“Listen to me,” he said. “I wasnae honest with you before. It’s true, you might be carrying my child…” He put a warm hand on her belly. “And that would make me very happy, by the way.” She detected a smile in his voice. He inhaled deeply, as if what he was about to tell her took courage. “You see…the truth is…if you were pregnant, I wouldnae have to tell you that I want you to marry me.”

  She touched his cheek. “Ian, I—”

  “Nae.” He stilled her hand. “Dinnae say anything. Not until…God, I cannae even believe I’m telling you—it’s just easier to tell you these things in the dark.” He took another shaky breath. “The damned truth is that I want you more than I want a commission in the army. I didnae ken it until I saw you on that stage. I dinnae want you to have to marry me. I want you to want to marry me. And so I would give you a choice. Do you understand, love?”

  “Aye, I do, Ian.”

  “There are many issues—obstacles really—that must be…” Ian swallowed audibly. “That must be addressed before either of us can make any decisions. The least of which is this blasted marriage contract. When we get back to Scotland—that is, if you choose to return to Scotland with me?”

  He seemed to be waiting for her answer so she nodded adamantly.

  He huffed a stifled laugh. “When we get back to Scotland, I’ve got to face your da. I dinnae ken what the Tartan Terror will do, but I ken he willnae be happy wi’ me.”

  The next morning, she arrived at the door to the breakfast room and found Mairi, Nathan, and Ian already breaking their fast.

  “Good morning, everyone.”

  Nathan and Ian rose from the table, swallowing and wiping their mouths.

  “Morning, Lou,” Nathan said.

  “Good morning, Miss Robertson,” Ian said.

  Louisa went to the sideboard and the men lowered themselves into their seats again. “Where’s Mr. Kirby this morning?”

  “He’s gone out to ask Mr. Foley to get the carriage ready,” Mairi said.

  Louisa returned to the table, her plate heaped with eggs, sausage, toast, and roasted potatoes.

  “You’ve got quite the appetite this morning,” Nathan said.

  “Indeed.” She leaned back and inhaled deeply. “I always do when I get a good night’s sleep.” She looked pointedly at Ian. “You look as though you didnae sleep at all, Captain.”

  He sent a warning look her way. “As a matter of fact, I did not.” He stabbed a bit of sausage and brought it to his mouth.

  “I’m so sorry. Was something keeping you awake?” she teased. “The storm, perhaps? Or maybe the heat?”

  Ian choked on his sausage and Nathan gave him a good thwack on the back.

  Edward entered the breakfast room looking more out of sorts than usual.

  “Is something wrong?” Mairi asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “The carriage is gone. When I asked Mrs. Foley about it, she said Mr. Foley drove the reverend into town. It seems he’s left us.”

  “Without saying goodbye?” Mairi didn’t make any attempt to hide her distress.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Foley must be mistaken,” Louisa said. “The reverend wouldnae leave us. Especially when everything is so unsettled.”

  Edward pulled a folded parchment from his coat pocket. “He gave this to Mrs. Foley to give to you, darling.”

  The furrow between Mairi’s brows deepened as she read. She shook her head slightly. “I dinnae understand this, Edward.” She handed him the parchment and he read aloud.

  “Dear Miss Mairi,

  I write because shame prevents me from speaking these words to your lovely face. I am a man unworthy of forgiveness and yet I ask for your understanding. I, too, am not who I seem to be. Like you, I left Scotland under a false identity. Unlike you, my motives were not true. I left my wife and children behind rather than face the consequences of my dishonorable conduct. I chose this time to leave you because revealing myself will resolve your current dilemma. I am not nor have I ever been a clergyman. I was, until late, a banker. Or should I say an embezzler. I will not give you my real name, lest duty compel Captain Sinclair to apprehend me. Know that I could never anticipate how my assumed identity could complicate things for you, my dear girl. I never meant to cause you harm and hope that this belated confession can set things to right again.

  My best wishes for a long and happy marriage to you and Mr. Kirby.

  Anonymously yours.”

  The room was completely silent for what seemed like a long, long time. Finally, Mr. Kirby said, “So…so he’s not…”

  “He’s not a real…” Nathan ventured.

  “Clergyman,” Ian finished.

  Again silence, as if no one dared believe what this revelation implied.

  “The ceremony wasn’t real.” Excitement bubbled up inside Louisa. She wasn’t married to Kirby by proxy. She wasn’t married to anyone. “It was a rehearsal. It didnae count. It was just a rehearsal!” She was free.

  In an uncharacteristically impulsive gesture, Kirby swept Mairi into his arms for a kiss.

  Nathan burst into peals of laughter. She hadn’t heard her brother laugh that way since they were children. Ever since he’d become a man of business, he’d been so serious he almost never smiled.

  She chanced a glance at Ian and was pleased to find him laughing as well. Their eyes met, his glittering with mirth. Was he thinking the same thing as she—that they had cleared the first and most formidable obstacle?

  …

  Ian gazed back at those dancing green eyes and grew more confident. He knew he would have to fight hard for Louisa, but he had a strategy to win her heart. He’d anticipated it would be a long and messy business to break Louisa’s marriage contract with Kirby, but as it turned out, the battle for Louisa’s freedom had been less than a skirmish, thanks to Fake Reverend Wynter-whatever.

  His next battle would be with the Atlantic Ocean. He had to get her safely back to Scotland with him. Once on Scottish soil, he would take the offensive with the Tartan Terror. That would, no doubt, be the bloodiest conflict. He would take all the blows General Robertson dealt to shield Louisa from his wrath. But the final battle, the one he feared most, the one with the highest stakes, would involve a six-year-old boy. He loved Louisa and he would do anything within his power to make her his, but for Rory, he would fall on his own sword.

  Ian was spared further contemplation of the hell that awaited him in Scotland when the jangle of an approaching carriage reached them. Everyone moved toward the front door and spilled out into the morning sun.

  As soon as Mr. Foley pulled the brake, Will hopped down from the driver’s bench smiling from ear to ear. “Got a surprise for ye, Captain.” The lad opened the door and a familiar lanky form slid out of the coach.

  “Peter!” Ian strode directly to his quartermaster, gave him a fierce embrace and slapped him on the back. “I didnae expect you for another three days at the least.”

  “We completed our business in good time. Rather than let the crew idle in Boston, I thought we might find a better price on beer and entertainment in New London.” He turned his mop of blond hair toward Louisa and executed his formal bow. It never failed to please the lassies. “Good morning, Miss Robertson.”

  Louisa returned a deep curtsy. “I take it Will has filled you in on our folly?”

  “Oh, aye. I got an earful. My head’s still spinning.”

  “Mr. Peter, this is my brother, Nathan Robertson.”

  Peter shook Nathan’s hand. Anyone who didn’t know Peter well would never have detected the slight tic of his almost invisible blond eyebrows when he looked Ian’s way. But he read Peter’s thoughts as clearly as if they’d been written on the lad’s forehead. Bloody hell, man. I cannae believe you’re still alive.

  Ian asked, “How did you find Will?”

  “Will found me. Spotted me coming out of the general store. I’d gone in there to find out where Mr. Kirby lived.”

  “Did you get a good price for Declan’s whisky?”

  “Aye. One buyer took it all. And if the exchange of silver for sterling stays the same or goes up—”

  “Please,” Louisa said. “You can talk about business later. Mr. Peter, come inside with me. Miss MacQuarie will be delighted to see you again, and I want you to meet Mr. Kirby.”

  “We’ll join you shortly,” Robertson said. “I want a word with Sinclair.” He draped a chummy arm over Ian’s shoulder.

  Shite. Robertson probably needed to burn off some anger with a fistfight. Ian was far too tired for fighting, but if he must, he must. As soon as Louisa and Peter were out of sight, Ian sloughed off Robertson’s false embrace, and sighed. “I let you have one free shot the other night because I owed it to you. But if you try it again, I’ll knock you on your arse.”

  “Humph.” Robertson swept a doubtful gaze up and down Ian. “Save it for another time. There’s something else I want to discuss.”

  …

  Louisa was more than a little put out when the men locked themselves in the parlor for a “private discussion.” In her experience, private discussions were often tactical in nature. Since America and Great Britain were no longer at war, Louisa could only assume she and Mairi were the enemy. She put her ear to the parlor door to listen.

  “What could they be talking about?” Mairi wrung her hands in her skirts as if she were wearing an apron, an unconscious habit she’d yet to break.

  Louisa flapped her hand to shoo her away. “I cannae hear when you’re talking.” The heavy clip of boot heels echoed from within, and she skipped clear of the door, whispering a frantic, “Get back. Someone’s coming.”

  The parlor door opened, and the men filed out. With little to no explanation, they found their hats and headed toward the front door.

  “Wait. Where are you going? Mr. Peter just got here.”

  “Business in town,” Mr. Kirby said, and slipped out the door.

  “Yes. Business,” Nathan said, and followed.

  “Will and I have an appointment with the tailor,” Ian said, and flashed her a roguish grin. What was he so happy about?

  Mr. Peter was much more polite. “Thank you for your kind hospitality,” he said, sweeping a graceful bow. “It has been my pleasure to spend time in the company of—”

  “Mr. Peter!” Ian shouted from outside the door.

  “Good day, ladies.” Mr. Peter flashed them a charming smile. Dear Lord. Women must fall at his feet.

  She and Mairi spent the rest of the day trying to shake their agitation. After all, the worst of it was over. Their secret was out and no one had expired. And Mairi and Mr. Kirby were to be married as originally planned. He’d forgiven Mairi and told her he didn’t care what she’d been before he met her. He’d said, “You could have been a chimney sweep and I would not have loved you less.”

  The carriage rumbled into the yard around six o’clock that evening. Louisa remained curled up on the settee with her Moll Flanders. If Ian wanted to talk to her, he could damn well come and find her. Male voices and boot heels echoed in the entry. Mr. Kirby called out to Mairi and thundered upstairs.

  The parlor door opened. Louisa lifted her head from her book as if surprised by the disturbance.

  “We’re back,” Ian said.

  “I see.”

  “Like the book?” he asked.

  “Oh, aye. It’s quite…bracing.”

  “Good,” he said.

  Her brother Nathan marched into the parlor, announcing in his usual dictatorial manner that their departure from New London would take place on the morrow.

  Louisa dropped the book and bolted to her feet. “But Mairi’s wedding.”

  “You’ve already attended Mairi’s first wedding. The second will be no different.”

  “Can we not stay until Saturday? It’s a difference of four days,” she pleaded.

  “The longer we stay, the more likely we are to meet with storms at sea,” Nathan said. “Sinclair has made the arrangements. I’ll have no more discussion.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

  “Ian,” she implored. “Do something.”

  “Your brother and I have found something upon which we can agree. Savor the moment. I doubt it will happen again anytime soon,” Ian said, and exited.

  She clenched her fists and growled, “Men.”

  After a tearful morning packing her things, Louisa and Mairi said their goodbyes. Louisa had known the day would come when she and Mairi would part, but she had always imagined it would be on different terms and that they would, at the very least, live on the same continent, not on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “You will write to me,” Louisa said, holding Mairi’s hand from inside the carriage.

  “I promise.” Mairi sobbed. “Thank you, my dear friend. Thank you for everything.” Mr. Kirby wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and drew her back.

  Mr. Foley whistled and the team pulled away from the house. Louisa leaned out the carriage window and waved until she could no longer see Mairi.

  When they arrived in town, the carriage paused near the park where Will had played with his new friends. Will hopped down and raced toward the group of boys.

  “I promised Will we’d say goodbye,” Ian said, and climbed out. “He’ll only be a minute.”

  Ian waited by the carriage for Will’s return. Louisa sensed Ian was tense by the set of his shoulders. True to his word, Will returned breathless and smiling. “Told ’em I’d see ’em next time we made port, sir.”

  Ian rested a hand on Will’s shoulder. “You know, you can stay here if you prefer, Will. You can stay with the Kirbys, work for them, go to school, have friends. Would you rather do that, lad?” Louisa heard a hitch in Ian’s voice. It had cost him to make the offer.

  Will gazed up at him, confused. “You mean leave you and Mr. Peter?”

  “Aye.”

  “The Gael Forss is my home, sir. I’ll never leave.”

  Ian’s shoulders relaxed. He must have been holding his breath. He ruffled Will’s mop of curls. “Right then. Up ye go.” Will clambered up to the driver’s seat with Mr. Foley, and Ian climbed back in the carriage.

  When he sat back in his seat, she noticed Nathan’s knee bouncing impatiently.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Let me tell you both how things will be on board the Gael Forss. You two will not eat together, drink together, walk together, or talk together unless I am present. I expect you to abide by my word during the entire crossing. In exchange, I will speak on Sinclair’s behalf when he makes his report to the general. One infraction, and the deal is off. Am I understood?”

  “That’s six weeks,” Ian protested. “At night, she’s bothered by the small spaces below deck. I allow her to read in the captain’s mess,” he pleaded. “You must grant her that freedom, at least.”

  Nathan turned an unsympathetic shoulder on Ian.

  “If you promise you willnae let Da harm Captain Sinclair,” Louisa said, “I’ll stay below at night, no matter what.”

  “Louisa,” Ian said, his brow buckled with concern. “How will you manage your fear?”

  She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “I’ll do just as you showed me. I’ll close my eyes and let you take me dancing.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Five weeks, five days, and eight hours later, Leith Docks, Edinburgh, Scotland

  Ian stood on the quarterdeck as Mr. Purdie guided the Gael Forss into Edinburgh Harbour. He should feel a sense of victory. He had, after all, won his battle with the Atlantic without any casualties. Even Dougald Clyne’s foot had healed well enough he could walk with a crutch. And he’d met Robertson’s challenge. He had not spoken to Louisa or been within ten feet of the lass without the presence of her brother—a difficult thing to do given the length of the voyage and the size of the ship. Harder still because every minute of every day he ached to wrap his arms around her, feel her heat against his body, smell her sweet scent.

  He hadn’t given a toss about Nathan’s promise to speak on his behalf, but it was very important to Louisa, so he’d agreed. What was more, Louisa seemed to have won the battle with her own demon. The small spaces on board ship no longer caused her panic and that pleased him. For that matter, the itch inside Ian’s head had miraculously calmed, leaving him relatively free of his tics.

  Today, the ban on Louisa’s company would end the instant they set foot on Scottish soil. The prospect should thrill him. Yet, he felt only apprehension. Two weeks after they’d departed the shores of Connecticut, Louisa had left a note under his cabin door.

  I can confirm, a marriage is not required.

  The implication of her note was that she was not pregnant. The knowledge should have brought him a sense of relief. Instead, he was downcast for days. A marriage is not required. Did that mean a marriage was not desired?

  Added to that concern, his final two battles loomed ahead. More than likely, he would have to tackle them both today. First, General Robertson, a full-on assault. If he survived, then he would tell Louisa about Rory. He would have few defenses for that fight, and even less ammunition. Endurance would be his strategy. If he could stay on his feet, he might have a chance.

  Robertson and Louisa came up on deck and went to the railing. This late in the season, a biting wind ripped through the docks. She was well cloaked, wore a hat and woolen gloves, and when the wind picked up the hem of her skirts, he saw the trousers. He liked to think she felt him smile because she turned then and smiled back.

  She said goodbye to Will and Danny and the cat they had named Brandy. She had talked about taking the feline with her, but Will and Danny had become attached to the thing and she didn’t think her old cat would like a companion.

  “Mr. Peter, have the cargo unloaded and stored in the warehouse.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Will, take Danny with you and see that the Robertsons’ trunks are delivered to this address.” He handed the lad a note and a bag of coins. “And get yourselves something to eat.”

  Will beamed. “Aye, sir.”

  “And you, sir?” Peter asked.

  “I’m going to Castle Rock to report to the Tartan Terror.”

 

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