Highland Rogue (8 page)

“Ye could come up and take a turn around the deck,” Jockie suggested. “I could introduce ye to the rest of the crew. At least ye’d get a breath of air and have folks to talk to.”

The notion tempted Ewan, but … “Miss Talbot said we should come below to get out from underfoot of the crew.”

“The
Marlet’s
slipped her moorings now.” Jockie shrugged. “It’s pretty quiet on deck. Besides, ye look like a man who’s sharp enough to get out of the way when he needs to.”

Not always, Ewan admitted to himself, even as he nodded to Jockie. He’d never been wise enough to keep out of Claire Talbot’s way when she had her temper up.

Was it possible he hadn’t wanted to?

“Mark me, the gentleman won’t be able to take his eyes off you at dinner, miss.” Claire’s new maid, a bouncy little Welsh girl, brushed one last curl around her forefinger.

Claire did not need to stare at herself in the dressing table glass to know that a fierce blush burned her cheeks. “It is a matter of total indifference to me whether Mr. Geddes so much as glances in my direction.”

“Just as you say, miss.” The girl chuckled to herself as if she did not believe a word of it. “Though I think he’ll be a fool if he doesn’t. I suppose you don’t care whether you look at him, either.”

Before Claire could stammer an answer, Williams prattled on, “You’ll be missing something if you don’t. For I caught a glimpse of him and I wouldn’t mind a few more. He’s as fine looking a gentleman as ever I saw.”

“I suppose he’s well enough looking,” said Claire, “if you like that type.”

“And do you, miss?”

Far too much.

Claire shrugged. “I suppose.”

If only she could make herself feel as calm as she sounded! Now that she was about to put her plan into action, a host of misgivings assailed her, and she began to doubt her ability to carry it off.

Her brief encounter with Ewan in the galley way had opened her eyes to a difficulty she had not foreseen. If she hoped to lure the man to abandon Tessa in favor of her, she must pretend to put their contentious youth behind them and make a fresh, more amiable start. But she must not let herself truly fall under the spell of his charm, or he would break her heart all over again, the rogue!

Never, since she had come of age and taken the helm of Brancasters, had Claire faced such a challenge. At least then, despite her youth and her sex, and the prejudice of the commercial world toward both, she’d felt better equipped for the task she’d set herself.

After all she had strong organizational abilities and a head for business. Her father would have laughed himself ill at the thought of her as a seductress!

She forced herself to look at her reflection. “You’ve done a fine job, Williams. No wonder Lady Cunningham treasures you so. It was good of her to lend me your services, and most kind of you to oblige.”

The way in which Williams had dressed her hair looked fussier than Claire liked, but it was probably the sort of thing men admired. The maid’s artful use of cosmetics gave her face more color without looking painted.

“I was glad to, miss, for the chance of a holiday in Scotland. I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year, but her ladyship doesn’t care to travel. It’s no great chore to make you look beautiful. You have such a lovely complexion, and fine eyes.” She hesitated. “Do you mind if I offer a suggestion, though, miss?”

“By all means. You are the expert.”

“Perhaps I should just hold my tongue, but I did wonder, miss, whether you needed to wear quite so many jewels?”

Indeed she did, though Claire did not dare confess why. “Do you think they are unbecoming? There are some very valuable pieces here.”

She had emptied her own jewelry box of many that had never been worn since her mother’s death. Lady Lydiard had contributed several more of distinguished pedigree from the family collection. “Why, this sapphire necklace alone is worth thousands of pounds.”

“And lovely it is, miss. It goes well with your eyes. But the earrings are a newer style. Do you think they go together? And the bracelets—do you need them on both wrists?”

Claire would have preferred none at all, and a plainer gown, come to that. Heavy with diamonds and pearls, the bracelets were awkward things. And the weight of the earrings was already challenging the tightness of her corset to see which could inflict the most discomfort upon her. She hoped one day Tessa would appreciate the sacrifices she had made!

She was not so far gone in taste as to dispute Williams’s opinion about the necklace and the earrings, either. But the point of wearing these jewels was not to enhance her questionable beauty, but to advertise her unquestioned wealth.

“I appreciate your interest and your suggestions, Williams.” Claire rose from the dressing table. “But I get so few opportunities to wear my jewels, I hate to forgo one when it arises.”

“I understand, miss.” The Welsh girl bobbed a curtsy. Servants knew better than to contradict their masters, no matter how foolish their actions.

Claire held out her hand. “Now, if I might have my fan, please?”

It was a costly item as well, each delicate slat of ivory elaborately carved in an identical pattern. And it might well prove useful for more than impressing the extent of her fortune upon Ewan Geddes.

“There you go, miss.”

Claire snapped it open, then gave a practice flutter to cool the tingling warmth that swept through her whenever she contemplated what she was about to do.

Blast it all, he was going to be late! And not just fashionably so.

Racing down the galley way steps at a dangerous speed, Ewan yanked out his pocket watch and peered at its bland, accusing face.

“Past seven already,” he muttered, “and I still have to change clothes!”

At least Lady Lydiard was not on board. Claire Talbot had the look of a woman who prized punctuality, though. Was he a fool to believe he had any chance of making a good impression upon her. no matter how well he behaved himself on the voyage?

Remembering her sudden coolness toward him, and the fine time he’d been having up on deck with the crew of the
Marlet,
made him wonder if he would ever feel at ease in Miss Talbot’s world. And did he want to?

He stumbled on the last couple of stairs, but managed to stagger the few steps to his cabin. He flung open the door and raced inside, stubbing his foot with violent force into one of the bedposts. With a bellow of pain and rage at himself for not watching his step, he commenced to jump around the room on his sound foot, growling a litany of foul Gaelic curses he’d learned in his youth from Fergus Gowrie, the gamekeeper at Strathandrew.

Ewan did not realize the cabin door was still open until he heard a high-pitched giggle. He glanced up to see a tiny dark-haired lass scooting by, one hand clamped over her mouth in a vain effort to stifle her mirth. Whoever she was, Ewan had no doubt she’d understood every coarse oath that had left his lips.

Would she repeat them to Claire Talbot? Ewan slammed the cabin door and began tearing off his shirt, popping a collar button in the process.

When someone knocked on the door, he barked, “What do ye want? Tell Miss Talbot I’ll be along directly!”

The door eased open and Jock popped his head in. “It’s only me with a kettle of hot water for ye, if ye fancy a washup?”

“I reckon I could stand one—” Ewan nodded toward the washstand “—though it’ll have to be quick.”

“Can I give ye a hand?” asked Jock as he poured the steaming water into the basin.

Be waited on by one of his old mates? The notion made Ewan squirm, though he probably could get ready quicker with some help.

“Don’t trouble yerself, laddie.” He rummaged in the wardrobe for a clean shirt, pulling on the first one that came to hand. “I’m used to managing on my own. Thanks for the water, though.”

“Just as ye like, then,” said Jock. “If ye change yer mind, ye’ve only to ring the bell.”

Once Jock had closed the cabin door behind him, Ewan glanced down at his shirt to find it misbuttoned. He cursed again.

By the time he fumbled his way through a quick wash, finished dressing and pulled a comb through his hair, he was in a vile temper.

Miss Talbot’s greeting, when he finally reached the dining room, did not improve it.

“There you are.” She fluttered a very elegant fan in front of her face. “I was afraid you had decided to jump ship.”

Ewan almost wished he had. Late as he was, he still had a long evening ahead of him. What did he have to talk about with this woman, anyway, besides how much she used to vex him? Despite his promise to make a fresh start, he was beginning to remember why they’d never gotten on.

“I was busy with something,” he muttered. “I didn’t notice the time.” Belatedly and grudgingly, he added, “I apologize for keeping ye waiting.”

“Pray, what kept you so occupied?” Though Claire Talbot’s tone sounded polite enough, a steely light in those blue-gray eyes of hers made him feel as if he were being interrogated. “I feared you might be restless and anxious for some diversion.”

“I was at first.” Ewan circled the dining table, eyeing the settings of china, crystal and silver even more elaborate than those at Lydiard House. “Then I met up with one of my old mates from Strathandrew who introduced me ’round to the crew. We got talking and the time just … went.”

“Did it?” Her fingers appeared to clench the fan harder.

Perhaps she took it as an insult that a bunch of common sailors had made him late to dine with her. Ewan wondered what she would say if she knew he’d rather be eating in the crew’s mess this very minute than in her too-quiet, too-lavish dining room.

She drew in a long, slow breath through her nose. “You’re here now. That’s the important thing. Would you care for a drink before dinner?”

A dram sounded like a fine idea, to settle him down after the fuss of being late. “Aye, I’ll have a whiskey, thank ye.”

Claire nodded to a young man in uniform stationed by a small sideboard.

He poured Ewan a liberal measure of amber liquid from a heavy, cut-glass decanter. “Water with that, sir?”

Ewan shook his head and reached for the glass. He considered it almost sacrilege to dilute good whiskey. The smooth single malt rolled over his tongue and down his throat, warming as it went.

“Anything for you, Miss Talbot?” asked the young steward.

Claire shook her head. “The dinner wines will be sufficient for me, thank you.”

Was that her way of chiding him for accepting the drink
she’d
offered?

Ewan tossed the rest of his whiskey back in a single swig. “That was good! I believe I’ll have another, if ye don’t mind.”

“By all means, Mr. Geddes. I am pleased our refreshments meet with your approval.” She gave her wrist a little shake, showing off a bracelet heavy with precious gems.

How many years, or decades, of hard work would it have taken for him to afford such a bauble when he’d first started out in America? Was Miss Talbot trying to impress upon him what different worlds he and Tessa came from? Well, she needn’t bother—he knew well enough.

“Are ye sure ye’ll be able to handle yer knife and fork with all those rings getting in the way, Miss Talbot?” He bolted his second drink of whiskey, then handed his glass to the young steward for another refill. “Or do ye take some of them off when ye eat?”

Miss Talbot shot him an icy look, but answered in the tone of someone receiving a compliment. “Lovely, aren’t they?”

She fluttered her fingers to show off the jewels. The hard surfaces of the gems glittered in the light from the oil lamps. They taunted Ewan, though he reminded himself he could buy such things by the barrowful now, if he wanted.

“This one was a favorite of my mother’s, I’m told.” Claire Talbot sauntered toward him and lifted her hand for him to admire the ring.

Then she rattled on about cuts and carats and mountings until his head spun. Though perhaps the three whiskeys in rapid succession contributed to his dizziness, as well. Ewan was grateful when she finally suggested they sit down to eat.

He had almost gotten himself seated when he realized she was still standing, with an awkward, expectant air.

“Pardon me!” He jumped up, catching the edge of the tabletop with his knee and making the glasses tinkle precariously. “I didn’t think.”

He hauled out Miss Talbot’s chair with too much force and almost stumbled. “It’s not often I have the pleasure of dining in the company of a lady.”

If this evening was any example, it was a pleasure he could well do without.

“We must correct that, mustn’t we?” As she stepped past him to take her seat, Miss Talbot’s arm brushed lightly against his. The fleeting, casual contact sent a dark whisper of arousal through Ewan’s flesh.

That would be the whiskey at work, too, he told himself. For years the only spirits to pass his lips had been a wee rum toddy now and then, to help ease him to sleep. In public, he preferred to keep his wits about him at all times. More than once he’d taken advantage of being the only sober man at a table of business acquaintances.

He could not deny Claire Talbot was a fine-looking lass, in spite of all the priceless gewgaws she’d decked herself out with. But she was not the woman he’d crossed the Atlantic for. Not the woman he meant to make his own.

He had no business responding to her this way!

Gingerly, Claire settled herself on the chair Ewan held out for her. She wrinkled her nose at the faint but pungent whiskey fumes she smelled on his breath when she passed him. Every fortune hunter she’d ever met had also been a prodigious drinker. Clearly this one was no exception.

“Yer sister doesn’t deck herself with a load of jewelry,” said Ewan. He shoved her chair into the table with such force Claire feared she would be sliced in two.

His tone had a subtly accusing edge, but she ignored it in her eagerness to exploit the opening he had provided her. “Tessa does not have a collection of pieces such as I inherited from my mother and grandmother.”

Claire rested her arm on the table, so he might get a better look at her bracelet and rings. “Though we share an affection as close as any full sisters, you must remember Tessa and I have different mothers. It is from
my
Grandfather Brancaster that our fortune derives.”