Devil's Highlander

“We want a younger lad.” Cormac didn't follow. Instead, he stood firmly, legs apart and arms crossed at his chest. He was a man who'd brook no disagreement, and the vision of him made Marjorie swell with admiration.

Jack stopped. Looking between Cormac and Marjorie, he shook his head ruefully. “'Tis your coin.” He nodded to the front of the ship, at a structure standing one deck high, nesded in the bow. “We keep the young lads there.”

“In the crew's quarters?” Cormac looked suspicious, and it put Marjorie on alert. “Why not the hold?” Jack sighed dramatically. “There was two or three of the men what was beginning to pay the lads too much mind.

We had to stow them in the foc'sle instead.”

Marjorie shivered. If Davie had been touched or harmed in any way, she'd come back and personally send each and every one of the men to find their fates on a foreign plantation.

Jack's eyes flicked to Marjorie, and for a second, some vile thing glimmered there. “Come on, then,” he said, strolling to the forecastle.

“No.” Cormac stood firm. “We'll not go below.”

Jack sneered. “Just you then, if the lady wife is too afeared.”

“The lady wife doesn't leave my sight.” He stepped beside her. “You'll bring the boys above deck if you want to see your coin.”

It struck Marjorie that these foul men could simply take their coin, and there'd be none to stop them. Cormac was right; there was no way she was going down into the crew's quarters. Who knew what awaited them there. She sidled even closer to him.

“The boys are tied,” Jack protested. “You canna expect me to drag the whole line of squirming, wee pests on deck, like a drove of cattle to market.”

“That's precisely what I expect.” Cormac rubbed the side of his coat, and seeing the bulge, Marjorie realized he had a pistol holstered there.

The man's eyes went flat, and then, with a single resentful nod, he headed to the front of the ship and disappeared into the hatch.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No worries, Ree.” He affected a smile that she suspected was purely for her benefit. “Neither of us will be going belowdecks. I can assure you, I've had my fill of tight spaces for one lifetime.” The comment threw her for a moment, until she realized the episode with Aidan surely would have traumatized him in more ways than one. “Is it because of the chimney? Do you not like to be enclosed?” He only looked at her, but his gaze was distant, some faraway memory replaying in his mind. Finally, he said,

“You could say I'm not overly fond of confinement, no.”

Cormac tossed the reply off to her with the same nonchalance he'd been feigning all morning. Though he'd been pretending calm, he'd been on alert since the moment he'd shouted a summons to the hands on deck.

He hadn't wanted to alarm her. Though true, he hadn't exactly been comfortable in tight spaces since getting stuck as a boy, the real reason he didn't want to go belowdecks was far more pressing. The deckhands needed but one sharp hit to the back of Cormac's skull, and they could be off with Ree, away to do the devil knew what with her.

And when they were done, he imagined she'd fetch a pretty price in the middle of the Indies.

Just the thought of it had his hand touching the weapon at his side, an old wheel-lock pistol that'd belonged to a grandfather he'd never known. God spare him, it was good to be wearing a pistol again.

Then a hopeful thought flickered bright in the recesses of his mind. Might they truly be close to retrieving Davie? Subterfuge, idle threats, and a whole lot of confident posturing had gotten them this far. Could his godforsaken gifts for killing and spying actually be used for good?

Perhaps he was redeemable after all. The notion brought him closer to Ree's side. She looked up at him, and though she had a quizzical look on her face, she remained silent. He put his hand at her slender waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. She had her own sense for subterfuge, God love her, though the poor thing must be a bundle of nerves inside, despite her bravado.

Redemption. The thought made his heart clench. If such a thing were possible, he had Ree to thank for his soul.

There was a ruckus, and he felt her stiffen at his side. “Steady, Ree.”

“Settle yerselves!” The grizzled man with the missing teeth emerged from the forecastle, shouting orders down the ladder. “One by one, or you're all in for a flogging.”

She took in a sharp breath, and Cormac whispered, “Be calm.”

A half dozen boys gradually spilled one at a time onto the deck, all filthy and squinting as though they hadn't seen the sun in days. The biggest of the lot couldn't have been older than ten.

Cormac scanned the group, and Davie stood out at once. A little ginger-haired boy, just as she'd described. He hoped the lad had sense and didn't give them away.

Ree gasped, and he was quick to steady her with a firm hand at her elbow. It would do them no good if she were the one who spoiled their disguise.

He saw the instant Davie spotted her; the boy's mouth gaped, and his freckled cheeks turned apple red. Cormac watched Ree in his peripheral vision as she silenced the lad with a sharp shake of her head.

“These are them.” Jack was back among them, watching Cormac and Marjorie very carefully. “And a sorry lot they are.”

Cormac's mind raced. He needed to improve upon what was a threadbare story. Jack was growing suspicious, and the last thing they needed was a suspicious smuggler.

Jack stared Marjorie up and down, as though he were trying to work something out. “If you decide you want older—

”

“No,” Cormac interrupted, choosing his strategy. “These lads are just what we had in mind. My wife… a bairn has yet to quicken… “ He mimicked hesitation. “She's been unable… you ken my meaning.”

“Ah,” Jack said simply.

“Aye. That's why so young.” Cormac heaved a sigh of relief that wasn't entirely pretense. “Lady Brodie has a fancy for ginger-haired lads, so we'll be taking—”

Marjorie stepped forward. “We'll take them all.”

Chapter 26

Cormac's eyes shot to Marjorie in disbelief. Had she really just said what he thought she'd said? She stood, staring at the smuggler. He recognized the tilt of her chin.

“Och, good Christ… “ he hissed under his breath. So much for allaying Jack's suspicions. “All” — he quickly counted — “six, love?”

“Aye.” She gave one resolute nod, avoiding his gaze. “My… sister has needs as well.”

“Mm-hm.” Cormac's eyes narrowed, focusing on Jack. They definitely didn't have coin enough for all the boys. But Marjorie had made a decision, and they were in it now. “The lady has spoken.” Jack had a strange, fixed look on his face, considering his next move. His arm angled up, hand poised over the sword on his hip. “I'll see the money, then.”

“Aye, the money.” Taking Marjorie's hand, Cormac took a step back toward the ladder. How was he to get all the boys and her off the boat safely? “First, my lady wife takes the boys off the boat. Then we deal with the money.” Marjorie gasped. “But—”

Cormac squeezed her hand, giving her a pointed look. “I'll not have you a party to our transaction.” He purposely stressed the last word, as though to imply the exchange of coin was a dirty thing unfit for feminine eyes.

Jack wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, well past pretense now. “There best be gold in that wee pouch of yours.”

“You'll have your gold.” Cormac scanned the deck, tallying the number of deckhands posing a threat. Jack had a sword. The old man wore a rusted fish knife in a scabbard at his waist. And there was one sailor standing alongside Jack — likely his first mate — and though he bore no visible weapons, there'd be at least a dirk tucked in the belt at his back.

The other crew members were either too far away, in the rigging, or simply not paying them any mind. Even so, Cormac imagined the moment he made a move on their captain, they'd become an issue soon enough.

He had to better his odds.

“You'll get your payment belowdecks,” Cormac said, his voice steely. He shot Marjorie a meaningful look. “But first, you will get off the ship. You and the boys.”

The look she gave him was terror and anger and regret. He had time for none of it.

“Now. “ Cormac swaggered over to the boys, mimicking contempt. “It seems I own you now.” Jack watched quietly, momentarily appeased by the prospect of money. Or maybe the smuggler was simply appeased by the thought of getting Cormac below, where he'd knock him senseless and whisk him into indentured servitude.

Cormac scowled. Either way, it was just one more concern he had no time for.

His only care was for Marjorie… and the lads, he unwillingly admitted to himself. He glared at them with mock disdain. Cords bound their hands at their bellies, with each boy tethered to the next by a single stretch of rope.

Unsheathing the tiny sgian dubh from his leg, he began to saw at the first of the bonds. “I'll not know what my wife sees in you ugly lot.”

The first to be freed was a lad no older than ten. The picture of Aidan popped into Cormac's mind, and he shoved it away again. He kicked the boy toward the side of the ship. “If you don't hasten down that ladder, I vow I'll leave you behind, paid for or no.”

He hated to be cruel — he'd tried to be as gentle as possible — but they had a ruse to maintain. It was life or death now. He prayed they lived long enough for the boy to thank him later.

He loosened the next few, and they scuttled toward the side, limping in a way that made his heart crack. Cold single-mindedness mellowed into calm resolve. If he ended up dying to save these boys for Marjorie, so be it. He'd known all along his life was forfeit.

“You,” he barked at the eldest. “You go down and hold the ladder for Lady Brodie.” Marjorie would just have to manage the rungs on her own. He had enough to contend with on board. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">