Devil's Highlander

“But I will, chit.”



“You cannot. You will not.” Humphrey stepped in. Disbelief made her uncle's tone manic. “Jack, control your woman. Think of it. Think of what you lose if the girl gets shot.” The girl. Marjorie was the girl, and she was about to get a bullet in her chest. The blood drained from her head. It couldn't be happening.



“Jack can remove the loss from my take.” Adele edged away from Humphrey, getting a clearer line on Marjorie.



“Let go of her, Jack. I'm doing this.”



The smuggler flung Marjorie away. As she spun to the ground, her perception of every sight, every sound, grew heightened. There was a deafening crack. Marjorie shut her eyes tight, bracing for it. She sensed Cormac tearing from his brother, leaping toward her.



She hit the ground, and her head whipped forward, hard. Warm wetness splattered on her. She waited for pain to bloom, the pistol shot reverberating in her ears with each pound of her heart. Hesitantly, she took a deep breath in, expecting the sharp stab of a bullet wound.



But nothing happened.



Footsteps stuttered before her. She looked up just as her Uncle Humphrey fell to the ground. His body hit the timber with a disturbing sound, like a rattling exhalation.



She shrieked. The wetness was Humphrey's blood, she realized. Acid rose to her throat, and she choked it back.



Thick gray-black smoke choked the cabin. She coughed, and smoke and bile burned her throat. “Humphrey?” Marjorie scampered to him. She patted at his body, knowing in her head that he was dead but still somehow unable to believe it. She pulled her hands back, and they were warm and sticky with his blood. A high keening sound filled the cabin, and she realized it was her.



Adele was shouting now, as was Jack. Marjorie thought she discerned Cormac's voice, too, but it was hollow, as though he called to her from a distance. “Ree!”



She made out his form just as the smoke began to clear, and then quickly looked back at Humphrey. She curled closer to her uncle. She needed to be right there in case he woke up, in case a decision was made and what had just happened might magically un-happen.



Cormac reached for her. “He's dead, Ree.”



She looked back down, and her senses aligned, slamming back into place with shattering clarity. A puddle of blood, looking more black than red, surrounded Humphrey's body. Dead. Her uncle was truly and irrevocably dead.



“No,” Aidan bellowed, and Marjorie gasped at the violent cry cutting through the chaos. Aidan grabbed his twin, snatching Cormac away from her. “I've got this one, Jack. You mind the women.” Caught. Humphrey was dead. Aidan held Cormac at gunpoint. Captured.



Jack had won.



In that moment she knew perfect hatred.



Chapter 37



Marjorie sprang from the body of her uncle, her dress grisly with blood, shrieking like a phoenix rising. The sound pierced Cormac's soul.



She flew at Adele, hitting and scratching, and Jack crowed with pleasure at the sight of the two women grappling like mad cats.



Thankful for all their childhood wrestling matches, Cormac prayed Ree could hold on while he scrambled for a plan. The ship groaned underfoot, followed by the pattering of footfalls and a number of shouts overhead. He wondered if they were coming to a stop. Whatever was happening, he needed it to play out quickly.



Cursing his traitor twin, Cormac nudged his head hard against the pistol barrel. “Go ahead, then, brother. Shoot me if you will.”



“I warn you, Cormac. Don't test me.” Aidan let up on the pressure. He leaned close to Cormac's ear and growled,



“I'm as angry as a Campbell.”



Cormac's eyes widened. A cascade of memories came to him in an instant. Playing Campbell and the Ogilvy fire, playing Campbell and Montrose. As angry as a Campbell. It was a hint.



“A Campbell, eh?” Jack laughed. He was distracted, staring at the women, licking his chops like a hungry wolf.



“Well, lad, you'll be rich as one when we're through.”



“When you're through,” Aidan whispered in a voice only his brother could hear.



Cormac ducked. Aidan swung his gun and fired, landing a killing wound to Jack's chest. Both brothers coughed the acrid clutch of gunpowder from their chests.



The women froze as the smuggler's body reeled backward, hitting the wall of the cabin. Adele stared in shock for a prolonged moment, then, as understanding dawned, she began howling madly, cursing a frenetic stream of French.



Marjorie dropped, scrambling away on all fours. The ship pitched, and Cormac saw that she was after the belaying pin, rolling erratically along the floor.



Adele turned on him and his brother, her hands extended like claws, with murder in her eyes. “Fils de salope!”



“Ta gueule,” Aidan spat back at once, in a strangely rich accent. Though Cormac had no idea what he'd just said, the contempt on his brother's face said it all.



Marjorie leapt atop the pin and then sprang from the floor, coming at the bailie's wife, swinging wildly. The wood struck Adele's skull with a hollow knock, and the woman fell like a sack of grain, curling into a ball, her head clutched in both hands.



“You killed him!” She flew at the bailie's wife. “You murdered my uncle!” Cormac caught Marjorie, restraining her. “It's all right, love. We've got her.” He spoke gently, trying to calm her, and gradually she stopped her flailing. “It's almost over.”



“Cormac… my uncle… “ Marjorie's breath jerked and hitched, and he pulled her closer, stroking and kissing her hair, his voice a steady stream of reassurances.



Aidan watched them with an unreadable and not necessarily warm look in his eye.



“Ahoy!” A voice hailed from above.



Cormac helped Marjorie to stand, his arm wrapped protectively around her.



“Oy,” Aidan called back, loading his pistol.



“What's the racket, then?” someone shouted down the ladder.



The three of them looked at each other. Finally, Cormac called out in reply, “There's been shooting.”



“I'll say,” Aidan mumbled.



The ladder creaked with someone's weight. “Is it safe?”



They stood frozen, staring up to see who was descending. All but the bailie's wife, who continued to writhe in pain, keening a single, high note. Aidan gave her a disgusted glance. “Cease, woman.”



“Ahoy there!” Black-booted feet emerged into view. “I say, is it safe?” Adele, Marjorie, and Cormac spoke in unison, just as the bailie reached the floor of the forecastle. “Malcolm?”



“The bailie?” “Forbes?”



“Aye,” he said, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. “I went to Saint Machar to pay Archie a visit, and he alerted me there might be some trouble down by the docks.”



Marjorie looked baffled. “But I thought the ship was under way?” Though she'd directed her question to Cormac, it was Forbes who answered. “Aye, and so you were. But it's a slow-going vessel, and I could get myself rowed to Ireland with enough coin.” He stared disdainfully at his wife.



“But it seems all the coin at my disposal was never enough for you, was it, Adele? Fortune was within my grasp, but you couldn't wait.”



“You don't seem surprised to find her here,” Marjorie marveled, taking in the disaster around them. “Your wife, among pirates and kidnappers.”



Adele moaned. “Jack was no pirate.”



“Pirate, smuggler, what's the difference?” The bailie walked to his wife and squatted by her. “When Archie mentioned how he'd treated you for your pregnancy, I knew. Seeing as pregnancy with me is impossible. Isn't that right, precious?” He brushed the hair from her brow in a mockery of tenderness. “I followed you to the docks once, saw this fine schooner. I'd thought perhaps you'd found yourself a plantation owner. But a common brigand?” He shook his head. “Well, dear heart, you'll have plenty of time in which to acquaint yourself with thieves, seeing as I'll be arresting you for murder.”



Adele flinched away from his touch, keening more loudly.



Marjorie looked uneasily to Aidan. Cormac knew she wanted to trust his twin as badly as he did. “But I still don't understand why you're here,” she said.



Aidan flashed them a cold smile. “That happy to see me?”



“Don't be preposterous.” Marjorie reached her hand out, touching his arm tentatively. “Of course… I'm beyond happy. You must understand it's a shock—”



Aidan flinched away. “Spare me your treacle. I'm here to find the man who took me thirteen years ago. I've worked, and I've watched, and I've waited.” He pinned his brother with a flat stare, declaring, “Many years, I've waited. And nothing — not you, not our family — will stop me. I will find him. I'm close now. He profits from the sales of this ship.”



“Not for much longer,” Cormac said, just as there was a long, shuddering groan.



Marjorie reached for Cormac. “Are we moving again?”



“Perhaps,” he said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully.



“Perhaps?” The bailie pulled his wife up to standing. “What say you, perhaps? I'm taking her ashore,” he said, with a disdainful nod to Adele.



“Aye, I think we'd all best get to dry land.” Cormac turned to Marjorie. “You wanted the ship destroyed. And so I decided on a wee bit of… insurance.”



Brisding, Aidan holstered his pistol at his back. “Insurance?”



There was a sharp creak and then an unearthly moan as the ship pitched sharply, canting the deck to an uneven slope. A lantern on the wall guttered out, sinking them in near darkness.



Cormac gave them a broad smile. “She's sinking.”



Chapter 38



“How?” Aidan was smiling widely, and in it Marjorie spied the first flicker of warmth she'd seen since their reunion.



“I punched out the rudder pins,” Cormac said proudly.



“You sabotaged the rudder.” Aidan nodded appreciatively. “The moment we left port, she'd have begun taking on water from the stern.” He thought for a second, then asked, “But why aren't the pumps working?”