“Nor I,” Cormac said.
Aidan’s nod for his twin was brusque, but a powerful wash of relief drove it. He had Cormac’s support as much as he ever did.
Though Aidan read suspicion in Angus’s eyes, the farmer only shrugged, saying, “That’s what happens to women. They get carted away to husbands not of their choosing.”
Aidan could bear it no longer—his rage finally erupted. “Good God, man. Maybe that’s what happened to your woman. Not to mine.”
Icy fury stole across Angus’s features. He stood, staring at Aidan with dead eyes.
Aidan knew he’d spoken out of turn, and part of him hoped the farmer might fight him because of it. He’d welcome a good bout of fisticuffs—anything was preferable to this inaction. But the man only stared in frozen silence, and so Aidan spun, heading in the direction of Aberdeen.
“I’ll take you.” Cormac stopped him, his voice demanding.
Aidan looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“I’ll take you,” Cormac repeated. “Aberdeen is miles from here. It’d be hours on foot.” He nodded toward the water. “My fishing boat’s docked just yonder. I’ll take you to Justice Port.”
“And I’ll go with you,” Angus said in a quiet baritone. The MacAlpin men gaped at the farmer in disbelief, but Angus only dusted off his hands, dismay and irritation settling on his usually stoic features. “I don’t ken what’s afoot, but I do know Miss Elspeth. She’s a good egg, and if her sot of a father has put her in harm’s way, then I’d be happy to come to her aid.”
If the offer hadn’t changed his opinion of Angus, the way the man snatched up his farm tools would have. He grabbed what looked like a reaping hook and a shepherd’s crook, wielding one in each hand with as much ardor as another might wield weapons.
Aidan raised a brow in question, and Angus nodded to Aidan’s sword. “Better than your blade.”
Cormac laughed low. “When you make your mind up about a thing, you really commit, don’t you?”
The farmer only shrugged in answer, already headed down the path to the shore.
“It’s a quick sail,” Cormac said as they caught up to him. “She’s slower than your sloop—”
“But all the better to navigate the harbor,” Aidan finished, knowing how tight the Aberdeen slips were. “You’ll just drop us. Even if you did have warrant to dock, since the trouble you caused—”
“We caused,” Cormac corrected.
“Aye.” Aidan shot him a grin. “Since the trouble we caused, I think you’d best make haste away from port before we’re recognized.”
As they neared their destination, Aidan’s heart went to his throat. There was a gaping stretch where the Endeavor had been docked. “They’re gone.”
“You don’t know that,” Cormac said, rowing to an empty patch of harbor.
Angus scowled. “He’s a sailor too? I thought this Fraser was a knit merchant.”
“He doesn’t have a boat.” Aidan leaped onto the pier, followed by Angus. “His partner does. A ship.”
The ship that’d stolen him away, so many years ago. And now it was out there somewhere, stealing his Elspeth away. He shook off the feeling, thinking he needed to gather himself, battening down emotion as he’d furl a boat’s sail.
“Good luck,” Cormac told him. “Whoever this pirate is, I couldn’t save you from him. But I know you can save Elspeth now.”
Aidan reached down to clasp Cormac’s hand. “Thank you.”
When he turned to Angus, the man was watching him with startlingly sharp eyes. It gave him the unsettling sensation that the farmer could read him like a book. Aidan had completely mistaken him—he was no dullard at all. He gave him a grim smile, eyeing the man’s farm tools. “Your weapons?”
Hefting the awkward tools in his hands, Angus headed up the pier, an answering grin spreading slowly across his face. “There are weapons all around. The best are the ones least likely.”
Aidan shook his head with a quick laugh. “So it is, farmer.”
As Angus’s smile faded, it struck Aidan how that’d been the first glimpse of humor he’d ever seen on the man’s face. He wondered if it would be the last. Trying to get a bead on him, Aidan watched as he tucked the reaping hook in the belt of his breacan feile and strolled on, using the shepherd’s crook as a walking stick.
An errant thought struck him, carried on a surge of irrational jealousy. “What’s an oat farmer doing with a tool suited for sheep?”
“I don’t want your woman, MacAlpin.” Angus didn’t break his stride. “Don’t be a fool. She doesn’t want me, or my gifts. Never has. I was going to find something to trade her for it.”
“Why?” he asked, skeptical. Lately, he was of the mind that all men would surely fall in love with Elspeth, if they’d but open their eyes to her.
“I’ve seen how Farquharson treats the lass, as I’m sure you have. And, like you, I don’t much like it.”
Elspeth had told him of Angus and Anya’s thwarted affair, and remembering it, he gave the farmer a grudging nod. The man had known Elspeth for years before Aidan had even met her.
Somebody stood at the head of the pier, leaning casually against one of its rotted wooden piles. Though his back was to them, Aidan could tell by his broad shoulders and soiled overcoat that he was the sort of lowlife who knew the goings-on dockside.
“When’d the Endeavor cast off?” Too late Aidan recognized him as the yeoman with the shining bald head he’d met in a tavern weeks ago. He was Fraser’s man, and the one who’d led Aidan to the merchant in the first place. “I’m looking for the Bishop,” he added, hoping the casual use of Fraser’s dockside identity would win him the information he wanted.
“The Bishop’s off to Arbroath,” the yeoman said, turning around. “And what business is it of yours?” He pinned Aidan with a squint. “Do I know you?”
Aidan felt bodies gathering behind him. He was grateful to sense Angus too, coming to stand at his shoulder.
Recognition dawned, and the yeoman’s squint turned to a glare. “I do know you. We was told to keep an eye out for you.”
“For me?” Though Aidan pretended bemused innocence, his hand migrated closer to his sword hilt. How would Fraser know to look out for him?
“Aye, we was told a man would come round, chasing after Bishop’s ship like a fox on a rabbit’s tail. So, chasing the Bishop’s rabbit, are ye?”
The men behind him laughed, sidling closer.
There was no more pretending. Standing tall, Aidan wrapped his hand around his sword hilt, wondering what the farmer planned to do with a damned shepherd’s crook and hoping it’d be a better weapon than it looked. “Maybe I am. Did he leave with her?”
“Aye, ’twas his bride. And we was told to stop any who tried to interfere.” The yeoman popped his knuckles. His fingers were fat, like sausages, to match his thick neck.
Aidan dared not glance back to determine how many stood behind them, but he estimated there were three additional men, at least. He could easily take down two, if nobody carried a musket. He hoped Angus could handle himself, relying on his brawn alone if that’s what it took. He had no idea how the man fought, but Angus was a farmer, and Aidan had to assume he’d no experience in a brawl.
But as Aidan was strategizing, damned if Angus didn’t shock him by taking action, his face as stoic as ever.
The farmer snagged the yeoman’s thick neck in his shepherd’s crook and snapped it in, knocking the yeoman to his knees. Angus cracked him over the head, then blindly thrust back, jabbing a man behind him in the belly. He spun and jabbed again, getting the second man in the throat. A flurry of sure and rapid movements, and no more than five seconds later, Angus was standing over two downed men.
Aidan laughed, and the sound of it sent another, younger man running.
He and Angus joined back-to-back to face the other two men. “Where’d you learn to fight like that, farmer?”
“Reaping oats is hard work.”
Aidan chuckled. He was going to like having this Angus as a neighbor. “So I see.”
Uncertainty was a needle in his heart. Would they be neighbors, or was he too late? Was Elspeth bound to another man already? The reminder of what was at stake focused him, and he and Angus easily dispatched the remaining two men.
Aidan’s senses were attuned, and movement on the harbor above caught his eye. He strained, making out a familiar figure. The person seemed to want to move both briskly and unnoticed, which only served to make him all the more conspicuous.
“I see him too,” Angus said. Both men broke into an easy lope up the harbor, headed for Elspeth’s father.
Aidan resheathed his sword. “Curious, no?” The old man looked back, and seeing that they followed, broke into a doddering run. “Almost like he feels guilty about something.”
“I’ll hear the man out before I jump to any conclusions,” Angus said.
Aidan shot him a wry look. “That’s right. Just an innocent farmer, you are.”
They easily caught up to Farquharson, and Aidan hopped in front of him, barring his path. “Leave something behind? Your daughter perhaps?”
The old man’s lip twitched. “Give it up, boy. She’s good as married.”
“To a criminal,” Aidan said.
“To a man of means.” Elspeth’s father spotted Angus and glanced nervously from him to Aidan. He took a step back, settling his sneer on Aidan. “My girl went on a grand ship, and without you.”
“Your girl was taken, and on the same tub that stole me as a child. Tell me, where’s the honor in that?”
Farquharson spat. “What do you know of honor, slave boy?”
Aidan felt a half smile curl his lips. The man could fling every insult imaginable, but he was impervious. “I know Elspeth has more honor in her little finger than you ever will in your entire body.”
