The Beauty of the Mist (12 page)

Maria looked at him. Despite his devilish fondness for teasing, the Scottish warrior seemed to be speaking the truth. The absolute truth. “Why don’t you tell her these things? The same way that you’ve explained them to me. Why don’t you explain to her the consequences of such dangerous fancies?”

“I have, Maria. Long ago. And I foolishly thought she understood. But I can see now, I was wrong to think we were finished.”

“And you think her husband knows it, as well!” She watched him as he sat back in the chair. “You think he suspects her intentions? You think he suspects you?”

“Sir Thomas would be blind and a fool not to have such suspicions,” John asserted with a firm nod. “And he’s neither. Aye, the woman is driving him mad with jealousy, and she doesn’t know where to stop. He is a man, Maria. Only a man. I know how I would be if I were placed in his position. As men, we are driven by the demands of our honor, of our possessions.”

“And women are just possessions, aren’t they!” she put in sardonically.

That certainly didn’t sound good, and John knew it. But he’d spoken the truth of how men value their wives. Or he thought he had. “You asked a question. I believe the answer is that Sir Thomas wrongly assumes me to be still interested in his wife.”

Maria sat back as well, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The man’s chin dropped to his chest as he considered the situation. She could see the furrows in his brow visibly deepen. He had taken her into his confidence in a most private matter. A loose tendril of hair freed itself and trailed across his brow. She wished to touch it. He had been so candid; he’d revealed so much. Thinking back over all that had been said already, she felt oddly honored, even thrilled by the thought of being his confidant. But then she paused, the question of his motives flickering through her mind. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I need your help.” The Highlander’s gaze was direct. There were no mirth in his expression, nor in his words.

“
My
help?” Her brows shot up incredulously.

“Aye,” he answered smoothly. “You could help me greatly in my dealings with these folk.”

“But you only met me yesterday. What possible help could I be?” As exciting as it was to think he was seeking her help and as inviting the prospect of spending more time with him, the truth of it was, Maria had cared very little for Lady Caroline’s earlier scrutiny of her. But also, aside from that, Maria wanted to attract the least amount of attention to themselves, especially considering Isabel’s condition. The last thing they needed was to become embroiled in some sordid affair between a handsome Scottish sea captain and his jealous ex-mistress. “And how in heaven’s name did you ever came up with such an idea that I would help you anyway?”

“You don’t even know what I am going to ask, and already you are objecting.”

“Well, of course. It is all so...so...” She shook her head, dismissing the suggestion.

John Macpherson placed his elbows on his knees and leaned toward her. The stubborn set of her jaw and the flash of indignation in her eyes made her all the more interesting to him. Yes, he was drawing out the person within, and he liked what he was seeing. She was quite genuine, after all.

“I simply thought we might come to some arrangement, but seeing your hesitation...your quite understandable hesitation...” His words trailed off.

“An arrangement?” she asked, her sparkling eyes focused squarely on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

John returned her gaze unwaveringly. “Why did you come to see me, Maria?”

She froze at once, then she opened her mouth to explain but then closed it again. Was she so transparent?

“You came here for more than simply to thank me for saving you and your aunt. You could have done that last night in the cabin or the next time I visited you there.” John’s eyes drifted to her hands. “And let me see, you didn’t come here to allow me to administer aid to your hands, or you would have allowed me to do that by now. So let’s see what’s left.” He let his eyes linger suggestively on her lips, causing her to blush, and then he shook his head. “Nay, having witnessed your disposition and your refined manners, I am harboring no hopes that a romantic venture was your cause for coming.” John’s eyes bore into hers. “You want something Maria, but I don’t know what. But I am honest enough to admit that I want something as well. So I don’t think it is so out of the question to assume, perhaps, that we could...well, come to some arrangement.”

Her face flushed hot at the candidness of his words, her mind running wild with suppositions about what the Highlander had said about wanting something, himself. But this was her chance, after all. He had given her the opportunity. If she could only bring herself to speak the words, then perhaps she could avoid returning to Antwerp. Maria forced herself to remain calm.

“What you say is true,” she responded, trying to keep her hands still in her lap as she lifted her gaze bravely. “I came here to make a request. But before I reveal my petition, I need to hear yours first.”

John nodded in agreement. “Aye, lass. That’s fair enough. These are my terms. I’ll tell you how you can help me, but then I’ll be needing a decision from you, whether you accept or reject my offer.”

There was no charm, no gentleness in the man’s face. He was all business. But this was much easier to deal with, so far as Maria was concerned. She nodded at last.

“I want you to become my mistress.”

“Your mistress?” the young queen exploded, leaping to her feet and sending her chair sliding violently across the cabin floor.

“Aye,” John responded seriously, without moving. “I want Sir Thomas to believe that I have no interest in his wife.”

“Sir Thomas? You...I could never do such thing...I’ve never...”

The Highlander could not help but smile at the sputtering disbelief that was only now turning into green-eyed fury.

“But only for appearance’s sake,” he continued in an attempt to head off her anger.

“No! Never!” she managed to stammer out. Maria breathed deeply, trying hard to slow her pounding heart. Wrapping her arms around her, she turned and looked at the closed door. “I think I...”

“Aye, but before you go, I’d like to explain.”

“There is no need, Sir John. You’ve made you intentions quite clear,” she snapped, turning and plucking her cloak from the wall peg.

“You
have
to hear my...proposition.”

“I don’t
have
to do any such thing!” Maria glared at him as she angrily tied the cloak at her neck.

John saw the look of distrust in her expression. He knew he could probably bully her into listening, but that would only serve to make her fear him. Hardly what he had in mind. “I thought you a reasonable woman,” he said.

Her eyes locked on him. “Obviously, you’ve made a serious error!” The young woman turned and headed for the door.

He leapt to his feet and reached the door before she could get there.

Maria saw he was clearly intending to block her way, and a flash of panic raced through her. She came to a stop, staring at the white linen of his shirt. The Highlander said nothing, and Maria slowly raised her eyes to his. “I wish to leave,” she said quietly, the waver in her voice only barely discernible.

“Maria, I know my words were impertinent. I apologize for that. But before you leave, I wish you would let me clarify my offer. I only ask you to listen, for few moments. Only that.” John stepped aside, giving her the opportunity to escape, if she really care to. Obviously disconcerted, the young woman didn’t move, but the commander knew he would need to be quick, before she decided to march out.

“All I want you to do, lass, is to spend some time with me. Innocent time,” he added for clarification. “The reason why I used the word ‘mistress’ is because Caroline Maule’s mind runs to that bent. The appearance of such a relationship is all I’m asking, Maria. That will be enough.”

Maria remained rooted in place, a feeling of foolishness, giddiness even, washing over her. Other than the mention of the word itself, he’d not implied anything inappropriate. She had obviously overreacted to nothing at all. “But it is Sir Thomas that poses the threat,” Maria said, to John’s surprise. “He doesn’t know me, so he’ll surely not believe anything I would say.”

“You’ll need say naught.” John cut her short. “Just seeing me with you will be enough to put Sir Thomas at ease.”

Maria tried to sort through everything in her mind. It all had happened so quickly. His request, her temper. And now, the clarification of his request. She looked at him straight on. He was still all business. She wished she could be that calm.

“Please consider it, Maria.”

She’d never before needed to consider anything even remotely similar to this in her entire life. Never. Maria, the Queen of Hungary, sister to the Holy Roman Emperor–Sir John Macpherson’s mistress. Well, not his mistress in truth, she quickly corrected herself. Was that any better than being his future queen?

“That’s all I ask.” John said, cutting into her thoughts. He could read the struggle in her face. When she looked up at him, the Highlander nodded gravely. “Now let me hear what it is you came to ask.”

“I came to ask,” she paused and swallowed hard. By answering him, she knew he might assume that she would accept his arrangement. “I need to think about this. What you ask is not...well, common to my experience. But if you must know, what I ask is to be taken to Denmark.”

“Denmark?” he exploded. “But we are headed for Antwerp.”

“Denmark,” she repeated firmly. “That is my condition.”

John answered her direct gaze with his own. He knew there was no way in hell the
Great Michael
would be going to Denmark...unless they were forced to by the fog. Aside from that, there was no way he could justify sailing a convoy of four ships east, two days off course. But there was no reason for her to know that, he decided. And once they reached Antwerp, he would pay her passage anywhere she cared to go.

But only then, he thought.

“Denmark,” the Highlander nodded solemnly. “You take my offer and I’ll take you to Denmark.”

The physician turned over the jeweled brooch in his scrawny, yellowed palms. Bringing the bright red stone close to the only candle burning in the darkened room, the man bend over, trying to determine the value of the prize before him.

Caroline Maule moved across the room and snatched the broach away.

“That’s enough, for now.” She turned her scowl on the disgruntled man standing with his empty hands now outstretched. “Now start answering my questions, and you shall have it to keep.”

The monk nodded irritably at his tall kinswoman, standing only a step away. He wanted a drink. “They are Spanish. That’s for certain. And moneyed folk, at that. The old woman’s dress had a weave of gold thread in it. Not to mention the jeweled rings that she wears on every finger.”

Seeing the small man’s eyes wander toward the flask of spirits across the cabin, Caroline rapped the broach on the table.

“What else? What else?” she snapped. “What do you know of the younger one? Are they kin?”

“Aye, I would assume as much,” the physician responding, his gaze again vacillating between the flask and the broach in the woman’s hand. A ring, matching the jeweled brooch, suddenly glinted in the candlelight, catching his eye. “But they’re a closed mouthed pair–the lass more so than the lady. But neither has said anything to give away their rank–or all their very worth, for that matter.”

“There has to be more!” Caroline stamped her foot. “He’s put them in the queen’s cabin. He must have a reason. There must be something he is hiding.”

The monk shrugged his shoulder. “I’d say you are making more out of it than there is. Though I’m not any friend to the man, the Macpherson is known for deeds such as this. From what his men say, even back in the days when he was raiding anything that came his way–English, Spanish, Flemish...no matter–he had too much heart to leave his victims floating in the sea to die. He’s smart, too, because there’s ransom in saving some, and the spreading of reputation in saving the others. That’s why they called him Jack Heart, they say. Why, there’s one story that, coming upon a burning ship...”

“Stop, you fool!” Caroline snapped. “I am not paying you to fill my ears with gibberish or with the tales of drunken seamen. I want to know of the woman. Of the younger one. I want to know why he is treating her with such courtesy.”

The physician’s eyes once again wandered from the flask to Caroline’s ring. “Perhaps he’s taken a fancy to her. She is a bonny lass.”

Caroline turned a deadly gaze on the man. “This is John Macpherson you are talking about. If her skirts were all he was after, he would have just put her in his cabin at once. Nay, there must be something more.”

John had never been one for courting or long seductions. Caroline could still remember the first day they met, at Stirling. She had ended up in his bed that day. And they’d been incredible together. His skill as a lover still had the power to make her tremble at the memory, and he’d never failed to appreciate her own talents. Indeed, one place they’d never quarreled was in bed.

“I’d say, Lady Caroline, that for that ring to go with the brooch, I might perhaps be persuading the serving lass to find out what you want to know.” The monk looked at her angry face through slitted eyes. “I wager she already knows more than even Sir John about the two of them.”

Caroline waved the brooch at him once again and then, with a sneer, tucked it into her skirts.

“Bring me what she knows, and if it’s worth more than you’ve told me so far, you’ll get both brooch and ring.”

With a quick turn of her wrist, Caroline pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and started for the door. The talk had been a waste of time, and she certainly wasn’t about to waste her valuables, as well. She should have followed her initial instinct and gone to the man.

As she passed into the corridor, a malevolent smile crept across her lips. Yes, that was exactly what she would do, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to go to him as she had earlier.