Rogue of the High Seas (17 page)

“There you are,” Mr. Frazier interrupted them. “I told Colette we would find the two of you in this crush.”

Shauna turned around at the sound of his voice. Colette stood beside him, dressed in a pale silvery-blue satin gown that brought out the color of her eyes as well as a pale sheen to the blonde curls piled atop her head. The dress seemed more appropriate for a London ball than a simple open house in Edinburgh, but it made Colette look every inch a regal aristocrat. Shauna was reminded, once again, of Robert's French ancestry and at how easily he had fit in with the
ton
.

“How nice of you to come to the open house,” Abigail said to Mr. Frazier.

“I had not planned to,” he answered, “but Colette's escort sent a note about ship repairs this morning—”

“Along with flowers,” Colette added.

“Yes, well,” Mr. Frazier continued. “I could not let my daughter come alone.” He glanced casually around the room. “Mr. MacLeod is not in attendance?”

“He is helping Captain Henderson with the rudder,” Abigail answered.

It scarcely registered with Shauna that perhaps Mr. Frazier was here to see whether Robert had been telling the truth about his ship's repairs. Flowers. Robert had sent Colette
flowers
. Flowers, which at this time of year, were extremely hard to find and expensive to boot. What did that mean? Oh, Lord, she'd been foolish to think those three evenings Robert had prepared their meals had meant anything. He'd probably wanted to make sure Abigail stayed in good health while Shane was gone. Shauna felt her face grow warm and actually felt grateful when Owen and Neal joined them.

“Mr. Frazier. Nice to see you again,” Owen said as they shook hands. “Have you met Neal Austin? He deals in textiles.”

Mr. Frazier offered his hand. “As soon as my shipping line is operational here, we might discuss business.”

“
Oui
,” Neal said. “
C'est possible
.”

“
Sont vous Français
?” Colette asked.

“No.” Neal hesitated. “I…spent time in France studying and I detected the accent…from your father, I presume?”

“How rude of me,” Mr. Frazier said. “May I present my daughter, Colette?”

Neal bowed slightly. “Charmed.”

“
Mon plaisir
.” Colette tilted her head. “You look somewhat familiar. Have we met before?”

“Doubtful.” Neal smiled. “As lovely as you are, I am sure I would remember if we did.”

Colette smiled. “
Merci
.”

Neal bowed again. “If you will excuse me, I must find my father.”

“
Certainement
,” Colette said, a small frown on her face as she watched him leave.

“Too bad Henderson could not join us today,” Owen said to her. “I cannot imagine why he chose to work today.”

Colette swept her glance toward Shauna before looking at Owen. “He did apologize, so I forgive him.”

Shauna held back an unladylike snort. Colette
forgave
Robert? Like he'd actually done something wrong instead of trying to get a wooden boat back into the water as soon as possible? She doubted explaining that would matter to either Owen or Colette, so she held back a retort.

Besides, much as Shauna didn't want to think about it, Robert
had
sent Colette flowers.

Chapter Eighteen

Although Robert had used working on his rudder as an excuse not to escort Colette to the open house, he was glad he'd taken Friday—and Saturday and Sunday—to work on it. Shane wanted to leave for Glasgow by the weekend and Robert still had a lot to do before the
New Orleans
would be ready for launching.

He'd also used rudder repairs as an excuse not to sit in some rustic setting posing for the damn portrait Colette was determined to do. As a compromise, he'd agreed she could sketch him while he helped Albert for an hour in the office each morning.

Not that Albert needed the help now that he was back to health, but it gave Robert the excuse to see Shauna without being obvious. At least, he hoped he wasn't. He felt like a besotted schoolboy who'd just discovered there was a separate female species whenever he was around Shauna MacLeod. The three nights he'd cooked for her—for the household—had been both heaven and hell. He'd enjoyed the easy camaraderie with her sitting at the kitchen table while he prepared the meals, even if Kyla's continual chatter pricked him like the devil's own pitchfork. Once, Shauna sampled a sauce he'd been stirring, leaving a bit on her bottom lip. He'd been tempted to throw the spoon back in the kettle and suck her lip into his mouth. When she'd darted her tongue out to catch the droplets, he'd used every ounce of willpower he had not to pull her to him and kiss her senseless, regardless of the devilish maid lurking nearby. But maybe Kyla was an angel in disguise since Shauna was definitely forbidden fruit.

So now, instead of being grateful that temptation had been removed and he was not needed in the office, Robert was purposefully putting himself directly back in the path of that temptation. Damnation. He must be going soft in the head. At least, the head on his shoulders since the other one hardened at the mere thought of the Scottish lass.

Shauna looked up from the counter as he entered the office. “Good morning. I dinna expect to see ye here.”

Was she not glad to see him? Her smile looked a little forced. “Well, I thought I'd help Albert for an hour in the mornings before I head to Leith.”

She glanced over to the desk where Albert sat, but before she could reply, the door opened again and Colette came bustling in.

“I am so sorry I am late,” she gushed as she hurried to the table where her supplies were. “I will be just a moment getting my things.”

Shauna looked confused as she turned to Robert. “I thought ye were going to help Albert?”

He nodded. “I am—”

“But first,” Colette interrupted as she came around the counter with her sketchpad. “I must draw you by the door as if you had just come in.”

“Why?” Shauna asked. “He has already entered.”

“Robert has promised that I can have an hour of his time in the mornings to work on sketches for his portrait,” Colette replied as she took Robert's arm and tugged him toward the door.

Shauna raised both brows and then turned away, busying herself with moving a ledger. Robert wished Colette hadn't put it quite that way. It sounded like he enjoyed this damn portrait stuff. “I agreed—”

“
Oui
, you did,” Colette said before he could finish. “Now put your right hand on the door knob and step forward with your left leg. Just so,” she added as she put her hand on his thigh.

He managed to keep from flinching. “What are you doing?”

“Adjusting your leg,” Colette answered. “I must be able to capture the motion of the step.”

Robert glanced at Shauna. She was studying the ledger she'd opened, but from what he could see her face seemed red. He shifted his thigh away from Colette. “I really cannot stand here long.”

“I will be but a moment,” she said, sketching furiously and then walking around him to sketch his back.

At least, that's what he hoped she was doing. He didn't need her touching his arse in front of Shauna. God, he felt like a fool standing there.

“Thank you for the beautiful flowers,” Colette said from behind him. “It was so thoughtful of you to send them.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shauna's hand hesitate and then she began writing again. He wished Colette had not mentioned the flowers. He'd only sent them because he'd been taught to cushion a rejection with a small gift. In the past, it had worked, allowing him back in the beds of women who'd tried to get him to commit. But, pretty as Colette was, he had no desire to take her to bed.

“You are welcome.”

“I loved them,” Colette answered, apparently unwilling to let the conversation go.

Damn it. He'd sent them so her father wouldn't take offense at turning down his daughter's invitation to the open house, but he couldn't very well say that.

“Flowers say so much more than bon-bons or some other token would,” Colette continued and smiled in the direction of Shauna. “Would you not agree?”

Robert saw Shauna clench the pen she was using but then she nodded. “Yes, flowers do make a statement.”

Hellfire. He hadn't meant the flowers to say a damn thing.

Shauna didn't think she'd ever been so glad to see Owen as she was when he swung the door open, nearly banging into Robert still standing by it. At the very least, the movement caused Robert to put some space between himself and Colette, although why that mattered when Robert was probably paying court to the French girl, Shauna didn't know. She'd been a fool for thinking Robert's not attending the open house meant anything than he really did have to work on his ship.

She also didn't know whether flowers
said
anything or not since no man had ever sent her any—or bon-bons either. The closest thing she could compare such a gift to was Thomas Cameron whittling a rather uneven wooden sword for her when they'd both been three-and-ten and fancied themselves warriors. Thomas had long since married someone else.

“What brings ye here?” Shauna asked Owen, hoping her voice sounded more cheerful than she felt.

“I wanted to discuss kelp profitability margins with Albert,” Owen said and then looked curiously toward the door where Colette had repositioned Robert. “Why is Henderson standing there like some kind of stone pillar?”

If only he were a stone pillar. Shauna didn't think she could take much more of Colette running her hands over Robert's body. The woman had actually put her hand on his thigh—a thigh that bulged with muscle under the sleek fit of leather breeches. And Shauna would have wagered Colette was about to touch Robert's arse—Kyla had been right…it
was
a very nice arse—except that Owen had barged in. It was the nicest thing he'd ever done for her, even if he didn't know it.

“Colette plans to do Captain Henderson's portrait.”

“Ah. Perhaps she should arrange for him to do sittings in her parlor rather than the dock office's front door.”

Any wee bit of warmth Shauna had felt toward Owen for interrupting the scene vanished like misty tendrils of
haar
in sunshine. She didn't want to think about Robert spending time alone with Colette. Mr. Frazier didn't seem to have the qualms English and Scotsmen had about leaving their daughters alone in a man's company. Hopefully, Colette had not heard Owen's suggestion.

“She's doing preliminary sketches,” Shauna said, hoping she sounded neutral.

Owen gave her a sharp glance anyway. “They would make a good couple, I think. Do you agree?”

She definitely did not, but what could she say? Shauna became aware that Robert was listening to her exchange. He wasn't looking at her directly, but his body seemed to tense and his head lifted. She could have sworn his nostrils flared, much like a wolf scenting prey. For one mad moment, she stifled a hysterical bubble rising in her throat as, in her mind's eye, she suddenly saw Robert crouch and then leap forward while Owen scampered away like a frightened rabbit. “I havenae given it any thought.”

The words sounded hollow, even to her ears. She was a poor liar. Ever since Colette had mentioned those damnable flowers on Friday, Shauna had given the situation plenty of thought. Her emotions had run the gamut from high to low like a ship cresting a huge wave and then falling into a deep trough. Had Robert stayed away from the open house because he didn't want to escort Colette? Or simply because he had work to do? Had he sent her the flowers as an apology or because he wanted to pay court? When he showed up this morning to help Albert—who didn't need it—Shauna's hopes had soared and then plummeted again when Colette said Robert had promised her an hour of time each morning. Shauna rubbed her temples. She was going to turn into a babbling halfwit if she didn't stop this muddled thinking.

“Are you feeling all right?” Robert asked, standing across the counter from her.

Shauna wondered how he'd moved so fast from the door. Maybe she was already slipping into the grey fog of oblivion. “I…'tis just a slight headache.”

“Probably because you are trying to do accounting,” Owen said and reached over the counter to close the ledger she'd been working on. “I have told you before it is a man's work.”

Shauna glared at him, but before she could speak, Robert did.

“You object to a woman using her mind?”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “It depends on how she uses it.”

Robert's gaze remained level. “Do you want to explain that?”

Owen studied him and then shrugged. “I only meant a woman's place is in the home, running it efficiently and seeing to the needs of her husband and children.”

“And if she wants to do more than that?”

“
Oui
,” Colette said, stepping toward the counter and frowning at Owen. “
Papa
is very proud that I am a painter.”

“And I suspect a very skilled one,” Owen said smoothly and held out his hand. “May I see your sketches?”

Colette's ruffled feathers smoothed as though he'd petted her on the head. “
Bien entendu
,” she said and spread the papers over the counter. “What do you think?”

Owen looked at them and then at Colette. “I think you are quite remarkable,
mademoiselle
.”

Robert stared at Owen, and Shauna wondered if he were jealous over Owen's remark. A fraction of a second earlier, Shauna had thought maybe Robert was defending
her
with his question, but the conversation had quickly turned to Colette. Maybe Robert thought the French girl remarkable too.

Shauna's head began to ache in earnest.

By the time her Thursday volunteer day came around, Shauna was almost glad Robert would be leaving the next day with Shane and Owen. This past week with Colette flittering about in the mornings, touching Robert—really, did she have to show him how to stand and sit?—had taken its toll on Shauna's patience. Not to mention she hadn't had a chance to talk to Robert herself. Colette always waited until Robert departed for Leith before she left.

The visit with Mr. Adler and his son was just the distraction Shauna needed.

She greeted Mrs. Tate with a smile as she signed in on the visitor sheet.

The matron beamed at her. “The open house went well. We received pledges from a number of businessmen. That Frenchman, Mr. Frazier, made a generous donation on the spot, and his daughter seemed interested in our establishment as well.”

Colette again. Shauna shook her head. Could she not get away from the girl?

“What is it?” Mrs. Tate asked. “Why are ye shaking your head?”

“'Tis nothing,” Shauna replied. “I am glad the day went well. 'Tis good that people take an interest in what ye do here.”

“What
we
do,” Mrs. Tate corrected. “Your work is important too. I think Mr. Adler and Mr. Austin are waiting for ye in the day room.”

She found them sitting by the small table at the window where weak, wintry sunshine streamed in. Mr. Adler had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Neal rose to pull a chair for her. “Miss MacLeod. We are so glad you could come today.”

“Thank ye,” Shauna said and turned her attention to his father. “Are ye nae feeling well?”

Mr. Adler coughed. “I am feeling rather low today, but I am sure it is nothing to worry about. I am so sorry we cannot take a carriage ride though.”

“Doona fash about that,” Shauna said. “We can go when ye are feeling better.”

“I shall look forward to it.”

“Would ye like me to read to ye?” Shauna looked around for a book. “Mrs. Tate keeps books under the counter—”

“That will not be necessary, my dear,” Mr. Adler said. “Your company is always a delight.”

“Thank ye.”

“I noticed your young man, Mr. MacLean, at the open house last Friday,” Mr. Adler remarked. “Have you changed your mind about accepting his suit?”

“Nae. 'Tis difficult to reject the mon outright though.”

“I met Mr. MacLean at the Commercial Company last week,” Neal said. “He mentioned a business venture with your cousin.”

“Aye. Shipping kelp.”

“He mentioned something about going to Glasgow with your cousin to determine the feasibility, I believe?”

Shauna nodded. “Aye. They leave tomorrow.”

“How far is Glasgow from here?” Mr. Adler asked.

“Without a carriage, a two-day ride.”

“So they will not be gone long?”

“Probably at least a sennight,” Shauna replied. “They also wanted to check how much kelp could be produced at Loch Linnhe and Loch Shiel.”

Mr. Adler smiled. “You sound quite the astute businesswoman, my dear.”

Shauna smiled back. “Thank ye. 'Tis kind of ye to acknowledge that.”

“Young MacLean is a fool if he does not,” Mr. Adler answered.

She couldn't agree more, although she left it unsaid. Also unsaid—and she felt a little guilty—was her hope the kelp production wouldn't be as much as expected and that Owen would decide to stay home instead of returning to Edinburgh. She knew it was wishful thinking, but… She sighed and then stood as Mr. Adler started coughing again. “I should go so you can get some rest.”