Wild Hearts (18 page)

She threw up her defenses immediately. "I wouldn't like to do anything with you," she said in a cool voice, and moved away. His eyes clouded and darkened as he stared at her back.

"I'll come," offered Alexandria eagerly, eyes sparkling.

"I wasn't addressing you, Alexandria, as you well know. When I'm in need of your company, I shall issue an invitation." When he saw the hurt his words caused his-sister, he softened it with, "I'm only going to Leith."

Tabrizia caught her breath. Leith was Edinburgh's port. She could easily walk to Edinburgh, if she got to Leith. Now she had somehow to erase the rebuff she had just given Paris. She turned to him and said softly, "I'm sorry, Milord, it must be the effects of last night. Perhaps the sea air would do me good."

He leaned close and whispered, "I'll forgive you if you let me remove your stitches."

She blushed vividly and stammered, "Mrs. Hall did that for me."

He chuckled. "You take everything I say so seriously."

"Were you serious about taking me aboard?"

"We sail on the early tide. Wear something warm. I'm not expecting bad weather, but the Atlantic can be unbelievably brisk."

As the sun was setting, Tabrizia went out on the battlements. She was filled with thoughts for what the morrow would bring. She saw herself in her mind's eye, slipping from the huge ship onto the quayside. She would hide until darkness could cover her movements, then go straight down Leith Wynd to Edinburgh. The sky was turning a vivid purple over the mountains. The fragrance of the heather wafted on the first evening breeze, and she knew she would miss this place achingly. She was relieved to see Shannon come riding in, for she would be able to retrieve her dark velvet cloak for tomorrow's voyage. After supper, when she asked for the cloak, Shannon begged its use for one more night.

"I promise I'll leave it on the oaken chest in the solarium, so you can retrieve it at first light. I'll also lend you my fur muff, if you promise not to let the wind carry it overboard."

"Oh, I couldn't take your muff," protested Tabrizia.

"Of course you must. Your hands would freeze otherwise," Shannon pointed out.

"How do you know Johnny Raven will meet you tonight?" asked Tabby hesitantly.

Shannon smiled in her slow, secret way. "He comes every night, whether I can meet him or not. When the snow flies, the gypsies move south. They follow the seasons, so I won't see him again until next summer."

In bed, Paris's thoughts strayed upward as they did every night. He had to exercise a will of iron not to climb the staircase that led to his heart's desire. She responded to him best when he kept a small, polite distance between them. He frowned when he recalled how eager she had been for the voyage once she learned their destination was Leith. So again she was going to try to escape him. His body shifted about in the feather-bed until his back found the exact spot it wanted. He lifted his hands behind his head and concentrated on Tabrizia. He smiled to himself as he realized he was enjoying this game they played. He was the hunter, she the prey. He circled her so widely, never closing in to take the prize, savoring every movement of the dance that led to possession.

Above, in her bed, Tabrizia heard the familiar thud of The Mangler as she collapsed against the outside of her chamber door. Damn, why had she let herself become attached to the beast? Her thoughts went from the dog to its master, whom she had heard moving around below her. Her heart skipped a beat. God, if she didn't go tomorrow, she would never be able to tear herself away from him.

The moment she stepped aboard the
Sea Witch
, Tabrizia experienced a strong
déjà
vu.
The shifting deck beneath her feet, the creaking of the vessel and the cries of the circling terns as they moved out on the tide came rushing back as though they were preserved in the amber of eternal memory. As she turned her head to the voice shouting the orders, the wind whipped her hood away and wreaked havoc with the tumbling mass of red curls. The ship's rail, with the thick rope running along its edge, seemed almost familiar to her senses, as if she had sailed on a ship before. She couldn't resist taking her hand from the fur muff and tracing the rough surface with her finger. A voice close to her ear whispered strongly, "I can tell you are a sensuous creature by the way you breathe in the salt tang as if it were the elixir of life."

As she turned to him, her hair blew back from the perfectly proportioned heart that was her face. He pulled up her hood to tuck in the long, errant tresses, and a sensation of
deja
vu
swept over them both, making them feel it had happened exactly so in another century, as though they had always been together throughout eternity. She swayed toward him. He bent his head, his lips claiming what had always been and always would be his. With a tremendous effort she managed to pull away before she drowned. He excused himself so he could set the sails with his own hands for the short run north.

When he returned to her side, she had regained her composure, and he was content to let her keep a small, cool distance between them. "There is just time to give you a quick tour belowdecks, before we change directions and head west. We'll come back up on deck in time to see Tantallon Castle before we turn into the Firth .of Forth."

The
Sea Witch
was richly appointed. Polished red mahogany and brass gleamed everywhere. The captain's cabin was lavishly decorated in an Eastern manner. A priceless Oriental carpet set off inlaid Chinese lacquered cabinets. The bed was low to the floor with black, raw silk covers, embroidered. with golden dragons and pagodas. Copper braziers filled with glowing coals warmed the air, which seemed to be scented with sandalwood. In answer to her upraised eyebrows, he admitted, "All plundered from a China clipper that sailed across my gunsights once."

"Do you always take what you fancy?" she demanded.

"Always," he snapped wolfishly, and the blood rose up and stained her cheeks, so intimate was the atmosphere in the cabin.

He moved toward a kettle steaming over a spirit lamp to mix brandy and sugar with the boiling water. "Here, take this up on deck with you: The weather is bracing today."

Back at the rail, she sipped the fiery liquid gratefully.

"Look there, it's Tantallon. We are too far out for you to get a good look. On the way back we will sail in closer to shore so you can see it better."

Her eyelashes quickly veiled her eyes, lest he read in them that she did not intend to make the return trip. She was relieved that he was called away to pilot the ship into the Firth of Forth, and warmed herself with the brandy. She looked up to see the
Sea Witch's
mainsheet squared, her topsails filled, as the ship came about with the wind.

As they sailed closer to Leith, other vessels became visible. The traffic was heavy, the tall masts too numerous to count. Tabby was fascinated with the bustling port. Sights she had never seen before captured her imagination. The smells were as varied as the sights, with the catch of the fishing boats predominating. When the
Sea Witch
launched a large rowing boat and the men crowded into it, she feared they would row in for supplies and leave the ship out in the harbor, but with the help of ropes and lines, they tugged the huge vessel into a berth at the dockside. She watched the anchor lowered, the sails furled up, the ropes coiled about stanchions, the gangplank put down.

Paris walked down the ramp onto the dock but seemed to wait there without moving off. She watched him, waiting for just one moment when she could steal away. The wait seemed endless, but in less than an hour, the supplies Paris had been waiting for arrived. When his men started to carry barrels on board, he reboarded the ship to supervise the stowing. Then the men loaded some heavy-looking crates, and while everyone was busy, she slipped silently down the gangplank, stepped onto the quayside and immediately came face-to-face with Troy. He hoisted her over his shoulder like a ditty bag and leaped up the gangplank.

She kicked and screamed with all her might, pummeling her tight little fists into his back furiously. She felt cheated, thwarted and totally ineffectual against these Cockburns. She felt so angry and so helpless, she began to cry, the tears flooding her eyes, the sobs causing great gulps and gasps as she cursed her fate. Her heart sank, and she cursed herself for not using enough caution.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Troy shouted happily.

"Permission granted; Mr. Cockburn;" commanded Paris formally,

"Where shall I stow this last piece, Captain?"

"I don't want the baggage," he answered coldly. "Let the crew have her."

The color drained from her face. "No... please..." she cried.

Paris gently lifted her from Troy's arms. "Lassie, I'm just plaguing ye." He grinned at Troy as if he hadn't seen him in years, and Troy grinned back. They obviously shared some knowledge that made them deliriously happy. Troy looked at the supplies they had loaded, and then back to Tabrizia. "Who was it said you couldn't have your cake and eat it, too?" He laughed.

Paris set her in a sheltered corner atop a thick coil of rope, and tactfully left her to dry her eyes. She resigned herself to the fact that she would be returning to Cockburnspath. Was she truly sad or was she happy that she was returning to his captivity, her escape plan so easily thwarted? Her thoughts were all introspective, so she didn't notice anything unusual in the way Paris and Troy were acting.

On the short run home, Paris came to stand beside Tabrizia. He was elated. His plan had worked smoothly. He had the gold and he had the girl. It lacked only one thing to be perfect. He needed her to capitulate, to accept her fate willingly. He gave her an odd look that mingled pain and pleasure. She thought he was going to speak, but he caught back the words, and a deep scowl darkened his features. He spun on his heels and, with swift, angry strides, joined his men. She was bewildered. She didn't know what he wanted of her, but she felt that without saying one word, she had displeased him. It was best to keep out of his way when he was in one of his angry moods.

Shannon had to restrain herself from going down to the ship. She had sighted the sails an hour past as she stood atop the Lady Tower. Paris hadn't divulged his plans to her, but she was shrewd enough to know he'd try to get the gold without giving up the prize.

Tabrizia came in first, disheveled and windblown from the invigorating day at sea. "Thank you for the muff, Shannon. My escape into Leith was unsuccessful. It seems I fail at everything I attempt."

Shannon smiled sympathetically at the miserable girl. "You'll have to put up with us for a while longer, I'm afraid."

When Paris came into the solarium, his face was so impassive that Shannon learned nothing. But the moment Troy appeared, his face split with a wide, triumphant grin, she knew they had pulled it off.

They waited until Tabrizia went up to her chamber; then Paris gave the thumbs-up sign to Shannon, who ran toward her brothers like a ten-year-old. They threw their arms about each other and laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.

"Paris, let me have some whisky will you? I've had twinges of toothache all day," complained Shannon, "and I must be rid of it before the Harvest Festival on Saturday. God, we've got something to celebrate now!"

"Mmm, I can taste the roasted oxen now," exclaimed Troy. "The feast always reminds me of oxen. The delicious smell of the meat roasting on the spits all day permeates the whole castle and makes your mouth water."

"Well, I'm off to see the cargo is safely put to bed. I'll send one of the lads with a barrel of whisky from Balantine's. It came as a sort of bonus." He grinned, then left.

Troy marveled, "By God, he's one step ahead of everybody when it comes to scheming."

Shannon shook her head. "Paris isn't like ordinary people; so it seems unreasonable to expect him to play according to standard rules."

"Ah, well"—Troy winked—"no guts, no glory!"

Alone in his bed, Paris's thoughts traveled over a wider range than they had all day. He chuckled as he thought of the men waiting to arrest him on the English border. A strange chill went up the back of his neck as he thought of Abrahams's revenge. He was certain Abrahams knew his identity, and when he found the fox had slipped the trap, his vengeance would be terrible. If he could, Abrahams would bring him low. What means could he use? The girl, of course. If he suspected she was Magnus's daughter, a visit to the earl would be his first move.

Paris knew he had no choice. His time had run out. He must get to Magnus before Abrahams. It was time to unite father and daughter and disclose the truth of parentage. He longed to bind Tabrizia to him before he entrusted her to her father. He wanted her loyalty and he wanted her love. Up to now, he'd made a bad job of it. Well, it was now or never. Tomorrow he would bind her to him forever, so she would cling only to him. He wanted all or nothing.

CHAPTER 8

Mrs. Hall, carrying a breakfast tray for Tabrizia, beamed as she heard the pleasant voice behind her.

"What a beautiful morning, Mrs. Hall. Allow me to open the door for you."