very least, she should make him squirm until he begged for forgiveness. Instead, she sat mesmerized, her traitorous body wishing he’d never let go.
Taking a deep breath, she withdrew her hand. “Apology accepted.”
Shane’s face lit like a Roman candle and he smiled, an unexpected dimple appearing in his right cheek. For no logical reason, Abigail wondered if dimples were a MacLeod trait. Jamie had one too. She couldn’t recall if Ian did…
“’Tis more than I deserve, lass. I will try verra hard to make these months as pleasant as I can for ye.” Shane stood and looked at her uneaten porridge. “When ye finish breaking your fast, perhaps ye might join me on deck?”
Abigail picked up her spoon. “I should like that.”
She smiled after he left. Shane had said he’d try to make the next three months pleasant. That meant he’d be spending time with her.
She had a chance to make this marriage work. Strangely enough, she didn’t question why—or if—she wanted to. Shane was the only man who had ever interested her. True, he had acted like the worst kind of ass—other than her father—but she sensed, even through her embarrassment, that he hadn’t meant to humiliate her. There was honor in the man. He didn’t have to agree to any kind of marriage since she was the one who’d stowed away, but he had agreed, which made the effort of staying his wife worth it.
Her mother had always lamented that Abigail was strong-willed and determined—not desirable traits for a lady. But then ladies accepted the decisions men made for them. Abigail wanted to be in charge of her own life.
And she wanted Shane MacLeod to be a part of it.
Chapter Six
“Is this where you keep the boat?” Abigail asked Shane as the Border Lass closed on a dock in the port of Leith three days later. They had been sailing in the wide Firth of Forth for several hours and she’d had glimpses of rolling, green hills as well as jutting, rocky headlands. She was anxious to see the rest of Scotland.
“Aye. I keep close to a dozen ships here. ’Tis but a short walk to the office.”
While Abigail was interested to see where Shane worked, she was more interested in seeing where he lived. Although he had not visited her in the cabin on their journey north—the bunk was small—Shane had greeted her pleasantly enough when she appeared on deck after breaking her morning fast. Maybe once they were in his home, he would change his mind about sharing a bedchamber.
“I cannot wait to see everything,” she said as men scrambled to haul down sails. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nae,” Shane answered as he picked up a line to throw to a handler on the quay. “For now, ye would do best to stay out of the way.”
After three days on the open sea, Abigail knew what that meant. With a nod, she headed toward the stern where a wooden box was bolted to the deck behind the helmsman. The locker held charts, but its surface served as a bench and kept her out of the way of the crew when the wind picked up. She had been amazed at how quick and agile the men were in bringing the big sails around when the boat tacked and how quickly they could sheet them in to head on course as well.
Abigail was quite proud of herself for knowing what those terms even meant. When she’d asked Shane to give her a tour of the ship, he’d looked rather skeptical. She hadn’t been satisfied with his general description of what was port, starboard, fore and aft and had asked persistent questions of how and why things worked. More than once, the crew had snickered only to stop when Shane looked at them. Abigail smiled, remembering how bug-eyed some of them were when Shane had actually let her steer the boat, albeit with the helmsman at hand.
Words could not describe having the ship respond to her command. Well, actually, she had just held it on a straight course, but she could feel the response of the vessel if she moved the wheel even slightly in one direction or the
Taking a deep breath, she withdrew her hand. “Apology accepted.”
Shane’s face lit like a Roman candle and he smiled, an unexpected dimple appearing in his right cheek. For no logical reason, Abigail wondered if dimples were a MacLeod trait. Jamie had one too. She couldn’t recall if Ian did…
“’Tis more than I deserve, lass. I will try verra hard to make these months as pleasant as I can for ye.” Shane stood and looked at her uneaten porridge. “When ye finish breaking your fast, perhaps ye might join me on deck?”
Abigail picked up her spoon. “I should like that.”
She smiled after he left. Shane had said he’d try to make the next three months pleasant. That meant he’d be spending time with her.
She had a chance to make this marriage work. Strangely enough, she didn’t question why—or if—she wanted to. Shane was the only man who had ever interested her. True, he had acted like the worst kind of ass—other than her father—but she sensed, even through her embarrassment, that he hadn’t meant to humiliate her. There was honor in the man. He didn’t have to agree to any kind of marriage since she was the one who’d stowed away, but he had agreed, which made the effort of staying his wife worth it.
Her mother had always lamented that Abigail was strong-willed and determined—not desirable traits for a lady. But then ladies accepted the decisions men made for them. Abigail wanted to be in charge of her own life.
And she wanted Shane MacLeod to be a part of it.
Chapter Six
“Is this where you keep the boat?” Abigail asked Shane as the Border Lass closed on a dock in the port of Leith three days later. They had been sailing in the wide Firth of Forth for several hours and she’d had glimpses of rolling, green hills as well as jutting, rocky headlands. She was anxious to see the rest of Scotland.
“Aye. I keep close to a dozen ships here. ’Tis but a short walk to the office.”
While Abigail was interested to see where Shane worked, she was more interested in seeing where he lived. Although he had not visited her in the cabin on their journey north—the bunk was small—Shane had greeted her pleasantly enough when she appeared on deck after breaking her morning fast. Maybe once they were in his home, he would change his mind about sharing a bedchamber.
“I cannot wait to see everything,” she said as men scrambled to haul down sails. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nae,” Shane answered as he picked up a line to throw to a handler on the quay. “For now, ye would do best to stay out of the way.”
After three days on the open sea, Abigail knew what that meant. With a nod, she headed toward the stern where a wooden box was bolted to the deck behind the helmsman. The locker held charts, but its surface served as a bench and kept her out of the way of the crew when the wind picked up. She had been amazed at how quick and agile the men were in bringing the big sails around when the boat tacked and how quickly they could sheet them in to head on course as well.
Abigail was quite proud of herself for knowing what those terms even meant. When she’d asked Shane to give her a tour of the ship, he’d looked rather skeptical. She hadn’t been satisfied with his general description of what was port, starboard, fore and aft and had asked persistent questions of how and why things worked. More than once, the crew had snickered only to stop when Shane looked at them. Abigail smiled, remembering how bug-eyed some of them were when Shane had actually let her steer the boat, albeit with the helmsman at hand.
Words could not describe having the ship respond to her command. Well, actually, she had just held it on a straight course, but she could feel the response of the vessel if she moved the wheel even slightly in one direction or the
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