An American in Scotland Page 16

  “I’m glad Glynis and Lennox married,” she said. “She was always taken with him.”

  “Don’t believe all you hear about her from Matthew Baumann.”

  Her eyes widened just a little, enough that he could tell she was surprised.

  “You know him?” she asked.

  “He came to Glasgow,” he said. “Made himself obnoxious enough that the whole city probably remembers him.”

  As they did her.

  A comment that lingered in the air between them.

  “Did you know she worked for him, was a Union operative?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I did. I also know that you work for him.”

  She smiled. The expression had a touch of malice to it.

  “He told me he’d informed Lennox of that fact.”

  He nodded.

  “And he, in turn, told you,” she said.

  “We’re good friends.”

  “Will you tell Lennox that you saw me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Neither do I. I guess that depends on what you’ve come to tell me.”

  She stared down at her hands long enough that he knew she was trying to gain her composure. When she looked up again, her green-­eyed gaze was direct and her words startling.

  “The Raven has a reputation for being one of the fastest ships built.”

  “Where did you hear that? Baumann again?”

  She surprised him by nodding. “They knew you were coming here before you ever saw the last of Scotland,” she said. “The Union wants her, badly.”

  “How badly?” he asked, getting a sour taste in the back of his tongue.

  He waited until they were served before continuing their conversation.

  “How badly, Mrs. Cameron?”

  She smiled again. “I haven’t been called that for a great many years, Duncan. ­People don’t know me by that name.”

  “What name do you go by?

  She shrugged, her smile altering character. “Any name that’s convenient at the time.”

  “And now?”

  “Peterson. Olivia Peterson.”

  “You still haven’t answered me.”

  “I prize loyalty,” she said, taking one of the striped biscuits from the plate. She ate it with delicacy, evidently savoring the chocolate.

  He didn’t have an appetite after his large dinner. “Do you?”

  She nodded. “I find it very difficult to turn my back on a cause I believe in.”

  “Which is what?”

  She took a sip of her tea before answering him.

  “The sovereignty of the Union, Duncan. The survival of the United States. It’s my adopted home and has treated me well. Better than I expected and possibly better than I deserved.”

  She put down her cup and studied him. “But there’s something else I find more important than even the Union cause, something I never considered until I saw the Raven.”

  He remained silent. She had something to say and would take her own time in telling it.

  “A mother’s love.”

  She smiled, and it seemed to him the expression was sad rather than amused.

  “Isn’t that strange? I haven’t seen my child for decades yet I will not allow his creation to be destroyed.”

  “What are they planning?”

  “They can’t fire on you in the harbor,” she said. “But they can the minute you enter international waters. But that would damage the ship and they don’t want that. How much better to simply board the Raven while she’s in port and take command of her here.”

  That would violate a variety of maritime laws, but he knew Baumann. The man was ruthless. He’d already tried to sabotage the ship twice in Glasgow. He wouldn’t put it past him to do the same here.

  “When?”

  “When the Exeter arrives in Nassau in two days. They’ll use her crew to board the Raven.”

  They’d been planning on leaving Nassau in three days, timing their departure for when the moon wouldn’t be visible. It looked like they’d just have to take their chances and leave as soon as possible. Hopefully, the coal could be loaded tomorrow, which meant they’d get a one day head start. He didn’t have any doubts that if the Union couldn’t capture the Raven, they’d try to blow her out of the water.

  “If we were seen,” she said, taking another sip of her tea and replacing the cup on the saucer, “it was to discuss old times. I asked about my children. You told me of them. Nothing else transpired.”

  “There’s one other thing,” he said, the idea only minutes old.

  He wasn’t going to leave Rose here to fend for herself. Nor did he want her to run the blockade with him. Olivia had arrived at the opportune time.

  She frowned at him.

  “Rose O’Sullivan,” he said.

  “Who is she?”

  “A relative, of a sort,” he said, smiling. Friend, lover, stranger, enigma, confusion, all of these words could be applied to Rose and still not explain her. “I need somewhere for her to stay until I return from Charleston.”

  “You would trust me with the woman you love?”

  For a moment he didn’t know how to answer her. Words were occasionally inconvenient.

  Her smile was kind, reminding him of when he was a boy and she’d been an impossibly beautiful figure to him.

  “Oh, Duncan, why would you care about her safety unless you loved her?”

  He wasn’t going to discuss how he felt about Rose, not when he was confused about his emotions.

  “Yes,” he said. “I would trust you with her safety.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” He smiled. “Because when it came to making an important decision, you chose Lennox.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, merely pulled out a calling card and wrote something on the back.

  “My room number,” she said. “I’m staying here as well. Send her to me, Duncan. I will take care of her. But leave before the Exeter arrives. Otherwise, there’s nothing I can do to protect you or the Raven. You might be a Scot, but that won’t save you from a Union prison.”

  MEETING OLIVIA had melted Duncan’s anger and sharpened his confusion. He had two things to do: alert Captain McDougal that their timeline needed to be sped up, and convince Rose to remain in Nassau.

  He didn’t fool himself that running the blockade would be as simple as Captain McDougal had hinted. He couldn’t subject her to the danger. Especially after all she’d already endured.

  He made his way to the harbor, grateful to find a carriage to rent outside the hotel. Once aboard the Raven, he explained the situation to the captain.

  “The coal won’t be loaded until mid-­morning, sir, but I’ll make sure it gets done fast. Even so, it’ll take hours. When did you say the Exeter is due in?”

  “All the information I have is two days,” he said.

  “We won’t be able to leave until tomorrow night at the soonest, but customs could slow us even further. They may hold us up until the day after tomorrow. I’ll put in the paperwork change first thing in the morning.”

  “In other words, we might be getting out of here as the Exeter is entering the harbor.”

  “It might be a tight squeeze, sir, but I’ll be damned if they’re going to board the Raven. With your permission, I’d like to take on more crew. Just to be on the safe side.”

  He nodded. The extra expense didn’t matter. He was responsible for the ship and he’d do what needed to be done to keep her safe. He was not going to return to Scotland and explain to Lennox and Dalton that he’d surrendered the Raven to the Union navy.

  Once back at the hotel, Duncan climbed the stairs to the gallery on the third floor and stood looking up at the night sky. The heavens looked so c
lose that it seemed he could almost reach up and pluck one of those stars.

  He’d lived his life in order, a certain calm, structured peace. He was rarely tested, never physically harmed, and the only daily challenge he had was a financial one, keeping the mill running. His needs were always met, most of the time before he knew he had them.

  The ­people in his life made no secret of their love and affection for him. He was applauded for drawing breath, for his efforts at the mill, for doing what he was expected to do. His family was loving. His friends were loyal. His employees were dedicated.

  He’d seen, experienced, and lived with the best of human kind and had never truly appreciated any of that until now.

  Or until a woman with bright red hair fell at his feet.

  His life, in the last two years, had been idyllic compared to Rose’s. She let slip details a little at a time, but enough now that a picture had emerged of her life at Glengarden.

  She never stopped. She never gave up. She persisted and would probably always persist. He’d never known anyone with such tenacity.

  Yet, somehow, he had to convince her to remain in Nassau.

  Rose probably didn’t have the right to sell Glengarden cotton. She wasn’t Bruce’s widow. The former fact disturbed him, but not the latter. He was damn glad she hadn’t been married to the bastard.

  He would go to Glengarden and visit with Claire. Her signature on the documents should make everything legal and aboveboard. As long as the rest of the paperwork was in order, and he’d examined it at home, he had no qualms about the transaction.

  The day had been warm, warmer than he was used to, and now there was a soft humid breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the hotel.

  The view of Nassau harbor was magnificent. He wasn’t a seasoned sailor like Captain McDougal, and there were quite a few vessels he couldn’t identify, ranging in size from small rowboats to steamers nearly the size of the Raven. If he used a spyglass, how far could he see? Would he be able to see the Union ships waiting just outside British waters?

  Looking out over the harbor, he realized he couldn’t pick out the Raven. She was one of the larger ships, if not the largest, and he should have been able to see her. A moment later he smiled, realizing that a few of the other steamers weren’t visible, either. The Raven had been painted a particular shade of gray, a black line at the waterline marking the beginning of her iron hull. If she’d been painted black, which is what he might have done in his inexperience, she could be as easily seen as the other ships.

  Lennox was a genius.

  He knew that he’d tell Lennox and Mary about the meeting with Olivia. They deserved to know that their mother—­if she could be called that after so many years—­was alive and well.

  A thought that brought him back to Rose. She wouldn’t want to stay in Nassau, but he had to think of her safety.

  He’d return for her. Would she care? Would she want him?

  He came from a long line of Highlanders. Men who’d braved countless odds to fight for freedom. Men who’d been defeated time and again. He wasn’t about to quit now. Not in his fight to save the mill or in his quest for Rose.

  She might not realize she was being pursued. Perhaps that was another task he needed to put on his list.

  He descended from the third floor and headed for their room. Now all he had to do was convince Rose that his plan was for the best. He didn’t fool himself that it was going to be easy.

  Chapter 18

  Rose packed her valise, wondering if Duncan would allow her to stay the night. Or would he make her leave the suite as soon as possible? If so, she’d give him the certificates for the cotton and directions to the warehouses.

  Would he still consider their arrangement a valid sale?

  She sat in the sitting room, staring down at the harbor. At least she got to know him. She wouldn’t take back her actions, even with all her duplicity.

  Had she known she would meet Duncan MacIain, she’d have left Glengarden a lot sooner than she had.

  But then, he wasn’t like most men she knew. No, that wasn’t quite true. Jeremy, too, had a wonderful sense of humor. Duncan was loyal and devoted to family, like Montgomery and an obvious leader like Robert. Yet Duncan was his own man, stubborn and fixed when he was set on a point.

  Determined, yes, he was that. Determined to make a success of his life, his heritage, and to win against all the challenges he’d been given.

  What a pity Bruce couldn’t have been more like him, but her brother-­in-­law always sought out someone else to blame for his own mistakes. Or he blamed nature, Lincoln, and the Yankees.

  She wasn’t sorry she’d gone to Scotland. She wouldn’t have traded the chance to meet the Scottish MacIains for anything.

  She heard the door open and held herself still as it closed.

  “Rose? Why are you sitting there in the dark?”

  “I wanted to see the harbor,” she said.

  “Why is your valise by the door?”

  “I didn’t know if you would want me gone tonight or in the morning, so I prepared for either.”

  “Are you daft?”

  She turned and stared at him. “Do you not remember, Duncan MacIain, our conversation of a few hours earlier? When you stormed out of here?”

  “You’ve never sounded Irish before,” he said, smiling. “Is it because you’re angry?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not angry. My heart is broken, but I’m not angry. What right have I to be angry? I lied to you when I shouldn’t have. And I didn’t tell you I was a virgin, which isn’t quite a lie, but isn’t the truth, either, is it?”

  “Why is your heart broken? And why is your hair wet?”

  She decided to answer the second question since it was the easiest.

  “I washed my hair. It smelled of the sea and was sticky. I’d rather not go out looking for lodgings with wet hair, but if I have to, I will.”

  “I repeat, are you daft? Why would you think I’d want you gone?”

  He came around and sat beside her, not even giving her time to move her skirt.

  “You were angry.”

  “Yes, I was, but that’s no reason to think I want you gone.” Reaching out, he grabbed her glove, stripped it off her hand. She clenched her hand into a fist, but he extended each finger one by one, tracing the scars tenderly.

  “I’m angry about the situation, Rose. I’m furious about the position you were put in. I’m angry that I wasn’t a better lover, that I didn’t treat you with tenderness.”

  “Oh, Duncan.”

  “You know, when I lived in Scotland, I was known as a very calm, rational man. I was always even tempered. I don’t know what’s happened since you came into my life, but you’ve changed me.”

  “I changed you?”

  “I can’t think of who else it could be. Do you see any other redheaded beauties around here?”

  Her heart swelled. “I’m not beautiful.”

  “Of course you are. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be an idiot around you. Or maybe I would be. I’m not sure.”

  She blinked back her tears. He really shouldn’t say things like that.

  “You’re not an idiot.”

  “I wish I’d known you were a virgin. I wouldn’t have seduced you.”

  She hadn’t expected to smile.

  “It was the coconut cake,” she said, looking at him. “I think it cast a spell over me.”

  “Not the wine?”

  “Perhaps a little of the wine,” she admitted. “Or the kisses. You kiss like the Devil himself, Duncan MacIain. A woman should be warned not to trust your handsome face. You look so very kind and decent, but there’s nothing decent about the way you kiss.”

  His face bronzed as if she’d embarrassed him. Didn’t the man know how well he kissed? Evidently not, if
his cheeks turned color at the mention of it.

  “You’re not going anywhere, at least not tonight,” he said.

  “Is that right?” Who was he to give her orders? Never mind that he said exactly what she hoped he’d say, there was the principle of the thing.

  “Stay, Rose. Please.” He pulled her into his arms. “But it’s only fair to warn you. I have a feeling that I might be getting angry in the future. You’ll have to get used to it.”

  “I will?”

  “Or I might become temperamental. Passionate, perhaps.”

  “Will you? And this is all because of me?”

  He nodded.

  She didn’t know what to say to him in response. She sensed it was a huge compliment he’d given her, one that made her feel humble and more than a little awkward.

  It was only fair that he knew what he did to her in return.

  “I’ve had the most delicious dreams about you. Last week you and the crew were dousing yourselves with water on deck and I peeked out the porthole. You really should go without your shirt more often.”

  “I should?”

  His smile was charming and a little mischievous.

  She nodded, then lay her head against his shoulder.

  “What broke your heart?” he asked softly.

  Should she tell him? If she did, she’d have no more secrets. He’d know everything. Every insecurity she possessed, every vulnerability she had.

  “The idea of leaving you,” she said, taking a chance. “It was breaking my heart.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, just hugged her tighter. His hands pressed against her back, his cheek was against hers. How odd to have a perfect instant in time after such a tempestuous evening.

  “Now that I’m not a virgin, is there a reason not to take me to your bed? You were shockingly abrupt last time.”

  He pulled back and stared at her.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, I’d always thought that passion was supposed to be beautiful, and we hardly had a chance, did we? You were much too concerned about my virginity. Now that’s done, we don’t have to worry about it, do we?”

  He continued to stare at her.