by Paula Quinn
Caitrina Grant needed to go. The sooner the better.
Chapter Seven
Trina didn’t wait for the captain to return. She grew restless after a while and pulled open the door. Her first thought was to find her cousin. He wasn’t taking to sailing very well and she felt terrible for him. How was the crew treating him? Would he truly try to take them all on if she was hurt? She knew he would, or he would try to. He’d likely kill many of them too before they killed him. She had noted his hands slipping into the folds of his plaid earlier today, when Mr. Pierce pushed him toward the plank. He was reaching for his pistols, or daggers, or whatever he had hidden there. Sick or not, when it came to battle skill, no one compared to Kyle. He began his training early and became one of Camlochlin’s most fearsome swordsmen. Trina prayed he wasn’t provoked and she also prayed that he wasn’t still suspended over the railing growing weaker with each crashing wave.
The rest of her thoughts revolved around the captain. Wasn’t it thoughtful of him to pen a letter to her kin reassuring them that she and Kyle were safe? It gave her such relief knowing they wouldn’t come after her. Enough relief, in fact, to let her consider his easy laughter and the way it drizzled down her spine like warm honey. How did he manage to paralyze her with a mere slant of his mouth? Och, his mouth… She cursed him for kissing her because she was quite certain that no man on earth would ever kiss her that way again. None would make her feel all weak and willing the way he did. She wondered how many women he’d kissed in the past in order to become such an expert at it. His mouth was so hot and hungry, his body consumed her and made her feel small and delicate… and eager for something more from him. He didn’t mind her drawing his dagger on him. Would she do it again if he tried to touch her while they shared the bed? Och, they couldn’t share the bed! The thought terrified her to her core. She didn’t worry about how to stop him, but about not wanting to stop him. It was as if he had some powerful hold over her senses. When he was in her vision, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His touch set her nerve endings on fire. The sound of his voice, his laughter, even to mock her, melted the fibers of her bones. He tasted of rum and danger when he kissed her, and she wanted more of him. His power over her frightened her a little but it excited her too. It was like setting sail to a distant, unknown territory. Her heart pounded for it.
The ship rose on a swell, twenty feet high, and then fell to the waves. Trina clutched her belly and prayed Kyle wasn’t hurling into someone’s shoes.
She made a face and looked across the deck for any sign of her cousin. She didn’t see him and let her gaze drift to the crew attending to the running riggings. Odd, she hadn’t noticed before but none of them wore shoes. They did, however, all wear the same close-fitting canvas pants that the captain wore, along with bandannas to keep the hot sun from burning their heads and their hair out of their eyes. They sang while they worked and twice she blushed at the use of their words to describe women’s breasts.
She turned and looked behind her, upstairs at the helm. Was the captain there? Before she could stop them, her feet moved her forward. She climbed, passing the sterncastle deck to the poop deck.
She saw him, hands on the wheel, legs braced, guiding the behemoth beneath him over the thrashing sea while sea spray moistened his shirt and made it cling to him. He had the look about him like he could conquer the world… and her, if he so chose. He was a danger to her and she knew it. Still, she angled her head to see his profile beneath his rescued hat. His gaze was steady on the horizon, his mouth set to his course.
“I told ya to wait fer me.”
“I grew bored,” she told him, only slightly surprised that he sensed her presence. “I’d hoped to find Kyle.”
He slipped her a brief glance. His sexy smirk weakened her kneecaps. “Ya thought he’d be sailin’ the ship then?”
“Nae, of course not.” Hell, he was infuriating; subtly insinuating that she was looking for him and not her cousin. “I came up here because I… I… well, I…” She wasn’t any good at lying. Kyle never could get her to master the skill the way he had. Then again, she’d never wanted to be a spy but an adventurer… She glared at the grinning captain, balled her hands into fists, and stormed away, back toward the stairs.
“Best remove them—”
She slipped on the wet stairs and tumbled down the rest of them.
“—shoes.”
“Cap’n’s right,” Mr. Pierce said, standing over her and lending her a hand. “Deck’s slippery. Ya can balance better barefoot.”
“Thank ye.” She rose to her feet and wiped her palms down her skirts. “Where is my cousin?”
The quartermaster broke his gaze from her and motioned with his chin along the port side of the ship. “He’s bein’ pierced.”
Trina nearly shouted. “Pierced? Why?” She shoved past him without waiting for his response—which he gave her anyway as she hurried off.
“He’s been pukin’ all afternoon, that’s why.”
Good lord, what were they doing to Kyle? Had they overpowered him? Taken him down while their captain sailed off into the sun, oblivious to the cruelty of his crew? Was the captain oblivious to anything? Nae, the bastard wasn’t. He knew what they were doing to Kyle. She came to the hatch leading down to the mate’s quarters and descended without hesitation. Almost immediately she was abducted by a pair of grimy, groping fingers. It was dark below deck, but she managed to smash the end of her palm into his throat, the way her mother had taught her. She didn’t wait for him to fall but hurried onward, eager to find her cousin. Her attacker hadn’t fallen but gave chase and grabbed her by a fistful of hair. She cried out as he dragged her to her knees and fire lanced her scalp. She had to think, not about her pain, but about his. Her heart raced, making her feel a little light-headed with fear. No man had ever attacked her before. This was real. There were no big, brawny Highlanders here to protect her. Would he kill her? She had to control her terror and think about what she had been taught.
Clenching her hands together, she swung her arms back between her thighs and then hauled her double fist high into his groin.
He came down beside her, still holding her hair. For a moment, she couldn’t see, or think, almost as helpless as he. He gave her locks a yank, proving his quick recovery. She realized with the prick of a knife at her throat just how close her head was to his wounded groin. He pulled, wanting her face there, ripping the hair from her flesh. Trina fumbled for her dagger, hidden beneath her skirts. Suddenly, his hold on her loosened and then he released her. His knife quickly followed and he raised his hands in defense of the arm coiled tightly around his throat.
Trina fell back, freed and relieved. She watched the captain hold fast while his mate struggled and then collapsed at his feet.
“Are ya injured?” His face appeared above her own, his brow knotted with concern, touching some deep cavern of her heart. She had to guard against him and his maddening allure. More now than ever, since she would be sharing a bed with him. She broke their gaze and looked around him at the seaman.
“Not enough to warrant his death.”
“He isn’t dead, just subdued,” the captain assured with a smile in his voice. Trina wanted to look at him and see it. Finally, she did. His gaze on her softened as he reached out his hand to touch her.
“Yar head…” His pitch dipped and he glared over his shoulder at his fallen mate.
“My cousin.” She bounded to her feet, winced at the scorching hot pain in her head, then hurried off. “I must find him.”
“Mr. Bonnet!” The captain’s booming command made her whirl around, holding her ears.
“Aye, Cap’n?” came a slightly muted reply from down the narrow hall.
The captain’s mouth crooked into a barely visible half-grin that made Trina’s belly flip. He motioned her forward and followed her to a door behind which men’s voices and laughter could be heard.
Trina put her hand to the wood, but the captain covered her fingers with his
rough palm, stopping her from pushing the door open.
Her heart accelerated and then stopped altogether when he leaned down behind her and said close to her ear, “Ya don’t want to be molested again, do ya?”
His warm breath stirred tendrils of hair over her neck. His body brushed ever so briefly against her rump. “Nae,” her voice quavered. “Of course not.”
“Let me enter. I’ll see that ya’re satisfied.”
Trina closed her eyes, unable to slow her shallow breath. What did he mean? It had to be the thick, sensual timbre of his voice that conjured such perverse images to fill her head. Mayhap it was his close proximity behind her… and his promise, laced with double meaning.
“The men aren’t accustomed to havin’ a woman aboard,” he explained, moving away from her. “Most of them will follow the rules, but there are some…” He left her with the memory of her attacker. “I’ll bring yar cousin to ya.”
She nodded, too afraid to open her mouth and say something that might mortify her, like, I’m in yer debt ferever. Just tell me how to repay ye.
She watched him open the door and step inside. He erred in not closing it behind him. Peering inside, Trina spotted Kyle slumped in a chair, blood trickling down his neck. She could wait no longer and plunged into the quarters, oblivious to the gaping stares of the men she passed, and to the captain, who raked his eyes over each of them.
“Kyle!” she rushed to him. This was all her fault. If he was dead… “Saints have mercy, what have they done to ye?”
“We pierced his ear is all.” A one-eyed man she’d seen before stepped forward and scowled at her. “What do ya think we did to him?”
“Trina, I’m fine.”
No one paid any attention to Kyle’s assurance. Trina was too busy glaring at the patched pirate. “Why on earth would ye pierce him? And what in God’s name did ye pierce him with? A harpoon?”
“Hell, I didn’t know he came with a nursemaid,” the rude one-eyed man said. The others around him agreed. “No wonder he has such a weak constitution.”
Kyle stood to his feet, a full head taller than most of the men there, save the captain. “Mr. Bonnet, if ye would care to have someone meet me above, I’ll be happy to prove how determined my constitution is.”
Mr. Bonnet threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t need someone to stand in stead fer me, boy. Don’t let the absence of me eye fool ya.”
Kyle smiled, looking pleased to hear it. Trina knew the first mate had just earned her cousin’s respect. There were men in Camlochlin who fought with less than two eyes.
“After supper then?” Kyle put to him.
“Will yar mother be with ya?” Bonnet asked him. “If I damage ya, will she come at me with her little dagger again?” He held his hand up to show her a small scratch and she remembered him reaching for her and her slicing at him. She realized that getting off on the wrong foot with these men wasn’t her best course of action. Especially if they were going to be traveling together to France.
“I apologize fer—”
“After supper then, MacGregor,” Mr. Bonnet cut her off and winked his eye at Kyle. “Bring her.”
Trina bristled in her spot but said nothing. Ruffians. Miscreants. Black-hearted—
“Mr. Bonnet,” the captain interrupted her string of silent insults. “Have the men see to Jacques in the hall. He attacked Miss Grant on her way here. Prepare him fer me when he wakes, aye?”
Immediately, Kyle stepped forward and clutched her elbow. “Someone attacked ye? Are ye hurt?” Without giving her a chance to answer, he turned his attention and anger to the captain. “We haven’t been here a full day and she has already been attacked? I wish to see the man who touched her.”
The captain eyed him coolly and shook his head. “This is me ship, Highlander, and while ya’re aboard ya’ll obey me commands. I will deal with me men. If ya take issue with that, ya can leave today and swim back to Scotland.”
“The Cap’n’s fair, MacGregor,” one of the men called on his way out the door with a few others to see to her attacker. “Jacques will be punished.”
Kyle didn’t look convinced, so Trina pinched him.
She caught the captain’s brief glance beneath the brim of his hat. She was glad he’d gotten it back—glad that he was there to help her a moment ago.
“How do ya intend to pay fer the gold in yar ear?” he asked, returning his attention to Kyle.
“By swabbing the decks every day until ye bring us to…?” Kyle waited for the captain’s reply.
“France.”
Her cousin looked at her and smiled, his good mood restored. She wanted to punch him. So what if it was where she had wanted to go in the first place? She didn’t want to go there now. Her grandsire would probably lock her up for stowing away on a pirate ship.
“The hoop’s a loan, Cap’n,” Mr. Bonnet pointed out. “He’s been pukin’ since he got here. We thought it might help.”
The captain nodded, then looked around and called out to a tall blond man in the back of the quarters. “Gustaaf, fer returnin’ me hat, ya’ll take a half of me next share.”
“I know how ye fancy that hat, Captain,” the hulking, leathery-skinned sailor pointed out. “But you’re too generous.”
“Nonsense.” The captain snatched Trina’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “Don’t argue.”
Trina wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Gustaaf or to her.
“Where are ye taking me?” she asked, careful not to struggle, lest Kyle feel the need to come to her rescue. It seemed her cousin didn’t care that he was aboard a ship filled with pirates. He would still be a knight.
“Away from hungry gazes. Really, Miss Grant, how do ya manage to remain ignorant to the dangers of men?”
“Men were no danger to me in Camlochlin.”
He turned to look at her, reminding her by the way his eyes traced the contours of her face that he was the most dangerous man of all. “Well, ya’re not in Camlochlin. And while ya’re on me ship, ya’ll use more caution.”
He was correct. The men did peer at her like they had just seen a succulent doe traipsing into their den. But if he were going to dump them in France, she wouldn’t have to use caution much longer. Now that her kin would know she was safe, she wished she could travel a bit more with the captain. Och, she could taste the adventure. For years she’d dreamed of sailing away from the safety of Camlochlin. She’d come aboard to see the ship, to imagine a different life. But actually being on Poseidon’s Adventure, smelling the sea, feeling the roiling pitch of the vast ocean beneath her feet, and the powerful pull of sails above her, well, it was just too hard to give up. She wouldn’t be a bother. She could cook, and clean, and if anyone came against them, she could lend her sword. She and Kyle had much to offer. If he would only let them stay until… say Spain. She would be in his debt.
“Ehm, Captain,” she said while they came upon, and then passed, a small group of his men lifting Jacques off the wet floor. “Speaking of my time on yer ship…”
Chapter Eight
I didn’t know she was yars, Cap’n!”
Alex leaned over the deck and shook his head at the man dangling by his ankles from the foremast, high above the waves. “What matter of difference is there if she be mine or not, Jacques? We don’t rape women on the ship. Ya broke Article Eighteen and now ya’re bein’ punished. Be a man about it and don’t shame the crew.”
He stepped away, leaving Jacques to face his sentence alone. Alex didn’t care if the offense of actual rape had been committed or not. Now the others knew what they would face for laying a hand on her. She was a temptation to all, mostly him. Another reason she had to go.
Leading her to his cabin, he wondered if this possessive streak he felt for Caitrina Grant would get him into trouble. He understood why he might be suffering the madness of being attracted to a woman who wanted to steal from him. She was beautiful, with grace and innocence and fire all mixed together. Of course he wanted her,
just looking at the tumble of her sable hair, the curve of her waist, the sway of her hips, made him ache to bed her in every way possible. But why he would be plagued with worry for her well-being, he didn’t know. Hell, he’d even insisted she wear his tricorn to keep the sun off her wounded scalp. His tricorn! He must be going mad. He guessed one reason he might think he gave a damn about her was because he’d spent more hours with her already, talking and even sharing laughter, than any other woman he knew. And, if the damned truth be known, he liked her. Hell, he was in trouble.
“How long will he hang?” Kyle asked him, coming up behind.
Caitrina had invited her cousin to dine with them in his cabin. Alex had agreed because of all the prior requests she’d put to him that he’d refused. One of them being to let her and her cousin sail a se’nnight or two longer with him. She was mad. The last thing he wanted was a woman on his ship for a day longer than she needed to be there. He didn’t need the skills she offered in the galley or with a sword. He might consider keeping her for a bit longer if she offered him a more pleasurable means of repayment. But he couldn’t negotiate terms with her now with her cousin present.
“He’ll be lowered in three turns of the sandglass.” Alex turned to the Highlander. “Why do ya ask?” He didn’t trust this young ruffian not to pull his dagger on his men, and his men not to subsequently kill him. His duty as captain, one he shared with Sam, was to keep fighting to a bare minimum. The crew, including MacGregor, had to respect his authority or mayhem and mutiny would ensue.
“If ya start trouble that I’ve already ended, I’ll throw ya overboard meself. Savvy?”
The Highlander nodded, looking none too pleased about the order. “Seeing his punishment, I trust ye to keep my cousin safe.”
“I dinna’ need either one of ye to keep me safe,” Caitrina huffed over her shoulder, presenting her profile beneath the brim of his hat. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”
Behind her, Alex and Kyle exchanged knowing glances. They both knew she couldn’t fight a group of men if she had to, but neither corrected her.