Page 44 of Lyon of Scotland
“Arthur?”
“Linhope. We have known each other since we were lads.”
She watched him, blue eyes dark in the lamplight. “You told me some of that. But I know so little about you.”
“We will remedy that. Try to sleep,” he added, seeing her stifle a yawn.
He did not want to go. He wanted to stay, hold her, love her, show her he had not just committed in mere words, but in his heart too. And he wanted to stay with her because he, too, felt a bit bewildered and numb, with life so suddenly altered. But he knew it was changing in the best way possible now. He hoped she felt it too.
Hannah removed her gloves, loosened her bonnet and set it aside, and began to undo the buttons of her short jacket. Every move was slow and unconsciously graceful. Her hands were slender and beautiful, enhanced by the ring that caught the lamplight.
A memory flashed again, those graceful hands on his bare chest, warming his skin, sliding down to tug at his belt—unguarded and honest caresses that had been a catalyst for this moment. His body surged. He stood still, a hand on the door.
She looked up, eyes deep blue, brow tucked and uncertain. “Will you stay?”
“I will be back. Lock the door, lass,” he added. “I have the key.”
“TheNewhavenout of Leith is here, sir,” said the harbor master, consulting a ledger in the shed-like office of the London& Edinburgh Steampacket Company. “Came in a couple of hours ago. South end of the port.” He pointed. “Big steamer. Looks like a three-masted schooner.”
Thanking him, Dare went with Linhope along the stone quay, searching under the light of an overhead moon. As their footsteps echoed along another wooden dock, they spotted the steamship and hailed two sailors on deck, who summoned the captain.
“Aye, we’re down from Scotland, heading for London,” Captain Johnston confirmed as he met them on the dock.
“I am Lord Strathburn, and this is Lord Linhope,” Dare said. “We are looking for a steamer packet with a cargo of Highland whisky to be delivered to Lord Lyon in London. Is this the ship?”
“Well then.” The captain tugged at his cap. “Such cargo goes to Lord Lyon in London. I will only sign it over to that gentleman.”
“I am also Lord Lyon, my civic title.” Dare extracted a name card from his sporran and handed it to Johnston, who studied it, then stuck it in his coat pocket.
“Lord Lyon, King of Arms, is it? Your office helps keep the Scots Scottish.”
“It does,” Dare said with a low chuckle.
“Then how is it you are here in Hull, not Edinburgh—or London, to meet this cargo wi’ your name on it? And what d’ye want of me?”
“I was in London, and we are now heading back to Scotland. I want you to hold the cargo aboard ship. Do not unload it in London. Bring it back to Leith and I will meet you with new arrangements. And, of course, I will pay for your trouble.”
Johnston tilted his head. “If this is to do with smuggling, I willna be part of it.”
The man was quick. Dare nodded. “Nor will I. Someone intends to hang that very charge on me if he can. You too, if those crates are unloaded on an English dock.”
Johnston grunted. “Take it now, and I will be quit of it.”
“This is an English dock, Captain,” Linhope reminded him. “You can only unload it in Scotland if we wish to avoid the charge that was threatened.”
The captain grunted. “De’il take it. What do I do wi’ it now?”
“We are bound for Scotland on a passenger steamer,” Dare said. “Keep it here on theNewhaven, if you will, and bring it back to Scotland when you finish your run. Send word to me when you arrive.”
“Huh,” Johnston said. “I was told that this whisky cargo will not be sold.”
“Aye, it is intended for the king as a gift from the Scottish government.”
“King!” The captain spit in clear comment. “I dinna care to please that one, so aye, it stays on my ship. What man in London wants to ruin your good name, so I can be ready to deny him?”
“Sir Frederic Dove, and anyone sent in his name, or falsely in mine.”
“Aye then. So, Lord Lyon, is it?” The captain gave him a speculative look. “Johnston is an old name, d’ye ken.”
