Rogue of the High Seas (12 page)

Johnny, the footman, gave her an apprehensive look as she walked down the slippery walk toward the waiting carriage. He probably thought she was completely daft for being out on such a day. But, if she wished Albert—and Shane—to take her wanting to work seriously, she wasn't going to let snow stop her.

She didn't miss the slight shake of Johnny's head as he helped her inside though, and she heard him mutter under his breath as he climbed onto the bench and clicked the reins. They were already down the road before she remembered she'd forgotten to bring Janet's scones.

As luck would have it, the day she didn't bring scones, Robert was the first person she saw standing on the steps in front of the office. Her sister would have said the faeries were being mischievous, but since Shauna had never seen one, she couldn't attest to that. Still, it did seem that
something
was conspiring against her.

He looked surprised as she stepped out of the carriage and then hurried down the steps to help her. “Watch that patch of ice,” he said as he guided her around it.

His arm felt sturdy and strong at her waist. For a brief second, Shauna contemplated allowing herself to slip so she could lean against all of him, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She had never been the flighty, helpless sort. Besides, with her luck lately, she'd probably knock them both down. He'd already seen her land on her bottom a week ago.

“Did Albert ask you to come in today?” Robert asked as he opened the door for her to precede him.

“Nae.” Shauna pushed her makeshift hood back and rubbed her hands together, grateful that Albert was busy starting a fire in the brazier. “I ken the dock will be busy if the
Silver Drake
comes in, so I thought I could do the bills of lading when it does.”

“You must really enjoy working here if you are willing to brave the cold.”

Shauna searched his face for any sign of disapproval—Lord knew, Owen had enough to say on the subject—but she found nothing except maybe a look of admiration, but that could have been her imagination.

“I do like the work. Do ye think it odd?”

“Not at all. Women should use their intelligence for more than just planning parties and balls.”

“Or worse, attending them,” Shauna blurted out before she thought.

Robert grinned. “They do get boring, don't they?”

Shauna smiled back. She'd never thought Robert would find parties boring, not with all the girls hovering around like buzzing bees.

“Well, I had better be going,” Robert said, “I've a bit of work to do at Leith. If I see the Newcastle ship come in, I'll be back to help.”

“Aye, it would be appreciated,” Albert said, wiping his hands on his pants. “None of the boats in port is scheduled to leave, and we are short on line handlers so I could use the help.”

Robert nodded. “I'll be back then.”

Shauna watched him leave. He wasn't wearing a peacoat, just the woolen knit sweater he favored. She wondered if it was his Viking blood that kept him from feeling the cold. Even Shane usually wore a jacket.

She kept herself busy for most of the morning, wondering if the
Silver Drake
would come in. She knew she should hope the captain would wait out the storm since the howling wind had caused the initial rain last night to freeze and sleet pellets had just started hitting the windows. The few men working on the wharf would have a tough time tying the boat alongside the quay, but she really wanted to see Robert again.

Her wish was answered shortly after noon. Robert arrived just as the prow of the ship nosed its way toward the dock. He didn't have time to stop at the office, but Shauna went to the window to watch as Albert and several other men waited for the lines to be thrown from the ship.

She'd seen Shane bring in his ships enough times to realize this captain had dropped his sails too early and was too far away from the dock. Oars dipped through ports in the hull to try and steer the boat closer while hands on deck hefted the heavy rope lines toward the dock.

Robert caught one line, Albert caught another and so did two dockhands farther up the quay. Shauna watched as Robert planted his feet apart and started bringing the line in, hand over hand. Even from here and with his sweater on, she could see the strain of shoulder and back muscles as he bent forward and leaned back, establishing a rhythm that brought the stern closer to the dock. The forward men were struggling to maneuver the bow in, so Albert played his line out, giving the bowmen more room. As he did, he stepped nearer the edge of the dock.

Robert shouted a warning, but it was too late. Albert's boot hit an icy patch and slid out from under him, throwing him into the sea just as the ship moved closer.

Chapter Thirteen

For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time—Albert airborne, the ship stopped, men standing still as statures—and then the world moved again. Shauna heard the splash as Albert disappeared into the water, heard the curses of men on the ship as they tried to reverse the motion of the oars even as the ship lumbered forward and Robert took a flying leap to land on his belly at the edge of the dock.

Shauna threw open the door and raced down the steps, skidding across the patch of ice Robert had warned her about earlier and hurrying on. Albert was only moments away from being crushed by the ship's hull and Robert's head and shoulders had disappeared from sight. He was going to get himself killed too!

She nearly collided with the dockhands who'd been working the bow lines. One flattened himself on the pier, reaching over the end as well. She could see now that Robert had Albert by the shoulders and was trying to haul him up, only Albert's weight dragged him closer to the edge. Shauna crouched down and grabbed Robert's boots, attempting to keep him from slipping into the water, only his boots began to slide off. Not knowing what else to do, she crawled over his legs and got hold of the waistband to his breeches to hold him in place.

Seconds later, she felt Robert buck under her as he wedged himself back. Instinctively, she tightened her thighs over his hips to keep from flying off. She heard him grunt and the dockhand beside him turned his head toward her.

“'Tis nae the time for that kind of sport,” he said.

Sport? Shauna furrowed her brow in confusion. What on earth was the man talking about? Then heat flared through her as she realized what her position must look like to him. Robert's hips rose beneath her again, lifting her, and she became aware he was trying to crawl backwards, away from the edge, as he pulled Albert out of the water.

Embarrassed, Shauna slid off Robert and stood while he and the dockhands finished hauling Albert onto the quay. Seconds later, the hull of the ship thudded against the dock, jarring the wooden planks and nearly causing Shauna to lose her balance.

Robert looked up from where he crouched beside Albert and held out a hand to steady her. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, I am fine.” Good heavens, how clumsy could she be?

“Good. Could you put more wood on the brazier in the office? We've got to get Albert close to a fire before hypothermia sets in.”

“Of course,” she said as Robert lifted Albert. Not only was she clumsy, apparently her wits had left her as well. Albert was not conscious, his breathing labored and his face an ashen grey. She shouldn't have to be told a fire was needed. She knew how cold the water was this time of year. She hurried ahead and chastised herself for having left the door to the office open and letting in cold air.

Robert followed her in and laid Albert down beside the brazier. “I sent a dockhand to fetch a carriage since I rode a horse over. We've got to get Albert to the townhouse and into some dry clothing, but this will do for now.”

Shauna went to get her tartan off the wall hook. “We'll make a half-tent for him,” she said as she gave Robert one end of the plaid and took the other to hold up behind Albert. “The wool will trap the heat from the fire and create some steam from his wet clothes.”

A few minutes later, Albert began to stir as the heat started to penetrate and Robert gave Shauna a look of admiration. “I should have thought of this myself.”

She felt her cheeks warm. Hopefully, Robert would think it was from being so close to the fire. It was silly of her to be so pleased with a compliment from him. “The great plaid, as the Highlanders call it, has saved many a traveler on a winter's day.”

“I can see it has many uses. I'll keep several on board from now on.”

“Ye will probably have to go past Glenfinnan to get them. 'Tis where the first of Clan MacDonald can be found.”

He looked confused and then his expression cleared. “I would have to purchase the MacDonald plaid?”

“'Tis your clan, is it nae?”

“I suppose. I have not met any of them.”

“Ye should.” Shauna smiled. “To a Scot, a mon's clan is as important as titles are to the English.”

“Even if my
clan
is not a friend of yours?”

Shauna sobered. “Och, not all the MacDonalds are bad.”

He tilted his head. “Not
all
?”

She shrugged. “Well, there are some who cannae forget the ancient feuds.”

“Like the MacLeans?”

Shauna frowned, knowing Robert meant Owen. This might be a good time to tell Robert how she felt about Owen, but before she could reply, the door opened.

“The carriage is here,” the dockhand said.

Robert helped Albert to his feet and slung the man's arm over his shoulder while Shauna tucked the plaid around him.

“You're going to need that for yourself,” Robert said.

“Nae. Albert needs it more than I do.”

“I'd give you my sweater, but it's wet too,” Robert said.

The thought of wearing his sweater and being engulfed with his scent made her blush again. Quickly, she turned to pick up a shawl that she'd thrown over a chair back earlier before Robert could see the telltale color on her face. It was bad enough that Shane and Abigail knew she was besotted with Robert. She would be mortified to no end if Robert realized it too. He'd always been a perfect gentleman around her.

She wrapped the shawl over her shoulders. “This will be just fine,” she said as she picked up the key to lock the office. “'Tis just a short ride home.”

“I could take him to the townhouse and then return for you and bring back a coat,” Robert said.

“I will be fine. Highland winters are colder than this, nae?”

Robert smiled and took a step forward, only to have Albert start to collapse. The dockhand grabbed Albert's other side and together, they half-carried him to the waiting carriage. He'd begun to shake once he left the warmth of the fire, and Robert gave him a worried look. “His color is not good. The sooner we get him home, the better.”

Robert propped Albert up as he helped him through the townhouse door that Shauna had unlocked. “Hold on just a little longer, man.”

Janet came down the hall from the kitchen. “Are ye home so soon—” She shrieked when she saw Albert sagging in the foyer and ran toward him, clutching the lapels of his wet coat. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

The noise drew Abigail from the parlor to the entry. “What on earth has happened?” she asked as she hurried toward them.

Robert shifted Albert's weight, tugging his arm tighter over Robert's shoulders. “I'll explain later. Is there a room—”

“Of course! Right this way,” Abigail said and led them down the hall to the rear of the townhouse. “Shane used this room before we were married.”

Janet reluctantly let go of her husband's arm to go turn the covers down on the bed, whispering a prayer as she did.

“I'll need a fire…” Robert began and then saw Shauna already laying logs in the small hearth. “And dry clothes for him.”

“I'll get some things of Shane's,” Abigail replied and turned to go, nearly running into a wide-eyed Kyla. “Warm some bricks on the kitchen stove, wrap them in towels and bring them here.”

“Aye, but what—”

“Later,” Abigail said. “Just go.”

“A chair…” Robert said and then realized Shauna had pulled one close to the hearth where a fire she'd laid was beginning to crackle. She either read his mind or had a good sense of survivorship. “Thanks,” he said as he eased Albert into it. The man's eyes were closed and his pallor was not good, but at least it wasn't grey.

“I sent Johnny to get the physician,” Abigail said as she came back into the room with a stack of clothing. “These may be too big, but at least they're dry.”

Janet started to undo the buttons to her husband's shirt, but her fingers were trembling so much she wasn't making much headway.

“Let me help,” Robert said and reached for the man's boots.

“I will bring ye some broth for him,” Shauna said as she moved toward the door.

“And I will bring tea,” Abigail added, following Shauna out.

Robert wanted to tell them whisky would be better, especially for Janet who looked as pale and shaken as her husband. He could have gotten the man into dry clothes a lot quicker without her assistance, but her fumbling at least kept her focused. He didn't need a swooning woman falling to the floor.

Albert opened his eyes and attempted to smile at Janet. “Doona fash.”

His words seemed to ignite life back into her. “Doona fash!” she scolded as she pulled off his shirt. “Doona fash, ye say. What else am I to do when ye decide to go for a swim in the winter time?”

Robert bit his cheek to keep from grinning at her sudden change in attitude. A blustering Janet was the Janet he'd come to know. Apparently, Albert knew the trait well because he waved a feeble hand. “Enough blethering, woman.”

“Doona tell me enough blethering!” Janet retorted.

“Bah,” he said and then closed his eyes again.

Robert hid his smile as Janet started muttering something about men being fools. The words might sound harsh, but he could hear the anguish behind them. That Albert and Janet loved each other was as plain to see as the first leaf of green on a tree in the spring. When his parents had argued, their words had been as sharp as a barber's razor. Words that had been meant to cut and hurt. Janet's gentle hands in dressing her husband told a different story.

He helped her get Albert into the bed and then went to the kitchen to see about the warm bricks to tuck under the blankets. Kyla was getting them ready as Abigail arranged a tray with broth and tea. To his disappointment, Shauna wasn't there. His looking around the kitchen must have given him away, because Abigail smiled.

“Shauna went to her chamber to bathe and change clothes,” Abigail said and motioned toward a bucket sitting on top of the wood-burning stove. “There's water heating for you and I brought down one of Shane's tunics for you to wear since your sweater is soaked.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“The sooner you get out of your wet clothes the better,” Abigail said and then nudged Kyla who was eyeing Robert with a gleam in her eyes. “Come along. Janet will need our assistance.”

“But I should hang the sweater—”

“The bricks are getting cool,” Abigail said.

Kyla sighed, giving Robert an appreciative, lingering look before she followed Abigail down the hall.

Robert shook his head. A year ago, he might have been tempted to take the maid up on her not-so-subtle offer to
assist
him, but he no longer cared for frivolous women or the superficial bedding of one.

His thoughts turned to Shauna. By the saints! He'd nearly fallen into the water himself when she climbed on top of him. And he'd nearly let loose of Albert when she slipped her fingers inside his waistband. It had taken his brain a full minute to realize her intent was not to take his britches off, but to hold on to him. The touch of her soft, warm fingers tucked along the bare flesh of his hips had caused an involuntary buck that only caused her to tighten her grip on him. He'd felt the heat of her core pressed against his arse even through his clothes. His cock had sprung to attention immediately and only the man-overboard training he'd practiced until it was pure instinct had allowed him to drag Albert onto the dock.

No sea siren could ever call to him like Shauna MacLeod did.

Robert shook his head as he pulled his wet sweater over his head and tossed it across a chair, followed by his linen shirt. He doubted she had even been aware of the way she aroused him. The look of concern on her face had been for Albert, and she'd been nothing but practical after that by building the fire and arranging the tartan tent to keep the man warm.

He took the washing cloth that Abigail had put out for him, dipped it into the hot water in the bucket and began wiping the salty brine from his arms. He started to dip the cloth again to squeeze some water over his shoulders when he heard a gasp and turned around.

Shauna stood in the doorway, wearing a wrapper of soft green wool that accentuated the hazel in her eyes. Her auburn-tinged hair curled loosely around her shoulders and her feet were bare. The sight of her pink toes sticking out from beneath the wrap did oddly curious things to his insides. He found himself wanting to caress a silken foot and suck those luscious toes.

She truly was a siren, and she didn't even have to sing to lure him in.

Shauna gaped at Robert, trying to remember why she had come to the kitchen. Her breath had caught at the sight of the muscles of his back flexing and when he'd turned at the sound, exposing an impressive chest that looked as though every defined ridge had been sculpted from marble, all rational thought fled.

“Did you come to get something?” he asked.

Did she come to get something? She was pretty sure she had, she just didn't remember what it was. It certainly wasn't helping that he stood there in his nearly naked, magnificent glory not even attempting to cover himself. The golden dusting of hair across his chest narrowed to a line that ran down the hard, rippled bands of his belly to disappear into breeches that hung low on his hips. Breeches that she'd had her own fingers inside not too long ago.

“Did you want something?” he asked again.

Want. What she
wanted
was him. Shauna longed to launch herself against Robert's brawny frame and have those muscular arms enfold her, hold her tight, let her inhale the raw, masculine scent of him. She wanted…

“Shauna, what are you doing down here?” Abigail asked as she came into the kitchen with the empty broth bowl.

Shauna blinked, reality slamming back into focus with the force of a loosened boom on one of Shane's ships. Good Lord. She must look like a wanton, staring at Robert like she had been. And thinking what she had been.