“A lucky thing, that. Seeing as you did your all to sully her virtue. The girl’s lucky Fraser took her—”

Aidan punched him. He stopped the man’s words with his fist, marking the second time he’d struck Elspeth’s father. He’d strike him again, and again if need be, if that was what it took to school him about his daughter’s worth.

He shook out his fist. “Don’t you realize? You just sent Elspeth off with a pirate, a kidnapper. I know the Endeavor well. Pray your daughter isn’t shackled as I was on my introductory voyage.”

Something flashed in her father’s eyes. Aidan hoped it was a flicker of humanity finally dawning.

Aidan offered his hand, pulling Farquharson to standing. Keeping his voice calm and slow, he asked, “Where did he take her?”

The old man didn’t answer, and Angus stepped forward, until the two of them loomed tall over him. It seemed Elspeth’s father was trying the farmer’s patience too.

“Tell me, old man,” Aidan demanded. “Where?”

Farquharson shook his head in defeat. “To his estate in Arbroath. They’ll be wed by nightfall.” Then he pursed his lips, looking away into the distance.

Aidan hoped her father was praying for forgiveness. Because at that moment, forgiveness wasn’t something Aidan had in his heart to give. “The man you chose for your daughter could as easily hang from a gibbet as make his fortune.” He turned to Angus. “You see this one home, before he does any more damage.”

Aidan strode away, headed north up the harbor, to where he’d docked his sloop.

“Where are you going?” Farquharson shouted after him.

“To stop a wedding.”

Chapter 34

The reality of Elspeth’s situation was upon her. Traveling by boat was a horrid affair, nothing like what she’d experienced with Aidan on his sloop.

At least the mystery of the man with the black pearl was finally solved. She stared at Captain Will. She’d expected the most fearsome of pirates, but he was average. Neither tall nor short. Not particularly hideous, nor was he so very well formed. The only thing that stood out was the black pearl dangling from his right ear.

And somehow it was this lack of exceptionality that was the root of his menace. His eyes were cold but his smile came easy, and she had the disturbing sensation that a horrible secret lay cloaked behind that placid mien. If she found him so unsettling, what must a young boy like Aidan have felt?

A howl echoed from the ship’s hold, and she flinched. Even seated in the captain’s quarters, she smelled the Endeavor’s stink of pitch and mildew, and the cries of men locked below carried clearly to her ears, making her blood run cold.

Even more chilling was the knowledge that she was traveling on the very ship that’d stolen Aidan away, so many years ago.

Aidan. He’d come for her. She knew it. He’d arrive, greater than any hero from any book. Sailing alongside, he’d toss grappling hooks into their rigging and swoop on deck like the most fearsome of Barbadian raiders. He’d create choices where there were none, revealing some pirate treasure he’d buried away.

Captain Will had been staring at her and apparently saw something in her expression that he found distasteful.

“Damnable situation,” the captain muttered. He stood and closed the distance to where Fraser sat. He approached too closely, towering over the merchant, forcing him to crane his neck upward. “You’ll pay for this little detour. I’m not in business to take you out for a honeymoon sail.” He cast a thoughtful look at Fraser’s heavy suitcase, stroking the pearl in his ear all the while. “And I don’t like having a woman aboard. The men fear naught but ill fortune can come of it.”

Fraser leaned back, affecting amiability. “Not superstitious, are you?”

The captain glared, freezing Fraser’s easy laugh in his throat.

Elspeth watched the captain carefully. The way he tightened his jaw ever so slightly, set his shoulders ever so stiffly, showed him in a new light. She’d wager he was superstitious indeed. Very much so.

“No good comes of a woman on board.” Again, he absentmindedly rubbed his earring, and she wondered if the strange trinket weren’t actually some sort of talisman. His good-luck charm. “And it’s Friday. One never begins a voyage on a Friday.”

“We’re almost there, and no evil has come to pass,” Fraser assured him. “Your superstitions are for naught. Such are merely the misguided notions of fishwives and aging sailors.”

Will’s expression cleared, and though he once again made himself unreadable, Elspeth fancied it was only a ruse. He gave a cool nod. “As you say. You are the man with the money, are you not?”

She didn’t believe his acquiescence for one moment and studied him, looking for more clues. He was well kempt, but not a dandy, and she imagined that his innocuous mask made it as easy for him to wend his way through the wealthiest drawing rooms as to skulk into the grittiest of dockside pubs.

“You stare,” he said, walking toward her.

She startled, caught in the act, and quickly looked away. “Do I?” She had the wild hope that some shipboard emergency might call him back above deck. He might appear utterly average, but she was more afraid of him than of any man she’d ever met. “I apologize.”

“No need for apology, I assure you. But I wonder. Is it that I’ve caught your fancy?” He took her chin in his fingers, tilting her face to the light. It had the effect of illuminating him too, highlighting a clean overcoat of decent fabric and a full head of combed but graying hair. “For I find you’ve caught mine.”

He grew silent, studying her. “How unusual—you’ve yellow in your eyes. But of course you already knew that.” Their eyes connected, and gooseflesh crawled across her skin. He seemed to look deeply into her soul. “Yellow eyes … I wonder, what could that augur?”

So he was superstitious. She prayed that yellow eyes signaled something lucky, because she didn’t want to find herself walking the plank. Her eyes flashed again to the pearl in his ear. She imagined he’d be lost without it.

He smiled, and for an instant, he looked no more menacing than a benign uncle. But then his eyes went flat, like a snake’s. “Pity you’re to be wed to my partner.” He raised a brow. “Unless you’d change your mind?”

She gave a shy shake to her head. Captain Will was infinitely more frightening than Fraser ever could be.

He chuckled. “Not interested in becoming a pirate bride?”

Just not your pirate bride. For once, she had the words ready on her tongue, but chose not to speak them.

But then a wild notion struck her. Her gaze skittered over that shining pearl, and she gave a coy shrug.

“Could it be? Our maiden is uncertain?” The captain leaned closer, his eyes locked with hers. “Yellow,” he murmured, the whispered word hot on her mouth. “Perhaps for the blue and yellow of fair skies …”

“What is this?” Fraser sputtered. She felt his presence from across the room, vibrating with anger.

Captain Will smiled. “This is your bride having second thoughts.”

Time seemed to stop as she summoned every last shred of her courage. Holding her breath, she reached a tentative hand out. Her heart thudded so, she thought surely he’d be able to spy the pulse in her neck. She grazed a finger along the captain’s cheek, and then touched him again with her whole hand. She stroked his face, keeping her eyes wide on his so he might not forget their strange yellow flecks.

Her fingers were close, so close. She would be courageous. She’d strike at the very heart of the evil pirate. She raked her hands through his hair. He chuckled, a husky sound, so she dared it again. And this time she lingered over his ears. She stroked some more, and with each pass, grazed his black pearl. “My da always said sunlight followed in my wake.”

She was close to her goal, but needed to push herself further, to leap from the precipice. She parted her lips on a sigh, and his mouth closed in. His teeth knocked into hers, and she clamped her eyes shut tight, fighting the urge to shudder with revulsion.

Feigning passion, she made herself return the kiss, writhing in his arms, all the while raking her fingers through his hair, stroking his cheeks.

A commotion on deck distracted him. He pulled away, and she refrained from smearing the back of her hand along her mouth. “You’re a peculiar wee minx,” he said, cupping her jaw. “They say women aboard ship are bad luck, unless naked. What say you, minx? Are you ready to be naked? Because I think I might like to keep you.”

“I think I might not let you.” She’d tried to adopt a saucy tone, but her voice trembled, and she hoped he’d take it for excitement, not fear. For in her palm was nestled a single, black pearl.

Barking a laugh, he pushed her chin from his hand.

Men shouted on deck—words sounding like “land, ho!”—and Captain Will went to peer out the porthole.

“You’ll excuse me,” he said. Giving her a regal bow, he added, “I regret I’ll not have more time to convince you. I didn’t believe Fraser when he told me. But I see now, it is the still waters which flow the deepest.”

As he left, Elspeth’s chest shuddered with a quiet sigh of relief.

Fraser glared at her, clearly uncertain what to make of her little scene with the captain, and then he rose to peer out the porthole for himself. “I see by your salacious behavior that you’re familiar with a man’s touch.” He kept his back to her as he spoke, staring out at the water. “I’ve not asked where you spent last night—I thought I’d spare you the discomfort. For now. Your paramour’s identity will be discovered in time.”

He stepped aside, pinning her with a flat stare, but all she saw was the hazy silhouette of land in the distance.

They were about to dock in Arbroath, and yet there was still no sign of Aidan. No grappling hooks, no shots off the starboard bow.

Where was he? She was spinning a wild tale, casting herself as heroine, and needed her hero now more than ever.