The knock at the door was unexpected.

Broc and Derek exchanged a look.

“Yes?” Derek finished tying the laces at the top of his tunic, opening the door once he had them fixed.

The owner of the boarding house smiled in apology. “I’m sorry to bother you so early in the day, but Mr. MacBride has been asking throughout the village after you. I only received word minutes ago that he wants a meeting with you.”

Derek thanked him before closing the door, turning to Broc. “What do you think of that?” he asked.

“I think he’s a desperate man,” Broc surmised, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Why would he be looking all over for you, otherwise?”

“I have to agree. I only wish I knew what I was going to tell him.” Derek sat, too, running his hands through his hair.

He’d fought himself for days over the decision of whether to sell or maintain his business.

“You have to decide now,” Broc reasoned in his usual straightforward manner. As though it were that simple. “You built that business on your own, using your wits and your character. It would be a shame to see it go to a far lesser man than you.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you string that many words together at once in the years I’ve known you,” Derek observed with a wry smile. He didn’t feel much like smiling just then, conflict and guilt making it nearly impossible to feel lighthearted enough to do so.

“I suppose I was waiting until something important enough came around.” Broc wasn’t smiling, either. “You realize how important this is to me, as well.”

“Why do you think it’s taken me so long to reach a decision?” he asked. “If it were only me, I wouldn’t have nearly as much to take into account. And it isn’t just you, either. It’s the other men, those who may be relying on me.”

“Then stay in business,” Broc suggested. “I’ve seen how you love it. I’ve seen how good you are at it. You can’t walk past the harbor without your eyes going over every last bit of activity there. As though you want to be part of it.”

“I wouldn’t have started the business if I didn’t enjoy the work,” Derek admitted.

Broc frowned. “That doesn’t mean you want to do it anymore. You want to settle down, be one of the landlocked. Like your brother and the rest.”

His contempt was obvious.

“You didn’t seem to mind very much when you were enjoying the laird’s generosity this past winter.”

“I didn’t enjoy it enough to give up everything that ever mattered in my life.”

“This is how you truly feel?”

“It is.”

The tension in the room was nearly unbearable, and unlike anything they had ever been through. While they’d butted heads from time to time, as any who worked closely together were bound to do, their arguments had never been over personal matters.

Until now.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Derek muttered, standing. “I’ll attend to Mr. MacBride and find out if he’s arrived at an offer for the ships.”

“What will you tell him?”

“That depends upon the offer he makes, doesn’t it?”

“Do you want me there with you?” Broc asked, moving as if to stand.

“No need.” Derek’s reply was clipped, brusque.

“I’m not certain I trust the man,” Broc warned.

“Nor am I. Yet another reason why I’m unsure of my course of action. Do I trust him with my ships? Would you even want to work under him? If I were to rebuild here, what would he do to sabotage my business?”

Those questions and so many others weighed on Derek’s mind, concerns Broc couldn’t understand. He left his friend behind as he strode from the room and out to the street.

The air was warm, as sweet as it could be considering his surroundings. Sarah and Heather had grown up here, he remembered—he’d even passed the smithy once or twice and spied the house in which they’d grown up.

But they’d lived on the outskirts of the village, closer to the cliffs overlooking the Firth of Forth. They hadn’t been cramped together as those living in the heart of Kirkcaldy had. They had at least known what it was like to run with the wind in their hair, their shouts disappearing as the wind picked them up and carried them away. As he had once played with Hugh.

Children of the village had no such luck, he concluded as he traveled the streets. The smoke from dozens of cooking fires rose over the thatched roofs, carrying with them the odor of boiled meat and baked bread and lard. It might have been pleasant if it didn’t sometimes choke him when the wind carried it his way.

Maintaining his footing was another constant concern, and he picked his way around puddles of slop and waste which children ran through as though it were nothing.

He grimaced in disgust as just such a thing happened, three curly-headed boys, laughing and shouting as they flew past, sending gray water splashing in all directions.

Once he reached the last row of stone buildings before the wide street which separated them from the harbor, he could breathe more easily. Just being in the proximity of so many boats and their owners and builders did his soul good.

How could he consider leaving this life behind? A man’s life, a real man’s, in many ways the best of both worlds. He had the pleasure of riding the waves on ships which bore his name whenever he felt the need to leave land behind for a while. He could battle the elements, breathe deep of the salt air, and feel its sting as it pelted him in a hundred places while he rode up and down the cresting swells, shaking his fist at the sea.

He could also use his skills as a businessman, the intelligence he’d always known he possessed, but had little chance to use up to that point. Soldiers weren’t employed to think, nor were farmers on the laird’s land. Even navigating his way through a brutal storm and coming out in one piece on the other side hadn’t given him the satisfaction he’d obtained from skillfully negotiating his way through a tricky deal.

The activity around the warehouse was considerably subdued when compared to what he’d seen on his first visit. No shipments going in or out, he guessed, which meant MacBride’s attention would be that much sharper. He would want to negotiate.

And he did. “Come in! Come in! You’re a tough fellow to locate!” He was wearing a cleaner tunic and a wide smile as he waved his arms, motioning for Derek to join him.

“I apologize for having inconvenienced you in any way,” Derek replied, taking his time in crossing the warehouse floor.

It wouldn’t do to appear eager in any way—not that he was especially eager to have another meeting with this rather offensive man.

MacBride rubbed his hands together, reminding Derek for all the world of a greedy little boy in front of a holiday feast. His eyes nearly shone as he pulled up a second stool for Derek to sit upon.

“I don’t think the two of us got off to the right start,” MacBride announced, pulling a corked bottle out from seemingly nowhere. Had it been beneath his tunic? He pulled the cork, taking a long swig before offering it to Derek.

“No, thank you,” he replied with a smile, hoping to appear gracious but unwilling to take his chances on whatever might be in that bottle. “It’s a bit early in the day for me.”

“Early in the day for men such as us?” MacBride’s laughter was loud, raucous. “Come, come, no need to put on airs with me, lad. We seamen have a code of our own.”

Seamen. Derek wondered if the man had ever been to sea. It was one thing to own a business such as his, but another to take the wheel and lead the ship to its destination.

“Just the same, I’d rather not. But please, enjoy yourself.”

Some of the light left the man’s eyes, and his attitude shifted as quickly as ever.

Derek felt something ending, as if the chance to have the upper hand in the conversation had slipped through his fingers. If getting drunk early in the morning was what it took to gain MacBride’s respect, it wasn’t respect Derek wished to earn.

Might as well get to it, then. “What is it you wished to see me about?” he asked.

“I wanted to know whether you’d given any thought as to your course of action,” MacBride replied, clearly disappointed to be drinking alone. He corked the bottle again and slid it into a pocket of his tunic. So that was where it had come from. Another piece of the man’s character revealed itself, and Derek was hardly surprised.

“I’ve thought about it, but I’m still uncertain.” He sighed, looking around the room before turning his gaze out toward the water. “I would miss it, to be sure. Being out here, I mean.”

“Aye. It’s a lot for a man such as us to live his life away from the sea once it’s in his blood.”

Again, a man such as “us.” He truly considered the two of them to be of like mind.

Derek knew this was a ploy to earn his trust, to break down any barriers which stood in the way of them making a deal. Did MacBride think so little of his intelligence?

Derek turned to him. “I assume you’ve done your fair share of asking around after me, my business, my ships.”

“Aye. And I must say, I was impressed. You built yourself a modest business, but it was a good one—with plenty of room to grow.”

He spoke in past tense, as though he assumed Derek would sell. Or as if he were trying to push matters along.

“Thank you,” was all Derek replied, choosing to overlook MacBride’s choice of words. This was what he liked best, to be sure, outwitting his opponent. It wasn’t like being on the battlefield, using swords and shields to achieve victory. There was another level of skill involved when one was fighting with their mind.

MacBride paused, as if waiting for Derek to elaborate—when nothing more was said, he slid a small bit of linen across his desk, on which was written a figure. “This is what I’m willing to offer for all three ships and access to the accounts which they served.”

He’d been expecting a low number to start out, but nothing as flagrantly insulting as the one before him.

“This doesn’t cover what I paid for two of the three ships when I purchased them,” Derek chuckled as he shook his head, sliding the figure back to MacBride. “I cannot accept this. You will have to do better.”

MacBride’s eyes narrowed, becoming dangerous slits in his puffy face. “Who do you think yer dealing with here, lad?” Gone was all pretense of friendship.

“I think I’m dealing with a businessman who knows the value of what I have to offer,” he replied, rising. “And if there’s no further negotiation to be made, I will have to bid you a good day and be on my way.”

The fact that he wouldn’t even consider negotiating told Derek all he needed to know. The man was a bully who thought he could take what he wanted and offer next to nothing in return. Like as not, he treated his men like slaves to be worked near to death.

He’d never do that to Broc, but wouldn’t sign over his ships without knowing they’d be cared for in his absence. Broc was the only man he’d trust with such a task.

No matter how he looked at the situation, it was clear, MacBride was not the man to do business with.

MacBride did not share his opinion.

When Derek turned to the door, intent on leaving the warehouse behind, he found two sailors barring the way. One of them sneered, revealing the space in his mouth where teeth should’ve been.

“You don’t get to walk away that easily, my lad.” MacBride’s voice was close, just behind him. “You can’t walk in here with a ripe little business like yours and hint around that you’re looking to sell, then turn your back on me this way.”

“It’s still up to me, whether or not I sell to you or anybody else.” Derek held his chin high, sizing up his opponents as he spoke. If only he had brought a dirk or something similar to defend himself with—not that he didn’t believe his fists were enough, but he wasn’t keen on being outnumbered.

MacBride wouldn’t fight. He would leave the fighting to his men, but they looked tough enough.

He’d seen tougher on the battlefield.

“You think you’re smart, do ye?” MacBride’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, but Derek didn’t dare turn away from the pair in the doorway. “You’ll find I’m smarter, lad.”

“Perhaps you are—but the business is still mine,” Derek snarled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to attend to.”

“You had better attend to getting out of the village, if you know what’s good for you.”

Even so, the men at the door stepped aside, probably at some signal from their employer.

As he walked out, Derek called over his shoulder, “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t need to find out what happens to anyone who threatens a McInnis.”

What did he think he was playing at, this MacBride? How many had he threatened in the past? Was this how he managed to maintain the only shipping business in a growing village, by threatening anyone who dared stand in his way?

Stepping into the sunlight was truly what Derek imagined stepping into another world would be like.

Leaving behind the dank, stench-ridden, rodent-filled warehouse was a joy, and he filled his lungs with as much fresh air coming from the Firth of Forth as he could in an attempt to clear away the memory of that terrible place.

He would never go back there again, and would certainly never bend to a bully such as MacBride.

If only he had never become involved with him at all.