Caribbean Scot

by Kimberly Killion

  “Then ’tis the Colquhouns you need in your pocket.” Reid paused to accept a flask of drink from Argyle. “It is my opinion that your raids will never prove profitable enough to fill a king’s purse. Mayhap you should seek protection from the enemy by the enemy.”

  Lyall’s bushy brows rose. “’Tis doubtful any amount of coin would settle the bad blood between our clans.”

  “Every man has a price.” Reid repeated Robbie’s words from earlier but didn’t dare look at her. “Offer the Colquhoun chieftain a sum of money for Rannoch or Auchingaich. If he accepts, you know he can be bought, and you will have land to build a home for the clan.”

  Lyall turned toward Eoin. “What kind o’ coin do ye think the Laird of Luss would require to comply?”

  “Fifty-four thousand pounds for Rannoch.” Eoin popped off the sum relatively quickly. “Forty-two for the fruitless moss of Auchingaich.” His words set the kinsfolk into upheaval. Some whispered their opinion, while others simply snorted and guffawed. They sounded like migrating birds squawking their protests.

  Ignoring their cynicism, Reid retrieved the coin from inside his surcoat and rolled it across the ridges of his fingers. He’d always found the repetition soothing. It helped him think, but this night he need not argue with the pessimist inside him. Eoin didn’t pull those figures out of his arse. He’d already bartered with the Colquhoun chieftain. While the MacGregors may not be capable of attaining such a sum, Reid was. He had the opportunity to provide for the clan, and mayhap earn Robbie’s forgiveness and respect in the process.

  Eoin raised his hand to settle the kinsfolk. “Your ideas are entertaining, cousin, but we dinnae have that kind of coin.”

  “I do.” Reid twirled the gold piece through his fingers a final time then caught the coin in his fist. He looked at Robbie. “I just need a wee bit of help attaining it.”

  She pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered pale lashes to hide her eyes.

  “Go on,” Argyle nudged him.

  “Southeast of Cristóbal Colón’s New World, there is a land called the Yucatán not yet settled by the Spaniards. Ancient Maya once ruled this land now inhabited by different tribes. They are much like Scotland’s clans in their divisions, but they live by different ideals, different beliefs. There are great stone pyramids inside their woods.”

  “Like our ancient stones?” Argyle asked.

  “In many ways I suspect.”

  “And the gold ye seek is inside these pyramids, untouched, unclaimed by anyone.” Eoin’s mocking assumptions were no more than an attempt to discredit Reid, but he wouldn’t be swayed by his cousin’s skepticism.

  “The pyramids were once religious sanctuaries for the dead. Temples for the Maya gods and goddesses. Some of the tribes fear disrupting these temples for they do not wish to anger the gods.” Reid could easily blather on for hours about ancient cultures and the ways of the Mopán people, but the MacGregors cared naught about Jax’s people, nor would they hold any interest in learning about an ancient Maya priestess’s lost library. They wanted gold. Something substantial they could barter with. He wouldn’t waste his breath lecturing them on the value of the ideals Xitali might have left behind. “The treasure I seek is not within these temples. It is below in an underground river.”

  The fire popped. The intensity of their anticipation was reward in and of itself. Reid was certain Robbie’s eyes could get no rounder. If he was a betting man, he’d wager she was nigh salivating at the opportunity to seek out a hidden treasure. She was still diving, which meant she still searched for the Spaniard’s gold.

  “And ye need the diving barrel to get to this treasure?” Robbie asked in a soft tone he didn’t expect.

  If all he wanted was the diving barrel, he would have built one himself. “I need your expertise as well as Argyle’s.”

  Robbie swallowed hard, her delicate brows shot up.

  Murmurs escalated.

  Eoin glared at her, no doubt gauging her reaction.

  Argyle cleared his throat, and Reid prepared for Robbie’s grandda to protest, but he merely inquired, “How long would such an expedition take?”

  “Three months.” Reid thought the time period reasonable, given two of those months would be spent aboard the Obsidian. “And I leave on the morrow.”

  Eoin stood, putting an end to further discussion. “Then it is on the morrow when ye shall have my answer.” He pulled Robbie to her feet and led her toward the burned out barn.

  The envy that consumed Reid earlier was naught but a scale on the serpent of jealousy coiling inside him now.

  * * *

  Robbie was certain she’d never seen Eoin quite so enraged. She had to run to keep up with his strides as he practically dragged her through the yard toward the barn. The moment he released his grip, stinging settled in her fingers like she’d just swiped her hand through the nettles.

  He climbed the ladder to the old loft, and for a fleeting moment she contemplated not following. Not because she feared him, but because of the argument she would undoubtedly lose. She wanted to learn more about Reid’s treasure. The idea of hunting for gold filled her with an excitement she hadn’t felt since her youth. It had nothing to do with Reid. Nothing at all.

  They would need to retrieve the barrel and the boots and the leather suit. Did they even need the suit where they were going or would it be warm? Would they need two or more? How many would be diving?

  Robbie closed her eyes and forced the chaos from her head. She needed to focus on what was important, and that was convincing Eoin to swallow his pride and accept Reid’s help. The gold would benefit the clan. Naught else mattered.

  She drew in a breath of courage and ascended into the loft one rung at a time.

  Eoin stood in his red and green crossbarred plaide, legs braced, arms crossed, staring into a moonlit night through a splintered window. Silver light shone down on his hardened face and outlined his massive form. He was a big man. Mayhap even bigger than Reid.

  Robbie stared at him and saw a man who’d always been saddled with responsibility. He rarely laughed. He never prayed. He held himself with constant dignity as the leader of a dying kingdom. She respected him as a leader and would always be indebted to him for his devotion to the clan and his protection of those dear to her.

  “You’re not going with him. I’ll not allow it.” Eoin words didn’t shock her.

  Pulling the seams of her arisaid around her, she shuffled through the sour hay and settled in his shadow. “Should we not at least consider his offer?”

  “I’ll not give coin to my enemy. Da was executed in Edinburgh because of those bastairds. The Colquhouns are the reason we live like starving dogs. Think of what they did to Kelsa, and the other lassies, and ye. They marked ye, Robbie, and are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of MacGregors, including your da. Can ye forgive such crimes?”

  “If it meant we could start anew.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “I might have known you’d take his side.”

  This had nothing to do with Reid. Nothing at all. “This is not about taking sides.” She stepped beside him. “We are talking about a means to provide for the clan. We have the opportunity to change our livelihood as well as those who have paid ye loyalty.”

  He uncrossed his arms, pulled a hand through his wiry hair, and turned toward her. The moonlight outlined his features—tight lips, pinched jaw, dark angry eyes. “The kin of Clan MacGregor have paid me their loyalty because I have earned it. When all the others fled, I stayed. I should be living in Kilchurn Castle and commanding the kinsfolk of Glenstrae. Instead, I sleep in rotted hay while the Colquhouns seek their slumber in my bed and warm their faces by my fire. A chieftain should not live as I do.” He turned back toward the night. “I should have coffers brimming with siller and sons on the training field, but no. God has not blessed me with the riches I deserve.”

  Mayhap it was the self-righteous tone he’d used in his delivery, but Robbie missed t
he part where she was included in his glorified plans. Not once had he mentioned Rannoch or the life they’d talked about once the proscription was repealed. Eoin didn’t want to purchase Rannoch or Auchingaich for that matter. He didn’t want to be the lord of the manor. He wanted to be the king of his castle. He wanted the stronghold returned, and she doubted anything less would appease him. “And am I your lady at Kilchurn Castle? Did I provide ye with your sons? Or did ye marry according to your bluidy status to strengthen ties between your clan?”

  “Holy Christ, Robbie! How can ye even speak such drivel? I love ye.”

  Just as he loved the miller’s wife and scores of fair maidens who were loose with their favors. Robbie wanted to scoff at his words. She wanted to accuse him of being unfaithful, but she had no proof, so she said naught.

  Eoin rubbed the heavy sacs beneath his eyes. “Ye know why we are not wed, and we both agreed not to bring a bairn into this world if the doing was at all preventable.”

  “We could have pledged our troth years ago and for every year that passes, I grow farther and farther beyond my birthing years.” She’d given him her loyalty as well as her affections, and she deserved a family.

  “We have been through this, Robbie. Ye know why we cannae go to the Highlands and live with our MacGregor kin.”

  They’d argued often enough about why they should remain in Glenstrae. Eoin gave her many reasons—some justifiable, some not. He’d said Grandda wouldn’t survive the trip, nor would auld Angus or the babe, Alana, who was so frail at just six months old. Robbie disagreed with him wholeheartedly as so many of their kin had traveled to the Highlands to seek a new home. She’d held her tongue, choosing her battles, but this night she would call him on the real reason she suspected he didn’t leave. “Because ye would not be the Gregarach in the Highlands, nor would ye have your castle.”

  “Hold your wheesht!” Eoin’s jaw clenched. A vein whelped in his neck. “I have never laid a hand to ye, Mary-Robena Wallace, but never have I wanted to more than I do right now.”

  Robbie raised her chin, tempting him to do so. “Tell me I am wrong.”

  “Ye accuse me of a selfishness I dinnae deserve. I stay in the glen because of them.” He stabbed a finger in the general direction of the yard where the MacGregor kinsfolk gathered round the fire. “I did not leave because I felt it my place to save them. ’Twas a duty entrusted to your precious Reid and he left. He is the one who acted selfishly. He is the one who betrayed the clan.”

  “And he has returned to offer an assistance ye are too proud to accept.” Robbie suppressed the urge to shout as loud as he did. She needed to proceed with caution. Reid’s presence alone bruised Eoin’s pride.

  “He is no savior,” Eoin hissed between his teeth and bent low. “Think ye I am a fool? He dinnae return to save the godforsaken clan. He returned for you.”

  Her heart beat so loud in her ears, she feared Eoin would hear it pounding. She grabbed hold of the sides of her kirtle to keep her fingers out of her hair. “He needs my assistance with the diving barrel. And Grandda, too. And—”

  “I am not blind. I see the way he looks at ye. He was besotted with ye in his youth, and he is besotted with ye now.”

  Mayhap this was about Reid.

  No one, save for Lyall, had ever shown an interest in Robbie. The clan knew Eoin had claimed her for his own and didn’t dare challenge him for her hand. Jealousy was an emotion she’d never seen on him, and he didn’t wear it well. S’truth, she found it ugly. “Ye dinnae trust me.”

  “I do not trust him!” Eoin yelled and turned away from her.

  Long moments passed in awkward silence, then Eoin laughed. ’Twas a disturbing chuckle that made her question the man’s sanity.

  “The mon returns for one day and has the clan contemplating an alliance with our greatest enemy. He has ye warring with me in his stead, and all for a treasure he doesnae even possess.” The arrogant lift returned to his chin. “For argument’s sake, let’s say ye go with him and return with this treasure. We pay the Colquhouns for lands that already belong to us. How long do ye think it would take them to gut us?”

  “If ye dinnae trust the Laird of Luss, then take the coin and petition King James.” ’Twas what she wanted in the first place. Lands wouldn’t free the MacGregor women of the prison of their brands.

  “What happens after our lands are returned and the proscription against our name is lifted? Where does that leave Reid?”

  “I know not.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Mayhap he will return to this Yucatán he speaks of.” A sadness washed over her. A sadness she’d long ago buried inside her.

  “I think not.” Eoin spun, and she didn’t much care for his snarl. “He’ll expect restitution for his act of generosity.”

  “Think ye he will want to reclaim the chieftainship?” The instant she posed the question, she realized Eoin had already contemplated what it would cost him. He would never give up his status.

  “Nay, Robbie. I can assure ye, he will never lay claim to Clan MacGregor, but what is to stop him from laying claim to ye?”

  She wanted to spit fire on him. Eoin insulted her with his insinuations. She’d been faithful to him for three bluidy years. Never had she strayed from his bed or given him reason to distrust her. Yet, he stood before her and questioned her loyalty. Reid might have returned to claim her, but she possessed enough will to ward off his charm. “I am.”

  Eoin’s shoulders fell with an exhale that sounded much like defeat. He pushed the hair from her eyes and traced her brow. “Ye’ve always done what ye wanted. I tried to stop ye from running the raids, but ye insisted on playing your part. I tried to stop ye from diving after what happened to Kelsa, but ye dinnae listen. Ye’ve always acted out against my will. I trust ye will do so again.”

  Eoin cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her. His touch was familiar and safe, yet something in his kiss felt like farewell. She pulled away. “Grandda and I will bring back the gold, and we’ll petition the king. Ye will see. All will be right.”

  He walked passed her and started to descend the ladder. “I need to think.”

  Which translated into “I need a drink.” The man was no stranger at the tippling houses. He was known as John Murray. It angered her that he snuck away from camp and spent what little coin the clan had on such frivolity without conscience, but what hurt more was his decision to spend their last night together getting blootered.

  Out the window, she watched him guide Thor into the wood until blackness hid him from her vision. She pulled her arisaid tighter and contemplated going back to the fire. She was tired of being cold and tired of being alone.

  A silver-eyed devil flashed through her mind’s eye, and for a moment she let herself think about what it would be like to be Reid’s woman. She wondered what his touch would feel like, what his kiss would taste like.

  Oh, this was about Reid MacGregor.

  She twirled a curl round and round her finger and prayed she possessed the strength she needed to resist temptation when she boarded his ship on the morrow.

  4

  ~ DECISIONS ~

  Reid rubbed his stinging eyes. Mayhap the fire he’d glared at throughout the night burned a permanent image onto his mind, but the way Robbie stood behind the barn staring into the wood made him think of the fire-goddess he’d named his ship for. Robbie’s golden-red hair hung in loose waves to her waist and nigh glowed beneath the sun’s morning rays. Every breath she blew curled around her in opaque ribbons and made her appear ethereal, dreamlike…untouchable.

  An orange butterfly, too afraid to land, danced around her. He knew not if the insect was real or part of a memory from his dreams. Nonetheless, he smiled.

  He couldn’t see what held her attention. No doe returned her gaze. No enemy hid in the timber as far as he could tell. All was quiet, save for the crackling sound of a wood creature burrowing through autumn’s leaves.

  When she had emerged from the barn and went to t
he brook to tend her morning ablutions, Reid forced himself not to race after her, but now he intended to have private words with her. He wanted to hear her decision from her lips, not Eoin’s.

  The crunching beneath his boots announced his approach and sent Robbie into fidgets. Her hands flew to her face, scrubbed, then fisted into the sides of her kirtle.

  “Robbie.” He side-stepped around her, but she pivoted and inhaled a shaky breath.

  When he spun her around to face him, she pinned her chin to her chest and avoided his eyes. ’Twas not like Robbie to act so demure. He angled his head and saw the dampness turning her thick lashes to cinnamon spikes just before she looked at him with red swollen eyes.

  A fierce pain exploded in his chest. “You’re crying.”

  “I amnae crying.”

  “You lie. Your eyes are red.”

  “As are yours.”

  “I’ve been staring at the fire.”

  “I’ve been staring into the wood.”

  Damn the Devil! The woman was ill-tempered. Reid pulled in a breath that was soft and sweet, like flowers covered in morning dew. As if her scent alone had the power to calm him, the tension fell away from his neck, then without thought, he reached out to touch her cheek.

  She jerked away from him like a beaten dog.

  “Has Eoin hurt ye?” Reid’s breathing increased again while he awaited her answer. Give me a reason to kill the bastaird.

  She shook her head. “Eoin has never struck me.”

  “A man does not have to strike a woman to hurt her. Has something happened?”

  She turned back toward the woodland. “Yester morn I awoke in a different valley.” She twisted her finger through a coil of hair. “It was just as cold and just as barren. I helped Grandda to his feet as his knees dinnae work the way they used to, and then I did the same with auld Angus. I cooked eggs Shane and Bryson stole from the MacThomases, and then warmed milk to feed Alana. After noontide, I went to the brook to assist Nanna and the other kinswomen with the laundry.” A tear dripped from her cheek and splashed onto her sharp collarbone.