The Wicked Ways of Alexander Kidd (The MacGregors: Highland Heirs) (15 page)

“Have ye had many splinters, Captain?”

He smiled at her, letting her change the topic, and began rubbing the paste onto her sole. “I’ve had me share. If ya stayed after Portugal ya would get more before ya got less.

“Yar skin is soft.” He pressed his index and middle finger into her sole and raced a path to her heel.

She laughed, watching, and liking his reaction to it. “Would ye let me stay if I asked?”

His smile faded. “Nay, don’t ask.”

“I know ye give up much to live this life, Captain.”

He shook his head. “Ya would lose more than I did.”

Aye, she knew what he meant, for the weight of it grew heavier with the passing of each night. “Ye had nae family, then?”

“I had two families. The people of the Islands and me father’s crew… until I left them to find me own way. By the time I realized our ways were the same, ’twas too late. Me father had sailed away and I never saw him alive again. I tried to see him after he was arrested but they wouldn’t let me near him. He was the hardest thing to give up,” he told her. “The men I considered family, the ones who never came to his defense while he was on trial, were much easier.”

He was right. She didn’t realize how much she would miss her mother and father, Abby, Malcolm, and aye, even Cailean. Her heart ached for them on her mat at night. “I would not let them go completely,” she said softly. “I would return to Camlochlin to visit my—”

“Ya wouldn’t go anywhere near them after what ya’ve become out here. Ya will have changed too much to go back. Ya cannot truly want this life, Caitrina.”

“I do!” she said, pushing forward in her chair. Then she sat back again, deflated. The problem was her kin and she didn’t know what Kyle wanted. She couldn’t make them stay if Kyle didn’t want to, or if he wouldn’t leave without her. “If I could, I would not change,” she told him. “Ye dinna’ know me. I’m a stubborn woman. I would visit my kin and I would not change.”

“Ya want to find the
Quedagh Merchant
with me then,” he finally said.

Lord, was he really asking her? It sounded more like an accusation. She shouldn’t answer him. She couldn’t answer him. The decision wasn’t hers alone. “If ye’re asking, let me decide in Portugal. If I choose to go home,
I can board a ship to Scotland and be nae more trooble to ye.”

His smile vanished in the space of a breath.

Trina tried to think of what she’d said to cause his ire. And his ire was evident when he moved her foot off his thighs and stood up.

“Ya will be able to walk back.”

“How have I offended ye?” she asked, standing with him.

“Ya didn’t,” he told her. “I’m a fool. I should not have let ya stay past France.” He looked away from her questioning gaze, then walked away, mumbling, “I am a damn fool.”

O
ne of the most beautiful cities in Europe, Lisbon, capital city of Portugal, spread across steep hillsides that overlooked the Rio Tejo. The city retained some of its old Moorish influence, seen most dramatically in the design of the quarters surrounding Castelo de São Jorge and extending as far as Rossio Square, the central part of the city. Alex loved and hated Lisbon. It was here that he found out who he was and then lost everything he had. One thing he loved most about it was its wine. A coastal trading community more prosperous than any other, Lisbon was most well known for its fine port.

A treasure Alex longed to possess. They brought along goods to trade but no one would do business with them dressed in rags. Emulating gentleman merchants, they wore their best clothes, including footwear. Alex wore knee breeches and leather boots, an embroidered waistcoat with a lace-trimmed shirt, and a long coat. And, of course, a ring on every finger. Absent of his hat and his bandanna, his hair was tied neatly into a tail at the back of his neck and he’d removed the golden hoops from his
lobes. He felt a bit out of place, as he always did on land, but it wouldn’t do to look like a thieving pirate if he had to steal.

They would find a way to get all that they needed. They always did. They traveled like paupers, but they lived like kings.

Alex led the way up a long, winding road with his men and a woman behind him. He’d been here before a decade ago when he met Madalena and broke off from his father. His feet had brought him to the Caso do Alberte then and they brought him back now.

He looked over his shoulder at Caitrina, walking a few paces back between Gustaaf and Kyle. She looked damned beautiful dressed in her bodice and skirts, her hair flowing freely in the breeze. He cursed under his breath. How had he gotten himself into this? He couldn’t get rid of her. He was stuck with her for the next month. When he had decided to take the privateer’s ship, he wasn’t thinking about how she would get back to Scotland from Portugal. But the day he pulled the splinter from her foot, when she assured him she could get back on her own, he realized what she meant. She would stow away again. How the hell was he supposed to let her do that?

He’d never planned on bringing her with him all the way to the West Indies. He’d told her about how bad things became on a ship after sailing for a long time in order to help her understand that a pirate’s life was not at all what she imagined. Freedom came with a cost.

And he didn’t want to help her pay it.

Hell, staying with her these last days was harder than the days before. He couldn’t forget her words to him. She didn’t want to be forgotten when she took a man. It was what strengthened him to stay his hand from touching her.
If he had his way with her, she would expect something in return, like his love. So he’d managed to successfully avoid her since the splinter two days ago, angry with himself for not thinking this through before he took the privateer ship.

Two weeks on a ship was nothing. Two more weeks with another on the horizon could drive her mad. What the hell would he do with her then? He couldn’t lock her away with her damned knowledge of escaping. He sure as hell couldn’t let her stow away on another ship. She would be discovered and the captain would not likely be as kind to her as Alex had been. And what about her kin?

“The men are talkin’.”

Alex cut his hard gaze to Sam, walking up beside him. “What are they sayin’?”

“They’re sayin’ the cap’n fancies Miss Grant, and she gets larger portions of food than the rest.”

Alex stopped walking and laughed. “Twice I gave her half of me portion, and ’twas only after I noticed she’d been given only scraps. Am I to let her starve?”

Sam shrugged and Alex grew angry. He turned to his crew and with a flourish, freed his cutlass from the many colorful sashes tied around his waist. “Who among ya accuses me of favorin’ someone with rations that are not me own to give? Speak up!”

As he suspected, no one did.

“The rations were mine to feed to the seagulls had I chose to. If any one of ya scurvy-infested, bilge-drinkin’ swabs takes issue with it, step forward and let yar blade do the talkin’!”

He raked his gaze over the sailors and then let his eyes settle on Caitrina. He didn’t need a woman on his ship causing trouble among the men. Somehow he had to get her home. He’d have to pay her way aboard a ship bound
for Scotland. Kyle should go with her. Letting Kyle go would pain Alex deeply. He could use a sailor who could fight better than a dozen of his men and sense trouble with uncanny ability. Hell. Nothing to be done about it now.

“If I hear tongues flappin’ again,” he continued speaking to his men, “I might just cut a few off. If ya have a grievance, ya come to me about it.” He turned forward to continue leading, letting the matter go for now since no one was challenging him. Mutiny because of a woman. He had to laugh at himself for getting what he deserved for treating women frivolously in the past.

“I heard a trader speaking of an old church called Saint Domingo,” he heard Caitrina say. “I would love to visit it.”

“I know where it is,” Gustaaf told her. “I can take you.”

She spent much time with Gustaaf of late. Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or why he would feel anything at all, but he didn’t want to find out.

“Gustaaf,” he said, pivoting on his feet to face them again. “I fear I’ll need ya to help Robbie carry the sacks we need to trade. I’ll take Miss Grant to the church before we leave Lisbon. Ya don’t mind, do ya, Miss Grant?”

She smiled stiffly. “In truth, Captain, I would much rather be in the company of someone who actually spoke to me.”

He smiled, having missed her fire for the last forty-eight hours.

“How be yar foot?”

“Better,” she said, stepping up to him, waiting for him to continue moving. “My skin is getting thicker every day.”

She was angry with him. Understandable. He didn’t explain to her why he avoided her. He wasn’t used to
explaining things to women. He was even less familiar with taking their delicate sensibilities into mind when decisions were being made. He guessed the best thing to do now was help her decide with whom to travel back to Scotland. First, he needed a cup of wine.

He continued on their path to the city square and the old Moorish palace now known as Caso do Alberte. He stepped inside first and breathed in the lush fragrance of sandalwood incense and rich spices like saffron and fennel, cinnamon and cloves. Little had changed since last he was here. He and his crew gathered in the enormous inner foyer ringed by six high arched entryways all covered in beautiful mosaic azulejo, a kind of Portuguese painted, tin-glazed ceramic. Alex knew where each archway led. If the rules of the caso hadn’t changed, then they needed to wait for the arrival of Senhor Alberte Barros, the proprietor. Once their rooms were paid for—they would buy three, one for the captain and two to store their wares and any of the men who cared to sleep with it. The rest of the men would sleep on the ship.

“Welcome, honored guests.” A woman appeared through the archway.

When Alex turned to her, he smiled, remembering why he’d come here so long ago and fell in love with the place. The women here were more beautiful than anywhere else in the world. Their modest form of dress, from their colorful skirts to their tight-fitting jackets, could not conceal their shapely curves. This one swept toward them across the tiled floor wearing a white muslin scarf over her head and shoulders, giving teasing glimpses of her long raven hair. Her large obsidian eyes looked familiar. Where was Alberte?

“Senhorita Jacinta Barros?” Sam stepped forward to get a better look at her.

Little Jacinta? Alberte’s daughter? She was ten when he saw her last. She’d grown into a stunning beauty. He watched her study Sam, trying to place how the stranger knew her name.

“Sam?” She remembered soon enough. She stepped closer and smiled, then she turned to him. “Alexandre?”

No one had spoken his name like that in so long. Before he had time to answer, she threw herself into his arms. “I never thought I would see you again, Alex.”

She smelled of coriander, with a hint of rose, but even as her succulent aroma went to his head his gaze found Caitrina among the men.

“Jacinta,” he said, stepping out of her embrace to look at her. “Ya’ve grown. Where is yar father, Alberte?”

“He left this world four years ago, Alex,” she told him, with glossy eyes as dark as midnight. “My mother and my sisters keep the house open now.”

“Yar sisters?”

She shook her head. “Madalena never returned.”

He smiled. He truly was relieved. He’d wanted to come here because it was the closest thing he had to a home so far north. Not because he hoped he would see Madalena Barros.

“My mother is taking her afternoon nap, but she will be so happy to see you both.”

“We’ll be here ’til tomorrow night,” Alex told her. “Do ya have three rooms fer us,
anjinho
?” The youngest of the Barros family, he’d always called Jacinta “little angel.”

She looked up at him and smiled, looping her arm through his. “Anything for you, Alex.” She led him and his crew toward the archway on the western wall. “You are almost family. Tell me what you want and you will have it.”

“Just the rooms fer now.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. “What will be the cost?”

She shook her head, then tilted it up toward his. “My father never would have charged you for three rooms. Neither will his wife or daughters.”

She was correct. Alberte would not have taken his coin. Another reason Alex wanted to come here. If they didn’t have to spend their coin, they wouldn’t… and not spending it was the key to a triumphant visit.

Jacinta led them past the old cavernous courtyard and then up the stone stairs to their rooms, the three largest in the house.

“Will the”—Jacinta looked at Caitrina and did not return her smile—“lady be needing her own room?”

“Nay,” Alex told her. “She’ll share.” He didn’t supply any further information when Jacinta cast him a questioning look. Finally, she gave them their keys and promised to have a feast prepared in Alex and Samuel’s honor.

“Ye were here before?” Caitrina asked him when Jacinta left.

“I practically lived here once, long ago.”

“Who is Madalena?” she asked, standing still while the men carried their wares into two of the rooms. “’Tis such a bonnie name.”

He smiled, oddly pleased that she found such interest in that brief part of his and Jacinta’s conversation. But the last thing he wanted to talk about with her was losing his heart to a viper. “She is Jacinta’s sister. Ya will sleep in one of the rooms with Kyle.”

She shook her head. “Kyle said he is going back to the ship tonight with Mr. Bonnet and some of the others. He has grown fond of the rocking and insists that it helps him sleep.”

Hell. He wasn’t about to make her sleep in a room with his men without someone to protect her. He wanted her in his bed. He ached for it. But he had to guard against his desires for her. He feared they went a bit deeper than mere lust. He had to get her home. Out of his sight and out of his thoughts. “I’ll request another room from Jac—”

“Nae,” she rejected softly, veiling her eyes behind the inky darkness of her lashes. “I’ll go back to the ship with Kyle.”

He nodded, then watched her turn to leave him. “Caitrina,” he said, stopping her. “I’ll find ya a way home. A safe way home.”

The edges of her full mouth lifted slightly while the rest of her remained still. “Thank ye fer yer thoughtfulness, Captain.”

She left. In truth, she marched away from him, clearly angry that he was making her decision for her. He didn’t care. She couldn’t stay. It was better for his men, better for him, if she went home. He thought about her too often, he worried about her. Hell, he never worried! She questioned him on every level. She made him think about his heart, or at least remember that he had one. And that could be deadly for a pirate captain.

He looked around his room, his empty bed. Bloody hell, he needed a woman in it. He patted the hidden breast pocket of his coat. His map was there, safe and sound. He’d keep it with him while on land. Keep your treasures close and your enemies even closer, his father always told him.

He thought about those words for another moment and then dumped his trading wares on his bed and left to seek Caitrina.