Tide and Tempest (Edge of Freedom Book #3) (17 page)

With the ache in his arm somewhat lessened by the snug bandage Amelia and Meg had placed there, Morgan slid into a clean shirt and tossed the ripped and bloodied one into the trash. Fastening the buttons on his cuffs, he left his room and walked down the hall in search of his brother. His room was empty, but from his window, Morgan spied the open stable door and grunted.

So, Cass had gone in search of solitude, just like when they were younger. What in blazes had him so twisted up, anyway?

Jamming a cap on his head, Morgan hurried down the stairs and out the back door. Thumping and scraping came from the stable, accompanied by the outraged clucking of chickens.

Skirting them, Morgan wound past the stalls toward the rear of the stable. He found Cass huffing and sweaty as he tossed several hay bales down from the loft. One landed particularly close, thudding hard against the floor and raising a cloud of dust and chaff.

Waving his hand in front of his face, Morgan scowled up at Cass. “That one was on purpose.”

“So?” Cass heaved another bale over the side, then braced
both hands on his hips, a satisfied smirk on his face as Morgan jumped out of the way.

“One more like that and I’ll have to climb up there and toss
you
down,” Morgan threatened.

“What’s stopping you? It’s not like I’m doing you any good sitting around here.”

Morgan pushed his cap off his forehead with his thumb. “That what has you so riled up?”

“What do you think?”

“I think we need to talk.”

At first, he doubted Cass would comply, but then he scrambled down the ladder, landing with a solid
thump
on the floor next to him.

“Good—” Morgan began, only to have Cass cut him off before he could finish.

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me where you were going yesterday, or today, for that matter. I want to know why you’re always the one taking risks and I’m left baby-sitting the crew.”

Each accusation was punctuated by a jab to the chest by Cass’s finger. Clamping his lips on the sarcasm he felt brewing, Morgan whirled and paced the width of the stable.

“Well?” Cass demanded. “You said you wanted to talk.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “Let’s talk.”

Morgan studied his brother from below lowered brows. This perhaps was not what he’d had in mind. Cass had never been easy to reason with, but especially when he got his ire up.

Sighing deeply, he willed his feet to stop, then grasped the top of the nearest stall door. “I could tell you that you’re my responsibility . . .”

Cass crossed his arms and glared at Morgan across the stall wall.

Morgan extended a peace offering with his lifted hand. “But I won’t because it’s only part of the reason.”

Cass remained rooted and glowering. “What’s the other part?” Uncrossing his arms, he stepped around the stall to stand next to Morgan. “It’s Tillie, isn’t it? That’s the part you’re not telling me.”

Morgan turned to look at his brother. Cass was still angry, given the whiteness of his lips and his clenched fists, but there was also hurt mingled in his expression.

And something else.

“Cass . . .” It took Morgan a minute to realize what it was that Cass hadn’t said, but when it finally hit him, it struck like a blow. He gave a light shrug. “Aye, I’m worried about Tillie’s safety, and finding out who has set out to harm her, nothing more.”

A bit of the anxiety cleared from Cass’s face. Letting go a sigh, he clapped Morgan on the shoulder. “Of course you’re worried about her, brother. We all are, me included. But I’m worried about you, too. You could have been killed today. Tillie and I wouldn’t want that, no matter what good you hoped to accomplish by going off alone.”

Cass didn’t know it, but with each word he spoke, he delivered a blow more punishing than any Morgan had felt that day. “Tillie and you?”

“That’s right. We talked about you, Morgan. I told her how important it is to you to live up to Da’s memory. But this isn’t the way, brother. You’ll only wind up getting yourself killed.”

Morgan gritted his teeth. They’d talked about him. Tillie and Cass. And why not? They’d spent enough time together. He was closer to her age. Likely the two of them had much in common.

More than he could hope to have with her.

Tamping down a burst of jealousy, he swallowed hard and jammed both hands into his pants pockets. “What can I say? You’re right this time.”

“This time, eh? So you admit it?”

Relieved to hear a bit of the blarney returning, he lifted his head and grinned. “Dinna let it go to your head.”

The smile faded from Cass’s lips, but so too did the anger and hurt. Backing up a step, he said, “Well? What do we do now?”

“I’ll need you to stay with Tillie. If you can, try and talk her into taking a day or two off from work.”

“And you?”

“I’ll speak to Rourke Turner, see if he’s got a couple of men we can use to try and track down some information on Donal.”

“You don’t want to use the crew?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Nodding, Cass moved toward the stable door. “I’ll talk to Tillie.” He motioned with one hand. “You coming?”

Morgan shook his head. “In a while. I’ve got some thinking to do first, and ’tis better done out here.”

Cass looked as though he meant to speak, but then thought better of it. Instead he turned and disappeared out the door.

Once he’d gone, Morgan blew out a sigh and dragged the cap from his head. What a fool he’d been not to see it sooner. Cass was in love with Tillie. More than likely she loved him, too. And to think, there in the library, he’d nearly kissed her!

Ach, and what a mistake that would have been. Not only would she have not welcomed his kiss, it might have irreparably damaged his relationship with his brother, a relationship that was only now inching past the tumult of their youth. Cass blamed him for much of the trouble between them, and rightfully so. But this?

No, he’d not risk hurting Cass in the same way he’d been hurt all those years ago. Tillie too deserved better than a grumpy old sea captain with naught to offer but a broken-down vessel and her salty crew.

It was Cass she deserved. Cass with his playful, teasing ways who would coax the laughter and cheer from her.

Leaving the stable, Morgan strode outside and slammed the door behind him. Aye, Tillie and Cass belonged together, and he would do everything in his power to see to it that they ended up so, no matter how much he wished it could be otherwise.

No matter how much it pained him.

The light of the setting sun warmed the back of Neil Dunahoe’s shoulders. He’d been sitting so long in one attitude, he’d likely have a burn, but better that than the punishment he’d receive if he failed to carry out The Celt’s orders.

Shifting, he rose from his position betwixt the boardinghouse stable and the building next door. At least he’d have something of note to report this time, instead of admitting to a failed attempt on the woman’s life followed by a dismal stab on Keondric Morgan’s.

He scanned the area for prying eyes and then sauntered away from the boardinghouse onto the street. The Celt wouldn’t be happy about McDermott. For sure and for certain he’d have a bit of explaining to do in that area, even if it was an accident. But at least he could say the man had died before giving away anything of importance.

He scowled as he hailed a cab, then waited for the driver to pull around. Was it his fault The Celt’s men were such feebleminded idiots? After all, how much trouble could one lass be? Had The Celt been patient, Neil could’ve had the job done and had the woman’s body floating in the harbor by the end of the week. The captain and his brother, on the other hand . . .

He rubbed his chin.

That Morgan was one to watch. The way he’d dodged McDermott’s knife ’twas no easy task.

Perhaps the wily old Celt had been right to enlist his four most trusted henchmen. Maybe he’d just see to the woman and let the other two take care of the Morgans.

Warming to the idea, Dunahoe settled against the carriage seat to wait out the ride. Tonight he would tell The Celt what he’d overheard. And tomorrow . . .

Tomorrow he would introduce himself to Tillie McGrath.

An early morning chill greeted Tillie as she slipped from the boardinghouse before the sun’s rays had even begun to pink the sky. Clutching her shawl about her shoulders, she scurried down the steps and hailed the first cab she spied.

The driver’s eyebrows lifted when she gave him the address. He scanned her garments from bonnet to hem. “You sure you wanna go there, miss? It’s not exactly a fittin’ place for a gal such as you to be roaming all by yourself.”

“I’m sure,” Tillie said firmly. She’d already broken her promise to Jacob by one day. She’d delay her visit no longer. She settled on the seat and arranged her skirt over her knees. “Drive on, please.”

Shrugging, the man gave a cluck to the mare and set the carriage in motion. The long ride gave Tillie ample time to think over what Jacob had told her.

“The pub where you
met me the other day . . . just down from that is
an apothecary shop owned by one Patrick Bligh. I want
you to find him and show him the ring just
like you showed me.”

A shudder took her at the memory of Jacob’s battered face. Though she knew Morgan would be irate when he found
out she’d gone alone to meet this Bligh, she couldn’t bear the thought of him or Cass or anyone else coming to harm on her behalf.

Squaring her shoulders, she clutched the pouch containing Braedon’s ring. Whoever Patrick Bligh was, Jacob trusted him. She had no choice but to trust him, as well.

The address she’d given the driver was to the pub where she’d met Jacob. Climbing from the carriage, she handed him the fare and then waited until the horse and carriage rumbled away before walking the short distance to the apothecary shop where Jacob had told her she would find Patrick Bligh.

Indeed, the shop was where Jacob had said it would be, but a sign on the door told her it would be nigh unto an hour before the store opened. She tried the handle anyway, grimacing when it failed to surrender to her prodding.

Heaving a sigh, she pressed her back to the door and scanned the street in both directions. Even now, her presence had begun to draw curious stares. She eyed the pub. Though it was open, she dared not set foot in that place alone.

She pushed from the door and walked a few paces down the street, then changed her mind and returned the same way. Passing the apothecary, she kept going until she reached the pub. As she’d suspected, the door swung open with just one shove.

Inside, the scent of stale cigar smoke hung heavy on the air. Thankfully, the table nearest the door was empty. She eased toward it, pulled out a chair, and sank down onto it. Perhaps if she didn’t look at anyone, they’d leave her alone.

A rough voice at her elbow snuffed the dim hope.

“Well, well. What have we here.” The chair next to her scraped the floor and then two thick knees bumped hers under the table. “You’re a bonnie enough lass. Haven’t seen you around before. Must be me lucky day.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes downcast.

“As was I. Looks like I found her.”

The suggestive drawl raised goose bumps on her flesh. She risked a peek, then wished she hadn’t when the leering gleam in his eyes matched the tone of the man’s voice. He was unkempt and unshaven, but what frightened her most was the wolfish smile curving his lips.

Pushing back her chair, she moved to rise. “I should go—”

The man’s hand flashed out, catching her wrist before she could dart away. “What’s your hurry?”

“I told you.” Tillie stiffened and injected her words with more courage than she actually felt. “I’m waiting for someone. Now, please let go of my wrist.”

She had no time to wonder whether the man would comply, for no more had the words left her mouth than a familiar voice drifted to her ears.

“You heard the lass. Let her go. Now.”

Tillie jerked her head around, wild relief rushing through her veins. “Morgan.”

Indeed, Morgan stood just a few feet away. At his shoulder stood Cass, his scowl only slightly less threatening than his much larger brother. Tears leapt to her eyes at their appearance, for though they were sure to be angered with her, she no longer doubted her safety. She directed a pointed stare at the fingers still twined about her wrist. Reluctantly, the man let go. A second later, she found herself escorted outside, a glowering Morgan at each elbow.

Cass pulled her to a stop on the sidewalk. “Tillie, what in heaven’s name were you thinking, coming here alone like this?” He maintained his grip on her elbow.

Morgan, she noted, did not. He’d dropped his hand the moment they set foot outside, then paced a short distance
away, occasionally shooting her a withering glance, but mostly just stalking a hole in the sidewalk.

“I . . .” she began.

“You what?” Cass rubbed his hand over his face. “Do you have any idea what could have happened in there?”

“I know ’twas dangerous, but—”

Morgan stepped closer. “I thought I made it perfectly clear you weren’t to leave the boardinghouse.”

An onset of ire gave her courage. She matched his posture and thrust out her chin. “
You
made it clear?”

He glared at her. “Well, didn’t I?”

“Since when am I a member of your crew?”

Under his furious scrutiny, Tillie’s boldness melted quickly. She lowered her head, though a stubbornness she hadn’t known she possessed kept her from taking the words back.

She clenched her jaw and refused to look at him, directing her attention to Cass instead. “How did you know where I’d gone?”

“Morgan figured it out.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Said you’d mentioned something about seeing Jacob Kilarny yesterday. He reckoned you’d—”

“It seemed reasonable when you didn’t come down to breakfast that you’d left in search of him . . . in direct opposition to my orders,” Morgan interrupted.

One corner of Cass’s mouth lifted in a wry grin.
See?
he mouthed.

“That’s not exactly right,” Tillie said, sounding somewhat like a petulant child even to her own ears. “Jacob did come to see me at Mass, but he told me to show the ring to someone else, a man by the name of Patrick Bligh.”

The brothers shared a quick glance, and Tillie forged on.

“That’s his shop there.” She pointed at the apothecary’s door a few stores down. “But he wilna be open for business for a while yet.”

“Kilarny told you to show the ring to this man?” Morgan asked.

Tillie nodded. “I think he was afraid something might happen to him. Or to me.”

At this, the smile faded from Cass’s lips. He looked at Morgan. “What do you think?”

“I think we should figure out why that ring is so important that Kilarny would see fit to tell another of its existence.” He turned to Tillie. “Do you think this man Bligh might be able to tell you who it belonged to?”

She bit her lip. “I suppose. Could be that’s why Jacob wanted him to see it.”

Morgan waved toward the increasing number of people moving about the street. “I’d rather we not wait around out here for the store to open. Cass, there’s a diner not far from here.” He pointed. “That direction. Take Tillie and wait for me there.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked before Cass could respond.

“I’ll go by the apothecary, check it out, see who he has loitering about. If it looks safe, I’ll come back for you.”

Though she didn’t like being ordered about, again, his plan made sense. Drawing an irritated breath, she turned to Cass. “C’mon, then. Let’s go sit until Morgan tells us it’s safe to come out.”

Without waiting for Cass, she stomped off, though who she was angry at—herself or Morgan—was yet unclear.

The diner Morgan indicated was a busy place, even for this hour of the morning. The aroma of frying bacon filled the air, along with eggs, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. Tillie regretted having left the boardinghouse without first breaking the fast.

Cass secured them a table against a far wall. Though she
would have rather watched for Morgan, he claimed the chair facing the door.

“Coffee,” he told the waitress hovering nearby.

She brought it promptly, a bitter brew that slid down Tillie’s throat like tar. Cass too grimaced at his first sip. Neither of them drained their cup, or had to, for Morgan appeared a short time later.

Dropping a few coins on the table, he nodded to Cass, then moved to hold Tillie’s chair. “Let’s go.”

“You’ve seen him then, this Patrick Bligh?” Cass asked as they exited the restaurant.

“Aye, I’ve seen him.” He turned to Tillie. “You have the ring with you?”

She held up the pouch.

He hesitated. “Tillie, I think ’twould be best if I took the ring to Bligh.”

“What?”

He closed the gap between them and lowered his voice so only the three of them heard. “There were several men milling about the shop. Salty-looking lot, all. I dinna think it wise to let them see your face.”

“But Jacob—”

“’Tis for your own safety. Cass?”

“I agree,” he said, squelching her argument before she could give it voice. He pressed her hands between his, his eyes earnest and pleading. “Morgan wilna let anything happen to the ring, and it might be safer if he goes in alone.”

Tillie’s heart thumped inside her chest. She’d felt better when it was only her own welfare at stake. She shuddered and finally gave in with a nod. “What will we do?”

Morgan gestured to a shoe store across the crowded thoroughfare. “There. The windows face the apothecary. I think you’ll have a decent vantage if you stay to the front of the store.”

“Done.” Cass looked at Tillie. “You ready?”

She slipped the pouch into Morgan’s waiting palm, any anger she’d felt disappearing like steaming mist beneath a hot sun. In that instant, when his fingers grazed hers and his hand closed around the ring, she experienced a moment of paralyzing panic.

“Morgan . . .”

He peered down at her, his eyes piercing.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

His mouth twitched, the faintest of smiles. He then glanced at Cass. “Take care of her.”

In response, Cass claimed her arm and led her away from the sidewalk, toward the shoe store.

The distance seemed so much farther than it had appeared from the other side of the street. Twice they paused to let a carriage or wagon rumble by. Several times they had to dodge scurrying pedestrians. Tillie was grateful for Cass’s steadying hand against her back, for she was hard-pressed to concentrate on their destination, not when every thought was focused on the man they’d left behind.