Rogue of the High Seas (13 page)

“I…was coming down for some tea.” Her voice sounded funny, like she had been running and was out of breath. Her face felt flushed too. Maybe she really did need some tea…or something.

Robert lifted one brow slightly as he slipped into the clean shirt and fastened it, then tucked the tails inside his breeches. Shauna forced herself to look away. “I did nae ken Robert was still here.”

Abigail set the bowl down. “Robert needed to get out of that wet sweater and into something dry.”

Of course he did. She knew the repercussions of cold weather and wet clothes. “I just meant…” Shauna let her voice trail off. She needed to stop talking before Robert thought her a total fool. She'd already been ogling him blatantly. “I…perhaps I will take a cup to my bed…my room.”

“I think the three of us need to talk first,” Abigail said.

Shauna stared at her. Was Abigail going to tell them how inappropriate this encounter had been? She didn't need to be told. And Robert didn't need to be reprimanded. He'd done nothing wrong. Although if Shane had been here…

“What is it you wish to talk about?” Robert asked.

Abigail smiled. “Well, first, I think you need something stronger than tea.” She went to the cabinet where she kept the cooking sherry as well as a bottle of brandy that Shane probably didn't know about. To Shauna's surprise, Abigail also took out a bottle of
uisge beatha.
“Which would you like?”

Good heavens. How bad was this conversation going to be?

Robert looked at Shauna and then back to Abigail. “Whisky.”

Shauna nodded. Forget the tea.

Abigail poured each of them a healthy dram and a cup of tea for herself before motioning everyone to sit at the kitchen table. She lifted her cup to Robert. “First, a toast. To saving Albert's life tonight.”

Robert looked embarrassed. “I didn't do anything someone else wouldn't do.”

“Perhaps. But not everyone would have had the strength to get Albert out.”

Shauna couldn't argue with that. She touched her glass to Abigail's cup and then to Robert's glass as he reluctantly lifted it. He tossed the whisky back and Shauna resisted the urge to do the same, taking a sip instead.

“So what is on your mind, Mrs. MacLeod?” Robert asked.

“Well.” Abigail gave him the bright smile she used on Shane sometimes. “We have somewhat of a problem here.”

Shauna took a bigger sip of her whisky. Was Abigail really that concerned about what she'd seen in the kitchen? Nothing had actually happened. Maybe she needed to explain.

“What would that be, Mrs. MacLeod?”

“Albert is going to need bed rest, and we pray he doesn't fall gravely ill. Since Shane is gone and I cannot go to the office, Shauna is going to need some help for the next week or so.” She smiled again. “And I was hoping you could assist Shauna during that time.”

Shauna nearly choked on the third sip of whisky she'd just taken.

“Of course, I know you have a rudder to repair,” Abigail continued and poured Robert a second dram, “but you would really be doing my husband a favor.”

A strange expression crossed Robert's face and then it was gone. He picked up the glass, finishing the dram in one swallow.

“I will be glad to,” he said.

Chapter Fourteen

Robert didn't need a sea siren to lure him onto the jagged rocks of destruction. He was doing a fine job of finding those rocks all by himself.

He spread the still-damp sweater he'd brought home across a chair close to the brazier in the corner of his bedchamber, pulled off his boots, and laid down on the bed. Putting his arms behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight.

The Fates must truly be laughing themselves silly over a mere mortal trying to control his own destiny. Robert had tried not to take advantage of Shauna MacLeod and tried to do the honorable thing by avoiding her.

But The Fates obviously had other ideas. Robert would now be spending hours in Shauna's company on a daily basis.

How had the day—and evening—taken such a disastrous turn?

He replayed the events in his mind. In command of his own ship, he probably would have kept her out of the Firth until the storm had blown over, but he also knew better than to judge the English captain. Sea conditions might have forced his hand. Be that as it may, the rough docking was not unprecedented either. When winds were strong, the last thing a helmsman wanted to do was have too much force behind his sails coming toward the dock. He'd risk splintering his bow and destroying the pier. The sailors on deck had been accomplished and thrown the lines well. Both the dockhand and Albert were experienced in tying up ships. Robert hadn't noticed the icy patch until it was too late. Why hadn't he seen it before?

Had The Fates kept it from his sight? And Albert's?

Robert tried not to be as superstitious as most sailors, but it seemed the events of the past year had all taken wrong turns, beginning with Jane, whose middle name should have been disaster.

She had been the orphaned English niece of a Southern plantation owner upriver of New Orleans. Mrs. Benoit, the plantation owner's wife, and his
maman
were good friends. When she'd mentioned her lovely niece had been jilted by her American fiancé and was in need of male companionship to make her feel better,
Maman
had suggested Robert show the girl around New Orleans and escort her to some of society's events. In truth, he hadn't argued. Jane had been both beautiful and charming. And, when she'd shyly confessed she still had her dowry but didn't know how to invest it, he'd agreed to help her with that too. And soon, she was stopping by their house on Burgundy Street to ask questions about her investments. Robert had been foolish enough to be flattered that she placed so much trust in him. Hell, he'd even added some of his own money just to assure her the investments were profitable. If he'd been thinking clearly, it might have occurred to him that she rarely retained anything he told her.

It was on one of those unannounced visits—when she'd removed both hat and jacket as well as losing the first three buttons near the collar of her dress because the air was so muggy and warm—that Mrs. Benoit and
Maman
had returned home from shopping to find them alone in the library in what looked like a compromising situation.

And so he had become betrothed.

Angry over the turn of events and yet knowing that he was expected to do the honorable thing by marrying Jane after having seemingly compromised her, he took the
New Orleans
to Britain with a delivery of cypress. He'd hoped the journey would clear his head.

And he'd seen Shauna MacLeod for the first time. He had been drawn to her immediately, although he couldn't say exactly why. It wasn't even lust in the beginning, just an urge to get to know her better. An urge that could not have come at a worse time.

The Fates must have enjoyed adding that dilemma to his life and, to make sure he couldn't put things to rights, they'd removed a piece of destiny's puzzle as well. Jane had disappeared shortly before he left the States with his shipment.

So what did the future hold? Come Monday morning, he would be forced to behave the gentleman while spending hours and hours of time with Shauna MacLeod.

Perhaps the Fates controlled purgatory too.

Shauna couldn't believe her good luck. She'd be spending hours and hours of time with Robert Henderson. She couldn't ask for anything better this side of heaven.

Well, maybe she shouldn't call it good luck exactly. After all, poor Albert had nearly been crushed by a ship Friday afternoon. And the dip in the cold water had affected his lungs. He'd been coughing all weekend. When the physician had arrived, he immediately had ordered half a dozen more hot bricks to ward off the chills, along with eucalyptus balm for Albert's chest and plenty of honey and lemon in his tea. But the wheezing had begun only an hour or two later. A worried Janet had not left her husband's bedside other than to get tea or broth for him, leaving the preparing of regular meals to Kyla.

Cooking was not Kyla's strong suit. Even George, the most devoted of Kyla's footman suitors, politely declined second helpings of whatever somewhat identifiable food was put on the table. Johnny and Jacob had gone to a public house after the first night. Abigail, being the daughter of an earl, had only been taught to prepare menus, not how to cook the food on them. Even though Scottish women were not strangers to kitchens, Shauna's older sister Bridget had run the kitchen at Glenfinnan—and run anyone else out of it—as efficiently as Shane did a ship. And Shauna had to admit she preferred keeping her nose stuck in an historical book rather than learning recipes.

So perhaps good luck was not the appropriate term to use regarding the present situation. Still, Shauna could hardly contain her excitement as she took a hard bannock—she'd have to soak it in tea—from the sideboard in the informal dining room the next morning. She'd be seeing Robert soon.

Abigail looked up from her plate of burnt ham and a runny egg and eyed the bannock. “I was not quite brave enough to try one of those.”

Shauna didn't think she'd even noticed what she was eating, but when she only succeeded in gnawing on the roll, she thought maybe cardboard would taste better. Dipping it into tea didn't help much. “I wonder if there is any regular bread left over,” she said, laying the rock-like thing down.

Abigail shook her head. “Janet usually bakes on Saturdays.”

“Are there any scones left?” She remembered she hadn't taken them to the office on Friday.

“Johnny, Jacob and George made short work of those.”

That wasn't surprising. Whenever Janet made a pie or cake, the three of them would linger near the kitchen door—supposedly checking for cracks in the wall plaster or scratches on the wood floor or some other unneeded task—looking more like wistful puppies than footmen.

Shauna added a spoonful of sugar to her tea, drank it quickly and stood, ignoring the protesting noise her tummy made at not getting real food. “I will have Johnny drive me by the market this afternoon and pick up some cheese and fresh bread.”

“Thank you,” Abigail said. “I would go myself, but Shane did ask that I stay home while he is gone.”

“Aye. 'Tis cold and icy out. For certain, we do nae need another accident.”

Abigail smiled. “Besides, we do not want Captain Henderson thinking I am capable of going to the office to help you, do we?”

Shauna laughed. “'Twas pure genius on your part to suggest he help.”

Abigail's smile widened. “It seemed a perfect opportunity to play Cupid.”

“And I plan to savor each minute—nae that I mean to take advantage of poor Albert's mishap.”

“Robert saved Albert's life, so do not feel guilty about having the captain to yourself for a few days. Enjoy.”

Shauna planned to do just that. She hardly waited for Johnny to stop the carriage in front of the office a few minutes later. Today was going to be glorious. No ships were due in or departing which meant she'd have Robert to herself the whole day.

Or so she thought until she opened the door to find Colette already there.

Maybe The Fates were offering him a reprieve. Robert had forgotten he told Colette she could start painting him this week. Not that he cared one whit about the portrait, but having the girl present would at least keep him from being alone with Shauna until he could devise a plan to resist her.

Colette looked up from where she was setting out paper and pens on the small table in the corner and smiled brightly at Shauna. “
Bon jour
.”

Shauna's smile looked a little forced as she replied. “Might I ask what you are doing?”

Colette gave her a look as though that should be obvious. “I am getting ready to do some sketches of Captain Henderson.”

“Sketches?”

“
Oui
. I always do sketches first so I can capture the personality of my subject as he moves about. It only takes me a few days to complete.”

A few days. An answer to his dilemma. Robert almost smiled. By then, either Albert would be well or Shane would have returned. Perhaps having his portrait done wasn't such a bad thing.

Colette waved a hand. “Pay me no mind.”

“But you are using my table,” Shauna said.

Colette looked confused. “I must sit somewhere. The desk is full of papers and I did not think you wished me to use the counter.”

“No, the counter needs to stay cleared.”

“
Oui
,” Colette said again. “That is why I am sitting here.”

“But…” Shauna pressed her lips together so hard they turned white.

She marched past Robert leaning on the counter, her back as rigid as any commander's as she made her way to the desk. Sitting down, she opened a folder and picked up an invoice and looked up at him. “We never did get the ship's roster of goods last Friday. Could you check with the captain?”

“Sure,” Robert replied and turned toward the door. “I'll be back—”

“Before you go, Captain Henderson, I wonder if you might stand by the window.” Colette picked up a sketch pad. “The light right now is perfect for capturing your profile.”

Shauna frowned. “The roster—”

“
S'il vous plaît
, this will take but a moment. I do not wish to lose the light just so. If I wait for the captain to return, it will be gone.”

Shauna clamped her mouth shut again and Robert felt a stirring of unease. He didn't blame her for being upset. The office was a workplace, not a painting studio. Still, he really didn't want to spend time alone with Colette either. “Well, if it won't take but a minute,” he said and moved toward the window.

Shauna snapped the folder closed and picked up another one, busying herself with its contents, whatever they were.

“
Marveilleux
,” Colette exclaimed, walking toward him and then placing two fingers beneath his chin to turn his head. “
Parfait
…perfect.”

Shauna did not look up.

Colette started to sketch, scratching her pen on the parchment as she moved around him, pausing to angle his shoulders or tilt his head until he felt like a damn fool. He heard rustling by the desk and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shauna writing so fast on paper that she seemed to be attacking it.

“Are you about through?” Robert asked. “I really need—”

“In a moment,
oui
?” Colette said, adding some scribbles to the page. “I must get this right.”

He heard another sound from the desk, this one suspiciously close to a growl, but when he looked, Shauna was studiously entering numbers in a ledger.

“I have got to get that roster,” Robert said and broke the stance he'd been holding. “Please excuse me.”

Colette sighed. “If you must.” She returned to the table, spread the parchment out and sat down. “I can work on this for a while.”

“I'll be back with the roster in a minute,” Robert said to Shauna.

“Fine,” she answered, keeping her eyes on her paperwork.

The hair at his nape prickled as he walked toward the quay. He'd learned long ago when a woman said
fine
in the cool tone Shauna had just used that
fine
was not what she meant.

He could almost hear the Fates sniggering at him. How foolish he was to think he'd been dealt a reprieve. It was going to be a long week.