Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(37)

The physician stroked his chin as he stared down at Aulay. “Have you any coin, Captain?”

“Morven!” Lottie said.

“He’s bound to have a few crowns, aye?”

“No,” she said sternly. “We’ll no’ ask it of him.”

“I didna intend to ask,” the physician said with a shrug, and gathered his things. “Bernt ought to rest soundly until the morrow.”

He went out, and Lottie sank into a chair at the table. She picked up the heavy darning needle they used to repair sails. She threaded it and began to try and push the thick needle through the fabric of her gown.

Aulay watched her for several minutes. “I could go for a dram of whisky, I could.”

She paused and looked up. Then dropped her sewing to the table. “Aye. So could I. As it happens, one of the casks has been opened.” She put the things aside and went out the door.

Several minutes later she returned with two wooden cups. She slid down the wall to sit beside Aulay, leaning up against the wall next to him. She stretched her legs out beside his and handed him one of the cups.

Aulay took a long draught, relishing the familiar burn in his throat.

Lottie sipped.

“You’ve charmed my men into working by offering them the whisky, have you? That would explain the fraternity.”

“I didna charm them. I offered to pay them.”

Surprised, Aulay turned his head to her. “Pardon?”

“I mean to pay them,” she said, and sipped again.

“Pay them...with what, then?”

“With the proceeds of our sale.”

Aulay was shocked. No wonder there had been no attempt to free him. “What sum did you promise?”

She shrugged. “I donna know, exactly, but I promised to pay them more than your wage.”

Good God, she meant to steal his men, too.

She laughed lightly at his thunderous expression. “Donna fret so, Captain. They’re still verra loyal to you, on my word. They’ve called us every name they can think of in Gaelic and in English. Beaty put an end to it—he told them to keep their heads as you’d said, that we’d settle up in Aalborg on the morrow if pirates didna snatch us first.”

“Have you considered there is little to keep them from stealing your whisky when you weigh anchor in Aalborg?”

She frowned. “No, I have no’ considered it. But we’ll hold Beaty. And...we’ll have you.”

Aulay’s brows dipped. “No,” he said firmly, then drained the rest of the whisky. It burned unpleasantly in his belly. “Go and sell your bloody illegal whisky if you like, but leave me out of it.”

“I would if I could,” she said. “On my life, I canna think of much worse than to drag you along.”

“You canna think of worse?” he asked, incredulous. “I am astonished how you’ve come to view your thievery as just, and that I am somehow impeding your progress.”

“Well, you are,” she said matter of factly. “It will be a chore to have to watch you with one eye, dock thieves with the other and strike a deal with the Copenhagen Company all at the same time.” She smiled at him. “So please, then, donna give us trouble.”

“Ask all you like.” He tossed his empty cup aside.

She nudged him with her cup, handing it to him. He grudgingly took it. “Surely you realize that the sooner we are done with the sale of our whisky, the sooner you might have your ship and be on your way. You will sail on to Amsterdam, your men will have full purses, and this will all be but a distant memory.”

Aulay turned about so he could look her in the eye. “Lottie, lass...do you honestly believe that I will let you go?”

When she looked up at him, the low light of the candle made her eyes shimmer, distracting him from her ridiculous assumption that he would merely allow her to swan away in that torn gown of hers.

“I hope it,” she said softly.

He impulsively touched her cheek with his knuckle, stroking it. “I’ll no’ allow your thievery to stand without answer. I’ll be held responsible for the loss of my cargo, so you’ve left me no choice but to see you brought to justice.”

She glanced at her father. Aulay stroked her cheek again, and she leaned into his touch. How odd, this conversation, he thought. He was speaking of bringing her to justice for her crimes when all he could think of was kissing her. Something was terribly off balance in him, and he didn’t know how to right it.

“Take me, then,” she muttered. “Bring me to all the justice you like, but let the rest of them go home to their families. No one wanted this.”

Who was this woman? What woman offered herself up as the sacrificial lamb?

Lottie suddenly stood up. “You ought to rest, Captain. Come the morrow, you’ll have quite a lot to keep you occupied.” She walked back to the table, picked up her sewing, and began to struggle with a needle too big for her gown.

Aulay watched her from the shadows of his corner. The way she bent her head, the wisp of hair that fell over her eye, all of it filled him with longing. He imagined standing next to her, a man in control of his destiny and his movements. He imagined them together at the helm. At a dance. In his bed.

At an altar.

He must be teetering on the brink of insanity. He was bound, his ship under the control of his enemy, of this woman...and he was thinking of bedding her. Of more.