Rogue Scot (Brethren of Stone 4)

Her father had hated her even more so than her mother. Could barely look at her without sneering. She was small and delicate and decidedly English-looking. Worthless in his eyes.

She looked at the man who’d rescued her. She supposed she should be grateful but he’d had that same expression when he looked at her that her father always seemed to wear. Lip curled, brow furrowed as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her. As though her very existence was irritating.

Why did he have to judge her so harshly, whoever he was? It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t swim, that she was petrified of the water. If anything, her father was to blame for that too.

Anger bubbled inside of her as she glared at the man’s back. His rather broad back, she grudgingly noticed as his muscles flexed with the strain of rowing. He wore only a shirt that the driving rain had saturated so that it clung him, revealing every bulging muscle.

She forced her breathing to calm as the dingy scraped against the side of the ship.

“I’ll go first,” he called to the other oarsmen.

The man nodded. “Very good, Captain Sinclair.”

Without warning, Sinclair plucked her up again and began climbing the built-in ladder up to the deck. She clung to him, squeezing her eyes tightly shut so as not to see the churning water below as he climbed. She clutched about his neck, but he seemed to not to even notice her weight.

When they reached the deck, he dropped her as suddenly as he’d picked her up, and not expecting it, she didn’t get her feet under her and collapsed to the boards. “Ouch,” she cried as her elbow hit the wood. “That hurt.” At least it distracted her rom the fear.

Sinclair gave the look again, the one like her father’s only he added a narrow-eyed glare. “I beg yer pardon. There are nine other people to save but let me spend more time carefully setting ye down.”

She let out a loud huff of frustration. “You’ve not time to let me get my feet under me but you’ve all the time in the world to hand out a lecture,” she snapped back, pulling herself off the deck boards.

Several men coughed behind her, as the lines in his face deepened. “Get them below deck,” he bellowed then turned his back to her to help Mary up from the ladder. That was fine with her. If she never saw the ocean again, it would be too soon.

Slowly rising to standing, she held her arms out to Mary as the other woman stumbled into her embrace. Clinging to her companion and friend, she followed one of the sailors toward a hatch. Sinclair was still bellowing orders, and Bridget let out another breath, loudly exhaling from her chest. She knew his type and she didn’t like him. Not one bit.

Chapter Two

Matt lay in his hammock for the second time that night, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Blood was pumping through his veins and rushing in his ears, drowning out even the ocean. He was certain the rescue was the cause. Of course it had made him anxious, which would, in turn, make relaxing enough to fall asleep difficult.

At least that’s what he told himself as he attempted to roll onto his side. But visions of his silly little minx kept dancing in front of his eyes. Annoying as she was, the woman was pretty, he’d give her that. Large, luminous eyes had captured his notice in her otherwise delicate face. Even with her lips an alarming shade of purple, he could see how full and ripe they were. And though she was small, he’d been keenly aware of her womanly curves as they’d pressed into him.

He clenched his teeth, trying to clear his mind. What did her prettiness matter? The woman had been about as ungrateful as a lass could be. Likely spoiled. Which didn’t suit him at all. He was man about to build an empire. He needed a woman who could stand at his side and help shoulder the burden. His brothers had married such ladies. Each strong in her own way.

What was he saying? He needn’t marry at all. Damn that woman had jumbled his thoughts. The Sinclair name would live on and he could remain unfettered, his heart safely free from worrying about a wife and children.

Closing his eyes, he wiped his mind clean and managed to drift off but every creak and groan of the ship woke him until he finally just rose as the first rays of the sun peaked under the cloud cover.

The storm had receded enough that they could make their way onward.

Which lead him to his next dilemma. Where were they going? On the one hand, he had a shipment to deliver to Blair. On the other, he had nine new passengers that had to go somewhere. The sailors he could drop in any port. Hell, he could hire them.

But the women? He let out a grunt of irritation. The women would have to be returned from whence they came.

With that in mind, he rose, and washed and dressed for the day. He’d have to find out where they’d come so that he could get on with his plans. He’d intended to tell Blair that he’d be branching out on his own at the end of this trip. His brother wasn’t likely to take the news well; Matt was a large part of the business.

He ran a comb through his hair. Last year, he’d purchased a mine. It was a gamble, but one that had paid off. The coal mine had begun producing. He’d received a note from his solicitor when he’d docked in London. He had enough money saved to live on, so he’d decided to take the mine’s profits and buy more seaside land to build an entire coalmining operation.

Opening the door to his room, he headed down the hall.

First Officer Surrey was already on deck with the ship’s master, discussing various routes they could use to make up some lost time. He nodded to them both. “Where have the women been housed?”

“Next to my quarters,” Hennessey replied. “We’ve never had women on board. I wasn’t sure what the crew might…”

Matt nodded. “Good thinking. And with that in mind, I’d like to get to port as soon as possible. The less time they’re aboard the ship, the better.”

“Agreed,” Hennessey answered as Surrey nodded. “What will you do with them? Will Laird Sinclair see them home?”