Chapter 4
As Evan strode toward the harbor, the air hit him like a slap, cold and stinking of salt and fish. His boots thumped against the packed dirt. His jaw ached from how hard he clenched it.
Damnation. The deal had gone to shite.
It should have been simple. Take the coin, hand over the wares, walk away with his purse heavy enough to buy a week’s worth of silence from the mainland militia.
But no. That lass had barged in like a lost lamb wandering into a wolf’s den and the moment she opened her mouth with all that talk of cousins and Campbells, Alec and David had turned twitchy.
Then her blurting about the brandy—God above, it had taken everything he had not to throttle her himself. Alec and David wouldn’t know finest French brandy if it bit them on the arse, and by the time they realized it was nothing more than cheap moonshine, it would have been too late.
He ran through options in his head as he pushed on past shuttered cottages and fishermen loitering near the wharf.
He could try the next port south, maybe cut a deal with Turner’s lot, though they’d want twice the coin and none of the risk.
Or he could lie low for a few days until tempers cooled. Aye, that might be safest—
“Wait!”
The voice rang sharp behind him. He ignored it and carried on walking.
“Wait, will you?”
Fingers caught his arm. He spun, temper flaring, and found himself staring down at the lass—mud-smeared gown, wind-tangled chestnut hair, and bright blue eyes fixed on him.
“What in God’s name do ye think ye are doing?” he snapped, jerking his arm free. “Leave me be, woman!”
“Woman?” she said indignantly. “I do have a name, you know? It’s Ruby. Ruby Douglas.”
“Well, Ruby Douglas, bugger off and leave me be. Ye’ve done enough damage for one day.”
If he thought she’d be cowed by his bluntness, he was wrong. She narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger in his direction. “Not until you answer me honestly. Do you know Niall and Charlotte Campbell or not? Those men seemed to think you might.”
Evan barked out a laugh—sharp, humorless. “Aye, lass, and I suppose ye think every Campbell in the Highlands is kin? It’s a big clan. Half the bloody country bears the name. Means nothing.”
The lie sat heavy in his gut. Truth was, the second he’d heard that name he’d felt like the ground was tilting under him. He’d run a long way to escape it. Not far enough, it seemed.
Ruby Douglas’s gaze didn’t waver. She clutched at her skirts, holding herself steady against the sea wind that whipped through the harbor.
Then her shoulders slumped and she looked suddenly uncertain.
“Oh. I see. I really need to find them. I thought they’d be here.
I thought...I thought Charlie would be waiting for me. ”
“Lass, ye’ve wandered into the wrong part of the world if ye think ye’ll find cozy family reunions here,” he snapped.
“There are no other Campbells on this rock—including yer cousin and her husband. Hell’s blood, nobody lives here who has a choice in the matter.
This is a piss-poor smugglers village where men sell their souls for a dram and a halfpenny.
Best turn yerself around and go back to where ye came from. ”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She suddenly looked bewildered. Frightened. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered. “This was supposed to be Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh?” he snorted. “Aye, lass. If ye ended up here, then something most definitely went wrong.”
How she had ended up here was another matter.
Outlanders were a fairly common sight on the island—smugglers and freebooters from all over the eastern seaboard used it as a meeting place.
Yet Ruby Douglas looked like no smuggler or freebooter he’d ever met.
Her clothes were strange, her mannerisms even stranger, and she spoke with an accent he couldn’t quite place.
Not Scottish. Not English. But something similar to both.
“I have to get to Edinburgh,” she muttered to herself, peering around at the sea crashing against the shore. “And I have to get off this bloody island.” She looked at him suddenly. “Do you have a boat? Could you take me with you?”
He shook his head and started walking again. “Not a chance.”
She hurried after him, boots slipping on the uneven stones. “I can pay!”
That drew a laugh from his throat, bitter as brine. “Pay? With what? Ye’ve naught but mud on yer gown and a tongue that doesnae know when to stop.”
She halted and fumbled at her bodice. “I have this.”
He turned back and saw that she held a locket in her palm. Gold, by the glint of it, though dulled with age. Not some trinket picked off a peddler’s stall—this was finely wrought, delicate etching catching the light. Worth more than most men in this village would see in a year.
Evan paused. Alec had snatched up the purse of coins he’d given him before Evan had a chance to swipe it and now his own purse was almost empty, his options dwindling.
The crates of moonshine he’d stashed in a cave along the coast were worthless now that Alec and David were onto him.
That locket could mend more than a few of his problems. It could buy him a new cargo, bribe the right eyes to look away, maybe even fund passage further north where his name was less known.
But taking it meant binding himself to this lass. And she was trouble.
He dragged his gaze back to her face. “Where did ye get a bauble like that?”
She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t matter where it came from. I’m offering it to you in exchange for passage. That’s fair isn’t it?”
Before he could answer, a shout rang down the lane.
“Where did the bastard go?”
Evan spun to stare back up the path. Alec and David were staggering out of the inn, weapons glinting in their hands. Damn it. No more time to weigh options.
Evan snatched the locket from Ruby’s hand. “Done.”
He caught her arm and yanked her behind a stack of barrels reeking of tar and salted fish.
Ruby’s breath came fast and shallow, her shoulder pressed against his.
Evan peered through the gap between the barrels, watching Alec and David stumble down the path and past their hiding place, muttering curses.
Evan clenched his teeth. Today had been an unmitigated disaster. He’d lost a lucrative deal and now he had tied himself to a woman who’d already ruined one day’s work.
And he had the sinking feeling she was only getting started.
RUBY WASN’T QUITE SURE why she felt so relieved that Evan Campbell had agreed to help her. He hadn’t been exactly welcoming and he certainly wasn’t polite, but if he could get her off this island and to Charlie, she could put up with his arrogant manner.
His intense gaze was fixed on Scarred-Face and Red-Hair out on the wharf and he wasn’t paying her any attention.
He was clean shaven and his high cheekbones gave his face the sculpted look that magazines seemed to so adore.
Add to that the curly, wind-blown look of his hair, and she guessed Evan Campbell probably had women lining up.
Just like Daniel. He’d been handsome and charming too but that facade had hidden a rotten core. Was Evan Campbell the same? Probably.
Scarred-Face and Red-Hair walked off into the distance and Evan straightened from behind the barrels. “They’ll be back,” he muttered. “Best not linger.”
Ruby nodded, brushing strands of hair out of her face. The sea wind had tangled it into an impossible mess, and she’d neglected to bring a hairbrush. Or anything, actually. “Where do we go?”
He cast her a sideways glance, then jerked his chin toward a narrow lane that sloped down toward the beach. “This way.”
She followed him, her dress snagging on stones and splinters of driftwood as the path grew sandy underfoot. The air thickened with the smell of brine and seaweed, the rhythmic crash of waves filling her ears.
Evan shot her a look over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching with what might have been amusement. “The mainland’s just across the strait,” he told her. “Not half a morning’s sail, if the wind’s with us.”
“Oh.” Relief fluttered in her chest. “Good. That’s good.”
They reached the end of the trail and stepped down onto the beach. It stretched wide and empty before them, dark sand speckled with shells and drying kelp. Boats dotted the shallows—sturdy fishing craft with nets piled in their bellies, their wooden hulls creaking gently with the tide.
Evan strode straight to the nearest boat, untied the mooring rope, and shoved the prow out into the water.
Ruby stared. “Wait! What are you doing? You can’t take that! It belongs to someone.”
He turned his head, sandy curls falling into his eyes, and gave her a flat look. “Aye. To us. For the next few hours.”
She blinked. “But...that’s stealing!”
“Borrowing,” he corrected smoothly, already hauling himself aboard. “I’ll return it...someday.”
Ruby planted her hands on her hips, outraged. “I am not getting into a stolen boat!”
“Then stay here,” he said, reaching for the oars. “Or trek to the other side of the island where my own boat is moored. Yer choice. But when Alec and David come sniffing back this way, dinna expect me to turn around for ye.”
A shout rose up from the trail. Ruby spun to see two broad-shouldered fishermen storming toward them. Their faces were thunderous, and one carried a gaff hook that looked like it could gut a man as easily as a fish.
“Oi! That’s our boat!”
Ruby’s heart leapt into her throat.
“Lass,” Evan said, his voice calm even as the fishermen broke into a run, “this would be a fine time to set aside yer principles.”
Ruby hesitated for one heartbeat—then scrambled through the surf, skirts hiked, feet slipping on wet sand. She tumbled inelegantly into the boat just as Evan pulled on the oars, slipping them into deeper water.