by Paula Quinn
“Well, what d’ we ’ave ’ere?”
Trina froze as terror gripped her heart. She said a silent prayer, then turned to look behind her. At least half a dozen torch-carrying men stood leering at her. There may have been more in the shadows. She couldn’t tell. She prayed to God to keep Kyle asleep.
“I came aboard to admire yer ship and I must have fallen asleep.” She offered them a smile and two moved toward her. “Take me to yer captain!” she demanded, stepping back and drawing a dagger. “’Tis in yer best interest to do as I request,” she warned sincerely. “My kin will hunt down yer vessel and slaughter the lot of ye if harm comes to me.”
A man with a patch over his eye laughed and snatched her by the wrist. He released her an instant later when Trina slashed his fingers and set him yelping like a puppy.
“Leave her!” another voice commanded, stopping the rush of men coming upon her. “She speaks true,” he said, coming forward. “Her family will come after us and delay us gettin’ our hands on the treasure.”
Trina recognized him as Mr. Pierce, Kidd’s quartermaster. Beneath his bandanna and the light of the setting sun, his golden hair glimmered. He was tall and quite handsome, despite the effects of what a dozen or so breaks had done to his nose. Would she find help with him? Hope sparked and she dared a step toward him. “Thank ye. If ye would just—”
“I should let the lads have their way with ya, Miss Grant,” he interrupted, his blue eyes frosty on her. “’Twould serve ya right fer stowin’ away on our ship and puttin’ our lives in danger, but ’tis against our code of conduct.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he shoved her forward and she turned to glare at him instead. Giving him a tongue lashing for manhandling her wouldn’t be in her best interest though, so she kept her mouth shut, glanced one last time at the hatch from which she ascended, and kept moving. On her way across the length of the long main deck and up a few sets of stairs, she prayed that the captain would show her kindness and bring her back to Camlochlin—or mayhap he would consider France. Spain was likely lovely this time of year. In truth, she’d come this far. She didn’t want to go home yet. If there could be no adventure, then at least let there be Spain. She felt terrible about the worry she knew she was causing her kin right now. She’d just disappeared. What would they think? She suspected her mother might know what she’d done. She was, after all, heir to Mairi MacGregor’s wild spirit. Her father would likely lock her in her chamber for a month when he discovered what she’d done. A month, and then marriage…
She was here now and she might as well enjoy what she could. It was the last and only opportunity she would ever get. But could she convince Kyle to remain aboard a little while longer?
With a slight spark of renewed hope, she waited while Mr. Pierce beat his palm over a carved wooden door.
A grunt sounded from inside and Pierce pushed open the door without waiting for a coherent invitation. “Ya have a guest, Captain.”
“A what?” came that smooth, husky voice, sincerely surprised by the introduction.
Pierce stepped aside and swept his arm across the entrance. “Ya’re in his hands now.” He flashed her a polite smile, exposing a row of surprisingly bright teeth, and only one missing behind his cheek.
Trina didn’t like the way his smirk made her feel like he was happily turning her over to a shark.
She wasn’t certain she cared very much for the quartermaster and was glad to see him go, closing the door behind her.
She looked around the cabin, rather than at the man whose unharnessed virility charged the air and made her nerve endings burn.
His quarters were cozily lit against walls of rich, waxed wood, with furnishings to match. There was no clutter upon the table or cherry dresser, but instead, any jars and other breakable trinkets, including lanterns, hung on rope from the ceiling and walls.
“Miss Grant?”
Damn the lush cadence of his voice, which drew her gaze to where he stood shirtless and bathed in flickering candlelight.
Her kneecaps almost gave out when he tilted his head at her and took a step closer. “Ya don’t strike me as the chasin’ kind.”
With his fur-lavished bed behind him, he moved toward her, untying the laces of his canvas breeches. She watched, unable to halt the direction of her gaze down his chest, which was corded with sinew and scars, to his tightly sculpted belly. Oh, she would chase him. Any woman would.
“Ye have made a correct assumption, Captain.”
His gaze suddenly shifted and found hers from beneath the dark veil of his lashes, misgivings clearly evident. “And if ya’re not chasin’ me, then perhaps ’tis me map ya’d be wantin’.”
She laughed, probably not an appropriate response to such a grievous accusation, judging by the deepening hue of his sable eyes.
“Be ya so arrogant that ya supposed ya could rob from me and leave me ship alive?”
She shouldn’t have laughed. He was quite serious. Her thoughts turned immediately to Kyle. She fought every instinct not to turn and run to her cousin. No doubt the pirate would chase her. He could overpower her with little effort. Kyle would die trying to protect her and then she would most likely be thrown overboard.
“Have ya nothin’ to say in yar defense, woman?” he asked on a deep-throated purr. “I would have thought more from the MacGregor chief’s niece.”
“I need no defense, Captain,” she said, determined not to reveal her fear and give him the upper hand. “I came not to rob ye. But if it had been my intention to do so, ’twould not have been too difficult. I could have easily escaped the ship unnoticed had I not fallen asleep.”
He came toward her, a flame formed from the hottest depths, sent to tempt her away from her dreams. Stopping close, he looked down at her, slowing her heart as quickly as he accelerated it. He crooked his mouth, coming to some conclusion about her that apparently pleased him. He laughed, a full, robust sound, like thunder on a summer night in Camlochlin. It frightened her to know that her good sense scattered to the four winds when she but looked at him; the play of muscle in his upper arms, the way shadows and light danced over his tanned skin. She trembled at his closeness and silently cursed her traitorous body. She tried not to let the sight of his long, golden physique addle her, or the sexy way he walked, oozing with confidence and fearlessness, overtake her. Hell, she lived with men bigger and brawnier than he. She wouldn’t let him affect her so.
“Well, then, Miss Grant, if not to rob me, why are ya here?”
“I simply wanted to see yer ship,” she told him with only the slightest crack in her voice. Did she want to steal his map, or chase it with him?
He remained still and steady on his feet while the ship bucked beneath them. Trina, on the other hand, landed straight in his arms. She didn’t break free and make a mad dash for the door the way she wanted to. She was determined to stay strong even pressed up against his warm, bare muscles. She faltered when he dragged his cheek over her forehead, but she held strong. She might be utterly innocent to the sexual wiles of men, but she was no quivering fool.
“I would have happily given ya a tour while we were docked.” He traced his fingers down both of her arms, keeping her poised just a hair’s breath away from his body. “Stowin’ away until we’re hundreds of leagues out to sea and claimin’ that ya fell asleep—”
“I did indeed fall asleep!” she argued, pulling away from him. “I know I need yer help at the moment, but I will not be accused of being a thief and a liar in the same day. I ask ye fer nothing but to bring me home.” Should she tell him about Kyle? Could she keep her cousin hidden until they…
The captain chuckled in her face. “Ya think I’m goin’ to turn me ship around and sail all the way back to Scotland?”
“Aye, and avoid a battle with my kin,” she stated, hoping it would sway him.
He moved up against her again, sending hot fissures down her spine, and curled his arm around her waist. His grip was filled with strength and tension
, yet gentle when he pulled her closer. “Miss Grant.” His breath scorched across her lips, hypnotizing her, paralyzing her. “I’ve had the Royal Navy on me arse. I don’t care about yar kin comin’ after me. Still, I’d prefer not to battle me father’s friend.”
In an instant the gravity of what she had done became clear. Her kin would indeed come after her and he wasn’t afraid. He was obviously mad, not in his right state of mind. Nevertheless, her kin could die in a battle on the sea. “Then…” She arched her back to get away from him. He moved in over her. What would a madman do with her? With Kyle? She needed to know. “What d’ye plan on doing with me?”
He gave her no time to think, to catch her breath, to pull away… if she had a mind and the strength to do so.
Caitrina had been kissed a few years back by young John MacKinnon. But she knew, as the captain’s beguiling mouth dipped down to hers, that this kiss was going to be very very different.
And hell, she was correct.
There was nothing gentle or curious about it. His mouth covered hers with dominance and scalding heat while he dragged her in against the rigid, flat lines of his body. His tongue teased against her lips, licking, tasting her, tempting her to join in his sweet madness. Like that flame, he swept over her, consuming her muscles, scorching her nerve endings. He kissed her until she began to believe he had every right to do so—until her knees went weak and a slight, pitiful gasp escaped her lips.
He finally broke away with a slow, seductive smile she wanted to gaze at for years to come.
She slapped him hard across his face, lest he think to take further liberties in the future—since she hadn’t stopped him the first time.
For a moment, something dark and fully seductive moved across his features. She thought, trying to slow her heartbeat, that he might either strangle her or rip the gown from her body and have his way with her.
“Fergive me,” he said roughly and without a trace of remorse. “I misjudged. I don’t bed children.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed into slits. Here she thought he was being gallant, when he was simply being insulting. Children! How dare he imply that she wasn’t yet a woman! “I should slap ye again fer yer insult,” she seethed.
“Do it,” he provoked her with a sinful, sinuous smile, “and the beast that I am at this moment keepin’ at bay will more than likely haul ya up against that wall and take ya, despite yar protests.”
She felt the color drain from her face. She couldn’t breathe, or think, or speak, blushing and stammering about for something to say. The images he conjured for her frightened and thrilled her out of her skin at the same time. She didn’t like being threatened but she wasn’t a fool to test him.
“I shouldna’ have put my hand to ye,” she said softly, lowering her gaze. “’Twas wrong of me.”
He took her hand, compelling her to look up again, into his eyes. He brought her hand to his face and spread her palm over his prickly cheek where she’d slapped him, letting her feel his smile. Was she forgiven that easily? Could he possibly be so easy to bend to her will… at least until she got the hell off the ship? She had no choice but to leave. Either that or lose herself, or worse, her kin to him. She would be kind to him and flirtatious if it would keep him from tossing her and Kyle overboard—if it gained her what she wanted, that is, getting back home and saving her family, she would do anything.
“May we please speak of my accommodations whilst…”
He tilted his head to laugh, like a wolf calling to the moon. She filled her vision with the beautiful sight of him and forgot what she’d said to cause his humor. While it was coming back to her, a knock sounded on the door.
“Aye?” the captain called out.
Once again, Mr. Pierce appeared at the entrance. “Ya have a guest.”
The captain’s eyes fell to her. “Another one?”
Trina’s breath tore madly through her chest.
“Aye.” Pierce shoved Kyle into the cabin. “I’m havin’ the men sweep the ship fer any more of ’em.”
Trina wanted to weep when her cousin marched toward her. He didn’t look well. He appeared quite greenish in fact. This was all her fault. He was right. She was trouble. The crew would be even more likely to kill him than they were her.
“We agreed to remain together, Trina.” It was a whisper, but she heard it.
“I didna’ wish to wake ye,” she explained softly as he passed her.
“Quite an interestin’ day this is turnin’ out to be, aye, Sam?” the captain said, reminding them that he was there. “Two outlaws, proscribed by kings, and who know about me map, stow away aboard me ship to rob me and both of them fall asleep.”
Trina shook her head at him. “We hadna’ slept in more than six and twenty hours. We were weary. And I told ye we didna’ come here fer yer map.”
“What ya told me,” he corrected her, then eyed Kyle when he swayed on his feet, “was that ya did not come here to steal it. Ya did not tell me about him. As much as I’d like to believe ya, I don’t.”
Before she could reply, he returned to his bed and kicked off his boots. “Sam, put them in the hold until I decide what to do with them and hurry, this one looks like he’s about to puke all over me floor.”
Pierce produced a pistol from a fold in his coat. “Let’s go then.”
The hold? Nae! Trina whirled around to look the captain in the face. “Ye would chain us to the floor in a hold without enough room to stand?”
He nodded and met her murderous glare with a hard, unyielding one of his own. For the briefest of moments he turned his eyes away from her. She would have missed it if she blinked. But she didn’t blink.
“Until I decide what to do with ya is what I said, Miss Grant.”
She wanted to claw his eyes out. Take out her dagger and fling it into his chest. Och, why had she studied books on ships and learned enough to know what, besides piss and manure and rats and bars, the hold usually contained?
“Sam,” he said to his quartermaster, “have the men remove the bones of me last prisoners and make room fer these two.”
“Captain!” she appealed one more time.
“Ya stowed away on me ship, and after I came into possession of a map to a priceless treasure. Give me one reason to trust ya?”
She couldn’t. She couldn’t think. “Bastard!” she snarled at him while Pierce led her away. “I hope my faither kills ye!”
That was all she could say before her captor slammed the door in her face and pulled her down the stairs.
There was no light in the hold. But there was Kyle. He shouldn’t have followed her. Now he was sick as a dog.
“Fergive me fer getting us into this,” she whispered to him later that night while he emptied his belly into a basket close by.
“I do.” He told her softly. “I understand why ye came here.”
In the darkness Trina smiled. She stretched her shackled arm, trying to reach a pin in her hair.
Of course he understood. He knew her better than anyone in Camlochlin, anyone on Skye. And she knew him. Kyle’s natural instincts yearned for the new and unfamiliar. What could be more scintillating to him than digging around the mind of Captain Kidd and his unlawful crew?
If they both wanted to stay, who the hell would stop her kin from coming?
Chapter Six
Alex opened his eyes to his morning hangover and cursed the new day.
Until he remembered the treasure he’d come into possession of the day before. He sat up and, leaving the bed, he pushed aside a small trapdoor in the wall. With a quickening heart, he expelled an iron strong box from its hiding place. A gift from the daughter of a sultan, it was designed with three locks and hidden keyholes as well as being booby-trapped. He didn’t need to open it to see the map his father left him. He knew it was inside. As long as the box was here, so was the map. He still couldn’t believe his father had left it to him. But Andersen had told him that William Kidd had understood why his son hadn’t re
turned to his ship when they’d docked in Lisbon those many years ago. He’d understood that Alex had fallen in love and had wanted to begin his life with his woman. His father had never known how the woman his son loved had betrayed him.
But none of that mattered now. He had the map to his father’s last treasure. But it was more than that. It was his father’s exoneration, his forgiveness, and that was more priceless than any ship loaded with riches.
He’d studied the map last night, learning which direction to take to the Quedagh Merchant. He knew the location well, having spent many years in the West Indies and the Caribbean. He thought about the tales Andersen had told him about his father and was happy that his life continued to be an adventure.
His good mood cooled when he remembered what else he’d come into possession of. He needed to get rid of his two thieving guests before they set sail for the Indies. He almost regretted leaving Andersen on Skye. His father’s boatswain could have looked after the two Highlanders in France and gotten them home without incident. But the Dutchman had to be left behind. Alex didn’t need him anymore and he certainly didn’t trust him now that he had something so valuable on board. His father had always told him that a man would do anything for treasure, even turn against his captain, and thanks to Madalena Barros, he’d learned that a woman would do even more. He wanted Miss Grant off his boat.
“Come,” Alex called out when a knock came at his door. He hoped it was Cooper with his breakfast.
He swore when Sam came inside.
“What are we goin’ to do about Miss Grant and Mr. MacGregor?” his best friend asked him, throwing himself in Alex’s chair. “I don’t like chainin’ women in the hold.”
“I don’t intend on keepin’ them down there fer too long,” Alex said, returning the box inside the wall. “I don’t know what they’re up to yet. What are they really doin’ on me ship?” He turned to Sam while he began dressing for the day. His quartermaster offered him no answers. Reaching for his bandanna, Alex tied it around his head, then followed with two sashes of bright green and purple around his waist. He tucked his cutlass between the sashes and his breeches, secured a smaller dagger to a clip up his sleeve, and hid a pistol inside his boot.