Rogue Scot (Brethren of Stone 4)

Epilogue

Four days later, they made their way up the Thames, preparing to dock in London.

Matt tried to remember a time he’d been more relaxed or felt happier in his life. Not since his brother’s death, certainly. It had been years.

He still missed Reginald. That was for sure, but he also was at peace with the loss and in a way he’d never been. He’d honor his brother by living his life more like Reg had done. With love and kindness instead of anger and resentment.

Bridget squeezed his hand, then laced her fingers into his. He leaned over and kissed her temple. Love filled his chest as he drew in her heady scent. He loved this woman with all his heart.

The boat docked, and he helped Bridget down the gangplank. It was early in the day so they’d decided to visit her aunt directly.

Mary had decided not to attend the meeting. The two would be introduced later. For now, Bridget would explain the situation to her aunt. They’d stay in the harbor for a few days to allow the other woman time to decide what she wanted to do with her future.

Reaching the dock, Matt held out his elbow to his wife.

“Scott,” someone yelled from the dock. “What the bloody hell are you doing over here? We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Matt straightened. Strange the man seemed to be talking to him. But that couldn’t be, so he looked behind him to see if this Scott fellow was further down the dock. People milled about but no one looked at the man who’d spoken.

“Bloody hell, what’s wrong with you?” the man called again, charging closer. Then he stopped, his eyes going wide. “I beg your pardon. You look so much like him. I just thought…”

Bridget’s hand tightened on his arm. “Who does he look like?”

“Our first mate, Scott.” The man pulled off his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, we’ve got a boat to sail while the tide is high.”

Matt gave a single nod, though something wasn’t sitting right.

But Bridget raised her hand. “How curious that he looks just like my husband. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” she asked, looking at Matt. “I should like to meet this fellow.”

The first mate gave a quick shake to his head. “I’m sure he’d be curious to meet you too, especially with his past, but I really must be on my way. I’ll miss the boat.”

“His past?” Every muscle in Matt’s body tightened as a tingling spread down his limbs to his fingers and toes. “What past?”

The man took a step back and Matt realized he’d near growled the words. “Well, he can’t remember it really. Got picked up out in ocean somewhere off the east coast of Scotland.”

Matt let out a string of curse words that no woman should ever hear, though Bridget didn’t bat an eyelash. “Sir, we’ll run but I’m afraid you’re going to have to take us to your boat.”

“I don’t think…” the man started.

“You’re going to take us if I have to—” Matt’s voice was a deep rumble as excitement, dread, anticipation, and fear coursed through his body.

Bridget put her hand on his chest. It was a light touch but it reminded him to breath. Then she took over the conversation once again. “Please sir. We’ll make it worth your while.”

He hesitated for a second, his eyes scrunching before he nodded. “We’ll have to hurry.”

Bridget didn’t hesitate, she lifted her skirts, and pulling at Matt’s arm, she began to run.

He had never loved her more than he did in this moment. She was water, smoothing his rough edges and she’d just filled in his gaps, convincing this man to bring them along when he might have failed. And thanks the saints she had succeeded. If there was even a chance this man was Roderick…

He stopped, too afraid to hope.

/> They raced down the pier, Matt swinging Bridget into his arms so that they could go faster. They weaved in and out of sailors, all loading or unloading ships. Once, he nearly lost the man in the crowd but finally, they headed down a long dock, as a large sailboat filled his vision.

“Scott,” the man yelled out. “Scott. I need you down here quick.” He took his hat off once again and waved it in the air.

A man appeared at the rail and Bridget let out a gasp, her hand covering her mouth.

Matt could see it too. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself. He looked like a Sinclair.