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“No. ” Cormac put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, Aidan. Have a care. It was my fault we lost you once, and I’ll not see it happen again. ”
“It wasn’t your—”
Cormac punched his shoulder. “Just shut up and promise if you need help you’ll tell me. ”
“Aye,” Aidan said. He met his twin’s eyes with a smile. “I will. I promise. ”
Chapter 19
Elspeth lay in bed. The sun had yet to rise, but she couldn’t sleep for thoughts of Aidan. And his kiss.
Restless, she rolled onto her side, thinking of his mouth. It had been gentle at first, and then harder, and hungrier. Blood thrummed through her body at the memory.
Nestling deep under her covers, she grazed a slow hand along her torso and cupped her breast. Her skin tingled at the memory of his hands on her sides, of his thumbs roving that perilous line where rib meets bosom. She thumbed her nipple, and it stiffened, she imagining what he might do with his fingers.
She played the scene over in her mind, and this time Aidan didn’t end the kiss. He didn’t insist on propriety, didn’t act like the most seemly of gentlemen and lift her to her feet.
Instead, in her fantasy, he rolled her onto her back. The mud would’ve been warm, still holding the heat of his body. But the air on her legs would be cool, her skirts rucked high on her hips …
“You, in there!” Her father’s voice shattered her reverie, calling to her from the other room.
Her eyes shot open, her heart leaped to her throat, and her hand flew from her breast. Even though her father was in the other room, even though he never entered hers, Elspeth’s heart pounded.
“Coming,” she said, even as she nestled deeper in the sheets. Dawn had finally come, sliding gray fingers through the shutters. Rolling onto her back, she came to terms with the reality of her day.
Though it was set in a corner in the main room, she heard the creak of her father’s cot. Heard him shuffling along the stone floor, followed by the pop and crackle of a nascent fire. “Fool girl,” he was grumbling to himself, “lays abed, and there’s work to be done. ”
Elspeth sighed, baring linen-clad shoulders and then arms to the chill air. Like every other morning, she swung her legs out of bed, bracing for the shock of cold stone underneath sleep-warmed feet.
“Time to wake up and feed the sheep,” he called.
“Aye, I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called back. But, unlike every other morning, this time she’d awakened with a smile on her face. Because she’d finally realized how she could help Aidan. And today was the day she’d take action.
They’d kissed, which meant the responsibility she’d felt for his well-being was justified. He was a roguish sort, and danger followed such men. She sensed trouble, and knew she needed to see just what sort of people he was involved with. She’d stolen just a single sheet from his papers, but it bore the name of a man in Aberdeen, and a name was a start.
Dougal Fraser.
She had to do all she could to ensure Aidan’s safety, because she was fairly certain she loved him. Unfortunately, she was also fairly certain he’d likely never love her back the same way. But he was her romantic hero, and she’d give anything to be his heroine, even if it was just this once.
And what did the heroines do in all the great stories?
They intervened in the affairs of their men.
Dougal Fraser was nervous, but not such a fool as to show it. Few men clawed their way free of the Aberdeen gutters, but Dougal had, and he knew that more than hard work, he owed his success to a talent for bluffing. His hair had gone gray, and his knees had begun to ache, but still it was upon this skill alone that he most relied.
He leaned back in his chair, affecting calm confidence. “Tell me … Francis … your captain guarantees I’ll receive my payment in raw cotton?”
The beefy man who sat across from him flinched. Urchins on the street knew the fellow only as “the yeoman,” and use of his Christian name had the unsettling effect Dougal sought. “Aye,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, “them’s the terms of our agreement, like. ”
“Fine, let’s talk of our terms. I’ve staked the ship, I’ve filled your bellies. ” Dougal pointed with distaste at the man’s overlarge girth. “But now I want guarantees. ”
The yeoman bristled. “Every docksman in Aberdeen kens Captain Will is as good as his word. If the man says a thing, it’s because he means it. ”
“Captain this, Captain that. ” Something about this infamous captain rankled him. The man’s past was shrouded in mystery, and Dougal wondered what he might be hiding. “It’s not what your captain says or does in Aberdeen that concerns me. It’s what happens once he sets sail, with my goods. ” Referring to their cargo as “goods” felt so much more civilized than calling them bodies, or slaves, or servants, or hides, or whatever distasteful nomenclature people bandied about.
The yeoman worried the cap in his hands, thinking hard, looking as though steam might come out his ears from the effort. “If you’ll be begging my pardon, it takes a lot to keep ’em souls alive. I don’t ken why you just don’t trade with money like other folk do. ”
“These far-flung plantations need labor, which sur-rounds me in abundance. ” Dougal’s lingering glare said he included the yeoman in the distasteful category. “And here I am, in need of cotton. Which—in addition to savages and the putrid fever—it appears these godforsaken tropical locales are choking upon. Meanwhile, the Crown wants taxes, taxes, taxes when goods are bought and sold, yet you might imagine I am loath to pay a farthing of my hard-earned income. ” Resting his elbows on his desk, Dougal steepled his fingers, smiling triumphantly. He was as impressed with his scheme as he’d been on the day he hatched it.
