The Wicked Ways of Alexander Kidd (The MacGregors: Highland Heirs) (10 page)

T
rina opened her eyes and, for a moment, forgot where she was. Then she remembered and stretched. She was on a ship… his ship, his bed. Turning over, she looked toward the chair to find him still in it, thankfully, still covered in her earasaid, but barely. She should get up, get dressed, and get the hell out of his room before he woke up. But goodness, it had taken her so long to fall asleep last night after him leaving her with images of his naked body to haunt her dreams. Thank God it was the back of him and not the front, although the back was wondrous and sinfully perfect. She blushed afresh as the memory of his firm, untanned buttocks and thick, muscular thighs assaulted her. Och, she’d looked. She’d taken her fill and almost sighed out loud at the splendid sight of his long, sculpted back, the broad flare of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist. Gustaaf had told her that no one found victory over the captain in a fight. Trina wanted to see him wield a blade, dodge a series of strikes. Last night, with his sinewy muscles dancing beneath his skin in the candlelight, she could imagine him fighting and the thought stirred fire in her veins.

Finally though, thankfully, she’d fallen asleep, and och, but this had to be the most comfortable bed on the sea and beyond. Mayhap it was the ship, rocking her like her mother rocked her as a babe, or the soothing sounds of creaking wood and waves slapping against the hull. Whatever it was, it was heaven and she never wanted to leave.

She sat up and eyed him a little more closely. A foolish thing to do since, stretched out on the chair, his legs sprawled out before him, his bare arm tossed over his head, and her plaid riding down his flat belly and barely covering his hips and groin, he looked more like a sleeping god than a mortal man.

She’d realized last night that she wasn’t going to be able to stay on the ship a day after France. Not after what he’d said to her.

’Tis takin’ all my resolve not to go over there, climb into me bed, and make ya ferget what ya came here fer.

Lord, he was already making her forget. She’d come for adventure, not for him, yet here she was lingering in a room while he slept, letting images of his body make her blush and burn. She needed to get a hold of herself. She needed to think about what to do when he kicked her off the ship. She would have to go to her grandparents and try to explain what she was doing there. Och hell, she dreaded it.

She combed her fingers through her hair and plaited it into a long single braid.

She would have to tell them the truth. That she’d stowed away aboard a pirate ship and Kyle followed her. She felt mildly ill thinking about it. She would prefer penning a dozen notes to her kin in Skye to explaining to her grandsires face-to-face and telling them how foolish she had been.

A sound from the chair startled her. She looked to find Alex shifting uncomfortably. Her plaid slipped down a little lower on his hip. She practically leaped for it and managed to grab an end of the soft wool before it slipped off him completely. Her victory left her in the position of staring at his chest, then lower, over the slight, tight hills to his taut, tanned belly, farther down to the tuft of dark hair between his hips.

She swallowed, a little breathless with the thought of how all those sculpted angles would feel beneath her hands. The sudden desire to touch him coursed through her and she almost missed the slight change in his breathing.

She lifted her gaze to his face and found him squinting at her, his fingers grasping his forehead.

“Lookin’ fer something?”

She wished the floor would open beneath her and swallow her up. He caught her appraising him like a cat would look at a succulent mouse and she had no other recourse to take but honesty.

“Yer covering was about to—”

He held up his palm to stop her and closed his eyes. “Speak softer.”

She smiled, glad that he was suffering a wee bit after what he put her through last night.

“Yer covering was about to fall off,” she said more quietly. “I was stopping it.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just breathed. Then, after she thought he might have fallen asleep or become unconscious, he said in a low, groggy voice, “Be a love and fetch me a cup of watered-down rum.”

“Rum?” She stepped back and laughed at him. “Fer the morning-after effects?”

“Caitrina.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Don’t argue.”

Don’t argue? Was his word the law? She wanted to argue with him but the set of his jaw told her not to. Without another word, she swiveled around, slipped into her clothes, and left the cabin.

Don’t argue. She’d heard him speak the command before to his men. Well, he wasn’t her captain.

And yet, here she was obeying him. She huffed down the steps to the main deck and looked for someone to help her fill his order. She didn’t see Mr. Pierce, or even Mr. Bonnet. She did, however, run into two seamen on their way to the galley.

One of them deliberately stepped in her path and sneered in her face. “Ya have the captain to thank that my cock is not in ya right now.”

What a disgusting threat to make to a woman, Trina thought and swept her hand over his belt.

“And ye have him to thank that this dagger is not through yer neck right now.” She jerked her hand forward and nicked his flesh with the tip of the blade.

He looked down and swallowed audibly. “That’s my dagger.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his friend move toward her. Her reflexes were lightning quick, thanks to her mother’s careful instruction while the boys practiced with the men in Camlochlin’s vast fields. She lifted her ankle and plucked the captain’s pistol free of the silken binds she’d made last night. She readied the weapon and aimed, halting him in his steps.

“Robbie, Nicky, step away from her or I’ll gut ya from stem to stern.”

She heard Mr. Pierce’s voice behind her and said
a silent prayer of relief. She wasn’t certain she could take two men coming at her at once. These weren’t her relatives.

“Did ya both ferget that she’s the captain’s guest?” Pierce asked them. “Ya want to be hung up by yar ankles?”

When they paled, Trina took pity on them. “Dinna’ tell him.”

“But—

“Please, Mr. Pierce.”

When he nodded, giving in to her request, Robbie and Nicky stared at her for a moment and then ran off.

Mr. Pierce watched them go, then turned to her and waited while she returned the pistol to her calf. “What are ya doin’ out here alone? Tryin’ to prove something?”

Trina shook her head. “He sent me fer watered-down rum. He’s in much pain.”

The quartermaster looked her over as if weighing her in his thoughts, then said, “Go back to the cabin. I will get the remedy and bring it to him.”

Would not one but two men on this ship order her about then? She glanced at another group of rowdy pirates passing her and saw the reasoning behind Pierce’s request. That didn’t mean she was all right with the fact that she couldn’t walk around alone. But she appreciated the quartermaster’s warning. Still, until they reached France, she was going to have to do something about protecting herself. For now, she huffed, but remained silent and walked away.

By the time she returned to the cabin, the captain had pulled himself out of his chair and into his pants. The cut fit snugly over his hips and thighs, hinting at his masculine attributes as much as her plaid hanging off him had.
She cleared her throat and he separated his straight razor from his jaw and turned to face her full on.

“Did ya bring me drink?”

Stepping inside, she shook her head and gaped outright at the long, sleek muscles of his bare arms and torso. “Mr. Pierce is bringing it.”

“Why didn’t ya? I could have had it already.”

She glared at him, not caring how good looking he was, and sat in the chair he’d slept in. “Ye could have gone yerself and had it even quicker!”

“Lower yar voice,” he warned. “My head is—”

“Go to hell.”

The door opened and Mr. Pierce stepped inside. “He’s already there, Miss Grant. But this will help.” He held up a huge flagon and shoved it in Alex’s outstretched hand.

Trina watched the captain down the entire contents in one long guzzle. If he was going to puke, he better have a bucket. He burped instead and then fell to his bed.

“Poseidon’s balls, never again,” he breathed. “Do ya hear me, Sam? Come to me with gunpowder again and I’ll maroon ya on the next island we come to.”

“Yar guest needed protectin’,” Sam said, folding his hands behind his back.

The captain sat up on his bed. Trina guessed his watered-down rum remedy was working by the swiftness of his movements. “Protection from whom?”

“From ya, of course. ’Tis why I fed ya gunpowder rum.”

Alex laughed. “Since when do ya concern yerself with who needs protectin’ from me?”

“Since last eve,” his quartermaster answered.

Trina tried to get Mr. Pierce to look at her so she could smile at him. He glanced her way briefly, saw her
gratitude, nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable, and then returned his attention to Alex. She realized then just how many times Mr. Pierce had saved her since she’d arrived. Mayhap he didn’t hate her after all.

“Miss Grant.” The captain leaned over his bed and cradled his head in his hands. “Ya should thank Mr. Pierce. My intentions were probably very obvious and not in yar favor.”

“Probably? Ye dinna’ remember?” she asked him, wondering how much more insult she had to endure. “Ye didn’t appear that drunk to me.”

“My body has grown immune to some of its effects, but ’tis gunpowder, woman. I don’t remember anything about last night.” He rose from the bed, glanced at the wall in the corner by his bed, then tied his hair away from his face.

“Did we speak of me treasure?”

“Aye, Captain,” she lied, loving the dramatic pallor that came over his face. “Ye told me all yer secrets. When ye drop me and Kyle off in France, we’re going to hire a ship and a crew and steal yer treasure from ye.”

Mr. Pierce finally smiled. So did the captain.

“Robbie Owens and his brother Nicky approached her earlier…”

The captain didn’t take his eyes off her when Cooper entered the cabin with their breakfast.

“Mr. Pierce,” she tried to cut him off. “I asked ye not to—”

“She disarmed Nick in the space of a breath and held his own knife to his throat.”

She thought she saw the slight crook in the captain’s mouth while he listened to the quartermaster. She was certain Cooper winked at her before he left the cabin.

“She stopped Robbie in his tracks with her free hand, in which she held a pistol she keeps tied to her leg.”

Both men’s eyes dipped to her skirts.

“I don’t think ’tis safe to let her carry around a pistol. Do ya?”

“Not safe fer who?” the captain asked. “Her, or us?”

“Us.”

The captain shook his head. “I won’t let her go around unprotected.”

“Och, here.” Tired of being the topic of their conversation, she yanked her skirts over her ankle and pulled the pistol free. “’Tis yers anyway.” She tossed it to the captain, who looked at it in disbelief. “I took it back from ye last night after ye took it back from me. I dinna’ need my own weapons. I have an uncle who taught me how to take my opponent’s.”

The men exchanged a brief glance. One was amused. The other was not. “Finally, she admits to bein’ a thief.”

“Being skilled at defense doesna’ make me a thief, Captain.” This time, she smiled back at him. She wouldn’t let him goad her. “From what I know of ye, ye’re easy enough to seduce. If ’twas yer map I wanted, I could have had it last night.”

His sexy grin remained unchanged, but a slight deepening in his dark eyes revealed that he found her more than amusing. He found her alluring, and he found her dangerous. He didn’t have to speak a word for her to see it.

“Let us get this straight, Miss Grant. From now on, ya don’t hide anything from me and ya don’t ask me men to do so either. Secondly, I’m no stranger to the wiles of women.” His voice dipped an octave and danced over her flesh, settling somewhere in her belly. She realized that he had to be this desirable to all women, not just to her.
“I’m not as easily seduced as ya might think.” He was an expert at it. “It would take longer than a night to seduce me. And ya don’t have more than a night left on me ship.”

He was kicking her off in France. There was no doubting it. She wanted to believe she was relieved. But she wasn’t.

“Lucky fer ye, Captain,” she said, turning for the door.

His laughter rang out, almost melting her kneecaps. “Why is that, Miss Grant?”

She turned to cast her reply over her shoulder. “A few more nights with me and ye could lose all. ’Tis flattering, really… to know I befuddle the rake Captain Kidd.”

She reached the door and stepped out into the day without hearing his response. Her heartbeat pounded with such ferocity, she feared she might faint. She refused, and straightened her shoulders, descending the quarterdeck.

What the hell had come over her? Was she so deeply committed to staying, even for a little while longer, that she would cast aside the fact that Captain Alexander Kidd was a knave who could and would seduce her completely and then cast her aside when he was done? She’d never seduced a man the way she just promised she could. What if he expected her to prove her words?