Aboard The Blue Spruce

G iven Uxbridge's rank and his part in helping Rowan escape Waterloo, William, Duke of Withenshawe, had no choice but to cede his cabin to the earl. It went against the grain. His injured son should have the best cabin available.

He ought not to have been surprised when Henry Paget declined the offer of the captain's cabin. "You and I can bunk together somewhere," he said. "Talk about old times."

"I'll just see to my son first," William replied, relieved by his guest's generosity. "Get him settled."

"Fussing over him is a mistake, Halstead," the earl said as they entered a smaller cabin. "Ramsay's seeing to his accommodations."

"I don't intend to fuss," William retorted. "I simply want to make sure…"

Uxbridge flopped down on the bunk and threw his crutches to the floor in a rare display of temper. "That's called fussing. Rowan won't thank you for it any more than I would. He and I are amputees, not children who need to be molly-coddled. I wouldn't admit it to anyone else but this ordeal is damn painful."

William struggled to hold on to his temper. Uxbridge had every right to voice his opinion, but Rowan wasn't his son, and of course William understood an amputated limb caused considerable pain. "So, you think I should pretend nothing has happened. Business as usual."

"That would be even worse. You'll have to walk a fine line, old friend. You must let him know you understand life just got a lot more difficult but, if he senses pity, he'll never recover. He's not coping with the loss of his leg. If not for that canny Scot, he'd have given up entirely. Did you know Niven King kept up the morale of the men of the 79 th at Waterloo? Piped his way through the whole nightmare."

The revelation was a punch in the gut. Stunned, William staggered to the door. Now, he had two men's futures to consider carefully.

"All this fuss," Rowan complained when his father entered the cabin. "This place is already overcrowded."

He regretted the childish outburst when his father paled.

"True," Kenneth Hawkins replied diplomatically. "You chaps don't need me here."

"I'll go too," Niven said, following Kenneth to the door.

Rowan didn't fully understand the reason, but he dreaded Niven's absence. "No need," he said.

"Yes," his father agreed. "I'd prefer Niven stay."

Rowan had always held his father in high regard. The dukedom was wealthy, thanks in no small part to the Withenshawe shipping company and other shrewd business investments, ironically Niven's family whisky distillery among them. William Halstead was a powerful, confident and decisive man who now paced the small cabin, head bent, hands behind his back.

Seated in the uncomfortable wooden captain's chair, Rowan longed to lie down in the bunk, but preferred to be as upright as possible when the conversation eventually began.

With nowhere to sit, Niven kept shifting his weight. Rowan hadn't given much consideration to the fact he too had endured the horrors of Waterloo and must be exhausted.

The cabin was opulent compared to many on board a ship, but there was a definite odor of sweaty men. It reminded Rowan of an army barracks.

That amusing notion cleared the fog from his brain. It wasn't up to his father to open the conversation. It was his responsibility.

"Firstly," he began. "You'll be relieved to know, Papa, that Ash and Thorne got through Quatre Bras and Waterloo unscathed. They are marching to Paris with Wellington."

"Thank God," his father replied.

"Ash will be fine, but I worry about Thorne. I lost my leg in the course of saving his life. My fault, but he feels guilty and refused to visit me in the hospital."

Contrary to his expectation, his father didn't offer some trite reply. "I can well understand that," he eventually said, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully. "We'll all have some adjusting to do, especially you, Rowan."

Niven was torn. He was superfluous to the discussion that needed to take place between father and son. Yet, he sensed both men wanted him to stay. One thing these noblemen must accept was that he intended to marry Willow—if she still loved him. Their separation and the trials he had endured had shown him he truly loved her but the opposite may have proven true for her. Perhaps she'd come to the realization he wasn't a suitable partner for a duke's daughter. Lost in these musings and longing for a comfortable bed, he startled when Rowan opened the conversation.

"Niven," the Withenshawe heir said after imparting news of Ash and Thorne. "Now I'm lucid and thinking more clearly, I offer my sincere apologies for causing you such anguish. My brothers and I had no right to take away your freedom."

"I echo that," the duke added. "I'm truly sorry for the part I played."

Niven was relieved they appreciated what they had done was wrong, but meekly accepting their apology stuck in his craw. "Aye, ye should both be sorry. Ye punished me and yer daughter for the crime o' lovin' each other."

The duke's scowl gave him pause, but he had to continue. "However, I must admit, the real possibility of ne'er seeing Willow again confirmed for me that I truly love her. I can only hope she still feels the same because I intend to fight ye every step o' the way if ye try to prevent our marriage."

To his surprise, the duke laughed. "No fear of that," he chuckled. "She's never given up hope you'd be found alive. She's always been convinced you were one of the celebrated pipers at Waterloo."

Niven's heart rejoiced. Willow had been with him through it all. She truly was his destiny. "And what of our plans to wed?"

"You'll get no objection from me," Withenshawe declared.

"Nor from me," Rowan echoed, offering Niven his hand. "Welcome to the family."

Beaming at his son, the duke slapped Niven's back. "I've always known you as a worthy man, Niven. Snobbery made me blind to that. Perhaps we can plan a double wedding. You and Willow and Rowan and Daisy."

Rowan's smile fled as he withdrew his hand from Niven's grasp. "No," he shouted. "There's no future for Daisy and me. She won't want to marry a cripple."

Two days at sea made Rowan wonder why he'd ever thought himself cut out for a life on the water. Seasickness only made the physical pain and the mental anguish of his loss worse. Getting around on the ship proved impossible, so he kept to his cabin. His father felt obliged to spend time entertaining the earl but Niven and Kenneth visited frequently. Kenneth was a duke; Rowan was the heir to a dukedom. Yet, he suspected Niven might prove the closer friend in the long run. The Scot seemed to know exactly what was on his mind, but didn't judge him for it. That wasn't to say Niven tolerated his whining. "A boot in the arse," was his favorite recommendation for curing Rowan's melancholy.

When the Blue Spruce entered the Thames estuary, his father told them all that, once they docked, he intended to send a runner to let Willow and Daisy know they'd arrived safely.

"Good," Niven replied. "I canna wait to see Willow, though I've long imagined the look on her face if I simply turned up."

"Excellent plan," Kenneth added.

"I'd prefer your sister not be included," Rowan told Kenneth coldly. "I'd rather you let Daisy know I don't intend to hold her to our engagement."

"I can understand why you feel that way now," his father said. "But once you're well…"

"I won't change my mind, Papa. That's an end of it."

Kenneth brooded, clearly not appreciating the predicament Rowan had placed him in, but Daisy would soon get over the broken engagement and find another man.

Willow barely slept after her father left for Europe. The servants did their best to cheer her and she appreciated their efforts, but concern for Niven and Rowan gnawed at her. Life held no meaning. There was only the waiting and worrying.

One morning, she was sitting in the drawing room, staring out of the window when Rapp entered with his silver-plated salver held high. "A letter from His Grace, Your Ladyship," the butler intoned, as if the entire household hadn't been waiting on tenterhooks for such a message.

She leaped to her feet, grabbed the missive and tore open the seal. Mindful of the butler's fondness for the family, she read the contents aloud.

"My dearest Willow,

You'll be relieved to know the Blue Spruce has docked in London and we are on our way home with our warriors, Rowan and Niven. Ash and Thorne have gone on to Paris with Wellington. Don't worry. Niven is unharmed and has quite a tale to tell about his adventures. Unfortunately, your eldest brother was not so lucky. Rowan has a long road ahead. I am sorry to tell you he lost a leg at Waterloo."

She glanced at Rapp. The color had drained from the butler's face. He'd known all the Halstead offspring since they were children.

She scanned the next line and decided to keep it to herself.

"Rowan doesn't want Lady Daisy to know just yet, so please do not send word to her.

With fondest love, Papa."

Rapp struggled to maintain his composure. "The staff will do all we can to aid Lord Rowan's recovery," he rasped.

Willow's mind whirled. Rowan wouldn't handle this catastrophe well. He was too proud. His reluctance to inform Daisy was proof of it. Tavish King was at Ramsay House and wouldn't appreciate not hearing the good news as soon as possible. The delay would only add to his anger over the kidnapping.

But Niven was safe and well. "Niven's safe and well," she screamed when the news finally sank into a heart that had almost lost hope.

Even before the carriage came to a halt outside the Withenshawe townhouse, Niven pulled up his drooping socks, leaped out and ran for the entryway. He'd dozed most of the way from the docks. Now, his desire to reunite with Willow banished all thoughts of trembling legs and utter exhaustion.

He ran through the door held open by the butler whose name he couldn't at the moment recall and who surely wouldn't object to his failure to respond to whatever greeting the man uttered.

Then, Willow was in his arms, sobbing, repeating his name over and over.

"Lass," he croaked, sifting his fingers through her hair. "My lass."

She melted into him when he kissed her and eagerly welcomed his tongue. He inhaled her scent, tasted her desire. He wanted to weep like a bairn—this precious woman had kept alive the flame of love, though she could have no idea what had become of him.

But her lovely body felt too thin. "Ye've lost weight," he rasped when they finally broke apart for breath.

"I haven't been able to eat much since you disappeared," she replied.

"I canna say I've eaten well since our parting," he chuckled, suddenly mindful of the pitiful state of his own body. "And I apologize that I dinna smell too sweetly."

She nuzzled her nose into his chest and inhaled deeply. "You smell of life, Niven King, and I thank God for it."

"Mayhap ye can help me bathe?" he suggested, the cheeky Scot in him getting the better of his tongue.

Balanced in the entryway on crutches he was finally getting the hang of, Rowan wished again that he had died at Waterloo. The deep love his sister and the Scot so obviously shared reminded him too keenly of his own loss. His heart knew he loved Daisy Hawkins but reason dictated he let her go, for her own sake.

The lovers still clung to each other even after Rowan's father cleared his throat loudly. It was so heart-wrenchingly obvious that Niven and Willow belonged together, Rowan couldn't fathom how he hadn't recognized it before. "Too much of a snob," he muttered under his breath.

He nigh on lost his balance when Willow threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Rowan," she said. "Thank goodness you're alive. How are you coping with all this?"

The precious little sister whose life he'd almost ruined knew his limitations and loved him still. "Not well, I'm afraid," he admitted. "But I'm sure things will improve now I'm home."

"Of course," she said, apparently believing his lies.

"I'll be off then," Kenneth Hawkins declared, offering to shake Niven's hand. "As I mentioned, Tavish and Piper are at Ramsay House and they'll be relieved to hear you're safe."

"Tell them I'll visit on the morrow," Niven replied, embracing his cousin.

Rowan fought the urge to tell Kenneth he would come to see Daisy as soon as possible, or perhaps she could travel to the Withenshawe townhouse.

It was over, and the sooner he accepted it the better.

After Kenneth left, a problem soon became clear to everyone. Rowan's bedchamber was on the second floor.

Rowan's obvious exhaustion made successfully climbing the stairs unlikely and the defeat on his face broke Willow's heart.

"We'll make up a bed in the study," her father suggested.

Rowan's expression soured further.

"For now," Niven said to Rowan. "Kenneth and I will get ye upstairs."

Before Rowan could object, they'd joined hands to form a chair and lifted him. Her brother's crutches seemed to be the only impediment to a successful ascent of the staircase, so Willow grabbed them and followed the trio to the second floor.

Kenneth left as soon as they reached the bedchamber, but Niven made sure Rowan was settled comfortably in bed. It quickly became obvious this wasn't the first time he'd helped her brother. It sank into her delirious brain that it was Niven's persistence that had seen Rowan safely home. Astonishingly, Rowan didn't seem to mind. Two men who should hate each other had apparently made their peace. Admiration and hope swelled in her heart.

Rapp arrived with a tray of food. "Roast lamb, mint sauce, baby potatoes and collard greens," he announced. "Cook made your favorites, Lord Rowan."

Willow's father arrived on the butler's heels. "And dinner will be served in the dining room for the rest of us once you've had a chance to change, Niven."

"Aye," he replied with a wink in Willow's direction that sent her heart fluttering. "I'm lookin' forward to my bath."

Willow made herself scarce while servants toted the galvanized tub and pails of hot water upstairs for Niven's bath. She planned to be immodest but had enough sense to keep domestic tongues from wagging. She and Niven had only ever shared intimacies in the dark of night. The prospect of seeing his naked body in the light of day sent her heart dancing. She ought to feel guilty that wanton feelings ran wild through her own body, but all she felt was mounting anticipation and excitement. Something very right was about to happen. Every fibre of her being had missed Niven keenly and, soon, she'd have the chance to show him how much she loved him.