She slid into it, perching on the edge.
He took the other.
“Your full name?” he asked.
“Miss Eilidh Fyffe.” The low husky timbre of her voice skittered down his spine.
“Your age?”
“Nineteen.”
“Your father didnae arrange a guardian for ye then?”
She snorted, those silvery-green eyes flashing icy fire. “No, I am sorry tae say. He was a bit too busy being ill and dying and waiting for cherished friends tae respond to requests for assistance. If anyone would have been appointed my guardian, it would likely have been yourself.” Her tone clearly indicated what she thought aboutthatidea.
Kieran narrowed his gaze, a stinging retort on his tongue.
But before the words escaped, he noted her fingers curled into tightly balled fists on her lap.
Something within him . . . panged.
She was not as flippant as she appeared. Her curt words were surely a defensive maneuver.
“Again, as I have explained many times, I am eternally sorry that I was not a better friend to your father. I wish to make amends.” Kieran kept his voice even. “Now . . . please explain how ye came tae be aboard this ship.”
She squirmed, not quite meeting his eyes.
Good.
She should be uncomfortable. Her choices had landed him in a damned hard place.
“My father and James both contracted consumption. My father lingered for years, but it sent Jamie tae his grave quite quickly. Jamie died on a Tuesday. My father passed the next day, thinking Jamie was still alive and well.” Her accent softened as she spoke, her voice becoming more melodic. The tones of a gently-born, Scottish lady, not a lowly carpenter’s mate. “There was nothing for me. I was raised a gentlewoman, but without a father, brother, or some other family to take me in, it was immediately obvious that my options were limited. I could marry or find employment. There were no young men clamoring for my hand in marriage. So employment was my only choice. But as I had no references, finding honest work was nearly impossible.” Her eyes lifted to his, flashing with that fire again. “Have ye ever faced such desperation? The terror of not knowing where your next meal might come from? Afraid what morals hunger might lead ye tae compromise?”
Kieran rubbed his breastbone with the heel of his hand.
Yes, he did know that desperation. That had been his lot when Charles first found him all those years ago.
“I had your letter for Jamie,” she continued, “promising him a place aboard ship. I know a bit about woodworking and the idea simply . . . came to me. I couldbecomeJamie. So I cut my hair, put on Jamie’s clothing, and presented myself on ship, just as Jamie should have done.”
Kieran listened to her recitation with stoic calm, though his leg bounced in time to his thrumming nerves.
“I see,” he said. “A ship is an extremely risky place for a woman. Not because of the work, per se—though that is often dangerous, too. It is rather . . . men can be savage beasts. You seem to understand this, based on your comments tae me not thirty minutes ago. Though despite your low opinion of myself, I have never taken anything from a woman that was not freely offered. I will do everything I can tae protect ye here.”
She nodded. Her fists clenched tighter.
“Because of this,” he continued, “I will be putting ye on the first ship back to Scotland once we reach Rio de Janeiro—”
“No!” Her head snapped up in alarm.
“No? What do you mean,no?” Kieran pitched his voice into the tone he used for insubordinate crew members. The tone that made grown men squirm.
She didn’t so much as wriggle.
“No, ye cannot send me back. What will I do? How will I provide for myself?”
“I will arrange a suitable situation for ye. Surely, Andrew or Rafe know of a lady who could use an agreeable companion, such as yourself—”
“But I don’twanttae be a lady’s companion. Do ye ken how monotonous that is? Day after day, reading to an elderly woman, taking tea with her equally elderly friends, and attempting to embroider handkerchiefs? I hate embroidery. I haven’t the patience for complicated chain stitches and French knots. No, thank ye. I want to remain aboard ship.”
