Chapter Eleven

Cam didn't get to sleep until well after midnight, and then he slept fitfully. His stomach growled in hunger, and his heart ached. He felt stupid, for not finding a way to mention his involvement with Thacker Shipping earlier.

He didn't like feeling stupid, although it wasn't the first time.

Hell, the whole point of his investments was to remind himself he wasn't as stupid and useless as his family thought. He kept it a secret because he liked knowing something they didn't.

And now he'd kept it a secret from the one person he shouldn't.

Damnation.

So, aye, sleep was a long time coming, and not just because it ended up being easier to sleep on the carpet than the chaise.

His back ached and he had a stiff neck when he heard footsteps in the foyer. Grumpily, he rolled over to see dim light coming from the window, and knew it was after dawn. It must be Jade, up and about, although he didn't recognize her distinctive sharp footsteps.

The woman always strode about full of confidence, but not today.

The front door opened, then shut, and Cam felt as if The Cottage exhaled. She'd left.

She'd left?

Frowning now, he pushed himself to his feet, not sparing too much time to stretch the ache out of his neck. Knuckles kneading his lower back, he limped down the hall toward the bedroom. The door was ajar, and although it was his damn room, he still hesitated before nudging it open with his shoulder.

Little had changed since the day before, and yet…everything had. In a few short days, he'd become used to sharing a room with her. In a little over a week, he'd become used to living with her.

Loving her.

And now, after one argument, she'd left.

No' an argument, ye arse. She's angry because ye kept something important from her.

Och, that was true.

And her shoes are still here.

It took a moment to decipher why his subconscious thought her shoes were relevant, but once he did, he breathed a little sigh of relief.

Yesterday, the mud had made it difficult to wear shoes outside. Remembering that, she'd likely gone out for a little walk, perhaps for some fresh air, after being stuck inside for so long.

Or she's still livid, and doesnae want to be in the same building with ye.

Aye, or that.

But he was trying to remain positive, thankyeverramuch.

It was difficult.

Since she was out, he used the time wisely, changing into trousers and a shirt and vest, washing and shaving and doing all those intimate tasks which were much easier to perform without the woman one loved staring at one. All while trying to remain positive.

This is certainly turning into a long just-getting-some-fresh-air stroll. She must be irate.

Maintaining positivity was becoming more difficult.

He slipped into the kitchen, and while the water boiled for tea, he prepared a simple breakfast of toast and jam—they'd made the bread together the day before yesterday—and apples fried in butter.

After, he plated the meal carefully, feeling surprisingly proud of how self-sufficient he'd become over the last week, and set the dining room table.

Still nae sign of her.

He took the time to sort through the reports he never did look through yesterday. And as he sipped his tea and munched on the sweet fruit, he perused the numbers. Aye, partnering with Thacker Shipping had been a wise financial choice.

Now, if only he could convince the owner he would make a sound partner.

He finished breaking his fast, and realized he could no longer avoid the gnawing worry in his stomach. She'd snuck barefoot from the house almost two hours ago; more than enough time for her to have walked off her irritation for him.

Or if not, at least enough time for her to be ready for some food.

Perhaps she's waiting for ye to come and fetch her?

Aye, that would be like his Treasure; determined to remain in control of the situation.

Well, he was no weakling, but he also had no trouble admitting when he was wrong. If she was waiting for him to grovel, he'd grovel.

Better go find yer groveling coat.

Where would she have gone? The cliffs weren't too dangerous, but if she didn't know the sea, the beach posed dangers. God forbid she'd gone back into those sea caves without him!

With each heartbeat, his worry increased. He tried to tell himself that she was the daughter of a sailor, and wouldn't be in any danger from a few waves, but it didn't work; each breath brought a tightening to his throat as he thought of her in danger.

Nay, she's just miffed at ye, and making ye squirm.

Aye, well, he'd squirm all she wanted, once he knew she was safe.

He was shoving his left arm into the sleeve of his groveling coat as he yanked open the front door. And that's when his eyes landed on the last person he expected.

"Son! I made it!" Argus MacKay's arms were wide, his dimples on display, his curls fading to a distinguished silver.

Scowling, Cam brushed past him, twisting his head back and forth as he searched for Jade.

"Cameron?"

"Hello, Da," he muttered distractedly, turning toward the cliffs. "Have ye seen Jade?"

His father's deep chuckle just made Cam's scowl deepen. "Ye've lost her already, eh? I leave the two of ye together for a day or two, and—"

"A day or two?" Cam wheeled on his father. "We've been stuck alone together for over a week, Da!" His arm swept to one side, encompassing the mud and the thatch in disarray and the distant roar of the sea. "Cut off from everyone because of the storm, and yer conniving."

Instead of appearing abashed—although Cam had never quite worked out what bashed meant in that context—his father hooked his thumbs through his braces and rocked back on his heels. "So she's well and truly compromised, eh? I kenned I could count on yer charm."

With a snarl, Cam threw himself toward his father, his fist already cocked—and managed to pull himself to a stop before he actually landed a blow.

The old man, damn him, just grinned knowingly.

Well and truly compromised.

Is that what his father had wanted? Cam had fought it—oh, how he'd fought—but aye, Jade was his now.

"She's my bride," he snarled instead, "is she no'?"

Da's grin just grew wider. "I think ye should invite me in for a bit. Perhaps some coffee and something sweet, and ye can explain how ye managed to lose her already."

Cam's head swung back around, peering toward the surf. "I didnae lose her. We…quarreled. She went out for a walk, and hasnae returned."

Chuckling, his father slapped him on the back. "She just needs a bit to cool down, laddie. Our Jade is a powerful young woman, but can be hot-tempered at times."

Our Jade? "No' that I've noticed," Cam mumbled.

"That's because ye've done such an excellent job charming the lass." The way the older man winked as he nudged his son left no doubt to what sort of charm he meant.

But Cam wasn't convinced. "She's been gone a while, Da. I'm worried."

His father followed the direction of his gaze, and snorted derisively. "John Thacker's daughter would no' be so rude as to drown in the Firth, laddie, ye have my word. Now, coffee." When Cam turned a glare on him, Da merely winked. "And cookies, if ye have any. My coach can wait."

As he waved good-naturedly to his coachman, Cam relented. "Nae coffee. We're on deprivation rations, remember?" He sighed in acceptance as he turned toward the door. "I made tea."

His father preceded him, stomping his boots off beside the umbrellas. "Looks a bit different, lad," he near-bellowed. "I still think ye need a houseful of servants."

"I could've used them this past week," Cam muttered, leading the way into the dining room, thinking that Mrs. Higgins on the premises would've made his life easier. And he likely could've managed to keep his cock under his kilt with a maid or three flitting about. "The place hasnae weathered the storm as gracefully as I would like."

His father laughed and sat down at the place Cam had set for Jade. "This bread's a bit auld. Ye're going to fix it up now that ye will be married, I assume? Furnish a few more rooms—the bairns will need a nursery—and move in some staff?"

Bairns.

Cam swallowed, his knees suddenly going weak enough to necessitate a grab for the back of the nearest chair. Bairns with Jade. He had no idea how she thought of the idea, but after what they'd shared last night—twice—she could very well be carrying his son or daughter right now.

A little gray-eyed imp with her mother's determination and her father's charm.

God Almighty, the thought was terrifying and wonderful all at once.

Da hummed in appreciation. "These apples are delightful. Have yer cook send the recipe up to the Highlands, eh?"

"I made them," Cam mumbled.

"What's that?"

Cam took a deep breath, and straightened. "I made them, Da. And Jade and I made the bread. I told ye, we've been surviving on our own, thanks to the storm."

His father was gaping at him. "And ye've…learned to bake."

Oh, for fook's sake, it wasn't like he'd learned brain surgery! "We had a recipe book, Da," he managed dryly. "I'm no' completely useless."

The older man still stared, his fork frozen halfway to his lips. Finally, he shook his head and took the bite. "I never thought ye useless, son," he muttered around the apples.

But he did, didn't he? That was why Cam had hid who he really was for so long; a sort of perverse fulfillment that he wasn't as useless as his family thought. "I have plenty of talents, Da."

"Aye, and the ladies pay dearly for them," his father said with a wink.

Cam rolled his eyes, knowing he shouldn't have bothered with this conversation. "I meant investments. I'm good at managing money."

"Well then, ye and yer future wife will have plenty to talk about, eh?"

Future wife. And before, Da had said Ye will be married.

Cam's knuckles tightened around the back of the chair.

"Da…what's this bullshite about marriage by proxy?"

His father's attention jerked up from his tea. "Bullshite, as ye say." He was grinning. "It got ye both here, did it no'?"

They weren't married. Over the pounding of the pulse in his ears, Cam heard himself ask, "Was that yer plan? To get us both here, in the hopes I'd—" His voice faltered, and he swallowed. "Compromise her?"

"It worked, did it no'?" His father's chuckle was good-natured. Charming. Annoying as fook. "I meant to arrive sooner, of course, but everything from here to Inverness is blasted mud!"

They weren't married.

Jade wasn't his wife.

But she's still yers.

Cursing, Cam whirled for the door, determined to find her. If he wasn't married to her, and she was still angry with him…

He had to find her.

"Jade!" he called as soon as he stepped out of The Cottage. "Jade!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and took three long strides for the cliffs. "Jaaaade!"

"Ye think this is more than just a walk to blow off steam, laddie?" His father was standing in the portico, carrying his teacup in one hand. "Why are ye so frantic?"

"Because I need to ken she's alright," Cam snapped without turning. "I'm going to check the beach."

From behind him, his father called, "I'll check up here."

But a half hour later, Cam had to admit the truth: she wasn't anywhere around The Cottage. He could hire an experienced tracker to confirm, but to his untrained eye, it seemed as if a set of bare footprints fought through the mud toward the lane leading toward the village.

"Fook!" he hissed, slamming his toe into the stone of the portico. "Shite fook shite!"

"Calm down, son." Da looked uncharacteristically somber as he folded his arms across his chest. "We'll find her."

"What if we dinnae?" Cam scrubbed a hand over his face. "What if she's gone into the village? What if she's on a train back to London?"

"Well…" The older man shrugged pragmatically. "We'll find her in London, then. Besides, ye said she didnae pack her belongings."

The reminder did much to calm Cam's frantic helplessness. "That is…" He frowned toward the distant village. "That is correct. And she wouldnae have boarded the train in bare feet."

His father nodded as he waved his arm for his coachman to join them. "Is it possible she just went into the village?"

Cam shook his head thoughtfully. "I cannae imagine she'd go there barefoot either," he murmured.

His father's coachman had climbed down from the ornate carriage and was picking his way carefully through the mud. When he approached, Da summarized the situation in curt tones.

"Ye'll bring my son to the village, while I wait here in case my niece returns."

The young man was nodding agreeably. "Aye, milord." He turned to Cam. "And if I might suggest, once we reach the village, ye consider asking the other lord for help? He's likely honor-bound to offer assistance if a lady is missing."

Cam was frowning, as his father barked, "What other lord?"

The coachman glanced between the two of them. "I dinnae ken his name, but we passed his coach this morning, right afore we reached The Cottage. He was barreling back toward the village as if the verra hounds of hell were on his heels!"

What in the name of Satan and his little minions would a lord be doing out here? Cam stepped toward the servant. "Ye're certain it was a lord's carriage?"

"Aye, it had to be. Black, and covered in so much gilt, it was hard to believe the thing hadn't collapsed under the weight."

A terrible suspicion slammed into Cam, and he felt his blood freezing as he asked, "Can ye remember anything else about it?"

"Och, aye! The horseflesh weren't matched, which made me think mayhap they was rented. These lords always travel in style, ye ken. The bloke on the seat gave me a right polite nod, though, so I did the same in return." The coachman pursed his lips as he considered. "Och, and the crest! A giant ‘B' it was, surrounded by gold curlicues and swoops, what are they called?"

But Cam didn't answer. He'd turned horrified eyes to his father, who was looking just as shocked as he was.

It was possible there were multiple dandies in Britain who went about in jet-black, highly gilded coaches. But there was only one whose family crest was an ornate B.

And he had an inheritance's worth of reasons to snatch a barefoot Jade from the lane, and rush her toward the village.

"Buthert."