Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(8)

Lottie’s mother had always said Drustan was special in ways unlike anyone else. “Mark me, that lad has a brilliance in him. We’ve just no’ discovered it yet.”

“Donna worry about Fader,” Lottie said to Drustan. “He’s quite strong. You know that he is. He’s sleeping now because Morven gave him a sleeping draught so that he might heal, aye? You and Mats go with Gilroy now. There’s much work to be done.” She looked to Gilroy for confirmation, but the man was studying his feet, lost in thought.

Mathais, Lottie’s brash and youngest brother, moved to her side, his chest puffed like a fat pigeon. He’d only recently turned fourteen years to Drustan’s twenty years and her twenty-three. He had the heart of a warrior, but was still a child. He declared, “I’ll go, Lot. You need no’ send Drustan. He’ll only be in the way, he will.”

Lottie was too despondent to argue. “Aye, go,” she said, waving a hand at Mathais. “Take Drustan with you.”

Mathais rolled his eyes.

“Gilroy?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up.

“Should no’ someone sail the ship, then?” she asked gently.

His brow furrowed as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Do you mean to say no one is sailing her?”

“Well who would sail it, Gilroy?” Duff asked with exasperation.

“Bloody hell, have we all lost our minds?” Gilroy demanded sternly, and began to make his way out of the overstuffed cabin.

Mathais pivoted about to follow Gilroy and tripped over his own feet, which seemed to grow another inch each week. Drustan, who towered above them all, hurried behind Mats as if he was afraid he might lose him.

That left Duff and Robert MacLean with Lottie. Mr. MacLean was the one who kept the Livingstone books. In other words, he was the one who came round once a week to explain to Lottie and her father that their funds were dwindling. He was revered among the Livingstones for his creative accounting capabilities. “We should turn back, ere it’s too late,” she suggested to them.

“Nonsense!” Duff said. “We’re no’ three days from Denmark. Your father would no’ abide it if you turned back now, what with all we’ve done.”

“But his injury is severe,” Lottie said, swallowing down a swell of nausea, having seen the gaping wound in his belly. But she could not seem to swallow the bit of hysteria that followed.

“Morven is as good a healer as comes from the Highlands, aye?” said Mr. MacLean. “He canna have better care at Lismore. And besides, Lottie, Bernt wants you to carry on, does he no’?”

She didn’t want to be reminded of the horror of this morning, but nodded that yes, he had told her in no uncertain terms to carry on. “But we canna keep him here in the captain’s quarters.” All three of them glanced around to the figure in the corner of the room, the captain of the Reulag Balhaire, bound and gagged and shackled to a desk that had been built into the wall, and at present, very much unconscious. He’d sustained a few blows, but it was the tincture Morven had managed to pour down his throat that had stopped his shouting and cursing. “Me granny always said this would put a horse on his rump,” Morven had said, shaking his head at the vial he held, clearly in awe of its powers as the captain had sunk into the depths of oblivion.

“Leave him be, Lottie,” Duff said. “The forward cabin is full, it is. It’s either here, or below decks, which is currently occupied by angry men bound to each other and under guard. If you remove your father to the hold, he’ll rouse them all to a fever, mark me.”

“Donna fret for the captain, lass,” Mr. MacLean had said. “He canna cause you harm now.”

The three of them looked at the captain again. “Will he be all right?” Lottie asked.

“He’ll be right as rain,” Duff said with authority Lottie wasn’t sure he possessed. “I reckon the captain’s pride will suffer more than his body.”

Diah, his body. When Lottie had first laid eyes on him as that sea of ogling men had parted, she’d been struck by how devilishly handsome he was. There he’d stood, quite resplendent in his trousers, with no coat or waistcoat, but only a lawn shirt, open at the collar. She’d not expected such a virile man to be captain of this ship, but someone more like Gilroy—older and bonier. And yet it wasn’t his bonny looks that had made her heart leap so, but his eyes. It was the way he’d looked at her, with such heated contemplation that she could feel her skin blistering beneath his perusal.

“It’s heartless to bring him so low as this,” Lottie muttered, and turned away from the stunningly attractive man in chains, lest Duff and Robert see her guilt...or favorable regard. “’Tis crime enough that we’ve taken his ship without his consent. I’d no’ like to add injury or insult to it.”

“Och, the deed has been done, lass,” Duff said dismissively. “’Tis no’ a free society we’ve begun here, is it? He’ll do as he’s made to do, he will. What choice has he?”

Duff was right, of course, but that didn’t stop Lottie from feeling incredible remorse for what had happened. She didn’t want to do any more to the men of the Reulag Balhaire than what she and her men had already forced on them. Oh, but this voyage had been badly conceived! They were in the midst of a living nightmare.