* * *
Bridget leaned against the back of the door and closed her eyes. Perhaps she should have explained but he was so damn insufferable. Exactly like her father.
Still, he was what stood between her and being left at a dock in some random port. She’d considered running away a thousand times. Maybe more. But in the end, she knew that she couldn’t take the leap. How would she support herself? Her father at least clothed her and fed her. She was fortunate that he hadn’t just married her to some heathen of a man and that he’d agreed to send her to her mother’s sister in order to make an advantageous match. Even that had taken a great deal of convincing.
Though the storm only reaffirmed her belief that they should have waited until spring to make the journey. Her father had been eager to be rid of her and had booked the least expensive ship available, which was to say, it was a small merchant ship and not really equipped for passengers at all. What would he do with her if she landed back at his door? Just toss her out? Marry her to the first man who passed by? She was almost certain he wouldn’t pay for another ticket south.
Unclicking the lock, she tossed open the door. “Wait,” she called to Captain whatever his name was as he started up the ladder. “Please.”
He stopped but for a moment, didn’t turn. Then, jumping down, he landed with a thud and spun about, charging back toward her. He was almost frightening, and something in his movement made her breath catch. He was like a beast of prey the way he moved. She remembered how he’d jumped off the rail and landed in the dingy the night before. Who could do something like that?
“What?” he growled out, his voice deep and rough. Her skin shivered.
“Why do you sound so irritated?” She asked, pressing her lips together.
He dropped his chin, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “You slammed a door in my face.”
She winced, her cheeks pulling taut. “My apologies.” Her hands came in front of her even as his gaze slid down her body. That was when she remembered her arms and neck were completely exposed to his gaze. This was going terribly wrong. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “My father has remarried and he was sending me to my mother’s relatives. Our goodbye was not a happy one, nor will he welcome me back. I can’t return to his house, I need to find my way to London.”
The captain drew up short, his eyes widening. “That’s impossible. There is no choice but to send you back.”
She licked her lips as she searched or the right words. “He’ll turn me out. I’m sure of it. There must be some way I can earn passage to London?”
His eyebrows rose, as his eyes swept down her again. “I beg your pardon?”
She blinked, her entire body heating as she realized what he thought she’d meant. “Not like that!” she choked out. “I could cook, or mend, or…” Her voice tapered off. They wouldn’t care that she could play the pianoforte or read Latin. They had no use for a woman whose mother had taught her the proper way to serve tea or how to host a dinner party. “There must be some way I could earn passage for Mary and myself.”
His mouth turned down. “The pay of a cook would take close to a year to earn that kind of money.”
She let out a squeak. “That can’t be.”
Mary rose from the bed and came up behind her, pressing to her back. “What’s he saying? We can’t go to England for a year? Where would we go?”
Chapter Three
Matt stared at the two women hugging and wondered where this conversation had gone so terribly wrong?
He’d simply wanted a place to return them but now he was embroiled in some family drama. He let out a long breath. It wasn’t his business. “I can’t say where you’ll go. My obligation is to return you to your father.”
Mary made a choking noise as Bridget straightened. “There must be some other way.”
“There isn’t,” he clenched his fists at his sides. “Who is your father?”
“Lord Fergus McDougal. He resides over the main hall in North Berwick.”
Damn it all, he knew the man. He’d tried to gain rights to use the port there and McDougal had denied him. His only explanation. “I don’t like the look of ye.” A surly, pigheaded man that Matt had instantly disliked. He’d been rude to his own staff, his wife, and Matt’s men. The man was in love with his tiny bit of power and wielded it with blunt force.
He cleared his throat. “I begin to understand. Let me think on it.” Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to the side and against Mary’s. “We’ve a day before we reach my brother’s home and offload the shipment.” But he already knew what he was going to do. Matt didn’t like it but he had no choice other than to bring her back to her family, if only temporarily. He couldn’t just keep a lady on his ship indefinitely. He needed her father’s permission to transport her.
* * *
Bridget closed the door and leaned her weight against it as Mary tossed herself back on the bed. “What do you think he’ll decide to do with us?”
Shaking her head, Bridget closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I wish he weren’t so hard, though. It would be so much easier if he appeared more sympathetic.”
Mary made a noise in the back of her throat. “I’m not so sure. He went out of his way to rescue us to begin with. And you’ve all but admitted you have no male protector. Some men would take advantage of that situation. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in that.”
Bridget frowned. She was glad of course that he wasn’t attempting to take advantage of her but he was a handsome man. Tall and dark, with rippling muscles and the sort of brooding stare that could make a girl’s knees weak—if he weren’t so surly, that is. Still, it would have been nice if he’d looked at her with something other than disdain. “Do you think he knows my father?”