The Last Broken Promise (13 page)

“Are you all right?” The girl came to stand beside the woman. She put a comforting hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “What were you thinking just now that made you look so sad?”

Dorcas smiled. She reached up to pat the hand on her shoulder. “Nothing, darlin’ girlie, nothing of any consequence. I was just remembering a rake I once knew about a hundred years ago.”

“Surely not a hundred?” Jess teased.

“At least one hundred.” Dorcas winked. “And Lord, darlin’, he was almost as handsome as your McLeod.”

Jess’s face suddenly turned somber. “He’s not my McLeod, Aunt.”

Dorcas straightened her spine and agreed, “No love, you’ve got the right of it. He’s not yours. We’ll wish the man on some other unfortunate lass, won’t we now? Maybe one of those Indian ladies Connor messes about with.” They both looked at each other and began to laugh.

“I like that idea, very much,” Jess sputtered between giggles. “How about the one who followed Connor to our Richmond plantation last spring? The very large one? What was her name?” Jess’s giggles had become hoots. “I remember, I remember, Aunt. Her name was...” She had to wipe a tear from her eye as she continued, “Her name was something about a Moose?” She was laughing so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. Dorcas was just as bad.

Dorcas tried to stop giggling, but couldn’t. Finally, she drew a huge breath and said, “Her name was Pretty Moose. Remember. She was as tall as Griffin.”

Dorcas, thinking of her tallest nephew, started cackling like a hen. That set Jess off again. They couldn’t seem to control themselves for a long time. They’d stop laughing and then one would catch the other’s eye and the laughing would start all over again. Another knock on the door made them jump. Their merriment completely at an end, they looked guiltily at each other.

“Come in.” Dorcas tried to sound dignified. She hastily wiped away the tears streaming down her face as the door swung slowly open. When she saw who was there, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was only Saul. McLeod was nowhere in sight.

“Finn sent me to come fetch you.” He bobbed his head respectfully to the women.

“Fetch us? Fetch us?” There was an Arctic tone to Jess’s voice. “Dogs fetch sticks, maids fetch chamber pots, men do not fetch women.” The glare in her eyes could have melted rock. It certainly intimidated poor Saul.

“I didn’t mean no disrespect, ladies. Finn just said to go fetch you so you could come up on deck and take the air. So I came to fetch you.” He nervously studied the scuffed toe of one of his shoes.

Jess smiled at his explanation. She ignored the warning look her aunt was shooting in her direction. “I know just how to solve this,” the girl said kindly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Why don’t you go
fetch
Lord Maitland for me?”

Saul looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. He stammered, “Miss, I done warned you he don’t like to be called Lord Maitland.”

“Oh?” Her eyes were wide and completely innocent. “Thank you for telling me. Now, would you be a good fellow and go fetch
Lord Maitland
,” she asked.

“I suppose I could ask him to come down to the cabin, ma’am.” It was obvious he felt very uncomfortable doing as she’d requested.

“Thank you, Saul.” She tucked an escaped shining curl back into the tidy knot she’d fashioned at the nape of her neck. “We’ll just wait here for Lord Maitland.” She primly sat and folded her hands in her lap.

“Ma’am, Finn does sorely hate to be called Lord Maitland,” he bleated pitifully.

“Oh yes, I do recall you mentioned that before.” She smiled vaguely.

He shrugged his narrow shoulders and turned.

“And Saul,” she called sweetly. “As you leave to fetch Lord Maitland, do close the door behind you please.”

The man rolled his eyes nervously up to the ceiling. He began to say something else. But he shrugged his shoulders and kept silent instead. He walked to the door. As soon as he’d snapped the door closed, Dorcas started scolding her.

“Jess, McLeod is not one of your Virginia beaus. You can’t play him for a fool. Listen darlin’, he’s a man. Not one of those town dandies you’re accustomed to. The St. John name and reputation don’t frighten him, not a whit. If my guess is right, he has a fearsome reputation of his own. The Maitland title is older and far richer than your uncle MacAllister’s poor little Scottish dukedom. Leave him alone. You’re no match for him.”

“We’ll see,” was all the girl said as she watched the door intently.

She was obviously waiting. Waiting and listening for the polite knock that never came. Instead the door flew back on its hinges. It slammed against the adjoining wall with a force that shook the furniture in the cabin. Dorcas jumped in fright. But Jess got deathly still and forced her features into a serene mask. She bravely faced the man glowering in the doorway.

Finn’s face was as hard as granite, except for the tiny muscle that twitched sporadically along his tight jaw. His hands were balled into fists as if he wanted to keep a tight control of them. Dorcas gulped down a frightened sob as she watched him.

Jess gifted him with a majestic nod and spoke, “I see Saul was finally able to fetch you for me, Lord Maitland.”

A dark, killing light entered his eyes at the insult and the hated title. He prowled into the cabin like a marauding savage. Without breaking his stride, he scooped her easily up into his arms. “No, he didn’t
fetch
me, Sister St. John. I’ve come here to
fetch
you up to the deck myself.” He strode out into the passageway with the girl. Then he glared down at her, hoping to frighten her into keeping her mouth shut. At least until they were on deck. It didn’t work.

“Put me down, you ruffian,” she said through stiff lips.

He pulled her closer to his chest and growled, “So far, you’ve named me a ruffian, a barbarian, a scoundrel, a rake, and a bastard. If you’re not careful, I’ll get the impression you don’t like me.” He glared down at her again. This time daring her to speak.

She didn’t. Jess glared back until she could no longer stand the intensity of his frigid amber eyes. When that happened, she turned her head. She tried to ignore him entirely. Unfortunately, the strain of doing so erupted in one of the more unsavory oaths she’d learned from her brothers. She clamped a hand over her offending mouth.

“I’ll say this for you Sister St. John, you do have an amazing vocabulary. Was it all learned in the convent? Or do you have any worldly experience? Ah, yes,” he mused aloud, as if just remembering. “I recall now. You
do
have worldly experience. You told me so yourself. You’re no innocent, you said. But as I assured you before, your secret’s safe with me Sister St. John. I’ll never tell anyone you aren’t the pure, innocent chit you appear. Your brother will still be able to trick some poor sot into marrying you.”

“Trick!” The angry word exploded from the girl. She blew at a heavy curl that rioted across her forehead to dangle over one green eye. “Did you say trick?” She shot him a killing look.

The arrogant barbarian nodded impassively. “I advise you to be honest with the poor fool about your scandalous past. It would come as quite a shock on your wedding night, if you don’t tell him. I’ve heard of little details like that completely ruining a marriage. In fact, if I recollect correctly, that’s exactly what ruined my brother Cedric’s marriage.” It was obvious the man was enjoying taunting her.

“Shut up, you baboon. I don’t doubt you stole your sister-in-law’s virtue. But I’m surprised you’d boast of it to me,” she wildly accused as she struck his shoulder with one ineffectual little fist.

His body suddenly stilled. That forced her to look into his face once again. His voice, when he spoke, had no inflection. Gone was his light teasing manner, in its place was deadly serious intent. “I don’t touch virgins, Miss St. John. I
never
touch virgins. And I never sullied my brother’s wife. Contrary to what you have heard and will certainly be told in London. The woman sported with some other man, many other men, and cuckolded my brother. My dear sister-in-law is a known wanton. But I have never lain with her. If we’re to succeed with this faux engagement between us, you’ll need to remember that fact.”

Jess hid her shock well. For the life of her, she didn’t know why she’d accused him of dallying with his brother’s wife. It was her wretched tongue again. Oh Lord, when would she ever learn to control the blasted thing? Right now she wanted to flee, to get away from this man she’d insulted so cruelly. That was impossible at the moment since he held her tightly in his arms. But she knew, for certain sure, that she absolutely didn’t want to antagonize him any further. His arms felt like iron bands around her shoulders and under her knees. She didn’t want to hear anything more about ruined marriages and shocking wedding nights. And what in the world was he doing telling her his family secrets? Obstinate oaf, she fumed. If McLeod’s brother was anything like the madman holding her to his broad chest, his poor bride probably would have done anything to escape him. Even ruining herself to avoid marriage.

She needed to distract McLeod from his anger. Jess knew she should apologize. But, of course, that’s not what she did. No, she went with her other plan instead and attacked.

“You, your brother, and your harlot of a sister-in-law can go to the devil for all I care. But I’ll have you know, I don’t plan to marry, not ever. My life belongs to God. It’s best if
you
remember that. But if I did plan to marry. If I had a change of heart. If I ever, ever wanted to marry…, well, suffice it to say, I would never, never marry you. I would marry whomever I pleased.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Her distraction had worked. She could tell by the look of patent incredulity on his face. That look of stunned disbelief irritated her past bearing.

“It’s true you, you, you...,” she stopped and blew at the pesky curl again. Calm down, she told herself, breathe deeply. Her palm still itched to slap the arrogant, handsome face above her. When her anger was somewhat under control, she turned away and spoke in a low, reserved voice, “It’s true. I’d never marry you, McLeod. This
thing
between us is just a ruse to get me to London. I’ve had more proposals than you have fingers and toes.”

There was a deep rumbling in his chest that made her furious eyes fly up to his face again. He was chuckling. It was a masculine, appealing sound, she admitted to herself. She had a horrible suspicion the awful man was trying very hard not to laugh at her outright.

“What?” Jess asked, confused. She’d been giving him a well-deserved set down. But McLeod didn’t appear chastised. No, not a bit. “What is so amusing?” There was a pettish edge to her voice.

“Fingers and toes?” His sherry-colored eyes challenged her. And then he did laugh. The deep, glorious sound of it flowed across the deck. Two deckhands stopped their mopping to turn and watch.

Their heads came together. They began feverishly whispering. Was that the captain laughing? Surely not, he was a hard and stern man. Besides, he’d never laugh with a woman would he? Even if she was beautiful beyond description, like the little miss in his arms. Why the only time he’d ever been heard to laugh was once when a completing pirate’s crew tried to board his ship. And that laughter hadn’t been a pleasant sound. No, not pleasant at all.

Finn gently set the woman on her feet. He smiled in spite of himself. Bloody Hades, he liked her. He liked her fire and spunk. He admired her tenacity and beauty. He liked the fact that here was a woman who didn’t seem to be afraid of him. Women were invariably either afraid of him or were casting out lures in his direction. This girl did none of those things. She obviously didn’t know anything about him or his blackened reputation. If she did, she wouldn’t be nattering on about her numerous ‘fingers and toes’ marriage proposals.

That smile he gifted her with was neither practiced nor sarcastic, it was genuine. And women scattered over three continents would have killed for such a smile as this one from Lord Finn McLeod Maitland.

Of course, Jess didn’t see it. Having finally managed to escape his arms, she was concentrating on not looking at him at all. She knew he was there, because his big frame blocked the biting sea breeze from her shivering body. She only shook because she was cold, nothing more, she sniffed. The sudden tremors running the length of her spine had nothing to do with his proximity.

Finn placed her behind him facing the ocean. She was thankful for that small favor. At least, the sailors working around them didn’t have a view of her discomfort. Maybe, if she ignored him long enough, he would give up and go away. That was the first hopeful thought she’d had all morning. And with that idea in mind, she set about bringing her original plan to fruition.

First, she began intently studying the toe of her black half-boot. Actually Jess was mentally castigated herself for bragging about her conquests. Her cheeks felt on fire. So she knew she must be blushing. And she hated that. Blushing was for flustered school girls and practiced flirts. It was not for women who had a serious call on their life. Intelligent women with purpose and dignity did not blush.

He wasn’t moving. She sighed. She cast about for another way to ignore the beast. And then, in a flash of inspiration, it came to her. Prayer. Yes, nothing drove men away faster than audible prayer. She’d used this ruse to send scores of suitors fleeing. Even her Aunt Dorcas scurried away, rather than endure a long, awkward prayer. Jess folded her hands. She took a deep breath. She began reciting her favorite prayer,