briney dock air immediately washed over him, mingling with the stench of rotted trash.
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” he growled, cutting through the fog and following Alexander up the rickety ramp, his hand clamped around the cuff of Roger’s coat.
“Who?”
Logan shook his head, unwilling to even mention Cleo’s name to this bastard—as if that would somehow sully her.
Reaching the ship’s deck, he spun Roger around so that they stood face to face. “You like to sell children.”
His eyes widened, and the understanding was there . . . mingled with fear. “What? No! What are you talking about. I never—”
“Your family. You haven’t done a very good job taking care of them, Roger.”
“What business is it of yours?” he railed. “They’re mine!”
“Too many have died on your watch. They’re not yours anymore. Do you understand?”
“Go to hell!”
Logan hauled back and struck him in the face, punctuating his words with the pound of his fist. “Not your children. Not your wife. Understand?”
Roger moaned and nodded, his head lolling before he managed to straighten his neck and focus on Logan. “What are you going to do with me?”
Logan released him. Roger staggered and fell. “You’ll take this ship to South Africa. Stay there. Go somewhere else.” He fished a pouch of gold from his pocket and tossed it on the deck beside the man. Roger dove for it. “I don’t care as long as you never return here. Never set foot in England again.”
Roger nodded jerkily, clutching the pouch close.
Logan bent down and hauled him up by his mussed cravat. Roger fixed unblinking eyes on Logan’s face. “If you ever show your face here again, I’ll see you never draw another breath. Nothing will stop me from making that happen. Is that clear?”
If possible, Roger’s eyes widened further. Understanding glimmered there . . . and defeat. “Yes.”
Logan released him and wiped his hands on his breeches as if he could rid himself of the feel of the man that brought such misery on Cleo and her family.
He looked up at Alexander, who stood beside the ship’s captain. The pair watched grimly. He nodded to them both. “I’m done here.”
“We’ll see him belowdecks and make sure he doesn’t sneak off.” The captain motioned to his men to fetch Roger.
“Thank you,” he murmured, although he doubted it was necessary. Roger wouldn’t attempt to leave the ship. He was nothing more than a bully. Spineless and desperate to feel in control, he wouldn’t dare return where Logan’s threat could become a reality. He’d stay on the ship and sail wherever she took him. He’d never return. Cleo and her family were free.
He turned and departed the ship, his boots thudding heavily on the ramp, his mind already moving ahead to when he might next see Cleo.
“T his is rich!” Fiona crowed. “My brother, the darling of every lass within a league’s ride from McKinney, the very one likely to be found beneath a milkmaid’s skirts rather than about his chores, needs advice on wooing a lady?”
“Are you finished, Fiona?” Logan asked, already regretting asking Fiona for her input in winning over Cleo.
She waved a hand at him amid her riotous giggles.
“Fiona, dear, be kind,” Alexander chided. “Can’t you see he’s fond of this one?”
She gasped for breath. “Of course, of course. Forgive me, Logan.” She wiped tears of merriment from her eyes. “I’ll be serious. Especially as this one seems to have captured your fancy.”
He recalled the efforts he had taken to see that Cleo was happy . . . that her family was safe from her stepfather. Yes. She had more than captured his fancy. “I’d appreciate that.”
She nodded, adopting a more somber expression. “Yes, well . . . let me ask you, have you kissed her yet? Back home, every lass claimed your lips to be nectar of the gods.”
Tossing his napkin upon the table, he stood to leave the room.
“No, no, stop! Sit yourself
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” he growled, cutting through the fog and following Alexander up the rickety ramp, his hand clamped around the cuff of Roger’s coat.
“Who?”
Logan shook his head, unwilling to even mention Cleo’s name to this bastard—as if that would somehow sully her.
Reaching the ship’s deck, he spun Roger around so that they stood face to face. “You like to sell children.”
His eyes widened, and the understanding was there . . . mingled with fear. “What? No! What are you talking about. I never—”
“Your family. You haven’t done a very good job taking care of them, Roger.”
“What business is it of yours?” he railed. “They’re mine!”
“Too many have died on your watch. They’re not yours anymore. Do you understand?”
“Go to hell!”
Logan hauled back and struck him in the face, punctuating his words with the pound of his fist. “Not your children. Not your wife. Understand?”
Roger moaned and nodded, his head lolling before he managed to straighten his neck and focus on Logan. “What are you going to do with me?”
Logan released him. Roger staggered and fell. “You’ll take this ship to South Africa. Stay there. Go somewhere else.” He fished a pouch of gold from his pocket and tossed it on the deck beside the man. Roger dove for it. “I don’t care as long as you never return here. Never set foot in England again.”
Roger nodded jerkily, clutching the pouch close.
Logan bent down and hauled him up by his mussed cravat. Roger fixed unblinking eyes on Logan’s face. “If you ever show your face here again, I’ll see you never draw another breath. Nothing will stop me from making that happen. Is that clear?”
If possible, Roger’s eyes widened further. Understanding glimmered there . . . and defeat. “Yes.”
Logan released him and wiped his hands on his breeches as if he could rid himself of the feel of the man that brought such misery on Cleo and her family.
He looked up at Alexander, who stood beside the ship’s captain. The pair watched grimly. He nodded to them both. “I’m done here.”
“We’ll see him belowdecks and make sure he doesn’t sneak off.” The captain motioned to his men to fetch Roger.
“Thank you,” he murmured, although he doubted it was necessary. Roger wouldn’t attempt to leave the ship. He was nothing more than a bully. Spineless and desperate to feel in control, he wouldn’t dare return where Logan’s threat could become a reality. He’d stay on the ship and sail wherever she took him. He’d never return. Cleo and her family were free.
He turned and departed the ship, his boots thudding heavily on the ramp, his mind already moving ahead to when he might next see Cleo.
“T his is rich!” Fiona crowed. “My brother, the darling of every lass within a league’s ride from McKinney, the very one likely to be found beneath a milkmaid’s skirts rather than about his chores, needs advice on wooing a lady?”
“Are you finished, Fiona?” Logan asked, already regretting asking Fiona for her input in winning over Cleo.
She waved a hand at him amid her riotous giggles.
“Fiona, dear, be kind,” Alexander chided. “Can’t you see he’s fond of this one?”
She gasped for breath. “Of course, of course. Forgive me, Logan.” She wiped tears of merriment from her eyes. “I’ll be serious. Especially as this one seems to have captured your fancy.”
He recalled the efforts he had taken to see that Cleo was happy . . . that her family was safe from her stepfather. Yes. She had more than captured his fancy. “I’d appreciate that.”
She nodded, adopting a more somber expression. “Yes, well . . . let me ask you, have you kissed her yet? Back home, every lass claimed your lips to be nectar of the gods.”
Tossing his napkin upon the table, he stood to leave the room.
“No, no, stop! Sit yourself
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