Lois Greiman (31 page)

“He lisps.”

She glanced over her shoulder to look at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lord Malborg. He lisps.”

“Yes I know.” She nodded. “And his country has threescore warships to protect his shores. I believe a bit of lisping can be overlooked in—”

“Teleere has twice that.”

Her hands shook like windblown sails. She steadied them carefully. When had she begun thinking in nautical terms? she wondered. But the answer came immediately. Ever since she’d slept in his arms aboard the
Fat Molly
. She pushed the memories aside. “Malborg has a thriving timber industry,” she said.

“Teleere has wool. Tons of it. The finest in all of Europe.”

“Malborg has close ties to the Finnish throne. His diplomats are ever working to improve their relations with other countries. The possibilities are limitless.”

He stared at her hard. She straightened her back. Like a mizzenmast, he would say.

“Teleere has me,” he intoned.

Her chest literally ached, and it took every bit of her wavering control to keep herself from falling into his arms. “What are you suggesting, MacTavish?” She held his gaze hard and fast. It was his turn to glance toward the window, his turn to pace in that direction.

“My country is strong,” he said, turning back. “Our re
sources are plentiful, our people are many and hardworking.”

He paused. She waited, not urging, not assisting.

He scowled. “But we haven’t the artisans Sedonia boasts. Nor the mines.”

“I ask again, MacTavish, what are you suggesting?”

“I may not be polished, Megs, but I am strong and tempered, and I can stay the course.”

She didn’t respond.

“I…” He shifted his gaze rapidly to the window again. “I may not be refined, but I come from hardy stock and…dammit! I don’t lisp.”

She paced toward the east wall and ran her fingers lightly over a tapestry that hung there. “I know your fine attributes, MacTavish,” she said. “Just as I know your faults.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped again.

“What I am wondering is…why have you breached my private chambers to list them for me?”

He tightened his fists. Muscles clenched and danced up his forearms past his elbows. He had not changed from his favorite attire to come here. Nay, he wore naught but his plaid and a simple tunic rolled up at the sleeves and open at the neck to show the taut sinews of his sun-browned throat. She steadied herself.

“I think you know why I am come, lass,” he murmured. There was a healing wound on his temple. She was tempted to kiss it away.

She shook her head instead. “No,” she said. “I do not know why you have come, so you’d best tell me.”

He glanced out the window again, but she doubted he saw past the heavy pane to the bailey below. Never had she seen him unable to meet her gaze. “I’m suggesting a union.”

“A union?” She managed to sound baffled, but her heart was clanging in her chest.

“A union,” he gritted, “between your country and mine.”

“Ahh.” She could not breathe, but she managed to give him a prim smile. “So you wish to trade with Sedonia.”

His face reddened slightly, darkening his features. “You know what I wish for.”

“Nay, I do not, for I distinctly remember you saying Sedonia had nothing to offer Teleere.”

“I have been better educated since then,” he said, and rubbed the knuckles on his left hand. She realized for the first time that they had been scraped raw.

“Have you?” she asked, and strode past, watching him from the corner of her eye. “By whom?”

“Lady Nedra had a few things to say to me. She is well and assisting the physicians,” he said, then cleared his throat. “And Burr shared his knowledge.”

“And pray, my lord, what is it you have learned?”

“That I can’t live—” He stopped himself, but his body was tense, his teeth gritted. “Sedonia has much that is good about it.”

She shrugged and raised her hands, palms up. Her throat felt tight. “Then we shall conduct trade,” she said. “Have your chancellor contact mine. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a suitor to…” She brushed past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her toward him, stopping her words.

“Lass.” The word was nothing more than a harsh whisper, but somehow that whisper echoed in her soul, raising goose-flesh in its wake. She stood frozen, mesmerized by his nearness, trapped by his touch. “Do you deny that want me?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. But finally she managed. “You?” she said. “I thought we were but discussing the good of our countries.”

“’Tis too late to act the fool with me, lass. For I know you too well.”

Anger raged through her. She jerked her arm from his grasp. “You do not know me at all, MacTavish.”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked, motioning wildly. “I have asked a host of questions, but you have lied at every turn.”

“My country’s security lay in another’s hands, and you made no pretense about your disdain for Sedonia. Neither was I to believe that you were above ransoming me should you learn my true identity. I had no choice but to lie. My—”

“You have a choice now, princess,” he said, and held her gaze like an iron vise. “Tell me true, do you want me or not?”

The horrid truth trembled on her lips, but she held it back and drew a careful breath. “Why are you here, MacTavish?”

He glanced toward the door and shuffled his feet like a lad caught pinching fresh scones. “Because I lost a battle.”

She shook her head in bafflement, but he went on before she could question him.

“I have told you why I have come, lass. Don’t—”

“You have told me naught except that our countries should ally. But in the past you swore Sedonia had nothing for you. Why now the change of heart?”

A tick danced in his jaw, but he didn’t turn away. “I am a pirate, not a diplomat. I spoke in haste. My…” He clenched his fists again, as if they were sore. “My advisors have convinced me to see the wisdom in binding Teleere and—”

“
Convinced
you?” It was that one word that caught her attention, that one word that rang false. “No one convinces you of anything, MacTavish. You weigh the facts and you do as you will. And so I ask again, why are you here?”

“Tell me one truth, Megs,” he said. “Why did you first come to Teleere?”

She considered lying, considered skirting the truth, but there had been enough of that. Too much in fact, and what had she gained from it? She raised her chin slightly and bore down on honesty. “I had learned a good deal about you,” she
said slowly. “Nicol visited your country many times and told me tales, and what I learned I—” She turned away, pulling her arm from his grasp, for she could no longer hold his gaze. “I knew you were rough and opinionated, but you reminded me of my uncle, the late king, and—”

“So Burr was right? You sought me for marriage?” The question spurted out like the gasp of an astonished lad. She turned slowly back to him, her hands gripping each other for support.

“Why have you come?”

He shook his head, obviously trying to clear it before speaking again. “Teleere—”

“Teleere is not the issue here. Neither is Burr, nor any of the score of men you could have sent in your stead. Why are
you
here?”

“Listen, lass, I am not on trial!”

“Aren’t you?” She raised her chin and stared at him, wrapping herself in every thread of regal dignity she could find. Later, she would collapse. “You will tell me your feelings, MacTavish, the innermost thoughts of your heart, or you will leave, and I will marry another. Do you understand me?”

His mouth quirked. “My country—”

“Your country has not breached the sanctity of my chambers. You have. Why?”

“We can ship—”

“Damn you, MacTavish!” she swore and gripping his tunic in her fist, pulled herself up to his face. “Why have you come?”

They stood inches apart. Every fiber in her being thrummed with life. Every nerve ached for satisfaction. He made her daft, drove her past her reserves, and she hated him for that, for she could not even convince him to share a small bit of himself.

“Elizabeth’s betrayal cut me deep, lass, I’ll not deny it,” he said, his voice quiet.

Someone knocked on the door. They ignored it.

“Revenge was everything,” he admitted. “Revenge for my stolen brooch, revenge for her betrayal. I wasn’t above using you to make Wheaton pay, but now…Now I see there is more to life than vengeance.” He touched her face. “I swore I would never trust another noble lady. But you were not noble. Not when you were in my arms. You were Megs.”

The knocking came again, louder now.

“Think of what we could achieve if we unite, lass. Your knowledge and my strength. Your courage and my skills. Your blood and my brawn. We could right the wrongs, strengthen the lower classes, temper the nobility. I will teach you the way of the sea and mayhap…” He winced as if pained. “You could instruct me in horsemanship. We would be all but invincible.”

“I’ll not marry you to become invincible, MacTavish. ’Tis not—”

“Then marry me because I cannot live without you.”

She heard herself gasp, felt her knees weaken.

“Damn your title,” he said. “Damn your heritage. Damn your whole country. I need you, whether your name is Megs or Tatiana or Captain Woodcock.”

The pounding on the door became more insistent, but in that moment he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

The door burst open.

A score of men rushed into her room, weapons at the ready.

“Stand back! Release her!” demanded the captain of the guard, but MacTavish turned slowly toward them, not retreating an inch.

“Shoot him!” Paqual shouted, striding into the chamber.

MacTavish turned his gaze slowly toward the counselor. “Lord Paqual,” he said. “How was your visit with Martinez?”

The blood left Paqual’s face in a rush. “If you will not shoot him, I will!” he hissed.

Tatiana stepped in front of MacTavish, her arms outstretched. “Shoot my betrothed, and I swear by all that is holy, I will see you hanged this very day if I have to tie the rope myself.”

“Your…” Paqual stumbled back a pace. “Betrothed!”

“Aye,” she said. “You have manipulated and murdered, but you have lost, and Sedonia has won. We will ally ourselves with a great force, with Teleere and her master.”

“’Tis not for you to decide, girl,” he hissed, stepping forward. “I have made you what you are, and you’ll not ruin my plans by binding yourself to a bastard pirate.”

“Better a pirate than a traitor,” she said. “I know your plans, Paqual. You hoped to make me believe MacTavish had hired my assassin. You planned for me to fall into the arms of the prince of Romnia. But you are not so clever as you think, and you are naught but a murderer.

“Take him to the dungeon,” she said to her guards. “And hold him there until his trial.”

They did so, and he went, squawking all the way.

“Your Majesty.” Lady Mary bowed nervously. “If Lord MacTavish will meet with your advisors, they could discuss the wedding plans.”

“I will meet with them shortly,” Cairn said.

“It is surely not proper—”

“Not proper.” Tatiana smiled as she shook her head. “Nay, it is not. But it is what I want. He is what I want.”

Cairn’s gaze felt hot on her face.

“Your Majesty, you cannot—”

“I can and I shall.”

“Get out,” Cairn ordered, then he turned as if they were no longer there, and kissed her.

There were gasps and hisses, but in a moment the room was empty, for Nicol had arrived to usher them out. The door closed firmly behind them.

Tatiana reached up to softly touch Cairn’s face. “You came.”

“I may be a lackwit and a coward, but I’m not dead. You didn’t think I’d let you marry another, did you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I did.”

“Then you don’t know me very well, princess,” he said, and, lifting her into his arms, carried her to their bed.

“Perhaps I do not,” she agreed, and slipped her hand beneath his tunic, “but I intend to remedy that this very instant.”

“You are everything I want,” he murmured. “Lady, urchin, thief.”

“I am not a thief, MacTavish,” she reminded him.

“You stole me heart.”

“But not your brooch.”

“That I may yet retrieve, for I’ve a feeling we’ve not seen the last of Magical Megs. But this much I promise you, lass—my heart is forever yours,” he said, and kissed her.