Aidan spent the night tossing on his cruelly tiny cot, the same thoughts running a deep rut in his mind. If he were a better man, he could simply claim Elspeth. He would be the one marrying her. But he had nothing, was nothing.

He thought of his enemy, and a familiar fury crackled to life in his belly. The Endeavor. It was his ship—the man with the black pearl. This Captain Will was there for the taking. Aidan could feel him—he just knew he was on board—and lightning crackled through his bones, making him ache for a fight, eager for vengeance. He just needed to find a way. Then he would have peace.

Then he would have Elspeth.

He’d walked down to the sea before dawn, and sat there still, his mind churning, damn it all. But he couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from flooding him, cracking the dam that’d held his resentment at bay.

Elspeth wasn’t going to fight her engagement. She thought if she insinuated herself into Fraser’s circle, she might find hard evidence, might even find a way for him to get to Captain Will. But she was naive, and she was wrong.

Dread was a constant churning in his belly. His enemy was so close, his future with Elspeth within reach. And yet both eluded him. Both, so far away.

Sweet, strange, gentle Elspeth. Finally, he’d found a bit of solace in this world. Finally, he felt a sense of belonging, of home, and with such a simple woman. It was humble, his desire: a modest life with her, she naught but a farmer’s daughter, lovely and natural and pure, who, God spare her, had somehow found love for him in her soul.

But he feared that, yet again, what he wanted would be torn from him. He’d forever be denied even the simplest of pleasures.

“Look at you, brooding like an Irishman.” His twin stood over him, eclipsing the early-morning sun.

“Cormac.” Aidan shaded his eyes to look up at him. “Don’t you have fish to catch?”

“Oho.” Cormac studied him intently and then chuckled. “I’ve seen you run wild. I’ve seen you play the imp. I’ve seen you nettled, needled, and angry. But I daresay, I’ve never seen you like this. Aidan MacAlpin, stymied by a lass.”

Aidan scowled, casting an angry glance past his brother and toward the horizon.

His brother laughed outright then. “Ah, I see I have the right of it then. Young Miss Elspeth is the cause, I imagine?” He drew in a contemplative breath at Aidan’s answering silence. “Well, brother, if it’s a woman troubling you, I’m not your man. You’d best seek Gregor’s advice.”

“Gregor. What does Gregor know of someone like Elspeth? She’s not like the others.” She was different from any woman—any person—he’d ever known. Unsullied and genuine, and he intended to keep her that way. Which meant keeping her away from his damned rake of a brother. “She’d not have patience for a man like him anyhow.”

Cormac shrugged. “All I know is that our older brother manages women as easily as a drover his cattle.”

“Elspeth’s no cow,” he grumbled. He’d definitely need to keep her from Gregor. On top of protecting her from Captain Will and his damned black pearl. And Fraser too, certainly.

Cormac laughed. “You’re worse off than I’d imagined, Aid.”

“You have no idea.” He couldn’t be any worse off than he was now, his mind churning with thoughts for none but Elspeth. Her eyes. Her mouth. Her gentleness, her innocence.

She was too innocent. She’d not be able to protect herself, if it came to that. Just considering all the possible threats to her well-being tightened his chest till his temper felt close to erupting. Elspeth underestimated real men, and how jealously they guarded their money and their women. He knew, because he was a real man, with the bone-deep need to guard her. “How do you keep Marj safe?” he asked suddenly.

Cormac cursed under his breath. “I see I need to put my nets down for this one.” He tossed down his fishing gear and plopped by Aidan’s side. “Listen, I don’t know what’s troubling you, or what you and that girl are caught up in …” He took a meaningful pause, then added, “And I see you’re not going to be forthcoming, are you?”

Aidan gave a tight shake to his head. Vengeance would be his and his alone. The pirate with the black pearl was his to kill. Trust was growing once more between himself and his brothers, but this was something he needed to do on his own. “Not yet, no.”

“But you think Elspeth might be in danger?”

“I think she’s putting herself in danger because she’s got the damned fool notion she’s helping me.” He tasted the familiar rage on his tongue. He savored it, like a fine wine, steeling himself to what might come. Because even if she were ultimately to be denied him, he’d risk all he was to keep her safe. “I’ll kill to keep her from harm. Even if it means getting shipped back to the Indies for the crime.”

“Then don’t let it come to that.” Cormac’s voice was grave, and the effect of his words on Aidan was like a bridge across a previously impassable gulf.

Something loosened in Aidan’s chest, and his words followed in a rush. “She’s such an innocent. She thinks she can control the situation she’s in. I told her to let me handle it. But the girl is green, with too many bookish fancies dancing through her head.” He remembered how Angus had appeared, neatly putting a stop to their argument. The farmer had glared down at them, making him feel like some dockside brawler. And maybe he had been a boor, gripping Elspeth’s arm in anger as he had, but her stubbornness was infuriating. “She believes all will work out in the end. Like her stories.”

“But you know better?”

“Aye. I know better.” He knew better than all of them that not every story had a happy ending.

“What’s she up to?”

“Something dangerous she read in a damned book, if I know Elspeth.” She’d stormed from him, and there was no way he could’ve followed. No way for him to win. She would’ve known what she said about choice, about his claim to her, would’ve cut him. But if there was one thing he knew about her, it was that she wasn’t hurtful by nature. That alone told him she was up to no good. He dared meet his brother’s eyes. “Damned lass won’t listen to reason.”

“They never do,” said Cormac.

“I don’t see how can I keep her from danger.”

“Now, there’s something I know a little about,” Cormac said ruefully. “I’ve but one piece of wisdom to offer. These women are willful, and they’ll do as they wish, no matter what a man says.” He chuckled. “Ree dressed like a man, no matter that I told her it was too dangerous, and damned if the lass didn’t stroll down to Aberdeen harbor like she hadn’t a care in the world.”

Aidan laughed at the image of the elegant, upright Marjorie in men’s trews. But he sobered with a sudden realization. “So what you’re saying is, I can’t keep her safe?”

“No, brother. I’m not saying that at all.” Cormac clapped him on the back. “I’m saying, don’t let Elspeth know what it is you’re about.”

His twin gave him a smile, which he mirrored, every bit as heartfelt. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Cormac stood, gathering his gear. “Now I’d best be off, or I’ll be hearing it from all the females of the household.”

He watched Cormac pick his way across the rocks to the shoreline, thinking back to Elspeth’s last words. She’d spoken of choice, and it’d been too much. He’d spent a lifetime without options, and still he had none.

Well, he’d claim his choice now.

He stood and strode back up the hill to Dunnottar Rock. It was up to him to right this wrong. The only sense her father would ever see was that conferred by a fivepound piece. It would be up to Aidan to expose Dougal’s villainy before it was too late.

His brother was right—Elspeth wouldn’t listen to reason. But there was one way to make sure she didn’t get into trouble. He might not have reason to return to her farm, but that didn’t mean he had to stay away.

It just meant he couldn’t be seen.

Chapter 24

“You’ll need something finer than that when you’re a merchant’s wife.” Elspeth’s father eyed her threadbare dress with disapproval. “You’ll want to polish the brass if you’re to curry favor with the man,” he added with a wink.

Elspeth clenched her teeth with annoyance. But though her mind reeled with thoughts—I’ll only be Aidan’s wife; Fraser’s a nasty old sot; I’d have money for a dress if you didn’t waste it all—her mouth stayed shut.

He wandered closer, hovering over her. “What are you writing? Is that how much we produced last month? We should make cheese—we could turn a tidy profit.”

We? She wondered at the term, but kept her mouth shut, blatantly focusing on the month’s profits.

“The wee beasties are happy,” her father said. “They’re used to you, and seem to be fattening right up.”

She sniffed. “It’s only because Aidan taught me how to fix their diet.”

He harrumphed. “It’s a surprise how much we have, considering all he drank.”

The milk. Though he hated it, Aidan had guzzled buckets of the stuff, apparently just for an excuse to come calling.

She felt as though she’d swallowed a stone in her belly. Clearing her throat, she forced her voice not to quaver. “We’d have far less profits, and I daresay, a lost sheep or two, had he not built us such fine fences.”

“Fences. Pish. Hard labor is all the man is good for.”

She pressed her pen too hard to the paper, and a splotch of ink bloomed thick and black on the page. She had to get out of this house. She had to enforce her own will. She would be the authoress of her own destiny.

She shot up to standing and dusted her skirts. “I’m off.”

“Where’ve you got to go to?”