Page 44 of Devil’s Highlander (Clan MacAlpin #1)

Cormac turned up the collar of his coat. He’d have preferred wearing his plaid, but a pair of sturdy brown trews was less conspicuous dockside. The afternoon was gray, the sky wishing for rain but unable to muster more than a damp haze, and it was like walking through a cloud.

A new boat had docked—a small, one-mast sloop—just next to the Oliphant .

It bore investigating. For the plan he was considering, gaining proximity to the smugglers’ ship would be key.

If the sloop were used for fishing, mayhap its owner would be amenable to a bit of grease in his palms in exchange for turning a blind eye.

Approaching, he struggled to read the name, painted dark crimson on even darker brown timber. The Journeyman. An odd name for a boat.

Shrugging his chin deeper in the neck of his coat, he strolled closer.

A man sat on the bow, his legs dangling over the edge. Cormac moved closer still, squinting through the mist, some vague intuition pricking the back of his mind.

The stranger leaned back on his hands, swinging his feet in the air, his head canted lazily to the side. And then he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

Cormac’s knees buckled.

His mind flashed to a boy. A boy who’d wipe his face with the back of his hand till their mother’s voice grew hoarse from her scolds.

A boy who’d sneak out with Cormac to talk until the wee hours.

Cormac would stare at the stars above, but this boy couldn’t sit still.

He’d sit on a rock, swinging his legs over the edge, ever moving.

He’d had hair the color of Cormac’s but eyes all his own.

And he’d hated when he had to play the Campbell.

Aidan.

The stranger was Aidan. Cormac knew in that instant, as surely as he knew his own self. Aidan was alive, and he sat on the edge of a boat not twenty paces away.

Alive. Cormac knew without a moment’s doubt. He’d know his twin anywhere. He needn’t study his brother’s features to recognize him, to know him.

Cormac filled his lungs. He wanted to shout, to run to him, to leap and cry out.

But then Aidan sat up and called to someone. Cormac strained to make sense of details through the fog and the bustle. There was a responding shout from the deck of the Oliphant . Jack appeared.

Cormac held his breath, listening.

The smuggler had a bandage wrapped around his head where Cormac had struck him. Jack nodded at Aidan, shouted back. They shared a laugh.

Black wavered on the edges of Cormac’s vision. What did Aidan have to do with a smuggler?

He forced himself to draw breath. Turning on his heel, he walked back up the quay, staggering like a drunken man. Aidan had returned—but how and why? Was he indentured still, or did he return to Scotland as a slaver?

Cormac didn’t recall the walk back to Humphrey’s. Instinct alone saved him from barreling up to the front door, desperate to go straight to Ree’s arms. The world made no sense, but she , she made sense. All he wanted was to be near her, to get his bearings.

His years of training kicked in, and as he approached Humphrey’s street, caution and wile returned, as ingrained in him as his other five senses. Cutting down a back alley, he snatched an untended bucket of coal for an impromptu disguise, and snuck in a back entrance.

Marjorie gasped as he stumbled into her room. “Cormac,” she cried, running to him and shutting the door behind him. “What happened?”

How to explain? He stared at her, his mind reeling.

He couldn’t tell Ree what he’d just seen. If she knew, she’d only race down to the docks to confront Aidan for herself. His brother might be pleased to see them. But if he’d become a smuggler, might he also flee in panic? Cormac had lost his twin once before; he couldn’t risk losing him again.

More than ever, this godforsaken world confused him. And more than ever, there was one thing he knew: family. It’d been robbed from him at a young age, but he knew its value now.

He had to find out the whole truth. He had to make sure. And until he did, he’d protect his brother by keeping his existence a secret.

He seized Marjorie’s hands in his, and though she drew a sharp breath at the pressure, the grip she returned was just as firm.

Marjorie was the only thing that made sense; Marjorie was the only thing that made his world real.

Steadfast and true, she’d been in his heart for as long as he could remember.

He’d make her his in truth. He’d make her family.

But first there was another truth he needed to discover and a secret he needed to guard, because would Marjorie still want him if it’d been his brother—another devil MacAlpin—who’d been responsible for stealing her beloved Davie?

“Did you do it?” she whispered, brow furrowed with her intensity.

“We can’t, Ree. I’ll not destroy the ship.”