The Last Broken Promise (20 page)

“Griffin’s right, Jess,” Dylan said. “If you won’t go below, at least get out of the way. You can’t protect him.”

“They’re right, love,” Finn coaxed. He put a hand on her trim waist to gently move her aside.

“Love?” Griffin barked. “Who gave you the right to address our sister in such a familiar manner?”

“She did,” Finn answered.

“Jess?” Dylan’s voice and look were a fair interrogation.

Jess felt trapped. If she told her brothers what lay between she and Finn, they’d surely murder him. That one hot kiss was enough to earn him a quick death at the point of one of her brother’s weapons. But if she told them the false story about Finn and she being engaged, she’d be trapped in another way. Finn solved the problem for her with his next words.

“We’re betrothed,” he said with absolutely no inflection.

“I believe you’ll need to repeat yourself, McLeod. I thought I heard you say you’re engaged to my sister, without my knowledge.” Dylan went into full-fledged Duke of MacAllister haughtiness.

“We are not betrothed,” Jess sputtered. She shot Finn an evil look. “We are certainly not betrothed. I would not do such a thing without telling my family.”

“You would not do such a thing, at all?” Dylan reposted acerbically. “You would need my legal consent to enter into such a binding, legal agreement.”

“This is not the Middle Ages, Dylan,” Jess said hotly. “I can marry whomever I choose.”

“I thought you’d decided to be a nun?” Griffin said in some confusion. “Though how is that even possible, since you’re not Catholic?”

“You know he’s after your money, Jess?” Connor chose a more cynical route.

“I’m not after her money,” Finn rumbled.

“Oh, and I believe that outrageous lie because you so apparently have pots of money of your own,” Connor mocked.

“I’m not after her money,” McLeod grated out. It was true. He was wealthy, in his own right, though no one knew that fact.

“In any event, it doesn’t matter, because I am
not
betrothed,” Jess said adamantly.

Dylan looked at Finn. He asked him a pointed question, “Did you compromise my sister?”

McLeod nodded. “I did.”

“You did not!” Jess screeched. She turned to face him. “You promised not to tell anyone about that fiendish kiss,” she hissed softly.

Jess hadn’t meant for any one of the others to hear her. But, being spies, their hearing
was
rather acute. And she may have been just the teeniest bit loud, since she was, understandably, very upset.

“You kissed Jess?” Connor demanded of Finn.

Jess hastened to answer, “Of course, he didn’t.”

She vowed she would pray over this whole series of lies later. She’d ask for forgiveness. She’d promise the Almighty to never, ever tell a falsehood again. If He’d just let her get through this awkward interview unscathed.

McLeod remained silent. There was an ocean of love and compassion coming from his eyes as he stared down at the girl. He knew well the quandary she’d twisted herself into. And for his purposes, he would not help her extricate herself.

“Is she ruined, Maitland?” Dylan demanded.

“She is. She is ruined beyond all repair. Unless she marries me,” he answered.

“You promised,” Jess whispered weakly.

“No love, I only promised not to speak of the kiss. And I didn’t. I never promised to keep secret the night you spent in my bed,” he said.

He barely managed to shove her out of the way before Griffin’s blade made a shallow, bleeding score into his throat. Finn still made no move to defend himself. He wouldn’t. Her brothers deserved their ire. And he had earned a beating from them. He only hoped it would not end in his death. Because, now that he’d found a way to tie Jess to him, he’d never let her go while he yet breathed.

“Don’t kill him,” the girl pleaded for McLeod’s life. She sat huddled on the slippery deck.

“I must. He stole your innocence.” Griffin was infuriated.

“He stole nothing from me, nothing.”

“You lay with him willingly?” Connor asked aghast.

“It’s complicated,” Jess hedged.

The night she’d spent, with Finn, in the gaol, could hardly qualify as a sensual awakening. But how was she to explain that to her brothers. The fact that she’d kept company overnight with, not one man, but two men would surely ruin her forever in the eyes of polite society. And the worse part was, McLeod had truly kept his promise to her. He’d never mentioned the kiss they’d shared. She’d done that herself, in a moment of weakness and despair. She could blame no one for this whole spectacle, but herself. And, of course, at that pivotal moment her Aunt Dorcas showed up.

“Oh, wonderful,” the old lady cooed. “Now we have the whole family here to celebrate your happy news, Jessamine. Have you told them of your impending nuptials?”

She could keep up the façade of the betrothal. Even though she now had reservations as to McLeod’s suitability. Once they got to Savannah, she would cry off. Finn wouldn’t be the first man to be jilted before marriage vows were spoke.

All the St. John men bowed at once. They each, in turn, joined their little dumpling of an aunt. They raised her hand in theirs, and kissed the back of it. Once all the courtesies were duly accounted for, they began to speak.

“McLeod informed us of the betrothal,” Dylan said smoothly. “But we’ve yet to work out the particulars of Jess’s marriage settlement.”

“We need to protect her assets,” Connor added, giving Finn a stern look.

“We’ll insist upon a long engagement, very long. Because you never know,” Griffin drawled. “Life is so precarious. Something untoward might happen to Captain McLeod.” It was a threat, pure and simple.

“What an unsettling thought,” Dorcas said weakly. She fanned herself as if she might swoon. “I’d never realized how dangerous life upon the seas might prove.”

She gave Finn a speculative glance. “I don’t suppose you’d consider giving up your sailing?” she inquired of the captain.

The tall man nodded. “I might. If there was an adequate incentive,” he answered with perfect aplomb.

“You’re not getting her money, McLeod,” Griffin roared. The sharp point of his saber dug deeper into Finn’s flesh.

The sea captain calmly pushed the weapon aside. He looked directly down into Jess’s face. “I’ve already assured you, I want no monetary gain from my union with Jess. She is all I want.”

Every person on that rolling deck knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he spoke the truth. Dorcas sighed. It was like a modern-day fairy tale. Suddenly she was well-pleased with the results of all her former machinations. McLeod would need some tutoring. And perhaps a minder, of some sort. That was true. But Jess would marry into an aristocratic family. The girl would take her place in society. And, by and by, Dorcas would have the pleasure of dandling the McLeod offspring upon her ample knees. They would be her grandchildren. And who knew, if God ordained, somehow Finn may come to be a peer, in his own right. That would tie every loose end up nicely in a neat, orderly bow.

“Do you love him, Jess,” Dylan asked. For that question was utmost in his mind. He knew how love could make a marriage Heaven on earth. And the lack of it could make a union a black and stinking Hell. He’d always intended for his baby sister to enjoy the deep communion he himself shared with his dear wife, Rory.

The girl sitting slumped on the deck didn’t answer. Although everything in her wanted to believe Finn’s quiet declaration, she hesitated.

“Jess?” Dylan called.

“What?” she asked, stunned by the enormity of what had just happened to her.

It did not escape her notice that though the tall, handsome sea captain had articulated his desire for her. He’d never mentioned love. And there was his spiritual state, and his checkered past to consider as well. Could she yoke herself in marriage to an unbeliever? The scripture was very clear about how a Christian should not undertake marriage with someone outside of the faith.

“I could countenance this betrothal, if I thought you cared for the man,” Dylan said.

Jess swallowed hard. She looked at the hands knotted in her lap. She wet her dry lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. She didn’t know what to answer. But she decided the truth was always sufficient.

“I… care for him,” she admitted not daring to look into Finn’s triumphant face.

“I care for my horse,” Connor said sarcastically. “But I don’t want to marry it.”

“He’s right, Jess. Caring is a rather lukewarm sentiment,” Dylan agreed. “A marriage can’t be based on such a weak foundation.”

Dorcas frowned. Her one sterling opportunity to see her niece honorably wed was slipping from her grasp. She had to do something fast. So she spoke without thinking, “I disagree.”

Every person on the deck turned to stare at her. It was widely known in Virginia that Dorcas had married to suit herself. She’d been adamant in her pursuit of her wealthy, placid husband. The man had been rich, but no hero. Of course, as they’d both matured, he’d gained wisdom and stature in the community. No man could remain close to the St. Johns and not prosper in such ways. From its odd beginnings, it had blossomed into an agreeable union. And everyone knew it had not started as a love match.

“You disagree?” Griffin asked politely.

Dorcas nodded. She’d plastered a very odd toothy smile across her broad face. It didn’t take the skill of this nest of spies to know she was up to something shady.

Jess muttered under her breath. “Aunt Dorcas, you’ve lectured me for years about finding the right man,” she said. “You’ve gone on and on about how important family, wealth, and respectability are in the hunt. This man,” Jess jabbed her finger towards Finn. “This man has none of those things. So why would you further his suit?”

Dorcas thought fast. “It’s true, family connections are paramount. But Jess, you must have forgotten. Dear Captain McLeod’s brother is a duke,” she answered with a nervous twitter of laughter.

“What about wealth and respectability?” Jess pressed.

“I wish you St. Johns would stop inferring that I’m some kind of bloody fortune hunter,” Finn goaded.

He was enjoying himself immensely. As long as he’d secured the young woman’s hand, he honestly didn’t care what the others thought of him. Now that they were betrothed, he had all the time he needed to charm her. She would love him, eventually. He made himself that vow.

“It wouldn’t do you any good, if that’s your game, McLeod,” Griffin said darkly. “I’d not let you live long enough to enjoy anything you might wheedle out of her.”

“Wheedle?” Finn’s low malicious laugh sent chills up more than one spine on the deck. “You sound like an old woman, or a high-strung virgin, Griff.” He intentionally used the diminutive. The one he’d called the man since they’d both been budding spies fifteen years hence.

“Both of you, cease,” Dylan ordered. He’d had more than enough of their verbal jousting. He pointed a steady finger at McLeod. “If you hurt her, I’ll see you dead.” He turned to his brothers. “Get back on our ship. Make ready to sail for Savannah. Jess, you and Aunt Dorcas will come with us. Finn, you will follow.”

“She sails with me,” McLeod contradicted him.

There was no way he wanted Jess to be under the influence of her brothers for the several days it would take for them to make it to the southern port. Her aunt might be his ally, at the moment. But Finn knew just how persuasive the St. Johns could be. They were an impressive, manipulative lot. If he let Jess get away from him now, who knew what they’d convince her of before they all made landfall?

“I beg your pardon?” Dylan’s words were cold.

Everyone on the deck stilled. They all felt the undercurrents of danger running between the two dominant men who faced each other.

“I said, Jess will sail with me. We are betrothed. It is my right to protect her,” Finn said. He could have been speaking of the weather. He seemed that unconcerned.

“That’s precisely why she’ll be traveling to Savannah on a St. John ship. We will keep her safe, from
everything
that might harm her,” His inference was clear. The Duke of MacAllister did not trust his maiden sister to the man who’d spent his entire adult life posing as a rapacious pirate.

“It might be better,” Dorcas chose that moment to give her opinion once again. “If we did sail with my nephews,” she said apologetically to McLeod. “There’s still her reputation to consider. And arriving in your company in Savannah, without a chaperone, would be socially fatal.”

“You can accompany us,” Finn said by way of a counter offer. Though, he’d hoped to have Jess all to himself on the short journey. He wanted to further cement their relationship.

Dorcas tittered once again. It was a high grating sound. “My dear boy, I think you’re too anxious for Jess’s company. A few days apart can be nothing but helpful. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say. Besides, she and I have a wedding to plan. We will use the days wisely towards that goal, I promise you. Once we meet in Savannah, your nuptials will be plotted.”

Jess didn’t like the sound of that. She’d been hoping to put off any talk of an actual wedding. But it seemed her aunt intended to see her married quickly. The girl needed a plan. She needed solitude and time for prayer and reflection. She knew she would not find it in Finn’s company. For every time she was near the big man it seemed her wits, along with her good intentions, went fleeing.

“I’ll go with my family,” Jess said.

If Finn was surprised because of her earlier opposite assertions, he gave no sign of it. Jess watched him carefully. If he’d give her some kind of sign that what he felt for her was more than lust, she’d be tempted to stay with him. But he didn’t. And she told herself that was a good thing. Because, if ever she chanced to fall to the temptation of letting the love she felt budding for this man gain its full flower, she’d be lost. He was a charming rake. A man who used women with no compunction. He made no pretense to having a faith, Christian or otherwise. He was all wrong for her.

“This storm is only going to get stronger,” Finn said.

“I agree,” said Griffin. “We need to try and sail around it. I say let’s make for deep water. Then, once we skirt the worst of the squall, we can hug the coast from Charleston to Savannah.”

“I’ll lead,” Finn said as he looked out over the angry horizon.

“I’ll guard your back,” Griffin nodded.

They both knew Finn was the better navigator. If anyone could steer a course away from the worst part of the storm, it would be McLeod.

“Connor, get the women settled on our ship. I’ll stay with McLeod a moment to finish nailing down the details,” Dylan ordered.

Since it was the plan they had all set upon, no one offered argument. Connor retrieved the thick rope he and his brothers had used to swing over to Finn’s craft with. He fashioned a large loop in it.

Jess stood in the loop and pulled it up. The loop made a rough seat. She’d done this very same thing many, many times. She was as familiar with this kind of transport between vessels as she was with riding in the family carriage. She rather liked the feeling of being suspended in midair as the makeshift seat swung over the side of the boat and lurched towards her brother’s craft. It was the nearest thing to flying she’d ever experienced.

Soon the rope swung within arm’s reach of Griffin’s ship. Burly seamen leaned out to grab the line and haul her safely aboard. She gave a jaunty wave to her aunt across the roiling sea, as she set foot on the pitching deck.

A sailor threw the rope back over so Dorcas could make the same precarious trip. The older woman was not so enamored of this mode of travel, as was her young niece. She despised the vertigo of being dangled over the rough ocean. So it was with no small amount of trepidation that she allowed herself to be hoisted aloft and over the side. But for all her fears and tight-shut eyes, she made the transition with no problem.

Connor and Griffin disdained the seat. They merely looped the rope, in their turn, around their strong wrists and swung easily across the abyss.

As his family watched from the deck of the far ship, Dylan turned his back to them. He had no intention of letting them see what he was about to do. With no warning, his fist arched out and caught Finn squarely on the jaw. The big man tumbled to the listing, wet deck.

Dylan pointed at him. “Curse you, stay down,” he ordered as Finn started to rise. “Betrothed or no, you earned that. She was an innocent, you bloody son of a Satan. Stay down so I’m not forced to end you where you lay.”

Finn wiped the smear of blood from his lip. “She’s still virginal, I swear. And you are a fool if you think I would hurt her in any way.” He spat onto the weathered boards of the deck.

“You would have me believe you took one look at Jess and fell in love with her?” Dylan mocked. “I know you Finn. I know you. You’re the one Arthur sends when he’s bent on seducing some light-skirted aristocratic matron into divulging all she knows about her husband’s dealings with the government. You’re nothing but the male equivalent of a street-walking tart.”

“Nice sentiments from the one who showed me the way of turning up a woman sweet,” Finn drawled. “Does your pretty young wife know who you used to be and what?”

Dylan’s face turned deadly. “My wife knows everything about my past,
everything
. And she loves me still. She firmly believes God can change even the foulest sinner.”

“And what do you believe, Heartless St. John?” the man jeered up at him. “Are you a
believer
now as well? Do you subscribe to the myth of a Savior, a benevolent God who cares for the downtrodden and desperate? If you are so deluded, let me tell you about the man who tried to
save
me in Edinburgh. He was a man of God. He claimed he’d come to help me, to save me. His kind of salvation came with a riding crop and manacles that chained me to a cellar wall.” Again Finn spat on the deck. “If that is what your God offers, I want none of it.”

Dylan softened. “I am a Christian, though it’s clear by my recent behavior, I’m still not a very good one. And I remember, in just what squalid circumstances Arthur and I found you.” He reached down to lend the prone man a hand up.

McLeod refused his help. He gracefully got to his feet. He stood in the gathering sunlight, strong and resolute against the punishing gale. “To answer your rude inquiry, I don’t know if I love your sister. I only know I can’t let her out of my sight and would kill anyone, anyone who looked to hurt her. And yes, I am fully aware that my life heretofore does not qualify me to even be in her company. Much less to exchange marriage vows with her. But I want the chance to woo and win her, Dylan. You were able to change for your wife. Give me the same opportunity.”

“I wasn’t capable of changing myself, Finn. No man truly is. God did that in me and for me. I am different only by His grace.”

The younger man scowled. “Let us have no more nattering on about your precious God. I’m not interested in tales of fictional redemption. I’ve the stripes on my back to prove how well your God
loves
his children.”

“You know only the ramblings of a perverted madman,” St. John disputed.

“That wasn’t what you were saying when you and Arthur found me in that pit under the church,” Finn argued.

The older man sighed. “I was as lost then as you are now. I lived only for carnality and revenge. But now I know differently. I live differently.”

“So you say,” McLeod countered.

“So I am,” St. John added. “Does she know anything about you? The real man, not the façade?”

He loved this tortured young man as a brother. They’d fought at each other’s side in the heat of battle too many times to count. But he would not have Finn McLeod for his sister. Not if there was any other way to salvage her reputation. The man was too dangerous, and too damaged.

“I’ve told her as much as I dared.”

“Why?” Dylan asked, puzzled. Surely, if a man wanted to gain a woman’s trust, he’d do everything within his power to keep the seedier sides of his nature from her.

Finn scowled. “I can’t seem to lie to her,” he admitted.

“What?”

“I. Can’t Lie. To. Jess.” The younger man punctuated each word.

Dylan fought the smile that tried to form upon his lips. He did. But it, along with the devilish twinkle in his eyes conquered all his self-control.

“Curse you, St. John, for finding this so vastly amusing,” groused the other man. He wiped at the blood on his lip once more.

“I find it more than merely amusing,” Dylan hooted.

“Shut up, you mule,” Finn growled. “You should stay on my ship, all of you. It’s more seaworthy than that flashy punt Griffin sails. The storm we’re sailing into isn’t just a Sunday squall.”

“Jess goes with us,” Dylan said in a way that brooked no argument.”

“It isn’t safe,” Finn answered in a hard, rough voice. He didn’t like the idea of his future wife being in danger.

“The great Finn McLeod, scourge of the seas, is terrified of a simple storm? He’s afraid for a little slip of a girl who grew up on ships of all descriptions? Jess is like a monkey up in the rigging. And she’ll be guarded by all three of her brothers on a short trip to a city with an acclaimed safe harbor. On the swiftest, most modern vessel to master the Atlantic. For your sake, I will not tell Griffin your opinion of his ship. But I do find this whole conversation hilarious. It is also truly and entirely ironic,” Dylan snickered.

He strolled towards the rope Connor had tossed to a waiting sailor. With a graceful twist of his wrist, the Duke of MacAllister secured the thing in his fist.