Caribbean Scot

by Kimberly Killion

  “God’s legions, woman! Have ye no affections for me at all?”

  “Of course I do. Ye are my husband.”

  He stepped before her and curled his hands around her bare shoulders, wanting to shake her, wanting to drag the words out of her. “Do you ache when you’re near me?” He pressed his palm over her heart. “Does it pain you here when we are apart? Would ye die for me?”

  She flattened her hand over his, but her expression was an empty mask. “I dinnae know what to say.”

  Say you love me! He wanted to demand, but began to think Robbie had given all her love to the clan.

  Defeated, he sighed heavily, lowered his gaze, and strode toward the door. “I have to relieve Jean-Pierre at the helm.” He swung the door open and found Duncan standing on the other side, hand raised for knocking. Cocijo stood at the gromet’s back, reminding Reid of the friendship he shared with Jax.

  “Give it back.” Cocijo gave the laddie a shove of encouragement.

  Duncan elbowed his native companion in the ribs, then raised his chin to Reid. “Captain, might I ’ave a word or two?”

  “Speak.” Reid stood in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking their view of the cabin.

  The gromet slipped his hand inside his soiled tunic and retrieved a brick of gold. “’Twas a temptation I couldnae resist at the time, but I’ve come to my senses and wish to return it.”

  Reid had little patience for thieves. “I’ve cared for you since your da died fighting brigands. Why would you steal from me?”

  “I dinnae steal it.” Duncan’s dark eyes widened in abject denial. “That drunkard in your storage chamber gave it to me when I caught him…” The boy didn’t finish his statement. He simply stared at the wooden planks of the captain’s deck.

  ’Twas no surprise Eoin had dipped his greedy fingers into the gold. As to why he would use it to barter with Duncan remained a question. “When ye caught him doing what?”

  “He’s got Wild Tigress, Captain. And I fear he’s hurting her.”

  Robbie gasped behind him.

  “I’ll kill the scabbit.” Reid pushed between Duncan and Cocijo, descended the companionway, then dropped down the afthatch. He would tear the bastaird apart if he so much as plucked a hair from Wild Tigress’s head.

  Reid swiped a lantern from the wall peg and stalked through the narrow hallways toward the storage chamber. A vein in his temple ticked in time with his furious strides. When he kicked the door in, he found the chamber empty.

  After circling back, he marched toward the small quarters he’d set Robbie up in on the initial voyage.

  He heard them before he reached the door.

  Moans, groans, whimpers, none of which sounded like cries of pain. Eoin wasn’t hurting the Jaguar King’s daughter, he was rutting with her. This goaded Reid further. He didn’t knock. Instead, he flung the door open to find Wild Tigress riding his cousin atop the small stuffed mattress.

  Heedless of the interruption, Eoin groaned and continued to pump in and out of the Jaguar King’s daughter, but Wild Tigress snapped her head over her shoulder and gawked at Reid with round black eyes.

  Reid felt certain the vein in his temple would burst. First he would kill Eoin, then he would kill Wild Tigress. “What the devil were you thinking?” he shouted at both of them. “Have ye no regard for B’alam? Think ye your people will not miss you?”

  “Ma´!” Wild Tigress spouted a few more heated words in her native tongue defending her actions.

  “Ye ignorant, adder-bitten, foolish woman!—Ah ma´na´at,” he added in case she didn’t understand his meaning even though she spoke his language as well as any one of her sisters.

  Eoin curled a thick arm around Wild Tigress’s lower back and peeked at Reid beneath fluttering eyelids. “Think ye we can discuss this later, cousin? I’m about to blow.”

  Fury stabbed the backs of Reid’s eyeballs. He took a single step into the chamber. “You, cousin, will keep your cock between your legs and out of the Jaguar King’s daughter.” Reid filled his fist with Wild Tigress’s hair and jerked her off Eoin. “And you are going back to B’alam.”

  “Owww!” she squealed and grabbed hold of his wrist, but he ignored her and dragged her up the ladderways, forcing her to run to keep up with his lengthy strides. When she tripped, he hauled her back to her feet with little compassion. She made no effort to hide her nudity, but her favors no longer enticed him. S’truth, she was like a sister to him.

  The crew’s curious stares were expected, but the state of Wild Tigress’s undress wasn’t what caused their murmurs. Nay, what garnered their interest was undoubtedly the way he nigh pulled her arm out of the socket heaving her up the companionway to his cabin.

  He flung her inside, then kicked the door closed behind him. “Find her something to wear,” he demanded of a slack-jawed Robbie.

  She obeyed without pause, retrieving garments from a locker. Robbie stepped before a scowling Wild Tigress and pulled a sark over her head. The woman looked completely out of her element, and the way she awkwardly readjusted the garment told him she felt the same.

  “What were ye thinking?” Robbie asked quietly as she donned a checked kirtle overtop the sark.

  “Eoin claimed me as his woman. We are what you call…husband and wife. Ma´?”

  Reid snorted, drawing Robbie’s attention. They both knew Eoin had fed Wild Tigress full of lies to ease his needs.

  Reid wiped sweat from his forehead and paced the small confines of his cabin which was a frustration in itself. He was only capable of taking two thrashing strides before turning back again. “When Jean-Pierre returns to the Yucatán, you are going back with him. Until then, you will stay with Robbie in this cabin.”

  “Ma´. I stay with Eoin,” she defended. “He loves me.”

  Robbie shook her head and cupped Wild Tigress’s elbow in a consoling caress. “Men use those words to lay with a woman.”

  “Not all men, Robbie. There are some who actually mean it.”

  24

  ~ FOOLS ~

  Not all men, Robbie. There are some who actually mean it. Those words had haunted Robbie since Reid spoke them more than a fortnight earlier.

  The ink had dried on the tip of the quill she held in her hand, but she wasn’t focused on studying Xitali’s theories, nor was she paying attention to Wild Tigress who continued to prattle from the bed as she had the better part of the day.

  Robbie twisted a curl round and round her finger and tried to understand the workings of Reid MacGregor’s mind.

  Do ye ache when you’re near me? Does it pain ye here when we are apart? Robbie curled her fist over her heart beneath the wool arisaid warming her shoulders. The manner in which she’d been forced to live her life had stolen her ability to feel, but she’d known yearning. She’d yearned for food, for warmth, for a family, but never had those wants felt like this. S’truth, the pressure behind her breast grew heavier every day. ’Twas like a disease. An unseen cancer that ate her insides.

  “Robbie,” Wild Tigress snapped with impatience then sighed heavily.

  “Ye were speaking of the cold?” Robbie guessed as that was the topic Wild Tigress complained about most often. “I’ll fetch ye another wool.”

  “Ma´.” The woman rolled onto her belly and propped her chin atop her balled fists. “I want to know why you and White Serpent fight.”

  “We dinnae fight,” Robbie defended, wondering why Wild Tigress would make such an accusation.

  “He does not come to your bed.”

  “’Tis because you’re in it.”

  “Not of my choosing.” Wild Tigress popped to her feet and snatched up a bit of yellow cheese from a tray Duncan had delivered to the cabin hours earlier. “You should forgive White Serpent.”

  “Forgive him for what?”

  “For leaving you.”

  Wincing internally, Robbie regretted telling Wild Tigress about her and Reid’s past, but they’d been more or less imprisoned in the cabin together. The wom
an didn’t know the whole of it. S’truth, Reid hadn’t left her. His da took him away, but part of her held on to those feelings of abandonment.

  Wild Tigress swallowed and fidgeted with the ties of her sark. “There is much bitterness inside you.”

  “Ha. Ye are one to council me on bitterness.” In an effort to avoid the discussion, Robbie pushed out of the desk chair and smoothed the wrinkles from the bed.

  “I am not bitter.” Wild Tigress turned her back to Robbie and stared out the window at a graying sky. “I am jealous,” she added quietly.

  “Of whom?”

  “My sisters.” She pivoted at the waist, but kept her eyes downcast. “And of you.”

  “Me? Are ye soft in the skull? What do I or any of your sisters have that ye dinnae?”

  Wild Tigress brushed her long black mane over her shoulder and traced the window pane with the tip of her finger. “My sisters have been claimed by men who worship them. They have found love.”

  Robbie snorted again. The woman was so naïve. “And ye think ye found that with Eoin?”

  “I please him.”

  “Ye please his cock.”

  Wild Tigress glared at her and might have tossed back a retort had the Obsidian not pitched off kilter. They both grasped the desk for leverage.

  The sound of the capstan clinked in time with approaching footfalls up the companionway just before Reid entered the cabin.

  “Good eve, ladies.” He paid them little heed as he whisked passed them leaving behind a fresh clean scent. His bronze skin was damp and his tight breeks were tucked into freshly polished black boots. Her perusal of his person led her gaze to his clean-shaven jaw and his hair…

  “Ye cut your hair.” Robbie noticed after further inspection. Short black waves flipped out at his nape.

  “I left it long enough for ye to hold on to.” He winked over his shoulder at her and rummaged through the lockers for a clean white lèine shirt.

  Wild Tigress giggled, but Robbie frowned. “What are ye about?”

  “I’m going ashore.”

  “Ashore?” Robbie poked her head out the cabin door. A crowded port bobbed ships of various sizes and among the copper keels floated men in longboats galore—men who were no doubt rowing ashore to satiate their lust. “Where are we?”

  “England.” A glint of blue rimmed his irises and matched an indigo surcoat that lay broad across the expanse of his shoulders. Fancy gold buttons adorned the cuffs and a basket sword now hung from his hip. He brushed a piece of lint from his shoulder then splayed his arms out for their approval. “How do I look?”

  “You look pleasing. Verra pleasing,” Wild Tigress cooed in a breathy voice then drew her tongue over her lips as if she’d just licked a chocolate covered cock.

  Damn if he was going ashore alone dressed to the nines like the handsome rogue that he was. The whores would form two lines to ease his needs. “I’m going with ye.”

  “Nay, ye are not.” He curled his fingers around her upper arm, stilling her beside him. “I’m merely going ashore to inquire amongst the gentry on the whereabouts of our king.”

  “No man dressed like that,” she pointed at his attire, “intends to keep company with other men, lest that be his pleasure.”

  “Ye dinnae trust me.”

  Robbie growled between clenched teeth.

  “Ye are jealous. Admit it.”

  “Ye are my husband. You’re damn right I’m jealous.”

  A sparkle lit up his flirty eyes as he cupped her duff in one hand and drew her up against him. He weaved his fingers into her hair, leaned her back, and then kissed her—hard. His hot tongue filled her mouth, swirling, teasing, tasting. He hadn’t kissed her with so much passion since they left the Yucatán.

  Just as she entwined her arms around his neck, he pulled her off, but not before he nipped a final time at her bottom lip. “Fret not, love. I’ll return shortly. And dinnae give Jean-Pierre trouble. The man has his trough full keeping Eoin occupied.”

  He left her on quivering legs to retrieve a pistol and a satchel of coin from the desk drawer. “Have ye any other words for me, wife?”

  The longer the note of silence held in the air, the lower his shoulders fell. His haughty grin slid to a sad smile.

  “Verra well, then.” He left on a heavy sigh.

  Robbie stared at the closed door for long moments and scrubbed the chill from her arms. His departure left her feeling cold to the marrow in her bones.

  “You are a fool.” Wild Tigress spouted the insult from the window. “White Serpent gave up everything for you. Yet you deny him what he most desires.”

  “And what pray tell does White Serpent most desire?”

  “Your love.”

  * * *

  Tucked behind a table in a dark corner, Reid tossed back a goblet of English ale and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He studied the drunkards through a haze that filled the tippling house, but could hardly complain about the cloud of smoke as he’d been the one to provide every man in attendance with a cigar.

  ’Twas easy to befriend the English, especially the plebs who couldn’t afford to mingle with the aristocrats. All one needed was coin and coin Reid had. So long as he kept buying, the pigeons kept drinking, and the more they drank, the faster their tongues wagged.

  “Ho, Wallace.” Dudley, one of Reid’s newfound friends, fell into the bench seat beside him. “If’n ye seek the king’s whereabouts,” Dudley pointed toward the entranceway with his pewter mug, “then George Villiers is the man ye need be speakin’ to.”

  Garbed in a gaudy gold doublet topped by a wired collar with lace trim, a man glided with feminine grace toward the bar. His breeks were full and ended at the knee where began purple and ivory striped hose that tucked into heeled shoes tied with wide ribbons. Reid had thought himself fashionable based on his past business dealings, but by his accounts this Villiers gent dressed like a woman. His only masculine qualities were his pointed beard and wide mustache.

  “A dandy boy, is he?” Reid eyed his bald drinking companion warily.

  “Few are fancier than our Georgie. ’Tis how Queen James like his gentlemen.” Dudley drew on his cigar and casually scratched the side of his enormous belly. “Georgie advanced from gentleman of the Bedchamber to master of the Horse, and then knight of the Garter, all over the course of one season. No doubt we’ll be calling him Viscount Villiers by spring’s end.”

  Reid cared little about the king’s sexual preferences and wanted nothing more than to find a means to seek an audience with His Majesty as quickly as possible. If Villiers was that means, then so be it. “I fail to see why a man with such impressive titles would frequent a place as demeaning as this.”

  “Georgie likes to play with the plebs. His secrets are safe here.” Dudley leaned closer and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Flatter the man, and you’ll have your audience with the king before the cock crows.”

  A shiver wracked Reid’s body at the mention of flattering a man and cocks crowing in the same sentence. He would have much preferred to talk politics and tell lies about bedding women. “I dare say I’m not his preference.”

  Dudley raised his mug to Reid and winked both eyes in unison. “You’re exactly Georgie’s preference. The dandy has a taste for brutes.”

  The barkeep handed Villiers a mug of ale and pointed him in Reid’s direction.

  “Watch yourself, Wallace,” Dudley warned then made as hasty of a retreat as a man of his girth could.

  “I understand you seek an audience with my king.” Villiers removed the hip-length cloak that had been draped artistically over his left shoulder and handed it to his manservant. After Villiers slid into the bench seat, he dismissed his man with the swoosh of two fingers.

  “He is my king as well.” Reid retrieved a cigar from his breast pocket and offered it to the dandy, hoping the Mopán’s tobacco might douse the floral fragrance that accompanied his person. “Or must I be bedding His Majesty to call him my king?�
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  Villiers accepted the cigar, chuckled sweetly, and then raised his goblet along with his thin brows. “His Majesty is partial to those with a more delicate nature.”

  Reid opened the door on the candlelbox and offered the flame to Villiers. Once lit, Reid regretted giving the man a cigar for he made a show of slipping the end between his lips—repeatedly. In, then out.

  Reid’s arse puckered.

  Villiers inched closer and Reid suddenly felt trapped. “I, however, have always professed ‘the bigger the better.’” The man boldly wrapped his long fingers around Reid’s thigh and squeezed.

  God’s legions! Reid’s eyes bulged. He swiftly removed Villiers’ hand from his person. “I am a married man.”

  “As am I.” Villiers seemed completely unaffected by Reid’s rebuff. The dandy actually giggled. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Wallace. Peter Wallace.”

  “A Scot you say.” Villiers ran his gaze over Reid’s physique. “A braw Scot at that. Well then, if we are to be friends, I insist you call me Georgie.”

  Reid would do just about anything for Robbie, but becoming “friends” with Georgie Villiers was not one of them.

  “Now, what brings you to England, Peter Wallace?”

  Grateful to be back on topic, Reid reached inside his surcoat, withdrew the single brick of gold he’d brought ashore, and set it atop the table beneath Villiers’ nose.

  The dandy crossed his legs knee over knee and gave Reid a sidelong glance. “Am I supposed to be impressed? Any thief could melt down a month’s worth of stolen loot.”

  Reid didn’t know if the man could be trusted, but relished the idea of gaining an audience with the king this night. Once the proscription against Clan MacGregor was repealed, not only would he have Robbie’s trust, but the trust of his clan as well. “I have in my possession a hundred more bricks.”

  The dandy’s aloof demeanor vanished. Villiers stared at Reid, contemplating, then once again feasted his greedy eyes on the gold. “I want to see the rest.”

  Reid suspected as much. He tucked the gold brick back into his surcoat and rose from the bench seat. The dandy’s manservant assisted Villiers to his feet and repositioned his cloak over his shoulder. With his manservant in tow, Villiers followed Reid to the exit.