Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 137
Stoker let out a noisy breath. "They asked for him by name. Wanted to know where he was, and what happened to him. And failin' that, they wanted to put their mitts on you. If you had told me how popular youse Bonners were in Scotland I would have drove a harder bargain."
"Where is my father?"
He grimaced. "Damn me if I know. Last I saw of him and MacLachlan was when we got boxed in between the whole bloody Atlantic fleet and a frigate set on poundin' us to kindling. They stopped just short of sinkin' us and then boarded."
His voice wavered and he paused to drink from the cup that the Hakim offered him.
"When they left again they took your father and MacLachlan wit' them, and that's the last I seen of their sorry mugs." He shook his head wearily. "And don't be askin' why they took your father and nobody else. I'm puzzled meself. Unless you've friends in the Royal Navy and you kept it a secret."
Nathaniel smiled grimly at the idea of it. "Aye, and tomorrow we're taking tea with the king."
Elizabeth said, "What was the frigate called?"
Both men turned to her, Nathaniel with a curious expression, and Stoker with a suspicious one.
"The Leopard. Tell me now, sweetings-- does that name mean anything to you?"
"Nothing at all," she said firmly, not meeting Nathaniel's eye. "Was it because you couldn't take them to Hawkeye that the dragoons shot you, or for the simple pleasure of it?"
"'Od's bones, she's got a gob on her. I don't envy you, man."
Nathaniel said, "You haven't answered the question."
Stoker's mouth thinned. "Never did I say 'twas the dragoons that put the bullet in me. It'll be a dry day in Ireland when a couple of lobster-backs get the best of Mac Stoker. I was runnin' goods under their noses when I was but thirteen."
"Then who was it got to you if it wasn't the dragoons?" asked Nathaniel. He glanced at the Hakim. "Carryck's men?"
Stoker waved a hand dismissively. "No. If that crew hadn't come along I'd be dead. It was Giselle what shot me, the ungrateful bitch. And me tryin' to rescue her." His fist opened and closed again. "But she hasn't seen the last of Mac Stoker." And he smiled.
By the time Nathaniel made his way to the top of the grand stair, he had forgotten all about the agony in his shoulder, simply because his leg throbbed like a war drum with every step. At his back two servants crept along, ready to catch him if he should fall but trying to look disinterested. He ignored them to lean on Elizabeth.
"It's just ahead," she said quietly. "There on the left."
Another servant opened the door and then shut it behind them, and Nathaniel simply sat down on the carpet; it was that or land on his face. He wiped the sweat from his brow with what remained of his shirt, but it took a full minute for the thud of blood in his ears to subside.
"I can hear Lily laughing," he said. "And Curiosity talking to her."
"Yes." Elizabeth put out a hand to help him to his feet. "There's another bedchamber that connects to this one through the dressing room. I'll check on them in just a moment. Here is the bed, Nathaniel."
"Damn," he muttered, considering the little flight of steps. "More steps. I suppose there's a ladder to get to the pisspot."
"Mac Stoker has a decidedly adverse effect on your vocabulary," Elizabeth said. When he had fallen back against the pillows, she set out to undress him, but he caught her wrist to stop her.
"Boots."
"Hmm?"
"I'm not so done in that I can't get out of my own breeks."
She nodded. "Perhaps we should wait until they bring our things from Dumfries anyway. I hope it is soon. We look like beggars, all of us."
He ran a hand over her hair. "You look mighty fine to me, darlin'. Except for those dark circles under your eyes."
She gave him a testy half-smile. "It has been an eventful night."
"Come here to me for a minute."
"If I lay myself down now, Nathaniel, I will most likely fall asleep."
"I'll keep you awake."
She drew up, clutching a fist to her breast in surprise. "You cannot be serious, in your condition--"
"Relax, Boots. I ain't got anything like that in mind. Not right now, any road. I just want to talk to you."
She studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment, and then she climbed up to sit next to him. There was a look she got sometimes, her chin set hard and a line between her brows, when she was chewing on something that she couldn't quite spit out. She could no more hide how she felt than she could change the color of her eyes. Right now they were storm gray.
"I should go check on the children."
"They sound happy enough," he said.
"Yes, well. I imagine Curiosity is tired, too. And I wonder where Hannah has got to--"
"Boots."
"What?" Her eyes blazed at him, daring him on.
"You're strung so tight, I can almost hear you humming."
She frowned at him. "Am I? And I wonder why that might be. Do I need remind you that your father and Robbie have disappeared into the Royal Navy?"
He smoothed a curl away from her face. "I remember. On a ship called the Leopard."
They stared at each other for a long minute, and then she said, "It's not what you think."
"Where is my father?"
He grimaced. "Damn me if I know. Last I saw of him and MacLachlan was when we got boxed in between the whole bloody Atlantic fleet and a frigate set on poundin' us to kindling. They stopped just short of sinkin' us and then boarded."
His voice wavered and he paused to drink from the cup that the Hakim offered him.
"When they left again they took your father and MacLachlan wit' them, and that's the last I seen of their sorry mugs." He shook his head wearily. "And don't be askin' why they took your father and nobody else. I'm puzzled meself. Unless you've friends in the Royal Navy and you kept it a secret."
Nathaniel smiled grimly at the idea of it. "Aye, and tomorrow we're taking tea with the king."
Elizabeth said, "What was the frigate called?"
Both men turned to her, Nathaniel with a curious expression, and Stoker with a suspicious one.
"The Leopard. Tell me now, sweetings-- does that name mean anything to you?"
"Nothing at all," she said firmly, not meeting Nathaniel's eye. "Was it because you couldn't take them to Hawkeye that the dragoons shot you, or for the simple pleasure of it?"
"'Od's bones, she's got a gob on her. I don't envy you, man."
Nathaniel said, "You haven't answered the question."
Stoker's mouth thinned. "Never did I say 'twas the dragoons that put the bullet in me. It'll be a dry day in Ireland when a couple of lobster-backs get the best of Mac Stoker. I was runnin' goods under their noses when I was but thirteen."
"Then who was it got to you if it wasn't the dragoons?" asked Nathaniel. He glanced at the Hakim. "Carryck's men?"
Stoker waved a hand dismissively. "No. If that crew hadn't come along I'd be dead. It was Giselle what shot me, the ungrateful bitch. And me tryin' to rescue her." His fist opened and closed again. "But she hasn't seen the last of Mac Stoker." And he smiled.
By the time Nathaniel made his way to the top of the grand stair, he had forgotten all about the agony in his shoulder, simply because his leg throbbed like a war drum with every step. At his back two servants crept along, ready to catch him if he should fall but trying to look disinterested. He ignored them to lean on Elizabeth.
"It's just ahead," she said quietly. "There on the left."
Another servant opened the door and then shut it behind them, and Nathaniel simply sat down on the carpet; it was that or land on his face. He wiped the sweat from his brow with what remained of his shirt, but it took a full minute for the thud of blood in his ears to subside.
"I can hear Lily laughing," he said. "And Curiosity talking to her."
"Yes." Elizabeth put out a hand to help him to his feet. "There's another bedchamber that connects to this one through the dressing room. I'll check on them in just a moment. Here is the bed, Nathaniel."
"Damn," he muttered, considering the little flight of steps. "More steps. I suppose there's a ladder to get to the pisspot."
"Mac Stoker has a decidedly adverse effect on your vocabulary," Elizabeth said. When he had fallen back against the pillows, she set out to undress him, but he caught her wrist to stop her.
"Boots."
"Hmm?"
"I'm not so done in that I can't get out of my own breeks."
She nodded. "Perhaps we should wait until they bring our things from Dumfries anyway. I hope it is soon. We look like beggars, all of us."
He ran a hand over her hair. "You look mighty fine to me, darlin'. Except for those dark circles under your eyes."
She gave him a testy half-smile. "It has been an eventful night."
"Come here to me for a minute."
"If I lay myself down now, Nathaniel, I will most likely fall asleep."
"I'll keep you awake."
She drew up, clutching a fist to her breast in surprise. "You cannot be serious, in your condition--"
"Relax, Boots. I ain't got anything like that in mind. Not right now, any road. I just want to talk to you."
She studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment, and then she climbed up to sit next to him. There was a look she got sometimes, her chin set hard and a line between her brows, when she was chewing on something that she couldn't quite spit out. She could no more hide how she felt than she could change the color of her eyes. Right now they were storm gray.
"I should go check on the children."
"They sound happy enough," he said.
"Yes, well. I imagine Curiosity is tired, too. And I wonder where Hannah has got to--"
"Boots."
"What?" Her eyes blazed at him, daring him on.
"You're strung so tight, I can almost hear you humming."
She frowned at him. "Am I? And I wonder why that might be. Do I need remind you that your father and Robbie have disappeared into the Royal Navy?"
He smoothed a curl away from her face. "I remember. On a ship called the Leopard."
They stared at each other for a long minute, and then she said, "It's not what you think."
