Gentle Rogue
Page 5

"Aye, fer all of us, I'm thinking," Mac replied gruffly, but he was looking atGeorginaas he said it. "Have ye nothing tae say, lass?"
"Yes."Georginastepped into what was a small parlor, gave it a cursory glance; then her eyes came back to her fiance and she asked baldly, "Whose child is that, Malcolm?"
Mac coughed and looked up at the ceiling, as if the open-timbered roof was suddenly of great interest.
Malcolm frowned atGeorginaas he slowly set the little girl on the floor at his feet.
"Do I know you, miss?"
"You mean you really don't recognize me?" This with a great deal of relief.
Malcolm's frown deepened. "Should I?"
Mac coughed again, or was he choking this time?Georginaspared him a scowl before bestowing one of her brighter smiles on the love of her life.
"You should, yes, but I forgive you that you don't. It's been a long while, after all, and they tell me I've changed more than I think. I suppose now I really must believe it." She gave a nervous laugh. "This is
embarrassing, that I must introduce myself to you, of all people. I'm Georgina Anderson, Malcolm, your fiancee."
"Little Georgie?" He started to laugh, but he didn't quite make it, sounded more like he was strangling.
"You're not. Georgie?"
"I assure you—"
"But you can't be!" he exclaimed now, looking more horrified than doubtful. "You're beautiful! Shewasn't
... I mean, she didn't look ... No one can change that much."
"Obviously, I must beg to differ,"Georginasaid with some stiffness. "It didn't happen overnight, you know. Had you been there to see the change come about gradually . . . but you weren't there, were you?
Clinton, who was gone for three years, was surprised, but he at least still knew it was me."
"He's your brother!" Malcolm protested.
"And you're my fiance!" she shot back.
"Oh, Jesus, you can't still be thinking . . . It's been, what, five or six years? I never thought you'd wait, what with the war. It changed everything, don't you see?"
"No, I don't see. You were on an English ship when the war started, but through no fault of your own.
You were still an American."
"But that's just it, girl. I never felt right, calling myself an American. It was my folks wanted to settle there, not me."
"What exactly are you saying, Malcolm?"
"I'm an Englishman, always have been. I owned up to it when I was impressed, and young as I was, they believed me that I wasn't a deserter. They let me sign on, which I was glad to do. It made no never mind to me who I sailed with, as long as I sailed. And I'm doing right well, I am. I'm second mate now on the—"
"We know your ship,"Georginacut in sharply. "That's how we found you, though it's taken a month to do so. An American merchantman wouldn't keep such shoddy records, you can be sure. My brothers know where every one of their crewmen can be found when they're in port . . . but that's beside the point, isn't it? You sided with the English! Four of my brothers volunteered their ships as privateers for that war, and you might have come up against any one of them!"
"Easy, lass," Mac intervened. "Ye knew all along that he had tae fight again' us."
"Yes, but not willingly. He's as much as admitted he's a traitor!"
"Nae, he's admitting tae a love fer the country of his birth. Ye canna fault a mon fer that."
No, she couldn't, much as she wanted to. Rot the English. God, how she hated them. They not only stole Malcolm from her, but wooed his sentiments to their cause as well. He was an Englishman now, and obviously proud of it. But he was still her fiance. And the war was over, after all.
Malcolm was red-faced, but whether with embarrassment or chagrin for her condemnation of him, she couldn't tell. She was hot-cheeked herself. This was not how she had imagined their reunion would be.
"Mac is right, Malcolm. I'm sorry if I got a little upset over something that . . . well, that no longer matters. Nothing has changed, really. My feelings certainly haven't. My being here is testimony to that."
"And just why is it you've come?"
Georginastared at him blankly for a moment before her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. "Why? The answer to that is obvious. The question is, why was it necessary for me to come here, and only you can answer that. Why didn't you return toBridgeportafter the war, Malcolm?"
"There was no reason to."
"No reason?" She gasped. "I beg to differ. There was the little matter of our getting married. Or is that something you chose to forget?"
He couldn't meet her eyes to answer, "I didn't forget. I just didn't think you would still have me, mybeing an Englishman and all."
"Or you no longer wanted me, my being an American?" she demanded.
"It wasn't like that," he protested. "I honestly didn't think you'd be waiting for me. My ship went down. I figured you would have taken me for dead."
"My family is in shipping, Malcolm. The information we get tends to be accurate. Your ship went down, yes, but no man was lost. We knew that. We just didn't know what became of you after that . . . until recently, when you were seen on the Pogrom. But I'll grant you that you might have thought it was pointless to return to a fiance who only might be waiting for you. But the proper thing to do would have been to find out for certain. If you didn't want to make the voyage, then you could have written.
Communications had resumed between our countries. An English ship or two has even been seen in our port."
She knew she was being sarcastic, but she couldn't seem to help it. When she thought of how long she might have gone on waiting for this man, how many more years, when he had never intended to returnto her! If she hadn't come here herself, she likely would never have seen or heard from him again. She was hurt, she didn't understand his reasoning, and he wouldn't even look at her.
"I did write you a letter."
Georginaknew it for the lie it was, a sop for her pride, the coward's way out for him. Little did he know that her pride had been sacrificed long ago in order for her to have him. It wasn't likely to rear its head now just because he was handing her a passel of excuses that wouldn't hold up under close examination.
For God's sake, she had come up with better excuses than this for him.
She didn't get angry, though she was very, very disappointed in him. So he wasn't perfect, wasn't considerate or even totally honest.. She'd backed him into a corner, and he was trying not to hurt her feelings with the callous truth. In a roundabout way she could count that in his favor, she supposed.
"Obviously, Malcolm, your letter never reached me." She heard Mac snort and could have kicked him.
"I assume you wrote that you had survived the war?"
"Aye."
''And likely you mentioned your newly discovered patriotism for a country other man my own?"
"Indeed I did."
"And in consideration of that, did you release me from our engagement?"
"Well, I ..."
She cut in at his hesitation, "Or did you express the hope that I would still have you?"
"Well, certainly—"
"And then you assumed I wouldn't when you had no answer from me."
"Exactly so."
Georginasighed. "It's a shame that letter never reached me. So much time wasted."
"What's that?"
"Don't look so surprised, Malcolm. I'll still marry you. It's why I came here, after all. Just don't expect me to live inEngland. That I won't do even for you. But you can come here as often as you like. As captain of my ship, the Amphitrite , you can solicit English trade exclusively if that is your wont."
"I—I . . . Jesus, Georgie ... I—"
"Malcolm?" A young woman appeared to interrupt him. "Why didn't you tell me we had callers?" and to Georginawith an open smile, "I'm Meg Cameron, ma'am. Are you from the manor, then? Having another party, are they?"
Georginastared at the woman in the doorway, then at the boy shyly hiding behind her skirt, a boy about five years old, with Malcolm's dark hair, Malcolm's blue eyes, and Malcolm's handsome features. She spared another glance for the boy's father, who looked decidedly ill.
"Your sister, Malcolm?"Georginaasked in the most pleasant of tones.
"No."
"I didn't think so."
Chapter Six
No goodbye. No good wishes. Not even a go-to-hell.Georginasimply turned and walked out of the little white cottage in Hendon, leaving her hopes and girlish dreams behind. She could hear Mac saying something, probably making an excuse to Meg Cameron forGeorgina's rudeness. Then he was there at her back and giving her a lift up onto the rented nag.
He didn't say a word to her, at least not until they'd left the village behind. She'd tried to get some speed out of her animal, the urge to be miles away as quickly as possible gnawing at her, but the sorry creature wouldn't oblige. And a fast walk gave Mac plenty of time to study her and see through her calm facade.
One thing about Mac, he had an annoying habit of being blunt when you least wanted bluntness.
"Why are ye no' crying, lass?"
She thought about ignoring him. He wouldn't press her if she did. But what was rolling around inside her needed letting out.
"I'm too angry right now. That double-dammed scoundrel must have married that woman on his very first docking, long before the war ended. No wonder he became pro-British. He was converted through marriage!"
"Aye, that's possible. Possible, too, was he saw what he liked and had some, and wasna caught fer it until his second docking."
"What's it matter when or why? All this time IVe been sitting at home pining over him, he's been married and making children, having just a swell-dandy time!"
Mac snorted. "Ye've wasted time, all right, but ye were never pining away."
She sniffed at his lack of understanding. "I loved him, Mac."
"Ye loved the idea of having him fer yer own, bonny lad that he was, a child's fancy ye should've outgrown. Were ye less loyal, and less stubborn, ye'd have let go of yer fool's dream long ago."
"That's not-"
"Dinna interrupt me till I've finished. Did ye love him true, ye'd be crying now and angry after, no' the other way around."
"I'm crying inside," she said stiffly. "You just can't see it."
"Well, I thank ye fer sparing me, I surely do. Never could abide a female's tears."
She gave him a fulminating glare. "You men are all alike. You're about as sensitive as a ... a brick wall!"
"If ye're looking fer sympathy, ye willna get it from me, lass. If ye'll recall, I advised ye tae forget about that mon more'n four years ago. I also recall telling ye that ye'd be regretting coming here, and no' just when yer brothers get ahold of ye. So what has yer stubbornness got ye this time?"
"Disillusionment, humiliation, heartache—"
"Delusion—"
" Why are you determined to make me madder than I am?" she snapped hotly.
"Self-preservation, hinny. I told ye, I canna abide tears. And as long as ye're yelling at me, ye willna be weeping on my shoulder . . . Och, now, dinna do that, Georgie lass," he said as her face began to crumble. But the tears started in earnest, and all Mac could do was stop their horses and hold out his arms to her.
Georginaleaped across the short space and curled into his lap. But she wasn't content to just have a good cry on a caring shoulder. There was still a lot of anger inside that came out in a lot of wailing.
"Those beautiful children should have been mine, Mac!"
"Ye'll have yer own bairns, lots of them."
"No I won't. I'm getting too old."
"Aye, all of twenty-two." He nodded sagely, fighting to keep from snorting. "That's mighty auld."
She paused to scowl at him. "You picked a fine time to start agreeing with me."
Both red brows went up in feigned surprise. "Did I now?"
Georgina sniffed, and then wailed again, "Oh, why couldn't that woman have come in a mere minute sooner, before I made such a double-damned fool of myself telling that cur I'd still have him?"
"Sae he's a cur now, is he?"
"The lowest, vilest—"
"I get yer drift, hinny, but it's glad ye should be ye said all ye did tae him, a fine revenge, I'm thinking, if ye wanted revenge."
"Is that some kind of male logic too complicated for the female mind? I didn't get revenge, I got humiliated."
"Nae, ye showed the mon what he lost in forsaking ye, a lass he dinna recognize, she's sae bonny now,
and his own ship tae command, which he's long wanted. He's likely kicking his own arse right about now, and it's sure as he did wrong by ye that he'll be regretting what he lost fer many a year."
"The ship maybe, but not me. He's got a job he's proud of, beautiful children, a lovely wife—"
"Lovely, aye, but she's no' Georgina Anderson, owner of the Amphitrite , part owner of the Skylark Line, though the puir lass has nae say in the running of that, just an equal share in the profits, and they say she's the bonniest lass on the eastern seaboard."