Page 131 of My Highland Love

“We had no time for discussion.” Steven gave a mirthless laugh. “Seems that's how it has been with us for some time. Had I taken more time—never mind. We had a devil of a time convincing her to get on the ship this morning. She didn't want to leave without you.”

Relief mingled with frustration. “By God,” Marcus muttered.

Steven laughed in earnest this time. “Surely, you expected no less.”

“I expect her to have some common sense.”

“What is common sense, Ashlund? Well, never mind. She's made a mess of things and knows it—”

A shot rang out.

A bullet whizzed past Marcus's ear. His horse lunged forward. Marcus yanked on the reins, following Steven, who already galloped for the cover of trees. Another shot resounded and Marcus saw wood splinter in the tree he sped past. He pulled his horse up alongside the place Steven had leapt from his horse.

“Price,” Steven hissed.

He yanked the pistol from his waistband and crept toward the edge of the trees. Marcus jumped from his horse and started after him. Steven halted just before the trees gave way to the road, then darted from the cover of the forest.

“Steven!” Marcus shouted, and raced after him.

Marcus's heart hammered against his chest. He dove into the trees across the road and came to a skidding halt at seeing Steven, pistol raised and aimed at Kiernan.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Steven yelled, and squeezed back on the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marcus paused on the deck of the Dauntless, one foot on the gangplank, and scanned the Edinburgh dock. It was not quite noon, yet storm clouds filled the sky, casting dark shadows reminiscent of nightfall. The docks teemed with activity. Bales of dry goods and crates of supplies lay stacked on the boardwalk. Sailors and dock workers hurried to load them onto ships before the rains fell. Marcus spotted Erin near a crowd of sailors.

Erin caught his gaze, and Marcus nodded, then started forward. He avoided a man carrying a bag of provisions on his shoulder and stepped onto the dock. For the thousandth time, Marcus swore an oath to go to the grave before setting foot on another ship bound for America. He had been forced to make too many hard choices these last three months—more than enough to last a lifetime. Elise might never forgive some of the choices.

He stopped before Erin, who was looking past him. “What is it?” Marcus demanded.

“I don't see Kiernan.”

Marcus's throat tightened. “Kiernan—”

“Father!”

He turned at hearing his son call.

The boy was hurrying down the gangplank. He dodged his way through the people and passing hackneys before reaching Marcus.

“Kiernan,” Erin said with obvious relief. “Your grandfather sends word you are to come immediately—”

“Kiernan will be going straight to London,” Marcus said. “I will deal with my father.” Marcus looked pointedly at Kiernan.

“Yes, Father. Directly to London.”

“Do not return to Brahan Seer until I send for you.”

“That's rather unreason—”

“You have no say in the matter,” Marcus cut him off.

Kiernan sighed. “As you say, Father.”

“If I hear you have left London before I give permission to do so, I'll come for you myself.”

“So you have said,” Kiernan replied.