He offered his left arm to her, keeping his right close by the pistol that bumped against his hip with every step. That small gun in his coat pocket and the knife in his boot were his only weapons, and this time, on the one occasion he would have found her most helpful, he didn’thave Waya at his side. It felt almost like being short a limb, but she’d done her part. He would do his.
Two additional lamps flared at the head of the pier. Five figures, one less than half the size of the others. His heart began beating again. If they hadn’t brought Margaret… Callum rolled his shoulders. He didn’t have another plan for that contingency. But she stood there, Dunncraigh with a hand on her shoulder keeping her still and directly in front of him, the bastard. In his right hand he held a pistol, pointed down for the moment, at least. The threat, though, was clear enough.
“It didnae have to come to this,” the duke said.
“I agree with that,” Callum returned, slowing some twenty feet in front of the quartet of men and young Mags. “This is on yer head, Domhnall. Every bit of it.”
If the duke didn’t like being called by his Christian name, he didn’t show it. Instead he gestured at the satchel on Callum’s shoulder. “Toss that to Donnach. And it had better holdeverypiece of parchment ye stole from my home.”
Callum tossed it into the marquis’s waiting hands. “Aye. Even the parchment ye stole from Ian and George Sanderson, first.”
“Uncle Callum, I want to go home,” Margaret said, her voice quavering.
“Hush,” Dunncraigh said, shaking her a little. “I told ye to be silent.”
Rebecca’s grip tightened on his arm. Resisting his own temptation to comfort the wee lass, Callum kept his gaze and his attention on the duke. “Nae one hair harmed,” he said. “That’s our agreement. And dunnae bother saying ye wouldnae hurt a bairn. Ye already did, when ye made her half an orphan.”
“It’s all here, da’,” Stapp said, closing the satchel andhanding it to one of the other men. “Now ye send Rebecca over here, Geiry.”
He shook his head. “Nae. Ye give me Margaret, first.”
Dunncraigh pulled the lass harder against his legs, the pistol in his other hand twitching. “This isnae a trade, MacCreath. This is ye give me what I want, and when I’m satisfied, I’ll give ye whatyewant.”
“Callum,” Rebecca breathed.
“I’m nae about to give ye both lassesandevery bit of paper that proves ye a murderer,” he returned, wet running down his face from the mist.
“Ye dunnae have any other choice, lad.” Dunncraigh offered a half smile that looked smug even in the fitful lantern light. “Ye thought to outsmart me.Me.Donnach, burn the ledger and the journal. And Rebecca, come over here before yer daughter trips and falls into the harbor.”
Rebecca gasped.
“Aye, the lass told me she cannae swim. A shame. I recall the tales about ye and Ian and Callum there swimming all about Loch Brenan.” He tilted his head a little. “A shame Ian couldnae swim the night he drowned.”
“But how many of ye did it take to hold him down after ye beat him senseless?” Callum shot back, watching as Stapp pulled Ian’s ledger from the satchel and walked over to the nearer of the lanterns. “And all for what? Some ships?”
“The fact that ye dunnae ken the importance of Sanderson’s tells me ye dunnae deserve to profit from it,” Dunncraigh returned. “Rebecca. Now. Once she signs the matrimony register and says ‘aye’ in church, we’ll give ye the bairn.”
“We seem to be at an impasse, then,” Callum said, clenching his free hand. “I’ve another offer.”
“And what might that be?”
With a muffled boom, one of the ships in the harbor blazed into view, yellow and orange and blue light enveloping it halfway up the main mast. Everyone on the pier flinched away from the light, except Callum. He freed his arm from Rebecca and took a long step closer to Dunncraigh. “That’s theSunrise Star,” he commented, having to raise his voice a little over the roar of the burning ship. “Part of yer new fleet, I believe.”
Dunncraigh whipped back around to stare at him. “Are ye a madman? I’ve the bairn, right here.”
“I wanted to make certain I had yer undivided attention.” Moving slowly, Callum drew two bundles of paper from inside his coat. “Yer other six ships out there, the ones ye purchased without getting approval from the two other people who own the company, the ones ye havenae yet finished paying for, are also loaded with thirty kegs each of Kentucky Hills whisky.”
“Ye son of a b—”
“Here, in my hands, are agreements handing over my shares in Sanderson’s, and Rebecca’s shares. To ye.” He lifted the papers. “They’re signed, approved, and witnessed by a judge and a magistrate. They’re yers. All I need from ye is Margaret, and yer agreement to leave the lot of us alone, in peace. The other six ships out there, the entire company. Yers.”
He could practically feel Rebecca’s shock running cold up his spine. Of course she didn’t approve, but since Ian and her father had died she’d clung to Sanderson’s as her only security. He didn’t approve, either. But it made sense, if Dunncraigh agreed.
“Ye expect me to believe that?” the duke retorted, flinching as the ship exploded again. “Ye’d hand me everything, when for weeks ye’ve been swearing to kill me. To ‘end’ me, ye said, and that was ten years ago.”
“Killing ye willnae bring my brother back to life. Ireckon if giving ye what ye want will convince ye to leave us be, I can live with that.”
The duke looked from him to Rebecca. “Ye want her for yerself. Ye always did, I reckon.”
