Chapter 5 #2
Evan shrugged. “Look around ye.” He gestured to the press of sailors, the hostile stares, the lawless energy that crackled through the port. “Ye dinna exactly have much choice, do ye?”
Ruby pressed her lips together. She hated the smug set of his mouth, and hated even more the fact that he was right. If Evan hadn’t appeared when he did she didn’t want to think about what might have happened.
Her pride screamed at her to tell him exactly where he could shove his offer of help. But her common sense whispered that she couldn’t afford another mistake.
She drew herself up. “Fine. I’ll travel with you. But only because I must.”
A grin tugged at his lips, quick and roguish. “As ye say, my lady.”
Ruby resisted the urge to frown. She would travel with him because she had no other choice but she was not about to let him forget how much she disliked him.
Even though, deep down, she was grateful he’d come back.
EVAN STEERED RUBY AWAY from the worst of the crowd, down a narrower stretch of the quay where the noise of the port thinned to the creak of ropes and the slap of waves against hulls.
Ships still bobbed here, smaller ones with patched sails and battered timbers, fishing craft and traders too modest for the bustle further up.
“This way,” he muttered.
She hurried after him, her skirts swishing, the scowl on her face doing nothing to lessen how out of place she looked. He didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know she was glaring at his back like she was planning to skewer him.
He had to admit, the lass had spirit. But spirit didn’t buy a ship, and it sure as hell didn’t protect you from the kind of men who prowled these waters.
He slowed as he spotted a single-masted vessel, small enough to be handled by two but sturdy enough to weather the straits, bobbing against its mooring ropes. Perfect. He glanced around—nobody in sight but an old drunk asleep on a coil of rope.
“Here,” he said, loosening the mooring rope.
Ruby stopped dead. “You’re stealing another boat?”
He shot her a look, half amused. “Borrowing, lass. Dinna be so dramatic.”
“Dramatic? You stole that one on the island and now you’re going to do it again? How can you—”
She cut herself off and took a deep breath.
Then she began rummaging furiously in a pouch slung across her chest. Evan raised a brow as she drew out a small gold ring.
It was delicate, fine work, the kind of thing only a wealthy lass might own.
She marched to the nearest bollard, set the ring down atop it, then dug out a little stick of.
..something and scrawled words onto the wood.
“There, at least that’s some recompense,” she said.
Evan leaned close to read what she’d written. In rough letters the words read Sorry, we needed a boat.
Evan watched her, baffled, his brows knitting together. “What is that?” He jabbed a finger at the instrument in her hand. “A stick that bleeds letters. I’ve never seen the like.”
Ruby blinked at him. “A pen, obviously.”
He frowned. The instrument itself was slim, gleaming, strange. Shaking his head, he put it out of his mind. “Doubt the poor bastard can read anyway.”
“That’s no excuse for stealing! You can’t just take things without asking!”
Evan didn’t reply. The set of her chin, the fire in her eyes, the way she stood there bristling like a cat. She wasn’t like any lass he’d ever met—and he’d met plenty.
Trying to ignore the way she unsettled him, he gave her a cocky smile. “How about I take the payment then?” He plucked up the ring, letting it roll across his fingers, unable to resist baiting her.
Her eyes flashed. She snatched the ring and placed it back on top of the bollard. “You’ve already been paid.” Then she swept past him into the boat, her back stiff as a rod.
Suppressing a smirk, he followed her onto the boat, set his hands to the tiller and shoved them off, the boat rocking free of the quay. The canvas snapped as it caught the wind and slid into open water, the sound of the busy harbor fading behind them.
Ruby sat stiff-backed, staring at the horizon as they began to pick up speed.
Evan sat opposite, hand on the tiller and found himself watching her.
It was clear that there was much more to this lass than met the eye.
In his line of work everyone kept secrets, everyone hid who they really were. And yet he could not help wondering.
Who was Ruby Douglas?
RUBY SAT STIFFLY ON the bench, the spray of saltwater flecking her cheeks as the little sailboat cut through the waves. She kept her eyes on the horizon, her hands twisted together in her lap, nails digging into her palms. How had it all gone so wrong so quickly?
When she’d first stepped through the arch, she’d half expected to arrive in some dreamlike glen—a place out of time where everything was simpler, softer, easier.
She’d imagined Charlie waiting for her, arms open, ready to fold her into safety.
She’d imagined an end to all the hurt, all the betrayal, all the cracks in her life that she hadn’t known how to mend.
Instead she’d landed on a wind-lashed island with thieves and thugs for company, miles from where she was supposed to be.
Oh hell. How was she going to survive this? How was she going to get to Edinburgh without landing herself in further hot water?
She bit her lip, tasting the iron tang of blood.
She’d already begun making mistakes. For starters, she should not have let Evan see her use her pen.
It was just a cheap plastic one that cost next to nothing in the twenty-first century, but it stood out a mile in this time and had already made him suspicious.
And she was suddenly certain that she did not want him to know the truth about her origins.
Who knew how he would react to the news that she was a time-traveler?
Probably use it to his advantage if the little she’d learned of him was any indication.
Best to keep her mouth shut. Survive. Reach Charlie.
Her chest ached with a familiar disappointment.
What was wrong with her? Why did she keep making terrible choices?
She had done that with Daniel. She had known, deep down, that he wasn’t what he pretended to be.
That the unexplained absences, the secrets on his phone, the endless excuses, were warning signs she chose not to heed.
But she had ignored all that, papered over it with fantasies of the perfect wedding, the house with the garden, the happily-ever-after.
She hadn’t been in love with him. Not really.
She’d been in love with the story she’d told herself.
Now, she’d done the same again—clinging to the idea that she’d find Charlie and her cousin would fix everything, that this leap into the unknown was her salvation. She’d wanted the fairy tale, the wonderful adventure that would fix the holes in her life.
But this was no fairy tale. And now her survival hinged on trusting Evan Campbell, a man who had already proven that he could not be trusted.
Evan shifted on the bench opposite her, one hand steady on the tiller. He looked maddeningly at ease, hair ruffled by the wind, a faint grin tugging at his lips as if this—stealing boats, running from angry men, dragging strangers across the sea—was all just a game to him.
But he had been there when it mattered. She thought back to the way that man had grabbed her on the quay—his hand like a clamp around her arm, his breath sour with drink. She’d been terrified.
And then Evan had been there.
There had been fire in his eyes when he’d stood between her and the sailor and he’d seemed something other than a thief, a rogue who lived by trickery and stealing. He’d been dangerous in a different way—unyielding, protective, ready to fight for her. What was that all about?
Ruby glanced at him. His posture was loose, easy, one hand steady on the tiller, the other resting on the gunwale as though this voyage were nothing but a pleasant afternoon outing.
The sea breeze teased strands of his hair across his forehead.
He caught them back with a shake of his head, lips quirking as though at some private joke.
Who was he, really?
What kind of man carried himself with that careless confidence, yet had that spark of steel in him when it mattered? How had he ended up in this life of shadows and stolen boats, haggling with cutthroats and thumbing his nose at the rules?
Ruby hugged her knees a little closer, trying not to let the questions take root. She didn’t want to wonder about Evan Campbell. She didn’t want to care. He was infuriating, arrogant, and more trouble than he was worth.
The hours stretched long on the water. At first Ruby sat stiffly, but finally she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“So,” she said, raising her voice over the flap of the sail. “Will anyone come after us?”
Evan flicked her a look. “After me, ye mean?”
“Yes. After you. You’ve stolen two boats now. You’ve upset people on the island and the mainland. You’re clearly a popular guy.”
He waved a hand. “Dinna fash, lass. Upsetting people comes with the trade.”
His tone was light, but Ruby caught it—that flicker in his eyes, the shadow that crossed his face before he smoothed it away. Trouble was following him, she was certain of it. Trouble that she had now, unwillingly, hitched herself to.
“When will we reach Edinburgh?” she pressed.
Evan barked a laugh. “Day after tomorrow maybe. We’ll need to put in at a settlement for the night.”
“What? I thought we’d be there today!”
His eyebrow rose. “Edinburgh’s no short jaunt, lass. Did ye think I’d wave my hand and the boat would sprout wings?”
Ruby bristled. To be honest, she didn’t know what she’d expected, she’d just assumed. Yet she was beginning to realize that nothing about this trip was turning out how she’d thought it would.
“It would go faster,” Evan added, “if ye lent a hand.”
“Me? Help with the boat? How?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just keep the sail trimmed, haul a rope when I tell ye, mind the tiller if I step aside. Even ye should be able to manage it.”
She opened her mouth to snap back at his sarcasm but thought better of it, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Fine.”
With stiff movements she rose and crossed the narrow space to his side.
At first it was awkward. The ropes scratched at her palms, the sail tugged and fought her grip, and she flushed with embarrassment when she fumbled.
But Evan’s voice came steady and calm, giving quiet directions, correcting her hands, showing her how to feel the pull of the wind.
To her surprise, he was patient. Not the mocking arrogance she expected, but easy-going, encouraging even. His hand brushed hers once as he guided her fingers on a knot, his warmth startling her, and she quickly pulled away.
Bit by bit, though, the rhythm of it drew her in.
The boat responded under her hands, the sail catching, the water hissing along the hull.
Ruby lost herself in the work, in the simple task of keeping the boat steady on its course.
She even almost smiled. Hours slipped by without her noticing, the sun slanting lower across the waves.
Then Evan’s voice cut through the wind. “There.” He lifted his chin.
Ruby followed his gesture and spotted a settlement, larger than any she’d seen so far, huddled at the edge of a sheltered bay, smoke rising from its chimneys, fishing boats bobbing near the shore.
“We’ll put in there for the night,” he announced.
Ruby’s brief peace shattered, replaced with fresh unease. Another strange place. Another night far from safety. She gripped the rope tighter, trying not to let him see her nerves.
Oh, Charlie, she thought. You won’t believe what I’ve gotten myself into this time.