Chapter Thirteen
A muffled shout sounded outside the captain’s quarters. Grace froze in the act of combing her wet hair and Eve straightened in the tub and looked toward the door.
“What happened?” Grace asked.
“I do not know.” Eve rose and stepped from the tub.
She grabbed the towel hanging over the back of Grace’s chair, quickly wrapped it around herself and hurried toward the door while stuffing the corner of the towel between her breasts. Something hard struck the door and Grace gave a cry. A man’s groan in the hallway was followed by a foul curse. As Eve’s fingers closed around the knob. The door flung open, slamming her back, hard against the wall. Pain radiated down her arm, but she registered Grace’s gasp.
“What the devil?” a deep male voice boomed in a light Scottish brogue.
Eve started to shove the door away, then regained some sense and peered around the edge. A large kilted man stood between her and Grace. Eve’s heart pounded. Where were Oscar and Lord Somerset? She glanced through the crack between the door and jamb but saw no one.
“Who are you?” Grace demanded.
Eve again peeked around the door and saw a revolver sticking out from the man’s belt. She took one quiet step around the door.
“What do you want?” Grace said, and Eve could have kissed her. “Why have you barged into my cabin?”
“Your cabin?” the man said with a slight Scottish burr. “I imagine this is the captain’s quarters. You cannot be his wife.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said as Eve took another step forward.
“I see no ring on your finger.”
“Who I am is of no consequence,” Grace snapped.
Eve took another step forward, forced a steady hand, and reached for the revolver.
“Get out,” Grace ordered.
Eve yanked the gun from his belt. He swung around and she took two hasty steps backwards, the weapon aimed at his heart.
He frowned and his gaze fixed on her towel-clad body. He grunted. “So your captain is not satisfied with just one woman.”
A shiver slid down her spine when his brows lifted over the steely green eyes. Booted feet pounded down the corridor. Another set of footsteps followed, then broke into a run.
The man folded his arms across his chest. “If you know how to use that thing, now is the time. Those are my men, and they will do with you two as they please.”
“Just as you would. Get back,” Eve ordered.
He backed up a pace.
“To the wall, sir, or I will shoot.”
“That revolver isna’ known for being accurate,” he said.
“You are a very large target. Against the wall.”
The approaching footsteps picked up speed.
“Grace,” Eve said, “come here.”
Grace scurried across the room and dodged behind her. Eve kept both hands on the revolver as she backed up to the wall, Grace beside her.
“Miss Crenshaw—Eve!” called a familiar voice from the corridor.
“His lordship,” Grace breathed.
“In here,” Eve called.
Lord Rushton burst into the room with Lord Somerset close behind. They skidded to a halt.
“What in God’s name—” Lord Somerset took a step forward, but stopped when Lord Rushton snapped out a sentence in—was that Gaelic?
The stranger responded with a clipped sentence and nodded toward Eve and Grace. Lord Rushton whirled. His brows rose while his eyes dropped to her towel-clad breasts. Eve resisted the urge to melt into the wall.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he began, as the man took a step forward.
“Halt or I will shoot,” Eve warned.
Lord Rushton’s gaze remained fixed on her face. “I do believe she means it, Ash.”
Eve blinked. “You know him?”
“Madam, do you intend to shoot every male in the MacLean family while scantily dressed? Though I’m not complaining—about you being scantily clad, I mean.” He glanced at Grace. “I see your sister is yet again parading around in her night clothes.”
“What?” Grace said.
Lord Somerset stripped off his coat and, in two steps, reached Grace’s side and swung it around her shoulders. He yanked the lapel closed over her breasts. Eve suddenly realized her towel had slackened. She caught the fabric as it began to slide downward. Lord Rushton stepped toward her and she reflexively swung the revolver in his direction. He lunged in unison with Grace’s cry, and seized Eve’s arm, shoving the gun upwards. Cool air washed over the curve of her breasts, then she struck the wall, Lord Rushton pressed against her body, the towel barely covering her nipples.
He held her wrist pinned to the wall as he stared down at her. “You aren’t satisfied with shooting me once?”
“She shot you?” the other man blurted.
Lord Rushton gave her a questioning look and Eve was suddenly aware of his body crushing hers. Embarrassment rolled over her and she twisted in an effort to push him away.
“First the revolver, if you don’t mind.”
He reached with his free hand and disengaged the weapon from her fingers, then extended the weapon, butt first, to Lord Somerset, who took it. Lord Rushton released her wrist, then stepped back and pulled the corner of her towel from her grasp.
“My lord!” Eve grabbed for the fabric, but he cinched the towel more tightly around her with a hard tug, then stuffed the corner piece between the towel and her ribs.
Eve shoved him. For an instant, he stood immovable as stone, then stepped back.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Ladies, may I present Ash MacLean. My brother.”
*****
Miss Crenshaw’s brows furrow in confusion and Erroll felt as if he’d been hit with a fist in the belly when she said, “Your brother? But I thought—” She broke off.
“You thought my brother perished at war?” he replied smoothly. “That would be my younger brother, Val. This is my elder brother, Ash.”
“Elder brother?” Her mouth parted in surprise and, if Erroll wasn’t mistaken, understanding flickered across her face. So she was aware that Ash was his bastard brother.
“Of course,” she quickly said.
A long pause drew out.
Ash broke the silence. “May I have my revolver?” He extended his hand toward Somerset.
Erroll startled. “Your revolver?” He nodded for the viscount to return Ash’s gun, then said to Miss Eve Crenshaw. “Madam, you are a wonder. I will want to hear the story of how you managed to disarm my brother and turn his gun on him.”
“Just as I will want to hear how she shot you,” Ash said.
“If I were you, Ash, I would be more concerned about the brute in the hallway. If you hurt him, she will put a bullet through you one way or another.”
“Oscar!” Miss Crenshaw whirled toward the door.
Erroll caught her arm. “You will not venture from this room nearly naked.”
“I must see to him.”
“Be quick with your answer, Ash,” Erroll ordered.
“I only conked him over the head.”
“That is only fair,” Erroll told her. “After all, Oscar did the same to me.”
“There is no comparison.” She blew out an angry breath. “I should have shot you.”
“You did.”
She gave him a withering look. “Yet here is your brother, committing the same crime.”
“Not quite the same crime,” Erroll replied.
Her cheeks reddened. “What is happening?”
“We were mistaken for a press gang.”
Eve Crenshaw barked laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Is something funny?” he asked.
She shook her head, her eyes wide over the hand that still covered her mouth.
Erroll suddenly realized why she was laughing. “There seems to be a great deal of kidnapping going on these days, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Crenshaw?”
Her eyes flicked to his brother, then came back onto him, narrowed in warning.
“Mistook us for a press gang?” Miss Grace Crenshaw cut in on the byplay. “That is ridiculous.”
“Bad luck is what it is,” Erroll looked at Ash. “The slavers dropped anchor in the cove to the south. I’m certain they got away.”
“Damn bastards.” Ash shot him a dark look. “What are you doing here?”
“Bad timing. Your sheriff made sure I knew that. He has a perverse sense of humor, by the way. He didn’t tell me you were leading this expedition. But come along. We’ll leave the ladies to dress. Somerset, would you see them to their cabin when they are respectable?”
“What would you know of being respectable?” Eve Crenshaw snapped.
“Enough to know this does not qualify.”
“I want to know everything that has happened,” she said. “I’ll come up on deck once I am dressed.”
“I have had enough excitement for one evening,” Erroll said. “You ladies will return to your cabin. We will attend to Oscar and send him along presently.”
She drew in a sharp breath and he knew she’d forgotten Oscar. Erroll gave her no chance to further lecture him, but quit the room with the other men.
After Erroll briefed Ash on the evening’s events, he finished off the last of the whisky sitting before him on the table in the galley, and ended with, “The fourth sailor ran into the trees. If you can locate him before he finds a way off the island you might learn where Johnson is headed.”
“One of the sailors is still here?” Ash demanded. “Damn it, why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
Erroll refilled his and Ash’s glass with more whiskey. “I told your sheriff. He began a search before we returned to the collier.”
Ash relaxed. “Laine knows what he’s doing. If the man is still here, he’ll find him.”
“Why didn’t you have a ship ready to deal with Captain Johnson?” Erroll asked.
“I have been on his trail only two months,” Ash replied. “And received word a week ago that he had might have returned to Scotland.”
“You have no idea where he is headed?”
Ash shook his head. “Could be Ireland, or the Colonies, even Australia. Laine will search to the south to see if he stops along the coast.”
“I cannot send the collier. They aren’t armed for battle. What of Ramsey? He has that brig he uses to transport wool. He would love a reason to use those howitzers.”
“I don’t want to engage the pirates on open water.”
Erroll nodded. “But if you can follow him, you might be able to waylay him once he reaches his destination.”
“Hire Ramsey’s ship to cross the Atlantic? That’ll cost a pretty penny.”
Erroll flashed a smile. “The marquess is a generous man. He will not want to lose any of our lads.”
“We saved our lads,” Ash pointed out.
“True, but imagine how heroic we will appear if we save the others as well. How did you discover Johnson was kidnapping men?”
“The last six months, over three hundred men and boys have disappeared between here and Fort William. It was but a month ago when the sheriff in Fort William reported that he’d seen the same brigantine three months past.
“Just enough time to make the journey to America and back,” Erroll said.
Ash nodded. “I went to Fort William and spoke with the harbormaster. We discovered that Johnson had docked the brigantine there two months ago under the name of Bradley. The harbormaster distinctly remembered him because his first mate was the size of two men. On a hunch, I went to Oban. From there I traveled inland through some of the smaller villages and discovered a dozen young men had disappeared in the last year. I felt certain Johnson was our slaver.”
“He could have made three runs along the coast in that time,” Erroll said.
“Five, by my calculations.”
“Five? How is that possible? That would have taken nearly a year. We would have noticed men missing over that time.”
“We?” Ash’s brows rose. “This is the first I have seen of you since you joined the navy five years ago.”
It was closer to six, if he was honest. “Neither you or Laine would have been ignorant to a year of kidnappings,” Erroll said. “Not to mention our father.”
“We weren’t. This is only the second run Johnson’s made on Mull. The first was four months ago. I wrote letters to the Colonies and Australia, but have heard nothing as of yet.”
“Seems our pirate is more expedient than the authorities,” Erroll said.
“Private enterprise is always better funded than government.”
“Is there is a chance Laine will be able to discover where the slaver took the lads?” Erroll asked.
“I plan to find them, even if that means a transatlantic journey.”
“It is a shame my father did not marry your mother,” Erroll said. “You would make a far better marquess than I.”
Ash grimaced. “I have no desire to hob nob with English aristocracy.”
“Ahh, yes.” Erroll nodded. “There is that.”
Ash shrugged. “A man cannot deny what is in the blood.”
“Sassenach blood, eh, Brother?”
“Your mother is a good woman.”
Erroll laughed. “You know perfectly well our father would beat you senseless if you intimated otherwise.”
“He treated my mother with the same respect,” Ash said, to Erroll’s surprise. “But the marquess always does his duty.”
Erroll shuddered. “I hate that four letter word.”
“Every man has duty,” Ash said.
“I never cease to be amazed at how sanguine you are on the subject. Duty forced our father to marry a woman other than your mother. If not for that, you would be his heir.”
Ash grinned. “His duty saved me from a life—well, your life—and I am not sorry for that.”
“No?” Erroll laughed. “Despite the fact we got a sister in the bargain who hates us almost as much as she hates our father?”
Ash grinned. “She hates me far worse than you.”
Erroll thought for moment. “It is only fair that you get something from this family in a larger portion than I.”
“I have a fair enough portion.”
“Certainly the better lot than I,” Erroll grimaced. “You have enough money to do as you please and not enough duty to interfere with your pleasure.”
“You romanticize the situation,” Ash replied. “My duty is no less trying than yours. The difference is, I am not obligated to the King of England.”
“King George would beg to differ.”
Ash’s grin widened. “Let him come here and try to force the issue.”
Erroll gave him a recriminating look. “That would mean I would have to work all the harder.”
“Duty.”
“You will send me to an early grave.”
“You always tended toward the dramatic,” Ash said.
Erroll eyed him. “You are the third person in a week to tell me that. I might have to give the matter some thought.”
“Don’t tax yourself. You know how out of sorts you get when you think too hard.”
“You could not be more right, and I believe I have reached my limit for one day.” Erroll saluted him with his cup and drank down his whiskey in one big gulp. “As you clearly have things well in hand, I will leave you to deal with the slavers.”
“Spoken like a true marquess in the making.”
Erroll couldn’t fault his brother for the jab. The truth was the truth. “How is our sister, Olivia, by the way?”
A cloud passed over Ash’s eyes. “She is well, but she worries night and day about Grant.”
“The seas are quiet these days and he is far from any potential trouble in the Colonies.”
“The Colonies? I last heard talk of his ship headed to Constantinople.”
Erroll nodded. “I believe I heard that as well. But Grant was reassigned to the Sea Dragon with some diplomat who was sent to America to encourage Jefferson to stay home.”
“America, eh?” Ash studied him. “How interesting that Grant was reassigned to a ship that wasn’t likely to see battle anytime soon. It would seem your connections in the military are far reaching.”
Erroll snorted. “As much as I would like to take credit for being in the Royal Navy’s good graces, I cannot.”
Ash’s brows furrowed, then light dawned in his eyes. “You don’t mean Val?”
Erroll nodded. “Yes.”
“But he has been dead for over a year. When was Grant reassigned?”
“A month ago, I would say.”
“How?”
“Val called in a very large favor just before Trafalgar.” Erroll smiled with the memory. “I do not enjoy the popularity my brother did, so it took more than asking nicely to ensure Val’s last request was honored.”
“Last request?” Ash’s blue eyes bore into him. “It isn’t your fault he died. Val was determined to become an Admiral without help from the family.”
“Then we can blame ambition; his and Bonaparte’s.”
Ash gave a slow nod. “You tried to have him reassigned along with Grant.”
“As I said, I do not enjoy the same popularity he did.”
“I suspect the truth is more along the order of him telling you to mind your own damn business.”
“He accused me of trying to control his life; actually compared me to our father.” Erroll grimaced. “Can you imagine?”
Ash laughed. “I can. I will be sure to tell Olivia that Grant was more obedient and did as his elders directed. Mayhap she will get a little more sleep. Shall I give her your regards?”
“Of course.”
“Will she see you before you leave Mull? You know she will never forgive you if you do not visit.”
“I will be sure to visit.”
They rose and went to the main deck where a rope ladder had been slung over the side to a waiting jollyboat.
“Will I see you again before you leave?” Ash asked.
“I imagine so.”
“I assume the lady has something to do with your visit,” Ash said.
“She does.”
“You didn’t tell me how she shot you, or why you came to be on this ship.”
“The tale does not cast me in a flattering light.”
“All the more reason I should hear it.”
Erroll laughed. “I have no doubt you will. Stories like this have a way of being told and retold.”
Ash turned and fitted his boot to the first rung of the ladder.
“Ash.” His brother paused and looked up expectantly. “I have an acquaintance in the navy… Admiral Peterson. He is well acquainted with the Atlantic and the goings on in the ports of the major Colonial cities. It occurs to me that he might be of help in locating Johnson. It will take some time, but I’ll contact him and see what he might discover.”
“This would not, per chance, be the captain of Grant’s ship?”
“I cannot recall,” Erroll said.
“How very fortunate that you remembered this connection,” Ash said.
“The walk from the galley to the deck cleared my head.”
“It’s more likely the walk sobered you up.”
Erroll grinned. “The walk was not that long.”
“No,” Ash murmured. “It was not.”
Then he left.
*****
“I promise to shove the table in front of the door while you take Grace up on deck to find Lord Rushton,” Eve negotiated with Lord Somerset. They would read Ravenhall very soon and she needed Grace out of the say so that she could accept his offer of marriage.
He shook his head. “I cannot allow you to stay here alone.”
Good Lord, was he going to be this rigid their entire marriage? “Sir, be reasonable. If you do not leave me behind, that will force Grace to find his lordship on her own.”
His mouth thinned. “She will not.”
Grace rose from her seat at the table across from Eve and glided over to him. When she reached his side, she touched his sleeve with her fingertips and looked up at him through her lashes.
“Of course not, I cannot go about the ship alone.”
Grace turned slightly and looked at Eve. Eve caught Lord Somerset’s eyes flick to Grace’s breasts and her mind registered the small intake of breath Grace had taken that caught his attention. Did Grace realize—A tiny smile touched the corner of Grace’s mouth. She knew!
“Eve, I am certain Lord Somerset will be kind enough to escort us both up on deck.” She looked back at him. “Will you not, my lord?”
He gave a half smile, tender and, to Eve’s surprise, a little sad.
“I am happy to be of service, Miss Crenshaw,” he said.
Eve’s mind jolted. Dear God, Lord Somerset was in love with Grace.
Her mind raced back two days ago when he had prepared a plate of sweet goods for Grace at the restaurant in Belfast, then him escorting her down the street, leaving Eve with Lord Rushton. Hadn’t his fingers lingered a moment too long on hers when he’d helped her from the carriage at the docks? And there was last night, when Lord Rushton’s brother had barged into their room. It had been Grace who Lord Somerset covered with his coat—not Eve.
A wave of sadness deflated her. She’d been a fool. She had refused his offer three times, then when he’d had the chance to compare her to Grace, he had fallen under Grace’s spell without resistance. Eve, too caught up in her misery, failed to recognize the signs. Now she would be forced to marry a man who didn’t care for her, and who—Eve drew a sharp breath—who she could—
“Eve?”
Eve startled at the intrusion of Grace’s voice.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked.
Eve glanced from Grace to Lord Somerset. Both stared at her with concern. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”
Grace seemed uncertain, then said, “Shall we go up on deck with Lord Somerset?”
Eve would have preferred to crawl into bed and never get up, but she had promised to help Grace spend time with Lord Rushton. The plan had been a good one when she hoped to have a few minutes alone with Lord Somerset. Now, however, he would only be wishing for a private moment with Grace.
But that didn’t mean that Grace’s plan to spend time with Lord Rushton was a bad one, she realized. In fact, it was now more imperative than ever that Grace spend as much time with him as possible. Given the chance, it was as likely he would fall in love with Grace as easily as Lord Somerset had. The thought brought an unexpected jab of pain. Eve ignored it and stood.
“I am ready.”