The Wicked Ways of Alexander Kidd (The MacGregors: Highland Heirs) (27 page)

C
aitrina didn’t realize how much she’d missed her father until she was in his arms. When he whispered into her hair, “I feared I’d lost ye, my daughter.” The tears she thought were finished began again. Och, had she truly been so selfish, not just with Alex, but with her kin, also? How could she just leave them without so much as a farewell? She’d thought only about what she wanted, not how the folks who loved her would feel if she disappeared from their lives. What had she put her father through? Her mother? Aye, she was a woman with her own dreams and desires, and she still wanted to live them. But she’d grown up living in the real world this last month, and in the future, she would do things right.

“Fergive me fer putting ye through so much worry, Papa. I am unharmed.”

He smiled, exposing twin dimples as deep as hers.

“Where is Captain Kidd?” Her uncle Rob came around her and kissed her head while she savored her reunion with her father. She smiled, glancing at Kyle, who was caught in his father’s tight embrace.

“He left,” she told them. She was glad to see them and relieved that Alex had gone just in time to miss them by a day. There definitely would have been blood had they found him here. Besides her uncles, Will and her brothers had come, and her cousins, as well. They’d come to fight.

“He didn’t hurt me or Kyle,” she said, looking at her cousin for confirmation. He gave it. “I wasna’ kid—”

“Where did he go?” A man, who Trina recognized to be Mr. Andersen, stepped forward and interrupted her. “We’ve been to half a dozen islands already looking for him.”

“Mayhap”—she turned her most practiced smile on the lanky Dutchman—“we can speak of him after my kin have filled their bellies and dried their boots by a fire.” She didn’t want to speak of him. What if she began to cry? She wouldn’t. Now was the time to gather her strength and make certain her sacrifice wasn’t all for naught.

“Papa? Uncles?” She turned to them and in earnest, said, “Please eat something warm and not crawling with weevils. After that we will discuss what has happened. It’s been a trying ordeal fer me.” She patted her palm against her forehead, knowing exactly how to get the men in her family to concede. Every woman in Camlochlin knew. “I would take rest and comfort in your presence before having to relive it all again.” She wasn’t being deceitful to them. She intended on telling her father how she felt about Alex and what she wanted in her life, but she wanted to give Alex more time to get farther away.

“My dear.” Mr. Andersen held up a finger to stop her when she would have turned toward the village. “No one is asking you to relive anything. We all know what the pirate is capable of doing. Just tell me where he went so that I may personally see that you have justice.”

Trina wanted to punch him in the jaw, but her uncle Colin did it for her. She thought she saw a tooth go flying before Andersen slumped to the ground, out cold. Her uncle glanced at his chief and older brother.

“I told ye I was going to do it, Rob. I told ye I could tolerate only so much of his lying tongue before I broke his jaw.”

“Ye didna’ break it,” William pointed out after a quick examination of the victim.

“Then there’s still opportunity,” Colin muttered and picked up his steps toward the village.

Trina adored her uncle Colin, but something cold passed through her blood. He was a warrior, they all were. They would have hurt Alex, perhaps killed him. She wanted them to know the truth. Alex was a good man, regardless of being a pirate. She wondered if it would matter to them. What would they think when she told them she loved him? She needed to tell them, tell her father, at least. Even if she never saw Alex again, she wanted her family to know the truth.

“He’s correct,” she told them, looking over her shoulder at the abandoned heap in the sand. “Mr. Andersen betrayed his captain, and has set the navy after his captain’s son.”

Her father followed her gaze and then looked at her. “There is indeed much to discuss over a full belly.”

“Papa, they season their pork in something called jerk. Ye will melt.”

He smiled with her, it being one of the things she loved most about him, his easy smile. But just as easily as it appeared did it vanish. “Ye’re certain ye’re unharmed?”

“Papa, he was kind to me even after he found me stowed away on his ship.”

He stopped walking, and so did the men in earshot. “Ye… stowed away?”

She nodded and forged on ahead while he still wore that stunned look. “He could have thrown me and Kyle overboard but kindly planned to drop us off in France, where I, thoroughly repentant, would have sought Uncle Connor Stuart’s house and joined grand—”

“Caitrina?” her father cut her off. “Ye
chose
to go with him?”

“Not with him, nae. With his ship. But aye, I did want to leave Camlochlin.”

“She’s tried to speak to ye aboot it fer years now,” her brother Malcolm said, being the first to pick up his steps.

Her poor father looked about to be sick. She felt terrible, but this had to be done. She handed him off to Charlie and asked that he seat him beside her place. She would join him in a few moments.

“Thank ye fer standing with me just now,” she said, looping her arm through her brother’s. Malcolm had always been her favorite, fearless and a bit reckless, like her.

Behind a lock of sun-burnished hair, his turquoise gaze fell on her. For a moment, Trina pitied any lass who wasn’t his kin. “What have ye been up to, Caitie?”

“Living a great adventure with a pirate who has fallen in love with me.”

Her brother raised his brows. “And yer heart? Is it so stricken?”

She couldn’t help but smile at his description of love. “Aye,” she told him quietly. “’Tis so stricken.”

For the first time, she witnessed something fazing her brother. He looked as ill as her father had moments ago. “Hell.” His eyes darted to their father. “He willna’ take this well.”

“Aye, I know, Cal. I sent Alex… Captain Kidd away to keep him safe from all of ye. But my heart longs fer him. The thought of never seeing him again is agony. Och, ye dinna’ understand.”

He took her in his arms when her tears began again and kissed the top of her head. “There now, Caitie, dinna’ weep.”

Trina didn’t care what lasses said about her rakish brother. He was wonderful to her.

C
aptain Alexander Kidd sat on his bed in his cabin and stared at his map, the map his father had given to David Pierce. Alex had known that the
Quedagh Merchant
was worth much—namely, his father’s life. Everyone was after it, the navy, the throne, the stately politicians in New York and probably Boston, and Hendrik Andersen.

Alex thought he wanted it, too. But he didn’t care anymore about riches. He’d left his treasure on Parrot Cay.

He understood Caitrina’s fears about her family but he could have handled them. He was certain of it. It was his beloved who had so little faith in him. She was a stubborn wench and would not change her mind no matter how hard he argued. He was stunned and speechless by her decision not to come with him to Madagascar. He still couldn’t believe she wasn’t here with him now. He shouldn’t have left her. He should have fought harder. No. He’d done everything he could to change her mind. She wouldn’t be moved. She didn’t want her family to hurt him. The thing was, how long would it have taken for them to find him if she’d gone on with him? No one knew about Madagascar save Pierce.
The MacGregors and Grants didn’t know. They wouldn’t have followed. She could have stayed with him if she truly wanted to. Perhaps she didn’t want to.

He tossed the map onto his bed and stood up. It didn’t matter. He was better off without her. Why the hell was he feeling so down? He’d done well without her before. He’d be fine without her now. He ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to yank out every strand. Damn her. She wouldn’t leave his thoughts. He’d push her out. He’d exorcize her the way he’d seen them do on Parrot Cay when someone was believed to be possessed of an evil spirit.

Someone knocked on the door.

Alex bid entry and turned toward the table when he saw Sam. “Where are we?”

“Come out and see,” his friend said, and followed when Alex flung himself into a chair. “Ya’ve been in here since yesterday. Come out and let the salty air cleanse ya.”

“Cleanse me of what?” Alex brooded.

“Of her.”

“Sam—”

“Hear me, old friend.” Sam cut him off before he could deny that he needed cleansing. “I know what she means to ya. I was there when ya offered me brother yar map rather than give her up. She’s taken yar heart—the once believed unattainable heart of the rogue Captain Kidd.”

Damn him, he made Alex think of her… the way her lustrous locks fell perfectly around her face. The delicate curve of her nose and the way her smiles always began in her eyes. Hell, he loved the musical lilt in her voice and the way she said certain words.

He leaned his head back on his chair and closed his eyes to see her more clearly. “I’ve grown accustomed to havin’ her around, that’s all.”

“Aye,” Sam agreed just as quietly. “As have we all. The crew misses her.”

She’d won his damn crew. What other woman could ever achieve such a feat?

Alex opened his eyes. He poured himself some rum and downed it. “It may take me a day or two, to quit thinkin’ about the world in her eyes, but soon enough she’ll leave my head, just as the rest of them have.”

This time, Sam remained silent. Then, glancing at the jug of rum on the table, asked, “Is that gunpowder rum?”

“Aye, ’tis.” Alex reached for another cup and filled it. “Here, brother. Let’s drink to something, shall we?”

“Aye.” Sam held up his cup.

“To whores. They don’t bother with pretense.”

“Alex—” Sam tried, setting down his cup, still full.

Alex held up his finger to halt his friend’s words until he could refill his cup. When he did, he forgot whose turn it was to toast. “To a brother who didn’t betray me and who forgave me for thinking he did.”

Sam picked up his cup and hit it against his friend’s. “And to startin’ over, no matter how many times ya must do it.”

“Here here!” Alex put the cup to his lips and tossed back his head.

He suspected the sinking, sickening feeling in his gut meant that he didn’t want to start over but go back. Go back and make things right with her. Convince her that once her family knew how much he loved her, they would no longer want his head. If they didn’t want her with a pirate, then he would become a farmer, a tanner, a blacksmith. Whatever the hell they needed in Camlochlin. But he was drunk and he might not feel this way tomorrow. There was gunpowder in his rum. He wouldn’t remember anything at all.

He smiled and stood up. “I think I will come out and see what the men be up to.” He reached for his tricorn hat and fit it surprisingly neatly on his head. “Where did ya say we were?”

“About two hours off the West African coast,” Sam told him while he followed him out. “The wind has been good.”

Alex groaned when he stepped onto the quarterdeck and a warm breeze drifted over his face. “I fergot how dreadfully dank and hot ’tis here, even at night. She probably would have liked it. Sam?”

“Aye.”

“She didn’t complain much, did she? We all know the challenge of bein’ on a ship fer the first time. Hell, yar brother still falls ill from the waves.” If he was closer to the rail, he might have considered tossing himself over. Was this what it was going to be like for him now? Would even gunpowder rum not cure him of her for even a few hours? He wanted to forget her, not tomorrow or the day after that. But right now.

“Do ya know how many splinters I took out of her feet?” he asked Sam. “Yet she didn’t falter in her determination to remain barefoot.”

“She ate everything placed before her once she got used to the bugs,” Sam joined in. “Even when weevils had burrowed into the biscuits and the fruit went bad.”

“Aye.” Alex smiled for the first time since he left her.

He closed his eyes and swayed on his feet. “Let’s ferget her, Sam. Aye?”

“’Tis not goin’ to be easy, Alex.”

If not for the effects of the rum, Alex might have taken notice of the wretched earnestness in his friend’s eyes and in his voice. Alex might have considered a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course Sam loved
Caitrina. All the men did. She’d bewitched them with her sparkling sapphire eyes and her playful dimples. How could they resist her?

If he remembered any of this tomorrow, he might ask Sam exactly what he thought of Caitrina Grant.

“Who’s at the helm?”

“Cooper,” Sam informed him.

“Tell him we’re goin’ back to Parrot Cay fer her.”

“Aye, Alex. I’ll go tell him that while ya go to the galley. The natives prepared fer us tarts and pies fer our journey. Me brother boarded an hour ago with some of his men and I’d have ya eat some of the fresh desserts before they are all gone or spoil.”

Alex smiled and nodded his head. “I like tarts and pies. Of course, I’ll join yar brother. He’s an excellent swordsman.”

“He says the same about ya,” Sam said over his shoulder as Alex headed for the galley.

Alex would like to remember
that
in the morning. He made it belowdecks without incident. When he reached the galley, he looked around for David Pierce.

The
Expedition
traveled with them, keeping just ahead on the starboard side. He wasn’t surprised to see Pierce on board. Captains often boarded ships while they sailed. Alex would try to remember to be impressed that Pierce could do it after only six months at sea. It made up for his sensitive stomach.

“Ya know, Pierce,” he said, slipping into a seat near Sam’s older brother, “yar dog truly is the ugliest mongrel I’ve ever seen. What breed is it?”

“Hell if I know. But she isn’t ugly. She’s unique.”

“All right,” Alex said, reaching for a cup and a tart. “If that’s what ya wish to call it.”

“Risa’s mother once saved Edmund MacGregor from death at the hands of Walter Hamilton, Lord Chancellor of Scotland.”

Alex gave him half his attention. The other half he gave to his banana almond tart. He bit into it and closed his eyes. Now this, this could make him forget. “Put some pineapple in yar rum,” he advised Pierce, “and ya will never go back to bitter wine.”

The English captain looked around the table and shook his head at the oblong, prickly fruit. “I’ve seen pineapples before but have never tasted one. Is it like the mango?”

Alex took the fruit in his hand, drew his dagger, and skinned and sliced it. He handed a piece to his guest.

“Tell me why the Lord Chancellor sought to kill MacGregor.”

“Edmund kidnapped the chancellor’s betrothed and stole her heart. Damnation! This is good!”

Alex grinned. He didn’t know anyone who thought differently. “Edmund is Kyle’s brother, aye.” When Pierce nodded, Alex thought about it all for a moment and forgot everything… save one thing.

“Did ya meet Caitrina… er Miss Grant when ya visited Camlochlin?”

“I did.”

Alex eyed him from above his cup. “What did ya think of her?”

Pierce squeezed more pineapple juice into his rum and then ate the flesh and licked his fingers. “I thought she is the daughter of Captain Connor Grant, the niece and granddaughter of some of the most notoriously dangerous men on earth. And then I thought of her no more.”

Alex laughed. “Ya were afraid of them then.”

Pierce nodded and downed more rum—not the
gunpowder kind. “As you should be, Kidd. You would do well to forget her and move onward.”

“I know I would,” Alex admitted. “She’s made her choice and I must leave her to it.”

“She chose for you to live.”

He smiled but he felt like smashing something. Many somethings. He slammed his cup on the table. “What a great service she’s done me.” He rose to his feet and turned to leave the galley. “Remember to thank her fer me if ya ever see her again.”

He left and climbed out onto the deck and into the cool night air. He’d already forgotten his order to Sam to sail back to get her so he didn’t notice that they hadn’t turned around. They could reach their destination in a day if the winds held up. He prayed they would. He wanted off the ship, away from the tedium, away from the memories of her in his bed every time he tried to lay in it.

Tonight, he avoided it and slept on deck, rocked to sleep by the Atlantic and plagued with thoughts of a stubborn Highland lass who’d come to steal his heart.

As he expected, he awoke the next morning with a thunderous headache and no memory of the night before. At some point in the night he must have eaten a tart because half of it was stuck in his sash. But gunpowder rum didn’t erase memories further back than that. Alex wished it did. His mood remained foul during the day, even after two rum concoctions to ease his throbbing head. He ordered the men about and threatened Cooper twice to make this pile of rat-eaten wood go faster.

He didn’t dine with his crew but found a quiet place at the bow where he sat with Pierce’s dog, Risa, and a jug of rum. He spent many hours telling the dog about Caitrina, unable to keep her from his thoughts or his lips. He spoke
freely, confessing to Risa’s pointed ears his deepest heart, hoping this might be a way to exorcize her.

The next day, when they docked in Costa da Pimenta, Alex felt hopeful when he greeted some of the female natives.

This was what he needed to forget her.