Taken By Storm (11 page)

T
heir journey went smoothly, and Storm and Burke arrived at St. Andrew Harbor early in the morning. Not a good time to sneak aboard a ship, but there was no time to waste. Philip and William had left camp the same time, and had probably already contacted the mysterious man who possessed the information they required. If all went well they would meet in four days to exchange money for information.

Therefore, they had to get to the ship as soon as possible, see to their business, and leave within two days’ time.

“We can’t be seen together,” Storm said, concealed by a stack of crates at the end of the harbor. Burke could tell she was impressed by the massive ship, the gangplank bustling with men unloading crate after crate.

“Agreed,” he said with a nod. “I need to get on board, give orders to my crew, and change clothes so that it looks as if I’ve arrived with the ship. Then we need to get you on board as well.”

“We may have to wait until evening when there is less activity and the cover of darkness.”

“Not an option,” Burke said. “I won’t have you here alone along the harbor. You resemble a lad, and with three ships anchored in the harbor, I guarantee in no time you’d be a crew member ready to set sail on one of them.”

Storm resented the idea that he felt her incapable of looking after herself, when by now he knew otherwise.

“You forget who I am,” she reminded.

Burke was quick to disagree. “It is exactly who you are that makes me worry over your safety. I gave my word you’d be safe and I intend to keep it. Besides, today is to be a day of fun for you.”

“Then what do you propose?” she asked, the day of fun beckoning her to play.

“You remain hidden until I return for you. Then we’ll make it appear as if I’ve taken you on as a cabin boy, and make sure to keep your face smudged. We don’t want anyone discovering what a lovely face you have, at least not until you’re my wife.”

Wife.

While it was nothing more than a charade they played, the title still startled her. It had been three years since her husband had called her wife, and Daniel had an endearingly proud way of using the
title on occasion. It had filled her heart with joy. Not so this time.

This time it unsettled her.

“I’ll be right here waiting,” she said.

“I won’t be long,” he reassured her.

He mingled easily with the crowd of people along the dock. Storm followed him with her eyes as he maneuvered his way to his ship without hesitation, walked up the gangplank, and was gone from sight.

Had she given this decision time or had she been too quick to agree to a day of fun? Did she truly wish to spend time alone with the American? Did she ache to feel a man’s arms around her once again and to share intimacies without ties that bind?

She leaned her back against the crates and slid down until she sat on the hard ground, arms resting on her raised knees.

What was it that attracted her to the American? He was a man much in charge of himself and accustomed to being in charge of others. He wasn’t a man who followed but who led, and he did it with honor.

She respected an honorable man, one who when he gave his word lived by it, even if it proved difficult. And Burke refused to give his word unless he felt he could keep it. Such a man was not only to be admired, but also to be trusted.

She found these qualities much more appealing in a man than his features, not that Burke wasn’t attractive. He pleased her eyes well enough, but his defined character pleased her more.

“What are you doing? Stealing from my crates?”

Storm jumped at the harsh grumble and spun around to find a large barrel of a man, fingers thick as sausages, waving a coiled whip in the air.

“No, sir,” she said, keeping her head respectfully bowed and his eyes distracted from her face. “Resting, that’s all, sir.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he yelled and reached out.

Storm ducked and took off past him hoping to get lost in the bustle of the busy dock.

Burke hurried to change clothes, not wanting to leave Storm alone too long. He had promised Tanin and Philip and the rest of the group that he would keep her safe, and he couldn’t hold firm to his word if she wasn’t with him. She’d be safe enough for a short time hidden behind the crates, but there was always a chance she’d be found.

He stripped off his clothes, washed quickly at the basin filled with water, then dressed in black trousers, white shirt, black vest, and black waistcoat. Unable to tolerate constriction of any kind around his neck, he left several fastenings undone.

Shiny leather boots followed and then a comb of his hair with a real comb and not his fingers, and he was near done.

He grabbed coins from the safe he had stocked with money, and picked up his father’s diamond ring and shoved it on his pinky. It was the only finger it fit, and he wore it with pride, as had his father.

A chest of garments meant for America had been
brought to his cabin on his orders. He wished Storm to have her pick. Something was bound to fit her, and he was eager to see her dressed in fine clothes.

She would certainly be a raving beauty, but then her beauty wasn’t defined by what she wore, since she was just as beautiful dressed in lad’s clothing. She was striking regardless of what she wore.

He smiled, recalling her smudged face and how he had wanted so badly to kiss her when they had stood behind the crates. He had wanted to kiss her, hold her, and do much more than that, much too often of late. It was a constant thought in his mind and one he definitely wanted to see reach fruition.

Finally finished and anxious to return to Storm, he hurried out of his cabin to the deck. Much of the crew stood at the railing, their attention fixed on the dock below.

Burke hurried to the gangplank, relieved that he had been provided with a distraction to get Storm aboard without being noticed.

That is, until he saw what caught the men’s attention.

The whip sliced the air so close to her ear that its crack near deafened her. Storm stood perfectly still. Her shoulder stung from where the tip of the whip had caught her when she had attempted to run. She was grateful her jacket took the brunt of the hit, though it had sliced through, and she could feel the blood dripping down her arm.

“You don’t run from me,” the man screamed, his full face turning red with rage.

For a second Storm gave thought to running, but the man was skilled with the whip and could do her harm. She remained where she was.

“Come over here,” the man demanded.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, sir.” She hoped to delay him until Burke arrived. It was her only chance. That they had attracted a crowd didn’t help matters. Attention was the last thing she needed.

“I’ll not tell you again,” the man said loudly. Encouraged by the cheers of the crowd, he raised his whip.

“Strike the lad and you’ll find that whip a noose around your fat neck.”

The order sliced through the crowd much like the crack of the whip, silencing everyone.

Storm thanked heaven for Burke’s timely arrival, and when she turned to look, she almost didn’t recognize him. Clearly, his dress proclaimed him a man of wealth and station, far removed from the man she had rescued from the filthy prison, and yet he was the very same one.

He walked with that confident swagger that spoke volumes. He was a man of class and distinction, and the man with the whip realized it as quickly as Storm had, for he lowered the weapon, though he refused to relent.

“The lad stole from me and will pay for his crime,” he said, shaking his meaty fist.

Storm remained where she was and Burke walked around to stand in front of her. His body completely blocked her from the view of her accuser; that he shielded her was obvious to all.

“The lad belongs to me.”

Storm near shivered, his remark more a threat. Burke looked as if he wore no weapon and yet he attacked with words and a powerful stance. How did he expect to truly defend himself?

“Do I need to rescue you again?” she whispered behind him.

She heard a low chuckle.

“We’ll see who rescues who.”

She didn’t doubt he would rescue her. His stance alone, blocking her from her accuser, clearly indicated that he didn’t intend to surrender her. That he intended to protect her, save her, rescue her was evident, and the crowd cheered him on.

The realization of the attention they drew suddenly made her realize how precarious their situation could turn. If anyone should dare recognize her, question her identity, attempt to ask her name, they would be in trouble.

She reminded him of this in a rushed whisper. “Hurry.”

“Agreed,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

The big man finally found his voice and courage, though his quavering voice betrayed his unease. “I’ll be compensated for his crime.”

Burke reached into his waistcoat pocket, extracted several coins and tossed them at the man. “You’ll get no more.”

The man scurried after the coins that rolled and spun and scattered in different directions. It would take him a while to collect them all.

In the meantime, Burke snatched Storm by the arm
and practically dragged her up the gangplank, down the narrow steps and into a cabin, then slammed the door shut.

“How did you get yourself into that predicament?”

She was about to answer when he advanced on her. She backed away from him, his face looking as if he were in a rage.

“You’re bleeding,” he said and reached for her arm.

She glanced down at her shoulder, the tear made by the whip having gone clear down to her skin.

Before she could explain it was nothing, Burke began pulling off her jacket. She attempted to stop him when suddenly she wondered if she really knew this man in front of her. He was much more in command, much more at home here. And why wouldn’t he be—this was his ship, his command. She was merely a visitor, an observer.

She fought to adjust to the reversal of roles, but not being fully in control did not sit well with her, and she found it difficult, if not impossible.

“It’s nothing,” she said and stepped away from him.

“Bullshit,” he said and advanced on her once again.

She held her hand up to stop him. “Clean cloths, fresh water, and I can see to it myself.”

“It isn’t necessary. I’ll tend to it for you,” he said with a step closer.

“I’ll—”

“You’ll let me see to it. Then you’ll search that chest for an appropriate dress, change and be introduced around the harbor as my wife, Mary,” he said firmly. “We have little time and it would be foolish to waste it arguing.”

She hated to admit he was right, but then he was in command here, and what choice did she really have. They did not have time to spare, not if she were to enjoy a day of freedom.

She stripped off her jacket and lowered the shirt off her shoulder. She didn’t have the inclination to stand bare-chested in front of him. Things had changed since that day she had stripped her chest bare mainly to shock him. She had discovered that she liked the American’s kisses and his touch.

Her glance drifted to the bed, a good size that would easily hold two people with the bedding of fine wool and thickly stuffed pillows. Would they share his bed this night? Would she taste intimacy once again? Would it prove as satisfying and loving as it had with her husband?

Too many questions waiting for answers.

“It looks worse than it is,” Burke announced, cleansing her wound with a wet cloth.

“Surface wound.” She glanced up into his dark eyes and for a moment was caught by his concern. He actually appeared deeply worried, and it startled her. “I’m all right,” she assured him.

“He could have inflicted much more damage.” He threw the cloth in the basin, sloshing water over the sides.

“You arrived in time,” she reminded.

He cupped her face with his hand. “What if I hadn’t?”

“I would have run,’ she answered on a single breath.

“Where?”

In a heart’s breath she whispered, “To you.”

He shook his head slowly, growled angrily beneath his breath, and then ravished her lips as if he had never kissed her before.

That was all it took. They feasted on each other like two hungry lovers long denied. They tasted, took a breath, and tasted some more as if they could never truly satisfy each other.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt and she jumped, startled, when he took hold of her full breast, his thumb playing havoc with her hard nipple.

Good Lord, she wanted desperately to strip off her clothes and his and jump into his bed and forget the world existed for the reminder of the day. They would be two lovers lost in time.

Time.

She pulled away, feeling the loss of intimacy as his lips fell away from hers, his hand slipped reluctantly off her breast, and his warmth faded with each step that separated them.

“We have little time to spare.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I will leave you to dress. Meet me on deck when you’re finished. My crew will be aware that you are to be known as my wife. And I’ll explain that the lad is recovering from his whipping.”

Storm nodded, disappointed, but grateful they had tonight together.

Burke walked to the door and stopped after opening it. “You’re right, Storm, we have little time to spare, and I’m going to make certain we don’t waste a minute of it.”

B
urke gripped the railing and stared down at the dock. He didn’t look at anything in particular. He was too busy keeping himself from rushing back to the cabin and spending the rest of the day making love to Storm.

He should be grateful that she’d reminded him that they were here for other, more important matters, but he wasn’t feeling grateful. He was annoyed that he had so little time to spend alone with Storm. They would return to the woods soon enough, and she would once again be an outlaw, but for this brief time, she was his wife. They belonged to each other, and the endearing thought stirred his soul.

“Mr. Longton.”

Burke turned and shook his head. “Will you never call me Burke, Douglas?”

“When I captain the ship for you, sir, it’s a title I’ll be calling you by.”

Douglas Mahoney had captained the ship for his father, and while his full head of hair was pure white and wrinkles covered every inch of his face, the tall, slim man was ageless. He had sailed the seas since he’d been seven and complained when his feet touched land. Burke wouldn’t trust a voyage without Douglas captaining his vessel, just as his father had.

“You used to call me Burke.”

“When you were a mere lad. You’re not a lad anymore, sir.”

No, he wasn’t. He was a man on a mission of importance, and Douglas understood that, for he had made many a journey to Scotland with his father in search of Cullen.

“The crew has been informed about your wife, Mary, and her affliction.”

“Good, my wife…” He paused, thinking the prospect of such an arrangement wasn’t displeasing at all. “…has been of much help on my journey.”

“I understand,” Douglas said. “Will you and your wife be taking a meal in your cabin this evening?”

“Yes.” Burke smiled and nodded. “Yes, we will.”

The captain’s eyes suddenly turned wide, then he smiled. “Your wife, sir, is a stunningly beautiful woman.”

Burke turned to his left, as Douglas walked away, and stood there speechless.

The captain had been right; his wife was a stunningly beautiful woman.

She had chosen a deep blue velvet day dress that
made her eyes all the more blue. Her jacket fit snug at her waist, a violet, high-collared blouse lay beneath, and a bonnet the same color as her dress topped her head and was decorated with violet plumes that swayed liberally in the cold autumn air.

Her face had been scrubbed clean, her cheeks rosy, and her dark hair swept up beneath the bonnet. She truly resembled a lady of fine breeding and character, but then he had thought that of her since first they met.

Burke finally got control of himself and walked over to her, his hand extended.

She took it and moved into the crook of his arm to whisper, “This outfit suits you?”

He smiled and leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “It suits you perfectly.”

“I’ve never owned anything of such beauty.”

“Now you do, though it is you who makes the dress beautiful.”

Her cheeks turned pink, her soft blush flaring his passion, and he silently cursed the effect she had on him. Damned if he didn’t enjoy feasting his eyes on her and knowing that tonight, she would be his.

He held his arm out to her. “Can I interest you in a stroll along the docks and a visit to a few of the local shops?”

Her smile pierced his heart, and surely did damage to his soul.

“I would be delighted,” she said and hooked her arm with his.

The village shops sat just past the harbor. It was a quaint little place where the wealthy came to amuse
themselves with purchases fresh off the arriving ships.

They were treated royally, especially once Burke began to pamper his wife with various purchases. It was obvious that the American wished to please his new bride, and how unfortunate it was that she’d been stricken with an ailment that had left her temporarily unable to speak.

Silk ribbons, sweets, and perfume were a few of the items he had indulged her with, and Burke knew Storm would object once they returned to the ship. However, for the moment she could not argue with his choices, for her supposed affliction prevented her from doing so. She could only smile and nod at her husband’s generosity.

They made their way along the buildings, Storm stopping to admire lacy ribbons in the seamstress’s window.

“I’ll a buy you a few,” Burke offered.

Storm smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss her husband’s cheek.

Burke was surprised until she whispered in his ear.

“A place of generous gossip is a pub.”

Burke understood. “I think you need a few new garments to impress our friends back in America, so I shall leave you here while I have a pint or two at the local pub.”

She smiled and they entered the shop.

It smelled delightful and there was color everywhere from the bolts of material stacked on shelves and draped over chairs, to the tables covered in
lace and bowls of ribbons spilling out of them.

The seamstress was as petite as Storm, though her hair raged red against milk-pale skin and her wide green eyes sparkled with friendly delight. She was only too happy to oblige Burke after he explained that his wife required several garments to be made of her finest material. He hoped she wouldn’t mind advising his wife on the styles of the local aristocrats, since she wanted to impress her friends back home. How unfortunate that his wife could not partake in the conversation.

The seamstress told him not to worry, she would handle everything, and shooed him out of the shop, though not before he gave his wife a peck on the cheek and whispered, “Be good and have fun.”

Storm smiled sweetly and patted her husband’s arm.

Burke was not reassured but took his leave. What trouble could she get into in a seamstress shop?

Plenty
.

He ignored his thought and decided to keep his visit to the pub brief.

Burke entered the small pub not that different from the saloons in America, depending of course on location. The larger towns and cities had the more garish saloons, while one would find a saloon much like this in a small town. There was a bar big enough for maybe four men to stand at and three tables occupying space for two. The smell wasn’t too inviting, but then once you got drinking the smell was no longer noticeable.

He went to the bar and ordered a pint, then
attempted a conversation with the skinny bartender, commenting on a range of topics including poachers, thieves, and how the Scots dealt with such crimes.

“It’s Thomas Gibbons you need to talk to about such things. He’s worked for some of the landlords.” The bartender grinned and pointed to a lone man sitting at a table. “A pint of ale will buy you all the information you need.”

“Mind if I join you?” Burke asked, placing a pint of ale in front of the man.

“Have a seat,” he offered and grabbed hold of the tankard.

Burke decided to get right to the point for a good reason—the short, round man smelled as if it had been weeks since he last bathed.

“I wondered how the landlords here in Scotland deal with crimes,” Burke said. “The bartender told me you were the man to talk with.”

“Trouble handling your tenants in America?” Thomas asked with a laugh and took a generous swallow of ale.

Burke smiled, letting the man assume what he wished.

“The landlords tolerate no crime on their lands,” Thomas said with a pound of his tankard on the table. “They deal with crimes swift and harshly. It’s the only way to keep control of the tenants.”

Thomas went into great detail, much of which Burke already knew thanks to Storm and his own observations since arriving.

“You should speak with the Earl of Balford,” Thomas suggested. “Only a fool would steal from
that man. The consequences are much too harsh.”

“How harsh?”

“Prison, fines…” He lowered his voice. “The man knows how to get what he wants from his prisoners. Believe me, sir, no one wants to find himself in Balford’s prison.”

“And where can I find him?” Burke asked innocently.

“Glencurry, perhaps two days’ ride from here.” He kept his voice low and leaned close to Burke, who tried not to take a breath. “He’s not a man to cross. Be careful dealing with him.”

Burke leaned back and called out to the bartender. “Another pint for Thomas.”

Thomas grinned. “Thank you, sir, you are most kind.”

Burke thanked him for his time, and not wanting to leave Storm on her own too long, he took his leave. He sucked in a giant breath of fresh chilled air as soon as he left the pub, and headed for the seamstress shop.

He was a bit disappointed, since he didn’t feel that he’d learned anything new. The man had simply verified what he already knew about the Earl of Balford—that the man was a bastard.

He’d dealt with bastards before, men who wanted more than their fair share, men who thought they were entitled and that the law didn’t apply to them. Burke knew too that in order to deal with such men, you had to step outside the law, and as he had mentioned to Storm once, he had done so when necessary and he’d do it again.

He entered the shop ready to wait for Storm if she wasn’t finished, since he wanted her to enjoy this day of freedom and fun, and came face to face with Lady Alaina.

She stood perfectly still staring at him.

She was an indescribable beauty. Whereas Storm’s beauty was tangible, hers was ethereal, not like any he’d ever seen before or expected to see again.

Burke decided that fate had thrown them together, and he intended to take advantage of the situation. He approached her. “Pardon me, but do we know each other?”

She lowered her eyes. “Forgive me, I thought for a moment, but lately—” She shook her head. “You remind me of someone.”

“Perhaps I know him.”

“That’s not possible. You’re an American, he’s a Scotsman.”

“There’s a Scotsman that looks like me? Poor fellow.”

Lady Alaina laughed. “That is where you are different since he fancies himself a handsome man.”

“Then he’s a wise one too.”

“You have his humor.”

No, he and Cullen had their father’s humor. He was anxious to know if they spoke of the same man so he asked, “What is this charming fellow’s name?”

She whispered it so softly that he didn’t hear it.

“What was that you said?”

“Lady Alaina, I am almost ready for you. Oh good, Mr. Longton, you’ve returned. Your wife is just about finished,” the seamstress said after stepping from
behind the curtain. “Excuse me a moment, Lady Alaina, while I finish with Mrs. Longton.”

Lady Alaina drifted off to sit in a silk-draped chair near the window and Burke almost swore aloud. One second more and he would have had a name. He’d be damned if he was going to leave the shop without a name. If she knew Cullen, then she would know if the prisoner they followed was his brother.

Storm stepped from behind the curtain fastening the last clasp on her jacket and averted her eyes when she caught sight of Lady Alaina.

“Sweetheart,” he said, walking over to Storm. “You’ll never guess. I have a double here in Scotland and this lovely woman knows him.”

He walked over to Lady Alaina, Storm on his arm. “May I introduce myself? Burke Longton from the Dakota Territory in America and my wife, Mary, who I’m sorry to say has lost her voice temporarily from an illness suffered during our voyage here.”

“Lady Alaina of Glencurry, the Earl of Balford’s daughter,” she offered in return.

“A pleasure,” Burke said, and noticed how Alaina stared oddly at Storm.

“How rude of me for staring, but you also look familiar.”

Storm’s smile was congenial.

“Perhaps our ancestors roamed this area,” Burke suggested, though he wondered if there could be a reason for Lady Alaina to recognize Storm. If so, they couldn’t remain in her presence for long. “This fellow you mentioned that I resembled, perhaps if I spoke with him—”

“He’s no longer in the area,” Lady Alaina said, clearly upset.

“I’m ready for you, Lady Alaina,” the seamstress said, walking over to her.

Burke noticed she looked relieved, as if the tiny woman had rescued her.

“It was a pleasure meeting both of you. I hope you enjoy your visit to Scotland.”

Burke could have sworn he caught the start of tears forming in her eyes as she bid him farewell and walked past him.

“Lady Alaina,” he called out softly, but loud enough for her to hear and turn around.

He caught a glisten in the corner of her eye and knew he had been right, she was on the verge of tears, and he felt guilty having upset her.

“The name,” he said. “I didn’t catch the fellow’s name whom I resemble.”

“Cullen,” she said, and quickly turned away.