Gentle Rogue Read Free Page A

soft burr in his speech. What he didn’t have was a typical Scottish temper. His could be considered quite mild, and had been for all of his forty-seven years. And yet what temper he did possess had been tested to the limit last night and half of today by the youngest Anderson sibling.
    Being neighbor to the Andersons, Mac had known the family all his life. He’d sailed on their ships for thirty-five years, beginning as old man Anderson’s cabin boy when he was only seven, and lastly as first mate on Clinton Anderson’s Neptune . He’d declined his own captaincy nearly a dozen times. Like Georgina’s youngest brother Boyd, he did not want such complete authority to be his—though young Boyd was sure to accept it eventually. But even after Mac had quit the sea five years ago, he hadn’t been able to stay away from the ships; it now was his job to see to the fitness of each Skylark vessel when it returned to port.
    When the old man had died fifteen years ago, and his wife a few years after, Mac had sort of adopted the surviving children, even though he was only seven years Clinton’s senior. But then he’d always been close to the family. He had watched the children grow, had been there to give them advice when the old man wasn’t, and hadtaught the boys—and, the truth be known, Georgina, too—most of what they knew of ships. Unlike their father, who had only stayed at home a month or two between voyages, Mac could let six months to a year go by before the sea called to him again.
    As was usually the case when a man was devoted more to the sea than to his family, the Anderson children’s births could be marked by their father’s voyages. Clinton was the firstborn and forty now, but a four-year absence in the Far East separated his birth from Warren’s, who was five years younger. Thomas wasn’t born for another four years, and Drew four after that. And Drew’s was the only birth the old man had been there to see, since a storm and severe damage to his ship had turned the old man back to port that year, and then one mishap after another had kept him home for nearly a year, long enough to witness Drew’s birth and get started on Boyd’s, who was born eleven months later.
    And then there was the youngest and only girl in the family, with another four-year difference in age between her and Boyd. Unlike the boys, who took to sea as soon as they were old enough, Georgina was always at home to greet each ship when it returned. So it wasn’t surprising that Mac was so fond of the lass, having spent more time with her in her growing years than with any one of her brothers. He knew her well, knew all her tricks for getting her way, so it stood to reason that he ought to have been able to stand firm against her latest outlandishness. And yet here she stood next to him at the bar of one of the roughest taverns on the waterfront. It was enough to make a man return to the sea.

    If Mac could be grateful for anything, it was that the lass had realized right off that she’d gone a wee bit too far this time with her crazy notions. She was as nervous as a spaniel pup, despite the dirk she had hidden up her sleeve, with a mate tucked in her boot. And yet her confounded stubbornness wouldn’t let her leave until Mr. Willcocks put in an appearance. At least they’d managed to conceal her femininity fairly well.
    Mac had thought that would be the stumbling block that would keep her from coming with him tonight, but unbeknownst to him, the lass had done some clothesline raiding in the wee hours of the night to be able to show him her disguise this morning when he got around to mentioning that she’d need one, but that they didn’t have the money to spare for it.
    Her delicate hands were hidden under the grubbiest pair of gloves Mac had ever seen, so big she could barely manage to lift the mug of ale he’d ordered for her, whereas the patched breeches could have used a lot more room in the seat, but at least the sweater