The Wicked Ways of Alexander Kidd (The MacGregors: Highland Heirs) (5 page)

Just a brief visit upon its decks, a moment to look around and sear the memory into her mind. She would board and then leave before discovery, and…

… secured her bow and arrows to her waist and dove into the depths.

Seagulls scattered and took to the sky above the cliffs; the only proof that she had been there. The earth went silent for a moment and then shattered when Kyle cursed the wind and jumped in after her.

W
hy the hell did ye follow me?” Caitrina demanded the instant Kyle climbed over the starboard rail, only seconds behind her.

“A better question,” he countered while she wrung out her long hair, “is what the hell d’ye think ye’re doing boarding this ship?”

“I wanted to have a closer look, Kyle. I may never get the chance again.”

He looked as if he were going to say something but clenched his teeth instead. Heavens, she thought, watching him commanding control over his temper, his eyes certainly were a perfect blend of vivid blue and sparkling green, made even more dramatic by his emotions. He wasn’t angry with her. He was simply worried. Insulting, but she had to love him for it.

“I’ll leave before any of them come back.” She took a step forward and patted his soaking sleeve. “And then—”

He could hold his tongue no longer. “Have ye forgotten that most of them are still on the ship, Trina?”

She stepped back. Why… aye, she had. Fool! Once
again her curiosity kept her from thinking her actions completely through. What would Captain Kidd’s crew do if they found her and Kyle on board without an invitation? Her stomach sank. They were pirates. She’d read enough about them to know what they would do.

“I just wanted to see it, touch it—”

“Then be at it, Trina,” Kyle offered somewhat tightly. “Turn and see it and then let’s be away before they awaken.”

Trina smiled at him. Drinking in a deep breath of cool air, she turned in her spot and then stopped breathing altogether.

She craned her neck, following the enormous trimmed sails of the mizzenmast to the mainmast in the center and the foremast at the far end, toward the bow. Breathless, she marveled at the height of the masts, square on the foremast with fore-and-aft rigging on the mainmast. She’d never seen a brigantine before and she relished every vision before her. Such a powerful beast to ride the turbulent ocean. It took a man just as untamed as the sea to steer her.

She felt Kyle tug on her arm, but she didn’t want to leave yet. Her eye caught the crow’s nest nearly at the top of the mast, a small net basket where one could look out over the sea. Och, she’d love to sail from such a height.

“We must go.”

“What d’ye suppose is doun there?” she asked, ignoring her cousin. She stepped away from him and moved before he could stop her toward an open hatch. She heard Kyle whisper her name in urgent entreaty, but she just wanted a quick look.

She froze in her tracks at the sound of male voices stepping onto the deck from somewhere beyond the bow. The crew was beginning the day and any moment now they were going to spot her and her cousin. She spun
around and looked at Kyle. There wasn’t enough time for her to run back to him and for them both to jump overboard. But he could make it if he jumped now.

“Go!” she commanded quietly. Without waiting to see what he would do, she turned and disappeared down the hatch.

Of course, he followed her. As each second passed with more of them waking up, Trina felt more guilty for getting them into this. The deeper they went belowdecks to avoid being seen, the more it would look to everyone that they were stowing away.

“We’ve got to get our arses off this ship,” Kyle worried as they slunk into the shadows.

“We’ll wait here fer a wee bit and give the captain time to return,” Trina suggested, shivering in the dark and swiping her hand across her nose. “He’ll let us leave withoot a sword in the back.”

She yawned when Kyle held her, offering warmth. She wasn’t calm, but she was tired. None of them had slept all night after discovering pirates in Camlochlin and then breaking an early fast with them. She leaned her head against Kyle’s arm and closed her eyes. Just for a moment.

Trina opened her eyes to the pitch-black and the smell of fish, rotten vegetables, and urine. She sat up. How long had they slept? She waited a moment, listening, feeling the floor beneath her. Then she moaned. They were moving. They were moving! Dear God, what had they done?

“Kyle?” she whispered, unable to make out if he was still lying near her. He didn’t answer. He snored though. Trina opened her mouth to rouse him then stopped. They were stowaways, set out on a brig to parts unknown. The thought of it thrilled her and terrified her at the same time.
She doubted the captain would kill her or Kyle. Not after meeting her kin, at least. Kidd was no fool. He would turn his ship around and bring her home.

She sat there in the dark, holding her breath and contemplating her future. Marriage waited for her at home, a dull future of cooking and cleaning and sewing. After another hour though, an hour in which she weighed her desires against what disappearing would do to her and Kyle’s parents, she rose up on her feet and climbed over a crate. Where were they? Suddenly she wanted to know. If she could get a look at the landscape she would recognize Scotland. But what if she was no longer near Scotland?

Without waking Kyle—no sense in causing him more hours of worry than he needed—she found the creaky stairs and climbed up to the next deck. She set her nose to the air and followed the scent of fresh, briny air. They were on the ocean. She found a stairwell and ascended slowly, cautiously. The vast twilight sky above her appeared close enough to reach up and touch. She looked around but couldn’t tell where she was. She was sure, though, that they weren’t anywhere near Scotland. She climbed no farther when the sound of men’s voices suddenly frightened her. She had to find the captain. Surely, Kidd wouldn’t let his crew have their way with her. If she was wrong, she would fight to the death. Preferably theirs.

“Well, what d’ we ’ave ’ere?”

Trina froze as terror gripped her heart. She said a silent prayer, then turned to look behind her. At least half a dozen torch-carrying men stood leering at her. There may have been more in the shadows. She couldn’t tell. She prayed to God to keep Kyle asleep.

“I came aboard to admire yer ship and I must have fallen asleep.” She offered them a smile and two moved toward
her. “Take me to yer captain!” she demanded, stepping back and drawing a dagger. “’Tis in yer best interest to do as I request,” she warned sincerely. “My kin will hunt down yer vessel and slaughter the lot of ye if harm comes to me.”

A man with a patch over his eye laughed and snatched her by the wrist. He released her an instant later when Trina slashed his fingers and set him yelping like a puppy.

“Leave her!” another voice commanded, stopping the rush of men coming upon her. “She speaks true,” he said, coming forward. “Her family will come after us and delay us gettin’ our hands on the treasure.”

Trina recognized him as Mr. Pierce, Kidd’s quartermaster. Beneath his bandanna and the light of the setting sun, his golden hair glimmered. He was tall and quite handsome, despite the effects of what a dozen or so breaks had done to his nose. Would she find help with him? Hope sparked and she dared a step toward him. “Thank ye. If ye would just—”

“I should let the lads have their way with ya, Miss Grant,” he interrupted, his blue eyes frosty on her. “’Twould serve ya right fer stowin’ away on our ship and puttin’ our lives in danger, but ’tis against our code of conduct.”

She opened her mouth to speak but he shoved her forward and she turned to glare at him instead. Giving him a tongue lashing for manhandling her wouldn’t be in her best interest though, so she kept her mouth shut, glanced one last time at the hatch from which she ascended, and kept moving. On her way across the length of the long main deck and up a few sets of stairs, she prayed that the captain would show her kindness and bring her back to Camlochlin—or mayhap he would consider France. Spain was likely lovely this time of year. In truth, she’d come this far. She didn’t want to go home yet. If there could be no adventure, then at least let there be Spain. She
felt terrible about the worry she knew she was causing her kin right now. She’d just disappeared. What would they think? She suspected her mother might know what she’d done. She was, after all, heir to Mairi MacGregor’s wild spirit. Her father would likely lock her in her chamber for a month when he discovered what she’d done. A month, and then marriage…

She was here now and she might as well enjoy what she could. It was the last and only opportunity she would ever get. But could she convince Kyle to remain aboard a little while longer?

With a slight spark of renewed hope, she waited while Mr. Pierce beat his palm over a carved wooden door.

A grunt sounded from inside and Pierce pushed open the door without waiting for a coherent invitation. “Ya have a guest, Captain.”

“A what?” came that smooth, husky voice, sincerely surprised by the introduction.

Pierce stepped aside and swept his arm across the entrance. “Ya’re in his hands now.” He flashed her a polite smile, exposing a row of surprisingly bright teeth, and only one missing behind his cheek.

Trina didn’t like the way his smirk made her feel like he was happily turning her over to a shark.

She wasn’t certain she cared very much for the quartermaster and was glad to see him go, closing the door behind her.

She looked around the cabin, rather than at the man whose unharnessed virility charged the air and made her nerve endings burn.

His quarters were cozily lit against walls of rich, waxed wood, with furnishings to match. There was no clutter upon the table or cherry dresser, but instead, any
jars and other breakable trinkets, including lanterns, hung on rope from the ceiling and walls.

“Miss Grant?”

Damn the lush cadence of his voice, which drew her gaze to where he stood shirtless and bathed in flickering candlelight.

Her kneecaps almost gave out when he tilted his head at her and took a step closer. “Ya don’t strike me as the chasin’ kind.”

With his fur-lavished bed behind him, he moved toward her, untying the laces of his canvas breeches. She watched, unable to halt the direction of her gaze down his chest, which was corded with sinew and scars, to his tightly sculpted belly. Oh, she would chase him. Any woman would.

“Ye have made a correct assumption, Captain.”

His gaze suddenly shifted and found hers from beneath the dark veil of his lashes, misgivings clearly evident. “And if ya’re not chasin’ me, then perhaps ’tis me map ya’d be wantin’.”

She laughed, probably not an appropriate response to such a grievous accusation, judging by the deepening hue of his sable eyes.

“Be ya so arrogant that ya supposed ya could rob from me and leave me ship alive?”

She shouldn’t have laughed. He was quite serious. Her thoughts turned immediately to Kyle. She fought every instinct not to turn and run to her cousin. No doubt the pirate would chase her. He could overpower her with little effort. Kyle would die trying to protect her and then she would most likely be thrown overboard.

“Have ya nothin’ to say in yar defense, woman?” he asked on a deep-throated purr. “I would have thought more from the MacGregor chief’s niece.”

“I need no defense, Captain,” she said, determined not to reveal her fear and give him the upper hand. “I came not to rob ye. But if it had been my intention to do so, ’twould not have been too difficult. I could have easily escaped the ship unnoticed had I not fallen asleep.”

He came toward her, a flame formed from the hottest depths, sent to tempt her away from her dreams. Stopping close, he looked down at her, slowing her heart as quickly as he accelerated it. He crooked his mouth, coming to some conclusion about her that apparently pleased him. He laughed, a full, robust sound, like thunder on a summer night in Camlochlin. It frightened her to know that her good sense scattered to the four winds when she but looked at him; the play of muscle in his upper arms, the way shadows and light danced over his tanned skin. She trembled at his closeness and silently cursed her traitorous body. She tried not to let the sight of his long, golden physique addle her, or the sexy way he walked, oozing with confidence and fearlessness, overtake her. Hell, she lived with men bigger and brawnier than he. She wouldn’t let him affect her so.

“Well, then, Miss Grant, if not to rob me, why are ya here?”

“I simply wanted to see yer ship,” she told him with only the slightest crack in her voice. Did she want to steal his map, or chase it with him?

He remained still and steady on his feet while the ship bucked beneath them. Trina, on the other hand, landed straight in his arms. She didn’t break free and make a mad dash for the door the way she wanted to. She was determined to stay strong even pressed up against his warm, bare muscles. She faltered when he dragged his cheek over her forehead, but she held strong. She might be utterly innocent to the sexual wiles of men, but she was no quivering fool.

“I would have happily given ya a tour while we were docked.” He traced his fingers down both of her arms, keeping her poised just a hair’s breath away from his body. “Stowin’ away until we’re hundreds of leagues out to sea and claimin’ that ya fell asleep—”

“I did indeed fall asleep!” she argued, pulling away from him. “I know I need yer help at the moment, but I will not be accused of being a thief
and
a liar in the same day. I ask ye fer nothing but to bring me home.” Should she tell him about Kyle? Could she keep her cousin hidden until they…