Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions) (11 page)

“I am. And Andrew
is
my relation.”

Marquee’s lip curled. “Really?” He blew out a breath and
muttered something to himself.

“
Distant
relation,” Sophia added. It did bear
mentioning. They were
not
related by blood.

“You’d better be telling the truth.”

“I am.”

Marquee shrugged. “We shall know in a minute.” He waved at
the chairs. “Please sit.”

Finally!

Sophia shot him a frown, mentally berating him for his poor
manners, but then her heart lurched when he said to his man, “Tie them, please.”

It was mortifying, sitting there while the pirate with the
spotted face and the bilious breath wound rope around her wrists and then
looped it about the chair. But it was harder watching Ned be bound. She could
see the humiliation and anger in his face. Still, he was so stoic. So brave.
Her heart swelled with love for him.

“It will be all right, Ned,” she whispered, but she didn’t
think she’d convinced him.

When they were firmly tied, Marquee nodded. “Right, then.
Bring them in.”

Bring who in?

And heavens, how could this get any worse?

Ah, but it could. Edward, the Duke of Moncrieff, and his man
Transom pushed into the room, and behind them, her brother.

When they spotted Ned, relief flooded their expressions. And
then Ewan’s cold perusal raked her. His eyes narrowed, then widened. His throat
worked. His face went red. The veins on his neck bulged. And he bellowed, “Sophia
Fiona St. Andrews!
What the holy fuck happened to your hair?
”

That Marquee’s wineglass shattered was small consolation.

Ned nearly collapsed in relief when he saw his brother’s
face. He knew—knew—this debacle was over. And Ewan was here. He would take
charge and make Sophia safe in a trice.

Though, at the moment, he looked like he wanted to kill her.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” he roared.

“Ahem,” Marquee put in. “That’s what I would like to know.”
But no one paid him any mind.

“I demand an explanation!”

Sophia put out a lip. How like her. Faced with a wrath that
would make most men piss themselves, she merely tipped up her tiny nose and
sniffed. “Don’t bark, Ewan.”

“Bark?
Bark?
”

“Don’t yell then. Calm down and I will explain everything.”

“I’ve a mind to tan your hide, young lady.” Ewan began
rolling up his shirtsleeves in a menacing manner. “Do you have any idea how
worried we’ve been? How worried Violet’s been?”

Sophia’s lips quivered. “Violet. Is she all right?”

Ewan’s features softened but only a little. “She’s fine. A
little weepy and cranky but considering—” He recalled himself and glowered
anew. “That does not signify! Explain yourself at once.”

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” Marquee put in. “I believe I’m
the one asking questions here.”

Ewan whirled on him like an enraged bear. “And who the
fook
are you?”

Marquee showed his teeth in the resemblance of a smile. “I
believe I am their captor,” he said pleasantly. “And who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the McCloud.” The words snaked through the room. To his
credit, Marquee didn’t completely wilt. “And I’d like to know why you have my
baby sister tied to a fucking chair.”

“Ahem. Your sister.” Marquee glanced at her. And then at
Ned. “That is good to know, because—”

“She ran away, Ewan. On the ship I took to Italy.” Ned spoke
quickly before the captain could utter something disastrous like
because I
walked in and found her mouth on his cock
. “There was a terrible storm—”

“It was rather exciting,” Sophia put in.

Ned frowned at her.

“Well, it was.”

“The ship was badly damaged—”

“And I swept in to save the day,” Marquee said with a
flourish.

“He took our ship,” Sophia complained, as though she
expected Ewan to make everything right. But then perhaps she did. “And took
everyone prisoner. They’re down in the hold. He intends to ransom them back to
their families.”

“So we gathered from the ransom note,” Edward said, speaking
for the first time, although Ned noticed he and Transom had been quietly
assessing the threats in the room. Both were poised to spring into action. “But
it wasn’t a ransom note as much as a command, was it, Marquee? Or should I call
you Cedric?”

Marquee flicked his lace. “If you must. I always hated that
name.”

Ned frowned at his brother. “So you do know him?”

“I’ll say.” Edward’s jaw firmed.

“Oh, do tell them.” All of a sudden, Marquee did not seem so
blasé and feckless. Indeed, a great anger simmered beneath the surface. And his
crisp British accent developed a bit of a brogue. “Do tell them
everything
.”

Edward stiffened his spine. “It was not my fault, Cedric.”

“You left me behind.”

“We couldn’t get to you.”

“You left me
behind
.” His nonchalant façade
evaporated, replaced by a feral, angry beast. “While I was imprisoned, my
entire estate was stolen from me. I returned home to find myself penniless, my
entire family dead.”

“You could have come to me.”

“To the man who left me to rot in a French prison?” He
laughed, though there was no humor in his tone. “I think not. I like this much
better.”

“This what?”

His eyes narrowed. “This revenge.”

Sophia gasped but Edward remained stoic, throwing back his
shoulders. Ned’s heart thrummed. Marquee was a heartless pirate. The thought of
his brother at the bastard’s mercy made his vision cloud. He struggled against
his bonds.

Edward cleared his throat. “What do you intend?”

“A fair exchange. I intend to end your life as you ended
mine.”

Ewan shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

Marquee’s sharp attention swung to Ewan. “Why do you say
that? I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“It would make my wife very unhappy if you killed her
brother, you see. And when my wife is unhappy, I am unhappy.”

Marquee did not recognize Ewan’s tone. Ned did.

The captain shrugged. “What a pity you will have to carry
sad news to her. In the meantime, take your sister and go.”

“And Ned?”

“Take him as well. But the Duke of Moncrieff stays.”

Edward nodded to Transom, who bent before Sophia and made
short work of her bonds. Once free, she flew into her brother’s arms. Transom
began on Ned’s knots. It took far too long. Sweat popped out on his brow.
Edward and Marquee glared at each other. Tension sizzled.

“What will you do with him?” Ewan asked mildly, though his
nonchalance was misleading. He was coiled like an asp.

Marquee raised a pistol and pointed it at Edward’s heart. “Shoot
him.”

Ewan chuckled, which surprised everyone, most especially
Marquee. And Edward, judging from the way his head whipped around.

“What do you find so amusing?” Marquee asked.

“You can’t kill a duke.”

“Can’t I?”

Ned’s heart stalled. He recognized that tone. He recognized
the gleam in Marquee’s eyes. The pistol lifted higher, a mere fraction.

A sudden heat cascaded through his body. There was no way in
hell this man was killing his brother. Not today.

The last rope fell away and he leaped forward, throwing
himself between his brother and the pirate just as a sharp retort rang out. A
blinding agony screamed through his shoulder and he crumpled.

“
Fuck!
”

Ned had no time to process the imprecation—snarled in a
livid female voice—because a wild scuffle broke out. Feet and legs and bodies
whirled above his head. Unable to move, unable to think, unable to function, he
lay like a lump as the melee swirled around him. He grasped his shoulder and
then gazed at his hand in shock when it came away red.

“I’ve been shot,” he announced in case anyone had missed it.
But they were all too busy to notice. The last thing he saw before the darkness
took him was Sophia, sweet, delicate, elegant Sophia, screaming at Marquee and
beating him over the head with the chamber pot.

It took three men to pull her off the bastard pirate, and
still Sophia shook with rage and terror. He’d shot Ned.
Shot him.

Watching him fall, seeing the hideous creep of red bloom on his
shirt, had made her ill. Her belly had clenched. Acid pumped in her veins and
she’d been possessed of one notion.

Kill Marquee.

A pity they wouldn’t let her.

After the two pirates had been subdued and tied with their
own bonds, Ewan and Transom left to fetch a doctor, leaving Sophia and Edward
with Ned. She held his head in her lap and stroked his hair and cooed nonsense
to him, but he didn’t move. Not so much as a flicker of a lash. His face was so
pale it made her blood run cold.

She glanced at Edward but he was blurry. Probably on account
of the tears clouding her vision.

“Will he be all right?” she asked, hating the wobble in her
tone.

“Of course he will.” Edward dropped a comforting hand on her
arm. It was not comforting in the slightest. “It’s a shot to the shoulder.” But
his voice wobbled as well.

When Ewan scuttled back in with the pirate’s doctor and the
men insisted it was time for her to leave the room, Sophia refused.

“Please, Sophia,” Edward said, guiding her relentlessly for
the door. “He would not want you to see this.”

“I can’t leave him. I can’t!”

“He’ll be fine. I promise.”

A thousand promises would not convince her.

Ewan wanted to take her home straightaway but she refused.
He was a stubborn man but she was more stubborn by far.

“We are waiting for Ned,” she insisted. And she didn’t move.
Not an inch. She stood in the hall outside Marquee’s cabin until Edward and
Transom emerged, carrying Ned, who was still unconscious.

Marquee’s doctor followed, wiping his hands on a rag. He
offered an anemic smile. “I was able to dig out the ball and wrap his wound,”
he said. Thank heaven Ned had not been awake for that.

She gazed down at Ned’s pallid face and her heart clenched.
Of its own accord, her hand sifted through his hair. “Will he live?” she asked
through stiff lips.

“Yes.”

One word. One word and her world became bright once more. He
would live. Ned would live.

But he could have died.
Died.

He had risked his life for hers more than once and now he
had risked his life for Edward. She did adore Edward and was very happy he wasn’t
dead, but Ned needed to stop all this gallantry. At once. She never wanted to
feel such terror again and when he regained consciousness, she intended to
scold him heartily.

When she stepped out onto the deck, it gave her tremendous
satisfaction to see Ewan’s men holding all the pirates at bay with pistols, and
the former captives being led down the gangplank. They were all fairly
jubilant, all but Prudence Billingsly. She was in hysterics, warbling, “Pirates!
Pirates, Herbert! Pirates.”

To which he responded, “Yes, dear.”

MacDougal spotted Sophia and rushed over to give her a hug,
despite Ewan’s growl.

Sophia patted her brother’s hand. “It’s fine,” she said. She
and these men had a bond. A bond he could never understand. Although when Percy
attempted to hug her as well, her brother’s glower stopped him. He settled for
a kiss to her hand.

“I’m glad to see you safe,” he said. “We were so worried
after the captain whipped you.”

Blast!
She glowered Percy into silence but it was too
late.

“He
whipped
you?” Ewan’s tone made the hairs on the
back of her neck stand up.

“Only once.”

Ewan’s face mottled. He turned to storm back inside.

“Where are you going?”

“Tae kill him, that’s where.”

“Ewan!” Perhaps he recognized something of himself in her
tone, for he stopped. “You’re not killing anyone.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Let Edward deal with him.” It had been decided Edward would
handle the legalities, given his station and his history with Marquee. In case
that wasn’t enough, she put out a lip. “I just want to go home. I just want
this to be over.”

Ewan glared at her, then glared at the door, and then back
at her again.

Sophia let a tear well. And fall.

“Aw, hell,” he grumbled, and then stomped back to her. “We’ll
let Edward handle it.” Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her down to
the dock as though she were a babe.

The ride back to Mayfair was dismal. She and Ewan rode in
one coach and Edward, Transom and Ned in the other. Sophia was wrapped in worry
for him. Though the doctor had assured them he would recover in no time,
heavens, he’d been shot. With a
bullet
. If nothing else he would be in
terrible pain when he awoke.

She shifted from one side of her seat to the other.

“Stop wriggling,” Ewan said with a frown.

“I’m worried.”

“Aye. You should be worried.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. Was there something about a gunshot
wound he knew that she didn’t? “Why?”

Ewan’s gaze raked her. “Because Violet’s going to flay you
when she sees your hair.”

When they arrived at Wyeth House where Ewan assured her
everyone was waiting, he wanted to pick her up again and carry her in. She
insisted she walk.

“I’m hardly a child,” she reminded him. To which he snorted.
“I’ve had adventures.”

Why he paled, she had no clue. Or she did. Her brother had
always been far too protective over her. It stemmed from their roots, most
likely. Living on the streets, surrounded by villains and rogues and
hardscrabble whores who would gut you for a pence, she’d needed protecting more
than once. But their life was very different now.

She was very different now.

If only he could see it.

But he was her brother. He’d raised her from birth. To him,
she would always be his baby girl. She glanced at his profile as they made
their way up the marble stairs. It wasn’t so bad, having someone love you like
that, she supposed.

There had been moments on the ship when she’d despaired of
ever seeing him again. Doubtless, he’d been as worried about her. It must have been
very difficult for him. A hint of remorse trickled through her, twined with a
pang of love.

“Ewan.” She set her hand on his arm.

He stopped and gazed down at her. “Yes, Sophia?”

“Thank you very much for saving us.”

A flush rose on his face. “I…ah…of course.”

“I do love you.”

“I know.”

She tipped her head to the side and smiled at him. “But I’m
not a child anymore.”

To which he blew out a breath. But he smiled. That was
something. Not an acknowledgement of her mature state, but something.

“We’re back,” Ewan called as he pushed through the door of
Edward’s mansion, and a great thudding ensued as all Ned’s brothers, Kaitlin
and Aunt Hortense stampeded into the hall, their eyes alight, expressions
hopeful.

Hamish scudded to a halt when he caught sight of Sophia. His
face rumpled. “I thought you were going to rescue Ned?”

“Ned’s coming with Edward. I’ve brought Sophia home.”

“Sophia?” Malcolm’s brow wrinkled. “Where is she?” His gaze
landed on her and raked her up and down; when it reached her hair, his nostrils
flared.

Sophia resisted the urge to lift her hand to her shorn
locks.

“Oh dear.” Aunt Hortense clutched her pearls.

A couple of the boys sniggered.

Violet simply stared, her mouth agape. Her complexion went a
little green but she didn’t yell.

“It’s not so bad,” Kaitlin said, stepping forward to pull
Sophia into a hug. “We can fix it.” She glanced at Violet, who nodded.

“Not so bad at all.” She swept Sophia into a hug as well. “We’ve
been so worried. Where were you?”

Before she could answer—and she really didn’t want to
explain it all right now anyway—the door opened and Edward and Transom entered,
supporting Ned between them. He was awake.

His eyes lit on her. “Sophia,” he breathed.

Without a thought, she took him in her arms and held him
close.

“Sophia!” Ewan wailed. “You’re getting blood on your…shirt.”
His nose twitched, most probably at the fact she was wearing a shirt. And
trousers.

Sophia ignored him. “Oh Ned. Thank God you are all right.”
She leaned back and frowned at his dear, dear face. “Never give me a fright
like that. Never. Do you hear me?”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his face was still somewhat
whitish.

She glowered at Edward and Transom. “What the hell are you
waiting for? Take him into the parlor and let him sit down.”

They exchanged a look but did as she asked. Sophia followed
close behind and when Ned was seated on the chaise, she knelt beside him. “Are
you in pain, Ned? Does it hurt?” She raked back the hair on his brow. Before he
could respond, she snapped her fingers. “Whisky. He needs whisky.” When no one
moved, she shot a glower around the room. “Well, move!”

“Cor.” Malcolm grinned at Ewan. “She is your sister, isn’t
she?”

It wasn’t until Ned had his glass and was sipping his
fortifying concoction that Sophia let herself relax. She was home. Safe.
Surrounded by loved ones. They both were. She set her hand on Ned’s and they
shared a smile.

He glanced up and paled.

She followed his gaze to see that everyone was sitting ’round,
staring at them. For once, they were all speechless.

Aunt Hortense shattered the silence, banging her cane on the
Aubusson carpet. Then she reached over and banged it on the bare floor for better
effect. “Is anyone going to tell me what is going on here? Or must I guess?”

Edward dropped onto the divan next to his wife, having
gotten his own drink and one for Ewan. “Apparently when Sophia ran away, she
stowed away on Ned’s ship.”

“I did
not
stow away.”

Ned chuckled and then winced. “She got a
job
on the
ship.”

“A job?” Ewan gaped at her in horror.

“As a cabin boy.” Ned shot her a fond smile.

“I was a very good cabin boy.” She gazed at him.

“Yes, you were.” He gazed at her.

They gazed at each other.

Ewan harrumphed.

“At any rate, there was a storm.”

“A storm!” Taylor came to sit beside her on the floor but
only so he could run his hand over the bristles of her hair.

“A terrible storm,” she told him. “It lasted for days and
days.”

His eyes widened, along with his little mouth.

“It must have been the hurricane. We heard about that storm.”
Kaitlin shivered and nestled into Edward’s embrace.

“The mast snapped,” Ned said. His brothers, entranced, all
oohed and aahed.

“You saved my life,” Sophia said softly, but everyone heard
because they were hanging on every word.

“You saved her life?” Ewan didn’t seem pleased by this in
the slightest.

“It was my fault.”

“Never say it.” Ned touched her cheek.

Her brother growled.

“I went out on the deck in the middle of a raging storm.”

“
You went out on the deck in the middle of a raging
storm?
What were you thinking?”

She ignored Ewan completely, all her attention trained on
Ned. “And the mast split just as I stepped out. I didn’t see it falling. I didn’t
know it was plummeting toward me. But you ran to me, putting your own life in
danger, and whipped me out of the way. Just in time.”

Aunt Hortense sighed. “How romantic.”

“Ballocks,” Ewan grumbled.

“At any rate.” Ned took up the tale. “The ship was damaged.
Utterly crippled. We were stranded. In the middle of the ocean.”

Sean and Hamish edged forward.

“But no worries,” Sophia said, tossing back her head. “We
were saved,” she rounded a look at her audience, “by pirates.”

“Cor! Pirates!” Dennis rubbed his hands together. “Now this
is getting good.”

“Hideous, wild, dastardly pirates.” Sophia loved Ned’s smile
as he embroidered their tale. “Rather bloodthirsty.”

“There was a terrible battle. We would all have been lost if
not for Ned’s skill with the sword.”

“It was a cutlass, actually.”

“A cutlass?” Dennis breathed.

“Stolen from one of the pirates.”

“Well, really.” Ewan’s brow darkened. “This is ludicrous.”

“He was very skilled,” Sophia insisted. “He told me
you
taught him.”

“Well,” Ewan muttered. “I suppose I might have taught him
something
.”

Sophia tapped her lip. “Anyway, where was I?”

“You all nearly died, but for Ned!” Taylor crowed.

“Yes, indeed. The pirate captain was furious. He ordered Ned
tossed into the sea to feed the fishes.”

“Now I know you’re bamming me,” Sean said. “He’s sitting
right here.”

“Yes, he is,” Sophia said. “But only because he outwitted
that dastardly pirate and tricked him into sparing us all.”

Ned chuckled. “I wasn’t as dashing as all that. I was very
nervous, dangling over the rail.” He glanced at his brothers. “It was a long
way down. And if memory serves, Sophia, you were the one who pointed a pistol
at the pirate captain’s heart and insisted he let me live.”

“You had a pistol pointed at the captain’s heart?” Ewan
asked.

“I did.”

“Perhaps,” he suggested, “you should have shot him then.”

Sophia sniffed. It was all well and good for Ewan to offer
sage advice. He hadn’t been there. “Ned was very brave during our escape
attempt too.”

Ned grimaced. “It didn’t work, though.”

She gazed up at him. “Well, it could have.” She sighed. “You
were very brave.”

“
You
were brave. When the captain lashed you to the
mast, I didn’t feel very brave. I thought I was going to die.”

Ewan began to burble something about
what fucking mast?
But Sophia cut him off. “You saved me from the worst of that too, didn’t you,
Ned?”

“Hardly saved you. We both ended up in the brig—”

“
In the brig!
” Ewan’s eyes bulged.

Sophia was suddenly swept back to that brig, to the small
closed room. To the touch of Ned’s hands, his body moving over her and in her.
And from the look in his eyes, he was remembering the same glorious interlude.

“I’m so glad you are safe,” he said softly.

She smiled. “I’m so glad you did not die. If you ever leap
in front of a bullet again, I shall kill you myself.” This she said sweetly,
but there was a thread of steel in her tone.

“Finally.” Dennis’ eyes gleamed. “Now we get to the blood
and guts.”

“I was wondering about the boy’s shirt,” Hortense said.

Edward picked up the story, as Ned and Sophia remained
silent. “It turns out the pirate who captured them is an old…friend of mine.”

“A friend?” Kaitlin wrinkled her brow.

“A friend who wanted to kill me.”

“Very much,” Ewan put in.

“When we arrived to investigate the very curious ransom
note, I discovered the man holding them was none other than Cedric Savoy.”

Hortense’s chins wobbled. “The war hero?”

“None other.”

“I thought he was killed in France.”

“So, apparently, did his heir, who assumed his estates and
ran him into penury. He lost everything—including the only family he had in the
world—and he blamed me.”

“Why you?” Malcolm asked.

“Because when we escaped from that French prison, we couldn’t
take him with us. He was being held in the infirmary on the other side of the
castle. We had to leave him behind.”

“I see,” Hortense said. “But this hardly explains why Ned is
shot and not you.”

“Because,” Sophia said, staring into Ned’s brown eyes, “he
leaped in front of the bullet.”

Violet gasped. “Ned. You didn’t.”

“There, there, dear.” Ewan rubbed his wife’s shoulder.

“I could have lost them both,” she cried.

“But you didn’t, my love.”

“But I could have!” Violet wailed. “Oh Ned!”

Edward shifted. “What about me, Violet? I was the one in
dire peril.”

She gulped and stared at her elder brother. “I am very glad
you are not dead as well, Edward.”

He gave her a mocking bow. “I am so gratified.”

“What are you going to do with him, Edward?” Sophia asked.
She had rather liked Marquee. Until he shot Ned.

Edward frowned. “I need to think on it.”

Ewan gaped at him. “Throw him in Newgate. He’s a pirate!”

“You were a brigand.”

“
He held my sister prisoner!
”

“As you held mine.”

Sophia bit back her smile as her brother sputtered into
silence.

Then he grumbled, “I didn’t tie her to a mast.”

Violet patted his arm. “Darling, if you remember, you did
tie me to a boat.” She shuddered. “And I do hate boats.”

“It seems to me he had a raw deal, losing everything because
of his service to his country.” Edward shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem right to
punish him more. But as I said, I need to think on it.”

Ewan offered a nasty grin. “In the meantime, he’s being held
in the brig on one of
my
ships.”

“Do be gentle with him,” Sophia said.

Her brother’s eyes narrowed. “He tied you to a mast and
whipped you.”

“Only once. And it wasn’t so very bad.”

Ned frowned. “It was terrible.”

“Besides, I clouted him with the chamber pot.”

“Was it full?” Hamish asked.

Sophia fixed her attention on Edward. “Marquee could have
done much worse. All around. He could have tossed us all into the sea. He could
have sold us to slavers.”

Dennis’ eyes brightened at this.

Sophia shot Ned an impish look. “He could have ravaged
Prudence Billingsly but he did not.”

Ned’s lips quirked. “True. He did manage to control his
baser desires there.”

“Were
you
ravaged?” This from Malcolm.

Sophia blanched. Outraged gasps from the women rounded the
room. The question was in terrible form. One did not ask a lady if she had been
ravaged. But then this
was
Malcolm. He was not particularly influenced
by etiquette.

She forced a smile at Ned’s brother, lounging cockily as he
was on the divan. “I was disguised as a boy, silly.”

“Else you would have been ravaged, most likely.” Dennis
nodded sagely.

“Oh dear,” Violet said, shooting Dennis and Malcolm a
quelling look. And then, just to be safe, she sent the same glower to Sean and
Hamish and Tay. “Sophia, you must be exhausted.”

She was, but she didn’t want to leave Ned’s side. She couldn’t
bear it. However, she recognized Violet’s comment for what it was. Ned was
flagging. In fact, his lashes fluttered even as she glanced at him. He should
be in his bed, recovering.

“We probably should go home,” she sighed. “I would dearly
love a bath.”

“And Nan, no doubt, would love a chance at your hair,”
Dennis sniggered.

Sophia loved that Ned glared him down. “Her hair is lovely,”
he insisted in a thready voice. He lifted his hand to riffle it, then caught
Ewan’s glower and dropped it. She hated that he dropped it but she understood.
Ewan had a fierce glower.