Rogue of the High Seas (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Wesley Alton scrutinized Shauna's face when she came for her weekly visit. She looked a little peaked, like she hadn't slept well. Not that he gave a damn if she went sleepless, but any detail he could learn about her might be important. He was not about to fail in avenging himself again. He assumed a concerned expression.

“Are you not feeling well, my dear?”

“I am fine,” she replied.

She didn't sound like it. And she hadn't bothered to open the book she had in her lap, which meant she was preoccupied. With what? “Are you quite sure? You look unhappy. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone.”

“'Tis nothing really, Mr. Adler. Just… Well, I am nae here to bother ye with a wee nuisance—”

“Nonsense. I sit here all alone most every day. Neal comes when he can, but mostly I am quite bored. I would welcome listening to what concerns you.”

She looked around the small solar where they were sitting near a window. “We really are nae supposed to discuss our problems.”

Wesley looked around too. An old man sat slumped in an armchair by the brazier, his head tilted back. He was snoring and spittle dribbled out of a corner of his open mouth. On the other side of the room, an elderly woman sat on the sofa, patting the seat next to her and muttering to someone who wasn't there.
Mon Dieu
. How long could he take putting up with these invalids? He gestured. “I do not think either of them are going to hear us.”

Shauna smiled. “Mr. James is fond of his naptime, although he will deny snoring. Poor Mrs. Ramsey lost her husband last summer and thinks he is still alive.”

Wesley could care less whether the woman was a widow or the old man didn't think he snored. Who cared anyway? They were just part of the decrepit people who lived here. The sooner he could accomplish his mission and leave, the better. “How sad,” he said in a conciliatory tone.

“Truly. Mr. Ramsey was one of the ministers at St. John's Church. He was a very kind soul from all I have heard. 'Tis a pity.”

The MacLeod chit actually sounded like she felt sorry. Wesley couldn't fathom why. Old people died. But that she had a soft spot served to his advantage. He would have Nicholas come up with something to engage her sympathy. “What I think a true pity was the sad expression on your face when you came in, my dear. I do not mean to pry, but I would really like to help if I can.”

Shauna looked around once more and then nodded. “A mon from Glenfinnan has come to pay me court.”

Wesley's ears perked, although he kept his face impassive. Glenfinnan was that son-of-a-bitch MacLeod's home. “And you do not welcome this man's suit?”

“Nae. Owen teased me to tears when we were children. I doona think he has changed much.”

“You knew each other as children? Were you neighbors?”

“Aye. The MacLean land borders Ian's.” Shauna sighed. “That is the problem. I cannae turn down the suit directly. Doing so would insult the clan.”

Wesley thought the Scots took too much pride in their tribal clans, but he understood the subtlety of political alliances all too well. When he'd been caught spying for Napoleon at Vitoria, he'd managed to save his skin by giving the English information that allowed Wellington to break the French hold on Spain. He didn't care which side won. Unfortunately, he'd been declared a counterspy in France with a price on his head.

“You need to handle this with diplomacy then.”

“Diplomacy?”

“Yes, my dear. The art of telling someone no and having him think you said yes.”

She frowned. “That sounds deceitful.”

Wesley refrained from grimacing. Of course it was deceitful. That's the way the world worked. Was she really that guileless? He tucked the thought away for further contemplation. Perhaps he could manipulate that trait.

“No, of course I do not mean for you to be deceitful. What I meant was that you can say no nicely and then give the man a compliment to make him feel good. Did you not observe the young ladies doing this at the balls in London?”

“Ye mean to flirt?” She still looked doubtful. “I am nae used to that.”

Wesley could imagine. She was somewhat drab, not at all enticing like Jillian had been… White hot fury blazed through him suddenly. Damn the MacLeods. Jillian should have been his just as much as the title to Cantford.

“Are ye all right, Mr. Adler?” Shauna asked. “Your face is quite red.”

Realizing he was clenching both his fists and his jaw, Wesley forced himself to relax. Achieving his vengeance would make up for his pain and loss. They'd all pay when this little bitch disappeared. He forced a smile.

“I find I am a little tired, that is all.”

“I am so sorry. I'll leave.” Shauna stood, placing the book she'd been holding on the table. “I tired you talking about my problems.”

“No, of course you did not.” Wesley leaned forward to rub his back. “Sometimes the pain is worse than other times. Please come again soon.”

“I will see ye next week.”

He nodded again and watched her leave. He'd have Nicholas find out who Owen MacLean was.

“What do ye think using diplomacy means?” Shauna asked Abigail the next afternoon while they were tidying the files in the dock office.

“I have never thought about a definition, although I guess my father uses it when Parliament meets.” She paused with her fingers holding apart a file. “I think it means using tact in persuading someone to accept a decision without making the person angry. Why?”

“Mr. Adler defined it as telling someone no and making him think ye meant yes.”

“Who is Mr. Adler?”

“He is a new patient at the charity home. He likes to read and seems smart.”

Abigail pushed the file into place. “Well, I do not agree with his definition. It sounds deceptive.”

“'Tis what I said.”

“How did the topic come up in the first place?”

“Mr. Adler said I looked sad and asked if something was wrong.” Shauna concentrated on putting a stack of papers neatly in order. “I probably should nae have talked about it, but Mr. Adler is so nice. I told him Owen was paying me court and I dinna like it.”

Abigail's eyebrows rose. “And that was the advice he gave you?”

“Aye. He also said giving the mon a compliment will make him feel good about…” She let her voice trail off as Shane, Robert and Albert came in, accompanied by a gust of wind.

“Sorry about the cold air,” Robert said as he quickly closed the door.

“The brazier keeps the room warm,” Shauna answered, even though the small fire didn't account for the sudden heat that swept over her at the sight of Robert. Dressed in a belted, wool tunic and a heavy cloak thrown back, with his blond hair wind-tousled and his cheeks ruddy from the cold, Robert looked as though he'd just stepped off a Viking longboat. All he needed was a shield and sword to complete the picture. Realizing she was staring at him, Shauna quickly picked up the stack of papers and stood.

“Let me help you with that,” he said, coming forward and taking the heavy stack from her. His fingers brushed hers as he did. Shauna felt a spark like she sometimes did when touching a metal doorknob after walking across a carpet. Only she was standing on a wooden floor and Robert's hand was not metal. His fingers were surprisingly warm.

“Where do you want these?” he asked, his eyes holding a glint of amusement.

Good Lord. She was still gaping at him. Shauna hoped she wasn't blushing as she pointed toward the file cabinet. “Over there, please.”

As he walked toward the cabinet, Abigail started to step down from the small stool she was using at the cabinet. Her foot caught in the hem of her skirt and she wobbled and then toppled backwards. Robert dropped the files and rolled in one fluid movement to cushion the fall, even as Shane leapt over the counter to catch his wife.

Abigail looked a little dazed, partially sprawled over one man and half-lifted in the air by another. She attempted to right herself but remained swaying instead. It might have been comical, except Shane looked absolutely furious.

“Are ye all right, Abby?” Shauna asked, hurrying past the counter.

“I will be, if my husband will allow me my feet.”

He muttered something under his breath and lifted her off Robert so she could stand. “What were ye doing on that stool?”

“Filing papers.”

“Ye should ken better.”

She blinked at him. “The files belong in the cabinet. Where else would I put them?”

“That is nae what I mean. Ye should ken better than to stand on a wee stool in your condition.”

“My condition…” Abigail stopped and looked at Robert, who was gathering the scattered papers he'd dropped. “I am fine.”

Shane's face looked like a thundercloud. “I'll nae have it happen again.”

“Really, I am fine. I just tripped, but I will not use the stool again if it upsets you so much.”

“Ye will nae work in the office either.”

Abigail's eyes widened. “Why not? I told you—”

“I'll nae have ye put our bairn in danger.”

“But—”

“Nae.” Shane stomped over to the hook where Abigail had hung her cloak, brought it back and put it over her shoulders. “I am taking ye home. And home is where ye will stay until the babe is born.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you ordering me—”

“Aye.” He tugged the cloak shut and tied it at the collar. “Can ye walk or do ye want me to carry ye?”

“I…I…” Abigail sputtered, the expression on her face a cross between indignation and disbelief. Her chin snapped up and she stepped past him. “I can walk.”

“'Tis slippery outside. Maybe I should carry ye after all,” Shane said as he followed her out.

Shauna couldn't hear Abigail's reply, but she noted her friend had quickened her pace down the steps. Shauna had the feeling that Abigail would not be using diplomacy on Shane once they got home.

Albert picked up the offending stool and pushed it underneath the desk, then sat down and picked up a bill of lading and began checking off numbers.

Robert put the papers on the counter. “I'm afraid I got these all mixed up.”

“I can sort through them,” Shauna said.

“Let me help then. I'm the one who messed them up.”

“Only because ye were trying to keep Abigail from getting hurt. She dinnae thank ye when she left, so I will.”

Robert grinned. “I suspect Abigail had another thought on her mind when she left. One that she is probably sharing with Shane at the moment.”

Shauna smiled. “I suspect ye are right.”

“Are all Scotsmen so…er, so commanding?” Robert asked as he took some of the papers and began arranging them by lading code.

“So overbearing, ye mean,” Shauna replied with a laugh.

“Well, I didn't want to put too fine a point on it. I guess Shane surprised me.”

“Och, he reacted because he loves Abby. My brothers are the same. They bluster a lot, but they mean to protect.”

Robert tilted his head, his green eyes studying her. “And do Scotswomen like their men being so…authoritative?”

“I guess we are used to it. In the Highlands, a mon has to prove he is braw to be respected in his clan…and other clans as well, if he wants to be a leader.” Shauna shrugged. “It does nae mean the women always put up with it.”

Robert grinned again. “I would wager your cousin is learning that about now.”

Shauna returned the grin. “I have nae doubt ye would win that wager.”

Albert made a sound that quickly turned into a cough. When Shauna looked at him, he was concentrating on his numbers, although she thought she saw his mouth twitch.

Robert finished stacking the papers. “I think everything is in order. Do you want me to file them?”

“No. These are new. Albert will want to look over them first.”

“Aye,” Albert said and looked around the room. “'Tis nothing else for ye to do today, so ye might as well go home as soon as Shane sends the carriage back.”

“Or I could escort you, if you don't wish to wait,” Robert said.

Albert frowned. “I doona think—”

“That would be wonderful,” Shauna said before he could finish. “A walk in the fresh air will do me good. I'll just get my coat.”

“Allow me,” Robert answered, lifting her coat off its hook and holding it out.

As Shauna slipped her arms into the sleeves, Robert wrapped the coat around her. For the moment, she was engulfed by his warmth and spicy-soapy scent, but it ended too quickly as he stepped back and moved to the door. Aware that Albert watched them, she fought the strange urge to brush against Robert as she preceded him outside. Chilly air blasted her and she pulled her coat closer.

“Is it too cold for you to walk?” Robert asked.

“Nae.” She wasn't going to miss an opportunity to be alone with Robert, even if icicles formed on her face and her toes turned to ice. She tried to keep her teeth from chattering. “I th…think we are in f…for a blizzard.”

“You're freezing.” Robert whipped off his cloak, swirled it around her shoulders and began to tuck the front ends inside the collar of her coat as though she were a small child.

Shauna didn't feel like a child though, since his hands were dangerously close to her breasts which suddenly felt weighted down by the heavy clothing. Her nipples stiffened against the bodice of her dress and she didn't think that was from the cold. Robert's cloak was toasty warm, and she bent her head to catch his scent lingering on the wool. A riotous thought flitted through her head as she imagined using that cloak as a blanket instead…

She must have made a sound because Robert stilled his hands. When she looked up, his eyes glinted like emerald shards and he was staring at her mouth. Her lips parted instinctively as Robert raised one hand and gently caressed her cheek. She sucked in a breath. Was he actually going to kiss her?