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“Set sail with your cargo of strumpets for some other lonely colony, where that manner of vice is tolerated. You, and they, are not welcome in Nova Scotia!”
The dazed look fled Jocelyn Finch’s attractive features. An indignant glare took its place.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to detract from her beauty.
Sir Robert wished it had.
“How dare you?” Mrs. Finch wrenched the glove off her impossibly delicate fingers.
She surged up on the tips of her toes and struck him across the cheek with the glove. For such a small scrap of soft kid leather, it stung like the very devil.
“I demand satisfaction for that vile insult, sir!” she cried. “How dare you sully the reputation of me and my charges with your disgusting accusations?”
Then she struck him dumb by asking, “And, pray, when did the state of holy matrimony become a vice in Nova Scotia?”
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Highland Rogue
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The Bride Ship
Deborah Hale
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated with love and admiration
to two special young men, Brendan and Jamie Hale,
who make the duties of motherhood a true pleasure.
You are my heroes!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Author Note
Chapter One
Halifax, Nova Scotia
May 1818
A n urgent knock on the door of his study distracted Sir Robert Kerr in the midst of drafting his quarterly report to the Colonial Office.
“Come in, Duckworth.” The governor’s pensive squint furrowed into a scowl at the sight of his aide. “Did I not leave instructions…?”
“That you were not to be disturbed, Your Excellency?” Young Duckworth finished Sir Robert’s sentence, as he had a rather annoying habit of doing in moments of crisis.
But this was an ordinary day, of no dire import. At least none of which the governor was aware. Yet his secretary’s boyish face looked flushed and his voice sounded breathless. “So you did, sir, excepting in case of general calamity.”
One corner of the governor’s lips arched in a wry smile as he laid down his pen. His reference to “general calamity” had been meant in jest—something he had never been very good at conveying.
When he rose from his chair, Sir Robert’s neck gave a twinge. He reached back to knead the tense muscles. How many hours had he been hunched over his desk composing that blasted report? Perhaps it would do him good to get up and move about.
