure she cared.

  He stopped. “I was frightened too and scared I would lose you. I would lose us both.” He wrapped his arms about her and picked her up as he opened his door. “I’ve no right to ask this but can I hold you? I swear, I won’t touch you. Not in that way.”

  She nodded, wanting to be close to him too. He closed the door and set her down, shrugging off his soaking jacket and tossing it on his desk. Then he picked her back up and lay her on the bed.

  She caught her breath, as he perched above her, his strong arms on either side of her. She wasn’t frightened. Not even a little. She was safe, she was warm, and she was, most of all, excited. Her heart raced in her chest as she reached up her hand to touch his face.

  It was absurdly dangerous, this behavior she was engaging in. She needed her dowry and to wed a good man who would care for her always, but those thoughts barely registered before they drifted away, drowned out by his fresh scent of ocean and rain, and the feel of his raw strength surrounding her.

  He pressed his body to hers and his warmth seeped into her, filled her as her heart pounded near out of her chest. His nose brushed hers. “I wonder if it’s too late,” he murmured.

  “Too late?” she asked as his lips came achingly close to hers. Her chin started to tilt wanting to taste him.

  He brushed a hair back from her cheek. “My entire plan was to remain distant so as not to get hurt. But we are rather close now aren’t we?”

  Did he mean physically? Or was he talking about their emotional connection? “I suppose we are.”

  He finally touched his lips to hers, it was sweet and soft and left her desperate for more. “What you need is someone to shelter you from the harshness of the world. A harbor in a storm.”

  “I suppose I do,” she said just before he kissed her again. “I thought I could be strong on my own but…” She stopped. “It’s nice to have help. Someone willing to aid Mary and provide for me.”

  “And what will you provide in return?” he asked as he kissed her cheek and then slid his lips along her jawline to kiss the sensitive spot just behind her ear.

  She let out a breathy moan, her hands winding into his hair. “All the things a wife can give. Children, a comfortable home, support, help wherever I can.”

  “Will you promise to be safe?”

  She blinked as his lips sucked in her lobe. She was having trouble focusing. What did that mean? Safe?

  * * *

  This was a mistake. Her words and the feel of her were filling him with a heat that was threatening to blaze out of control. Wild thoughts were pulsing through him. He’d take her for a wife. Keep her tucked away in their home, safe and secure. He’d simply protect her so that nothing bad would happen to her.