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She glowered, but was obviously smitten with the captain. Still vowing displeasure, she grumbled all the way out the door, leaving them alone.
He laughed. “Forgive Susan’s blunt speaking. She’s more a mother to me than my own mother ever was.”
“To you?”
“And Cam. She served as wet nurse to both of us. You could say we’re milk brothers. And later, I was fostered to Strathconon and Sir Joshua’s household.”
Raised together? Lord help the women of Scotland.
If Cam traced his icy blond brilliance back to his Viking forebears, Captain Brodie MacKay was all Celt with his dark brooding looks and chiseled features. She could only imagine what trouble two such young men got up to in that isolated corner of Scotland. Probably wenched their way through every lass within two hundred miles.
With that disturbing image uppermost in her head, she focused on the aroma of hot scones. Food would take her mind off Cam’s oversexed past. Place it back where it needed to be. On the map in front of her.
Taking a seat by the tray, she smeared jam on one. Wished she had some of Gram’s thick, creamy dyenn molys to spread as well. “How did you know we were here? Cam assured me no one would notice our arrival.”
“Dodging the in-laws? Dinna blame ye. Lady Sinclair’s a dear, but Sir Joshua’s another kettle of fish.” Brodie dropped into a chair, his stature dwarfing the delicate white and gold piece. She waited for its inevitable collapse. “He’s proper as a Puritan.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
He poured himself a cup of tea. Looked as if he wished it were something stronger. “Nor you, mine. Should we exchange confessions?”
“I’ve already confessed as much as I plan to.”
“Verra well. You’re too well spoken to be some Covent Garden bawd. But ye dinna look the type to lie about, deciding what expensive bauble ye want next and waiting for your protector to snap his fingers either.”
“So I’m not a low-class whore or a high-class mistress.”
He grazed a hand across his jaw in thought. “No. I can’t say with certainty what ye are. But I intend to find out.”
“Then if you’re finished cross-examining me, it’s my turn. How did you know we were here?”
“Amos,” he said simply.
“What about him?”
“I ran into him this morning. To anyone who doesn’t know him, nothing strange in his manner. But I’ve known him since I was born. He looked cagier than usual. Full of something. A little prodding and he told me Cam was back in town. When I came round and saw the house still shut up, I got curious. Susan let me in through the kitchen. And here we are.”
A pounding on the front door threw Morgan to her feet.
Susan rushed to answer, her mumbled yes, sirs and no, sirs carrying through the house as she fought to fob the visitors off.
Finally a voice rang clear, and Morgan’s heart dropped into her boots. “I know he’s at home. Don’t stand there sputtering. Get me my nephew.”
So much for stealth.
Chapter 15
Cam left the gunsmith’s, the second of his errands complete. A Baker rifle ordered and a new pair of pistols in his possession. If Doran came within five hundred yards, Cam would take him down. He didn’t care how much magic the Amhas-draoi wielded, a well-aimed bullet to the head would stop him as easily as the next man.
He only wished his initial destination had been as beneficial. General Pendergast could tell him nothing of use. And Cam’s deal with Morgan meant he couldn’t share the information he did have. It made for stilted conversation and long uncomfortable pauses with Major Eddis’s sneering, know-it-all glances making Cam’s fists itch.
“I’m counting on you to find me that sword, Sinclair.” The general eased back in his chair, hooking his thumbs in his waistcoat. “You were highly recommended for this assignment. Your wartime service made you of particular interest.”
“Did it?”
He didn’t like where this was going, though he’d suspected it
from the minute the army had brought him in last spring. Something in the careful way they handled him. The way they danced around his past experience or didn’t speak of it at all. As if the dirty part of war was something gentlemen didn’t discuss. Or even acknowledge.
