Pleasing the Pirate: A Loveswept Historical Romance (6 page)

“Somebody has to lead our people,” she said.

“That title falls to King George.”

“And he’s done such a marvelous job of it.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. She’d had about enough of their King George and his roving bands of soldiers. “England won’t help us,” she said softly, her brogue more pronounced in her fury. “England won’t put food in our bellies nor give us men to defend against their soldiers.”

“And Grant will?”

“He has to. He’s our laird.”

Phin stared at her for the longest time. “What if he doesn’t, Mairi? What will happen to your people then?”

London was everything Mairi had expected and so much more. It stunk—a horrible fishy smell that made her want to hold her nose. It was noisy. So many carts and horses. And people. There were people everywhere, running here and there, lounging in doorways, yelling at her as she walked down the street, selling their wares, wanting to purchase hers.

A pall hung over the city from so many chimneys belching out black smoke that it obliterated the sky and dimmed the sun. How did one live like this day in and day out, unable to see the sun? It made her long for the clear blue skies and crisp clean air of Scotland.

The Thames was choked with hundreds of ships and even more tenders.
Things
were
floating
in the river. Things she didn’t want to contemplate.

And as with any port that spewed men onto the shore, the women followed. Prostitutes frequented every corner, every alleyway and every doorway, flashing their … well … attributes, and calling out to the sailors that passed by. The sailors, in turn, called back. Some followed the women into the alleys and doorways, where shadows moved against the dirty walls of the buildings and noises she closed her ears to reached the walkways.

Phin hurried her along when what she wanted to do was stand there and gawk and at the same time turn around and run away.

So this was England. Dirty, smelly, loud, dark.

It was so much worse than she expected. It made her sad to think that Grant preferred to stay here rather than return to Scotland where the air was clean and the people not so tightly packed together.

A few streets away the intensity of the activity lessened but there were still masses of people about. If possible they looked even grimmer, more desperate. Men congregated on street corners, eyeing everyone who walked by in a way that made Mairi shiver. Phin tightened his hold on her hand, pulling her closer to him. His other hand went to the grip of the pistol plainly seen on his belt. The men eyed him for a long moment before their gazes skittered away.

For the first time she applauded her wisdom in searching Phin out. She would have never made it off the dock without some unsavory soul rightly thinking her an easy target.

Phin turned abruptly and pushed open a door, yanking her into a dark, dank interior that smelled fouler than the outside if that was even possible. She wrinkled her nose and inched closer to him.

The shadows lurking in the corners slowly revealed themselves as men sitting at tables nursing tankards of ale, their shifty eyes tracking Phin as he made his way to the man behind the bar. Mairi tried to hold her breath and look as inconspicuous as possible while Phin spoke to the proprietor. Then they were following the man up a set of steps.

She wanted to pull back, to demand to know what they were doing and where they were going, but one look at the dirty, unsavory characters watching from the shadows held her tongue.

“What are we doing
here
?” she managed to ask when they were left alone in a dingy bedchamber.

Phin peered out of the grimy window.

“I ask again—”

“We’ll be staying here for a time,” he said.

“Here? Surely you aren’t serious.”

He turned away from the window. “I’m very serious.”

“But …” She looked at the gray curtains that did nothing to afford them privacy. At the cold fireplace and the filthy floor. At the bed that had a considerable dip in the center and a counterpane that was beyond soiled.

“Oh, no.” She took a step back. “I’d rather stay on the ship. During a storm.”

“I assure you, this is no jest. You want to find your brother, don’t you?”

“And that requires residing in a hovel?”

“I wouldn’t let the proprietor hear you say that.”

She huffed out a disbelieving breath. “Captain Phin—”

“Miss McFadden.”

She shot him a frustrated glare. “You can’t possibly expect me to stay here. And where will you stay?”

“Here.”

Her mouth dropped open and she took another step back. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I fail to see how staying in this room, with you, will help find my brother.”

“You said it yourself the other day.”

“I did?”

“You said that if Grant was wanted by the English—which he is—that he wouldn’t show himself to an Englishman.” His hands went out to his side in a what-can-I-do gesture. “Only one person can make Grant come out of hiding.”

She had wondered how Phin would persuade Grant to come out of hiding. And now she knew. “Me?” she asked weakly.

“You.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m to be used as bait.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He didn’t look happy about it and neither was she, but she could see the genius of his plan.

A sharp rap on the door made her jump. At Phin’s command two boys carried in a large tub and placed it by the cold fireplace.

“You’ve ordered a bath?” she asked.

“I thought you would like one.”

She huffed out a breath. The man was endlessly confusing her. Hard and implacable one moment, then ordering her baths the next.

A boy shuffled in lugging a bucket of water with him, steam spiraling off the top of it. Phin took the pail, which was as big as the boy, and dumped it into the tub. After several more trips, the tub was full. A fire had been built up and was warming the room to a toasty temperature.

When the boys left, Phin motioned toward the tub. “It’s all yours. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you.”

For long moments she stared at the tendrils of steam rising up from the water, barely believing this fantastic opportunity. Before the water could cool she stepped out of her ragged gown and underclothes and into the tub.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned as her body slipped under the hot water. This was heaven. Pure heaven. She leaned her head back, submerged herself up to her shoulders and closed her eyes.

Tension eased out of her body. Her muscles relaxed. She hadn’t had a bath like this in so long. A bath where she could take her time, where there were no demands. No women pounding on the door, no problems to be solved.

When she would bathe as a wee lass her ma would wash her hair, her strong fingers digging into Mairi’s scalp and tugging on her hair. It felt so good that Mairi would beg her to keep going. Her ma would laugh and tell her it was sinful to enjoy her bathing so much.

If she thought long enough and concentrated hard enough, she could feel her ma’s fingers on her scalp and the lilt of her voice as they talked. Rarely did they get time together, just the two of them, but bath days had always been one of those times. Ma would even send the servants out. They would talk about whatever they wanted. Sometimes she would tell Mairi about the women who came to her for help. Ma had been good with herbs and healing, and the clansmen trusted her. She was constantly busy helping other people and Mairi had looked up to her with pride.

She’d wanted to be like her ma. To grow up and carry on the tradition of healing. But she’d never had a chance. Ma had died of a fever and had taken her healing secrets with her. Mairi had been left with her da and her brother, both of whom loved her, but neither could replace her ma.

It was times like these, when her defenses were down, that she missed them all the most.

Her da died during the uprising and Grant … Who knew what happened to Grant? Something must have inherently changed her brother for him to become the man he was now.

Now the women came to her and looked up to her as they’d looked up to her ma. The only problem was, she had no idea how to help them.

The tension that had eased just moments ago returned. She had no right to relax like this. Since her da had died and Grant had disappeared, she’d been the one in charge, and while she hadn’t wanted to be the clan’s leader, she’d had no choice. She wasn’t her ma, but she was doing the best she could.

As soon as she found Grant things would be better. She had to believe that.

To rid her mind of such sad thoughts, she set about the serious business of washing the grime away. Except for her near dunk in the ocean, it’d been a long while since she’d had a good wash. She’d set off in search of Phin days before actually meeting up with him. She’d made the decision long before that to search for her brother. The moment MacGowan put her back against the wall, literally and figuratively, and
told
her she would marry him, she knew she had to do something to protect herself, her land, and more important, the people who’d come to her for protection.

James Taggart had been with her clan for nearly a year. He was the one who said he’d
heard Phin was in Scotland and that just maybe Phin Lockwood could help her find Grant.

He’d even driven her in the wagon as far as he could so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way and had procured her a seat on the mail coach the rest of the way. She wasn’t well traveled, but she had traveled through Scotland, so that part hadn’t been too frightening. What had been frightening was being left by James so he could return to the keep. He promised her that she would be fine, and while she didn’t totally believe him, she knew she couldn’t back down. Not when everything hung in the balance.

And James had been correct. It was amazing what a person could do when faced with no other choice. Fears were nothing compared to a McFadden’s will.

Her hour had to be nearly up. She stood, the water sluicing off her clean body. Ach, but it felt good to be clean for once. Such a shame that she had to put her filthy gown back on but what was she to do? She had no other clothes and wasn’t about to spend precious coin on a new gown. Not when she had to give every farthing to Captain Phin.

* * *

To give Mairi privacy, Phin wandered down to the main room of the Coxswain. Mairi had been appalled that they were lodging here but from what Sebastian had told him, Grant made frequent appearances here and a few other local establishments. This was the cleaner of the two and the best place to hide Mairi in plain site.

His plan was to bring her down tonight and test his theory that McFadden’s spies were in the tavern. If he was correct, he was certain they’d hear from McFadden soon. If he was wrong, they would move to the next establishment. Eventually McFadden’s men would see Mairi and report back to him. At least that was his hope.

Phin nursed his ale and watched the people around him, his free hand never far from his pistol and sword. He had no doubt she was safe in their chamber, but the main room was a different story. One never knew what could happen when drunken sailors got together.

He had been surprised at her reaction when she learned she was to be used as bait to flush Grant out. There were no feminine vapors, no screeching or, God forbid, crying.

She merely digested the information, saw the need for it and accepted it.

She had a warrior’s mind, this one did. She knew what needed to be done and set about
doing it, despite the fact that the sea made her sick, and that she’d never left her native country, and that she had very little money, no resources and no contacts. He liked her and was a bit disconcerted that he liked her.

He certainly hadn’t been prepared to like her. Before encountering her in Scotland, he’d only thought of her in terms of her brother and her brother’s crimes. It wasn’t until he actually set eyes upon her that she became a real person to him.

A person with a history, with fears.

Another thing he hadn’t been prepared for. Her fear.

What really drove her to find her brother? She claimed it was so Grant could lead her clan, but Phin got the impression from Sebastian that the clan was scattered and comprised mainly of homeless women and a few men.

So where did the fear come from?

And why did it bother him?

He wished he could go back to thinking of her as nothing more than a traitor’s sister, but that was impossible now that he’d spent some time with her.

As he’d thought before, she was a tiny bit of nothing, but her slight stature was misleading. She’d traveled across Scotland in search of him, determined to do whatever it took to procure his help. She even bargained her body, which was still surprising to him.

It all came back to that fear. Whatever she feared was worse than bedding an Englishman, and
that
was telling.

Yes, she was intriguing, and the last thing he needed was an intriguing lass crowding his mind when a noose hung over his head.

Hell and damnation.

He finished his ale and stood. He’d given her enough time to bathe. It was time she came down and began this mission so he could get his life back. He stopped briefly in Ezra’s bedchamber, where he wrangled some of his first mate’s clothing. Ezra wasn’t happy about it, but then Ezra hadn’t been happy with Mairi’s presence from the beginning. Phin had made the decision not to tell his crew of his bargain with the king. There was no need for them to know and they were willing enough to follow him where he led.

He knocked on her door, his heart beating harshly. Strange, that. His reaction to her bothered him, but he could control himself.

At her soft, “Come in,” he opened the door and stopped cold.

She was bent over at the waist in front of the fire, her delectable derriere front and center. His mouth went dry.

She looked at him upside down, her hair hanging nearly to the ground.

She jerked upright with a softly exclaimed, “Oh.”

She’d wrapped a thin sheet around her and secured the end between two very plump, soft breasts. With her sudden movement the sheet had slipped and she slapped a hand to her chest to hold it in place.