Page 30 of To Claim His Highland Bride

“Over where?”

She turned to look at where she’d set the priceless jewellery. Her eyes went wide. “It’s gone. Whoever was down here with me must have taken it with them after they extinguished the light.”

“Then whoever has the necklace in his possession is the person we are looking for.”

“We?” she asked, no doubt hoping he had changed his mind.

Marcus set his jaw. The woman before him was certainly different than the one he’d left behind all those months ago. She had suffered four personal attacks in the past two days, and yet she seemed eager to continue placing herself in danger. “We, meaning my first mate and myself. Eck and I will conduct a search for the missing necklace. You will return to our cabin and stay put. Until we figure out who is trying to harm you, you’ll remain where it is safe.”

*

Rowena followed Marcus back to their cabin even though she did not intend to stay there long. She’d been locked in a dark chamber all day. If he thought she would willingly submit to being locked up again, then he did not know her well at all.

Once Marcus left to attend to his duty as captain, Rowena opened her trunk and withdrew the leather tunic and trousers Fiona had given her. Rowena fingered the supple leather garments that had at one time belonged to her ancestor, Leona MacLeod, who had been gifted them by the fairies. Only someone who had a special relationship with the fairies could wear the garments.

Rowena’s hand stilled. She’d been raised on the same fairy stories as her brothers, and as a MacLeod it was difficult not to believe in the magic of the Fairy Flag. Am Bratach Sith, the priceless artifact, had been given to them by the fairies and could only be used to rescue the clan from defeat three times. However, the fairy garments were a gift given with no restricting limits because of their MacLeod ancestor’s special relationship with the fairies. Only women who shared a similar bond as their ancestor could wear the tunic and trousers created with fairy magic.

The leather garments had protected Fiona during their recent battles with the MacDonalds and the English. Would the fairy-softened leather help Rowena? She stood and set the garments on the bed and started to undress. First she had to find out if the garments would accept her since she hadn’t had time before they’d left Dunvegan. Fairy blood ran in her veins. Would that be enough for the fairies to approve of her wearing them? Rowena pressed her lips into a thin line. Only one way to find out.

Dressed only in her drawers and her stays, she slipped first one leg then the other into the trousers, pulled them up to her waist, and tied them closed. The leather moulded to her curves, cold at first, then warming to the temperature of her skin as she waited to see what might happen next. Fiona had said she would experience great pain if the fairies did not approve.

Rowena’s breath stilled and every muscle tensed as a long moment passed, and then another. When nothing happened, she relaxed. It seemed fairy blood was enough to qualify her to wear the special garments. Quickly, she slipped into the tunic and lashed it closed.

For a moment she considered wearing her dress over the leather garments but then dismissed the idea. If someone objected to her presence on this ship because she was female, then perhaps dressing like a man would help her blend in. With a nod of satisfaction, she returned to her trunk to retrieve the package Mrs Honey had sent with her. The cook at Dunvegan always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Armed with the weapon of Mrs Honey’s choosing, Rowena opened the cabin door and headed for the galley. It was time for her to put that old adage to the test with the other five-and-fifty men aboard this ship. And perhaps if one of them reacted oddly to her gift, she might know who had locked her in the treasury.

In the galley, the cook was more than happy to supply her with the ale she requested when she offered him a piece of shortbread with candied citrus mixed in. The sweet treat was one of Mrs Honey’s specialties and Rowena had loved the buttery Scottish delicacy since she was a child. The cook accompanied her above deck, carrying a casket of ale.

At the sight of the ale, the men above deck turned towards the two of them. The second dogwatch had ended, and the night watch began at eight in the evening, meaning many of the men were already above deck. The crew were usually only allotted a portion of ale before noon and another at the end of their working day, though they usually took their ale below deck in the galley with a piece of salted fish and hard tack. Tonight Rowena had something else planned for them.

When the shock of her presence subsided, the deck was silent except for the gusting of the wind and the motion of the waves. The gazes slid along her form. Rowena lifted her chin and straightened, warding off the feeling that they were judging her. “I brought sweets from home for you all. Come, there is enough for two shortbreads apiece. And the cook has agreed to double your portion of ale for tonight.”

Cheers arose as the men came forward to collect their refreshments. They lined up and accepted shortbread and ale. Many graced her with smiles and thanks. All except the man the cook identified as Gordon. He approached her with a scowl. Then after accepting his portion with a grumbled “thanks,” he stepped back to the railing, piercing her with his angry gaze.

Rowena swallowed against a sudden tightness in her throat. Gordon had come below to tell Marcus he was needed on deck. He knew she had been in the treasury. It seemed likely he was also the one who had locked her in that chamber. Gordon’s eyes narrowed, the hate in them as sharp as a newly honed blade.

She forced herself to breathe and look away, wishing she hadn’t when she saw Marcus striding towards her from the quarterdeck, his green eyes blazing every bit as much as Gordon’s.

He moved to the front of the line, forcing Bryce who was next up aside. “What are you doing out of our cabin?” His gaze dropped to her chest, moving down to her waist and hips before returning to her face. “What are you wearing?”

She avoided the second question. “I am sharing a delight Mrs Honey prepared for your crewmen.” Rowena offered Marcus two shortbread. “Try them. They are quite delicious.”

He ignored the proffered treat. “You belong where it is safe,” he said in a lowered tone.

“Is anywhere truly safe on this ship?” she asked with an arched brow. “That is why I changed into these leather garments. They will protect me in ways you cannot.”

He scowled. “That garment reveals your every curve. How am I to protect you when you wear such a tantalising thing?”

Warmth coiled in her stomach. He thought her tantalising? She set the shortbread aside then tipped her face up to his, noting the strong lines of his jaw and the strength of his neck and shoulders. “It is protective armour.” She spread her arms, as though offering her armoured chest for review. “Strike me with your blade and you will see of what I speak.” The armour had protected Fiona. She hoped it would do the same for her.

“I will do no such thing.”

From behind him, Bryce stepped out and lunged forward, dagger in hand. He struck directly above her heart.

Rowena gasped at the surprise attack, releasing her breath a heartbeat later when the tip of his blade did not penetrate the supple leather.

The crew gasped.

In that same moment, Marcus yanked Bryce from her, sending him to the wooden deck in a massive display of strength. “How dare you strike my wife,” Marcus growled as he left Bryce on the deck and returned to her side, catching her to him with an arm under her breast. “She is mine. No one shall touch Rowena other than me. Do you all understand?”