Sister of Rogues (15 page)

“Why are you not walking about?”

She could hardly tell him she'd hoped to find the faeries by sitting here. “The walkway seemed a bit crowded,” she said and then bit her lip. The remark sounded snide, and she didn't want Kier to think she was jealous of Kathleen. When he smiled, she could have kicked herself. He wore the same self-satisfied expression on his face that Ian and Jamie did when women—before Mari and Jillian came along—fawned on them.

“Yes, well.” He held out a book. “I wanted to give you this.”

The Lay of the Last Minstrel
. When had he had time to get it? Fiona glanced around the courtyard, noting that Kathleen stood on the other side of the courtyard scowling at them. Fiona barely concealed a self-satisfied grin of her own. It wasn't quite in the same vein of conquest of her brothers, but she did feel just a wee bit victorious. “Thank ye. I will return it as soon as I am finished.”

“You need not hurry,” Kier said and then paused. “I hope it helps.”

Fiona didn't have time to ask him what he meant by that since Ada was advancing on them. She rose, tucking the small volume into her pocket. “I will enjoy reading it.”

But later, settled on her narrow bed, she'd only read a few pages when tears spilled down her cheeks. The description of Scottish life, even the border feuds in the introduction, brought home to her everything she was missing…everything she had lost.

Her home. Her family. Her life.

Fiona put the book down. Somehow, someway, she would get it all back. But first, she needed another candle from the library.

Chapter Fifteen

“'Tis a winter gale off the North Sea that's beginning to blow,” Shauna remarked as she hurriedly shut the harbour office door against the blustery wind that followed Ian inside.

“Aye,” he replied, rubbing his hands together and then placing another block of peat from the bin into the brazier. “I have nae doubt we will have snow before nightfall.”

“It is still November,” Abigail said as she looked up from the ledger she was working on. “Snow falls that early here?”

“'Tis nae unusual for a blizzard to hit the Highlands before Christmas, although Edinburgh usually is spared until later,” Shauna replied and then furrowed her brows. “'Tis nearly December though, and still nae word about Fiona.”

Ian gave her a quick glance and Shauna knew he was thinking the same thing, only he didn't want to say it. She caught the look of pain in his eyes as well. As head of this branch of Clan MacLeod, their people still regarded him as laird, even if the English had forbidden the term after Culloden. As such, he took his responsibilities seriously. She could see by the grim set of his mouth. “'Tis nae your fault what happened.”

Abigail looked from one of them to the other. “Of course it is not. Ian was not even in London when Fiona was abducted.”

His face looked as dark as the storm that was approaching. “I should nae have let the lass go.”

Shauna managed a smile. “Ye ken how headstrong Fiona is. One way or another, she would have gone.”

“Besides, Jamie was there,” Abigail added.

Shauna shot her a look. Her cousin by marriage and she had a lot in common since they both liked reading and history, but Abigail had grown up in English society as an only child of an earl. She was only beginning to understand the thickness of a Scot's blood ties to his kin. Shauna was sure Jamie felt the heavy duty of responsibility as well as Ian did. She was also equally sure that Ian had thoroughly berated him for his failure, for that is how Ian would see it.

And, if she had any doubt, Ian's next words proved it.

“The mon should have kept better watch.”

Abigail looked incredulous. “You are not blaming your brother, are you?”

Ian's dark eyes turned nearly black. “I trusted him to keep Fiona safe.”

Abigail shut the ledger with enough force to make Ian raise a brow. Shauna was tempted to warn her not to argue with Ian—no one except Jillian ever won—but Abigail had a determined look on her face.

She pushed her spectacles up. “Ian MacLeod, I cannot believe you could be so daft as to blame your brother for what happened.”

Shauna held her breath. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had called Ian daft…probably not since he was a lad.

His other brow rose, although his voice did not. “Daft, am I?”

Abigail put her hands on her hips. “You are if you think Jamie is at fault.”

“He was
there
,” Ian growled.

“Yes, and so were probably another hundred guests. Although I care nothing for balls and
routs
and such, they are generally quite civilized occasions—if you ignore the snide gossip. From your account of what Jamie told you, Fiona was in the company of the nephew of the Earl of Sefton.”

“Aye, and strolling in dark gardens nae chaperoned.”

Abigail let her arms drop to her sides. “They would not have been the only couple out there. The air becomes quite close with the crush of people in a ballroom. I can assure you, Viscountess Castlereagh is a stickler for propriety. As hostess, she would have kept the garden paths well-lit.”

“Yet Molyneux was assaulted and Fiona taken. How do ye explain that?”

She shook her head. “I cannot. Such a thing has never happened at a society event, as far as I can recall. What I am saying,” Abigail continued as Ian was about to interrupt, “is that Jamie would have had no cause for alarm.”

“She is right.” Shauna put a hand on Ian's arm, feeling how tense his muscles were. “Neither ye nor Jamie is to blame. We doona ken the why or how of what happened, but it did.”

“If, as you suspect, this Wesley Alton or Walter Avery—whatever name he uses—has whisked Fiona away to the States, Shane will find her,” Abigail said. “He cannot be that far behind the American ship and the
Border Lass
is fast.”

“We might get word in a week or two that Shane is back in London with Fiona safe and sound,” Shauna added, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

Ian gave her a look that said he didn't believe a word of it, but he was kept from replying when a dockworker opened the door, allowing another cold gust of wintry air to sweep through.

“Ship approaching,” he said.

Ian picked up the manifests from the counter and scanned them. “The schedule shows nae ship due. Did ye get her name?”

“Aye. 'Tis the
New Orleans
.”

Shauna turned to her brother. “That's the ship—,” she started to say, but Ian had already grabbed his wool peacoat and was running down the quay.

“We might as well wait here, where it is dry and warm,” Abigail said as Shauna started to get her coat to follow her brother. “It will take at least fifteen minutes to secure the lines before anyone can disembark.”

“The captain will have word of Fiona!”

“I pray so, but Fiona will not be onboard the ship. I do not think Ian will be shouting questions for all the world to hear either. He will wait until the captain is on the quay before he asks about Fiona.”

“But that could take another half hour,” Shauna exclaimed. “No captain ever leaves his ship until everything is in order.”

Abigail nodded. “Even a better reason to wait here.”

“I have nae patience to wait. Fiona has been missing near two months.”

“I understand. I love Fiona as a sister too,” Abigail replied. “But you cannot go onboard, so you might as well finish the ledger you were working on.”

Shauna sighed, knowing Abigail was right. As much as she tried to concentrate, the numbers just blurred. Finally, she put her quill back in the inkwell. “I am going down to the ship.”

“It should not be long now. Have a bit more patience. Besides, Harvey, the new dock master, is a grumpy sort who does not welcome women on the wharf at any time, but particularly when a ship is putting in to port. He thinks we interfere.”

“I would nae get in the way.” Shauna frowned. “'Tis many a time I've helped Shane cleat lines.”

“Harvey would probably have an apoplexy if he saw a woman actually handling the lines.” Abigail smiled. “He is like many sailors—superstitious of women around ships. He cursed most colourfully the first time he saw me get off the
Border Lass.
”

In spite of her eagerness to talk to the American captain, Shauna had to smile too. “Aye. The fools think because their ships bear a woman's name, the great floating hulk will actually be jealous of another woman aboard. Have they nae heard about the warrior queens who led their armies on land
and
sea?”

“I suspect such history eludes most of them.”

“
Bah
. The only things that make a ship founder are if she is nae maintained or her crew is shoddy.”

“I could not agree more.” A blast of cold air and swirling snow accompanied the deep, baritone voice.

Shauna turned toward the door and caught her breath. The American captain was as tall and broad-shouldered as Ian, but his hair was sun-bleached and his eyes were green as a glade after a rain. Those eyes began to light with emerald fire as he took in her appearance. Shauna felt herself grow warm with embarrassment over how she must look. She'd hastily put her hair up this morning, but at least half of it had come undone with the number of times the door had been opened and the gusts blown through. At lunch, she'd spilled stew on the plain brown work gown she wore. She'd dabbed at the stain, not wanting to get into the carriage for a cold drive home to change. And she had ink on her fingers. Hastily, she put her hands below the counter, but not before a corner of the American's mouth had turned up in a half-smile.

“This is Captain Robert Henderson of the
New Orleans
,” Ian said from behind him and then added, “My sister Shauna and cousin-by-marriage, Abigail.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” Abigail said, giving Shauna a quizzical look when she just nodded.

The captain's smile broadened a little more as he removed his tri-corn and bowed slightly. “The pleasure is all mine.”

His voice had a soft slur that hinted of an American twang, although his words were formal. Shauna managed to find her voice. “I am happy ye are here.”

One eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly. If Shauna had not been so taken with his eyes, she might not have noticed it. She felt her face warm again as she realized how personal what she said must have sounded. “I mean, we want to ken about Fiona.”

The captain turned to Ian. “Fiona. This is the sister you said was missing?”

“Aye,” Ian answered and nodded at Shauna. “I saved the story and questions since I ken ye would want to ask it all over again.”

“A wise decision,” Abigail said and received a scowl from Ian that she ignored.

“Ye are the one who talked with Jamie,” Shauna said to Ian, “so ye speak.”

He nodded and proceeded to give the captain the details of the abduction, what inquiries had been made and their learning of the
New Orleans
taking two passengers.

Hardly waiting for her brother to finish, Shauna added, “Shane dinnae find ye?”

Captain Henderson focused his attention on Shauna, all traces of humour gone. “No, but I was in Charleston only long enough to unload and take on another shipment. The seas are getting treacherous and I wanted to get this last run in.” He glanced at the window where heavy wet snow was collecting on the panes. “Perhaps fate dealt this weather. I was bound for Aberdeen.”

“Which is why we had no schedule of your arrival,” Abigail said.

“Never mind that,” Shauna said, trying not to sound impatient. “How hard will it be for Shane to find Fiona in Charleston, Captain Henderson?”

“Please call me Robert.” His eyes twinkled for a brief second when Abigail looked shocked. “We are much less formal in the States, so it is quite permissible.” Then he refocused on Shauna. “Charleston is a fairly large city, but I hope your cousin will not waste much time looking for your sister there.”

Shauna felt confused as Ian scowled. “What do ye mean?”

“I did not take your sister to Charleston. I—”

“Where did ye take her then?” Ian interrupted and took a step toward the man.

Captain Henderson appraised Ian calmly, although Shauna didn't think he could miss Ian's intent. Everything about her brother's posture was pure Highland warrior. She hurried around the counter to place a restraining hand on Ian's arm. This was not the time for one of her quick-tempered brothers to decide to settle things his way.

Robert's gaze moved to her hand and his mouth quirked a little. Then he turned his attention back to Ian.

“I took Avery and his daughter—I mean, your sister—to Dublin.”

Ian relaxed his stance and stared at him. “Dublin?”

“Dublin. The man said she was suffering from depression and melancholy and had tried to kill herself over the loss of a husband. He said she needed to get away.”

Abigail gasped and Shauna shook her head dejectedly. “That is nae Fiona then.”

The captain looked puzzled. “Are you sure? Your brother gave quite an accurate description of my passengers.”

“Fiona is nae married. She is nae the kind to be sad or to fash.”

“Ye said she appeared drunken?” Ian asked.

“That is what I thought at first.”

“Laudanum will do that.” Ian looked out the window at the continuing snow. “I will prepare one of Shane's other ships and leave as soon as the weather breaks.”

Captain Henderson nodded. “If you can spare a sailor with local knowledge, my second-in-command can take my shipment to Aberdeen. Since I am the one who fell for Avery's tale and took your sister to Dublin, I would like to go with you. In a way to make amends…and you'll need a captain.”

Ian hesitated a moment and then nodded, offering his hand.

As the men shook hands, Shauna exchanged a glance with Abigail, who nodded slightly. Her brother didn't know it yet, but both of them would be on board that ship when it sailed as well.