The Wicked Ways of Alexander Kidd (The MacGregors: Highland Heirs) (13 page)

He arched his brows at her audacity. If he was trying to intimidate her, he might have succeeded if he wasn’t grinning at her like some sexy halfwit. Och, how she wanted to just go over there and melt on top of him.

“I think I’d like a demonstration of yar skill.”

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to get physical with him. “I dinna’ need to defend myself against yer misgivings.”

“Of course. By the confidence in yar voice, I thought ya knew some skill no woman before ya has ever tried on me.”

He knew how to bait her. Thank God for Kyle and his endless, annoying lessons on dodging the hook. “How difficult is it to cut a man’s throat while he sleeps?”

His eyes took her in like she was a long-awaited sunset, but his words dripped with desire. “The difficulty”—his voice dipped to a low growl—“at least fer ya, would be wonderin’ how ya got into me bed in the first place.”

Her smile remained intact, cool, and distant. Keeping calm was a challenge she enjoyed. “Ye waste yer seductions on me. I willna’ be in yer bed, Captain. But I’ll be in yer cabin if ye dinna’ find me a new bed. And I can kill ye in yer sleep if I’m here.”

She enjoyed the fullness of his smile, the different nuances of it, and that he was confident enough to laugh at her.

“In truth,” she admitted, wanting his help in teaching her never to need it again, “I could use a few lessons in hand-to-hand battle. Mind ye, I’m not suggesting that I dinna’ know how to kill ye—or any other man—if I had to. I just want to be able to take on more than one man at a time.”

“Wise.”

“Will ye help me?”

“Aye.”

She tilted her head at him. “Dinna’ hope these lessons will lead to anything more than learning combat.”

He laughed softly at her. “Ya certainly think highly of yarself, woman. I agree because I might not reach ya in time if ya’re attacked again. I won’t have ya helpless to any number of men.”

“Neither would I.” She smiled more genuinely. She would never forget the sight of him coming for her on a rope. How far away was Portugal? She hoped it was months, years, a lifetime.

A
lex watched the last of the booty being carried from the privateer’s ship to
Poseidon’s Adventure
. He’d helped haul most of it back over planks connecting both ships while Sam took inventory. They’d collected fourteen barrels of water, five casks of rice, dried fish, live chickens, candles, thread, soap, sugar, spices, some bolts of cloth, kettles, and of course kegs of spirits.

After interrogating the captain of the ship, Kyle discovered that it was Captain Harris of the
Excellence
who hired the privateers. Alex wasn’t sure what good that knowledge did them but he appreciated Kyle getting it. Alex and Sam decided to let the captain of the merchant ship live, and sent him on his way with a skeleton crew and limited supplies. If they killed every enemy they faced, there would be none for another day and the seas would become a dull place.

Although Alex doubted this journey would be a dull one, what with the beauty Caitrina and her landlubber cousin aboard. He thought about them both while they raised anchor and set sail for Portugal. If not for Kyle, his
crew might very well be dead. As much as Alex hated to admit it, he would likely have boarded the ship and been taken by surprise when the privateers attacked. The Highlander’s keen eye and ability to spot trouble could come in quite handy. Not to mention his skill with a sword. He was a tad clumsy, but that was due to the absence of solid ground beneath his feet. Alex was glad to have him aboard. For now. He couldn’t say the same for Caitrina.

Aye, she was a skilled archer. She took down half a dozen men before trouble found her. But still it found her and he didn’t like the way it made him feel. So, she managed to take down the bastard who struck her… and oh, what Alex would have done to him if she hadn’t, but she couldn’t fight four men. He closed his eyes, thinking of what would have happened if he hadn’t made it to her in time. She wasn’t his charge. He had plenty more important things to see to, than seeing to her. Now he had agreed to train her in combat. Blast him.

He turned, sensing her coming near.

Was it her?

What had she done to herself? Who gave her those clothes?

“How do I look?” she asked, reaching him and twirling in place.

His eyes devoured her in her canvas pants, cinched at the waist with a rose-colored sash. She wore a loose-fitting shirt, like his, but with more tantalizing curves. Her luminous dark tresses were secured beneath another sash of pale coral.

He thought his heart might have stopped a little at the sight of her. It would explain the sudden wave of lightheadedness that usually only came upon him after several tankards of rum.
Never
when looking at a woman. He
didn’t know whether to smile at her or scowl at the way she so easily addled his soundness of mind.

He should have bypassed the merchant/privateer ship, dumped her in France, and moved the hell on, eager as he was to find his treasure.

He’d never cared much if he was rich or not. He enjoyed his life and the women in it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t give his heart to one. He had given it, long ago. It took him a long time to get it back. He wouldn’t lose it again. He’d never considered giving up pirating and living somewhere on land with a wife and children. Not even with Madalena. Pirating flowed in his veins. The sea was his home, his crew was part of his family. He never thought to leave it.

And then he met her.

A fearless Highland lass who knew what she wanted and went after it.

“Ya look… ehm…” his voice faltered an instant when a soft blush stole across her cheeks. She was confident and strong, and yet there remained in her wide gaze, in her tenuous smile, an innocence that sparkled like a treasure rivaling any other.

“Who gave ya the garb?” he asked, trying to sound glib.

He noted the slight disappointment marring her brow, likely because he didn’t tell her how maddeningly beguiling she looked.

“Mr. Pierce did after he showed me to my new quarters. A closet, I believe he called it. He said these clothes belonged to a dead sailor called John Gable. He said Mr. Gable was the smallest man he ever knew.”

Alex laughed, remembering his crewman Gable. “Aye, he was. His slight size made it possible fer him to repair the masts at their highest point, without fallin’.”

“Do ye think I could make it up to the crow’s nest?”

The crow’s nest? Was she mad to think he would allow her to climb to the highest point on the ship and nestle in a small box secured to a mast?

“Nay. Absolutely not.”

“But ye just said that Mr. Gable did it.”

“Aye, and it killed him one afternoon durin’ a storm. Don’t argue,” he said when she opened her mouth.

He ignored her indignation. Rather her anger than her death.

He looked down at her bare feet and ankles. “Wise. Ya will do less fallin’.”

“I fell only once.” Well, all right she had to confess. “A few times. But I already have a splinter, and in truth, I dinna’ know which is worse.”

He liked the sound of her voice along with everything else. “Sit with me after supper and I’ll pluck it out.”

Instead of answering, she moved to the rail and drew her palm over it. “I have a theory,” she told him as their ship moved past the other, “that once a boat stabs ye, ye’re kin.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “But she wouldn’t have ya die from an infection in yar foot. Splinters get taken out. Savvy?”

She nodded, then, when he looked away, across the sea, she moved closer to him. “Ye have my gratitude fer letting me and Kyle stay a little longer. But if I may be completely honest…” She waited until he nodded. “I don’t think all this ordering me aboot will be in our best interest if we mean to get along.”

He almost laughed right in her face. Neptune’s arse, but he loved her honesty. She wasn’t afraid of him in the least. Every sailor should fear his captain a little. It kept mutiny from happening. Still, he liked that she wasn’t afraid of him.

But she couldn’t be in earnest with these claims that she
truly wanted to stay. What woman would ever want this kind of life? She’d tried to convince him of her desire to remain, but he had to suspect that she had intended on staying from the beginning. To somehow find a way to beguile him until her first opportunity to rob him presented itself.

“Ya are goin’ to have to bury yar feet in a bucket of warm sand every night so that yar soles don’t get so soft they rot. Many of the men have lost their toes. Two weeks on any ship and ya’re goin’ to have to eat food that’s goin’ bad. The water goes warm and stagnant, but ya drink it if ya want to keep livin’. Some of the men begin to stink… Hell, everything begins to stink. Soon, ya will find yarself considerin’ jumpin’ overboard to end the misery of boredom. And if there’s ever a fight, like today, most men will try to rape ya. Ya will have to fight and kill without remorse.”

“But ye’re free,” she insisted. “Free to make yer own choices.”

He smiled and shook his head. “If bein’ trapped on a ship fer weeks, sometimes months, at a time is free to ya.”

She considered his words for a moment, then shrugged her dainty shoulders. “’Tis temporary. Ye’re moving forward, heading fer parts unknown. Keeping that in mind would aid in keeping ungrateful thoughts at bay.”

He sized her up. Perhaps she truly did have a strong passion for adventure. Would it matter to him in the end if she were after his treasure, or after his ship?

He would give up neither.

But for an instant, he imagined her standing at his side at the helm, in his bed beneath him, atop him. He fought the urge to coil his arm around her waist and drag her in close to him. Nay, he didn’t want a woman sailing the seas with him.

“Ya come from a wild, beautiful place,” he said, taking
hold of the rigging and of her to keep her from falling. “Why would ya prefer this?”

“No place on earth will ever be more bonnie to me than Camlochlin,” she said, looking out over the sea, “but though they are unseen, and despite the loving reasons they were placed there, I live with chains around my ankles. My kin are proscribed. Leaving Skye could get me arrested withoot trial and hanged withoot my kin even knowing. My father would never have let me leave.”

She could be hanged? He pushed back at the anger boiling to the surface. He couldn’t save his father years ago. But now he would massacre anyone who tried to put a noose around Caitrina Grant’s sweet neck. “I’ve heard of this proscription,” he told her. “While ya’re a part of me crew, even if ’tis only until we reach Portugal, I won’t let anyone hurt ya.”

She smiled, keeping her eyes on the horizon. “And Kyle?”

He sighed inwardly. “Kyle can keep himself safe, but if he needs me help, he will have it.” Bloody hell, would he promise her anything? When she turned her smile on him, he knew that he would.

“Ye’re quite agreeable of late.” She flashed her dimples at him. “What has changed?”

“I’m always agreeable, woman,” he muttered, knowing she was damned correct. Why, he might as well take up dancing or poetry next. It wasn’t that he wanted to please her. He didn’t go around trying to make women happy… at least, not for more than a night. He simply didn’t see any reason to constantly argue with her.
Poseidon’s Adventure
might be a big ship, but it would get smaller over days, until it seemed cramped and crowded. Bickering could lead to tossing someone overboard. “Don’t press me favor.”

She shrugged again and returned her attention to the water. Alex took a moment or two to bask in the alluring curve of her nose, the sweet angles of her cheekbones and jaw against a backdrop of pewter skies. She was breathtaking.

“Why are ya not wed?”

She cut him a wry glance. “Were ye not listening just now when I explained aboot wanting my freedom? Why are
ye
not wed?”

“’Tis different. Ya’re a woman.”

She turned on him, her eyes blazing like twin blue flames. Her anger was palpable, sizzling around her and making Alex brace himself up to meet it straight on. He tried not to enjoy it too much but hell, he wanted to snatch her up and carry her to his cabin.

“Aye, and a woman is nothing withoot a man in front of her.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I prefer bein’ behind a woman.”

His lips curled ever so slightly as his reply settled over her and she paused at its effect, and then blushed. He regarded her with curiosity and desire. Such hellfire and innocence all packaged up in one so beautiful. It hardly seemed fair to other women.

“Why does being a woman mean I should want a husband and children, and if I dinna’ want them there must be something wrong with me?”

“Who told ya that?” he asked, not liking that anyone should say such a thing about her. “I know plenty of women who don’t want husbands or children.”

She set her hand to her hip and narrowed her eyes on him.

Hell, he wanted to delight in ravishing her.

“Did something I said give ye the impression that I wanted to hear aboot the women ye’ve bedded?”

He hadn’t considered it would bother her, until now. She looked about to open her mouth and shoot fire at him.

“I assume ye speak of whores since ye never spoke of anything more. Am I to be compared to whores then? Are they the only other women who seek something different from life?”

“They don’t seek anything, Caitrina,” he told her. He wouldn’t give her insult by lying about the women he’d known. But he wanted her to know how different she was from them. “They are as stagnant as our drinkin’ water will be. But ya, beauty, ya are vibrant and alive.”

His words were spoken with genuine sincerity, and though she stiffened, he knew he’d triumphed over her anger.

“Thank ye.”

She didn’t smile. Prideful wench. Would one night be enough for him?

“But the question remains,” she said. “Why do I have to marry, but a man can have a whore in every port?”

“Captain,” a voice called out. Alex turned to see Kyle approaching. “A bit of free counsel,” the young MacGregor offered. “Nothing ye say will be correct. She’s argued this topic fer years and has mastered it.”

Alex grinned at them both, then let his gaze settle on hers. “There are laws, spoken and unspoken, and like us”—he stretched his arms out wide to signify the crew—“ya don’t like them.” He arched his back to get a better view of her, from her delicate ankles peeking out from beneath her pants to the sash around her head. His grin softened. “Seems ya have some pirate blood in ya, Miss Grant.”