AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But the man only stared dumbly, not getting the connection.
Dougal spelled it out in an insultingly slow pace. “I fund and fill a ship with able-bodied men. Your captain sails it away. But then he sails it back. Filled with cotton. Voilà! I’ve made a trade, but the Crown is none the wiser. ”
The man continued to gape, and Dougal was forced to ask after a moment, “Do you see what I’m about here?” He gestured impatiently behind him. “Knit goods. Cotton from the tropics expands my offerings. Cotton I get by trading for men, not money. No money means no taxes. ”
“Seems a terrible lot of confusion to my mind. ”
Not confusing, brilliant. And he was convinced the scheme was only slightly illegal. The slave trade was loosely sanctioned by Parliament, after all. And with this elusive captain as his go-between, Dougal remained unexposed, and his reputation unsullied.
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you to wrap your mind around it. ” Dougal sat upright and began to shuffle papers on his desk. He had no patience for dimwits and was eager for this particular interview to reach an end. “Now stop flapping your jaw and tell me what you’ve come to tell me. Have you finished gathering our cargo?”
“Aye, the ship’s full, but captain’s coffers isn’t. He wants that—”
They were interrupted by a faint knocking on his door.
The yeoman stiffened, instantly on alert, vicious intent lighting his face.
Dougal rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself. This is my place of business, not a Cornish wrestling hall. ”
He stood and went to the door, meaning to crack it open himself. It’d be well if whoever had come calling didn’t see him with one such as “Francis the yeoman. ”
But instead the door opened on Dougal, nearly striking him in the face. He rubbed his nose at the near miss, but his outrage faded when he laid eyes on his visitor.
It was a girl. Though she wasn’t precisely pretty, neither was she rough on the eyes. She was a pale creature, with a delicate nose, lips that were curved but not full, and a chest that was sadly meager.
“Dougal Fraser?” she asked.
Her voice was meek, and it made her seem all the more fragile. All in all, he doubted she’d be able to stand up in a strong gust of wind, for all that she’d nearly swung the door in his face.
But who in holy hell was she?
“At your service,” he said, knowing the charming words didn’t match the tightness of his tone.
He stepped in front of the doorway to block her view, but it was too late. She’d seen the yeoman and her eyes widened. Though she recovered quickly, he spied the mental machinations that’d begun in that eerily pale gaze.
Whoever the chit was, she was canny.
His only choice was to control the damage. Dougal gave the man a pointed look. “Take your leave now. ”
The yeoman’s ruddy cheek twitched. Looking illpleased, he rose and sidled past them out the door. “Verra well then. ”
The dock riffraff momentarily dispensed with, Dougal took the girl’s elbow and, feigning graciousness, led her to a seat. “Whom do I have the pleasure of entertaining here in my humble office?”
“Woolen goods …” she mused, craning her head to read the sign on his door. “Woolen goods. Woolen goods!”
Those strange eyes met his. They’d gone bright, and he saw up close the unusual yellow flecks that streaked from her pupils like sunbursts.
Daft or deft, that was the question. The girl was a conundrum, and conundrums put Dougal on his guard. Her quavering voice bespoke a ninny-headed lass. But she’d clearly been braw enough to venture into the heart of Aberdeen alone. Was hers the trembling confusion of an innocent, or an act?
“Yes, my business is woolen goods. ” He sat at his desk, across from her. “But what is your business
, Miss … ?”
Something in her eyes snapped to attention. “Farquharson. Elspeth Farquharson. ”
Her name nagged him. “Farquharson … Ah,” he said, recognition dawning. “Just so. A Farquharson contacted me not too long ago. Said he was in the sheep business. A bit old, but … your father perhaps?”
“Yes, that’s so. ” She sat tall, looking guarded.
