By Fire and by Sword (18 page)

It was his turn to remain silent and look off, for he was equally surprised that she would think poorly of him, and even more so that she would admit it and cast herself in a less desirable light.

“I know you are angry. You have a perfect right to be, for no one likes to be misjudged and accused falsely.”

He shook his head. “To the contrary. I was thinking how it is quite remarkable that you told me. Not many could admit such, or serve as their own judge and jury, and pass down a severe sentence along on themselves, as you did. Admission of a wrong is never easy.”

“I am sorry I misjudged you, and hope you will forgive me for it.”

He grinned at her. “I seem to remember a time when a half-frozen lass appeared out of a snowstorm and landed smack in the middle of my ship. I think I did a pretty good job of misjudging her…although I did justify it a bit by being head-splittingly, knee-wobblingly drunk at the time. I figure the two cancel each other out, but if it is forgiveness you need, then I will forgive you, but only if you will do the same for me. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she said, and matched his smile with one of her own.

She was watching him and he could almost hear the grinding of her mental gears, and he nearly laughed out loud at the way she wrinkled up her nose and squinted
her eyes and asked, “Are you married, or have you ever been married?”

Well, now, that
did
knock the wind out of his sails. To say her question surprised him was a bit mild, for it took a moment for it to settle, and when it did, he gave a shout of laughter.

“I find I am always trying to decide just where it is that you are coming from. My mother always told me that I would save myself a lot of grief if I remembered a woman’s mind did not work the way a man’s did. She also pointed out that I had a mother and three sisters I could observe and use to hone my skill in dealing with females. I always thought I did a fair job of it, but your question has cast a dark cloud of doubt over my ability now. What made you ask a question like that? Do you honestly think I would have shown my obvious attraction to you if I had a wife twiddling her thumbs back in America, waiting for her philanthropic husband to come home? Do you see me as a man who corrupts people by encouraging them to behave immorally, especially in an unrestrained and self-indulgent way?”

“Well, that was certainly a mouthful, but no, I was trying to learn more about you. I had a feeling you weren’t married, but I thought it best to be certain. One can never be too careful about these things.”

“Why? Were you thinking about asking for my hand?”

“Don’t be silly. I have no designs on you whatsoever. However, if you were married, I would not be sitting here now, talking to you.”

He watched the way her cheeks grew slowly red,
and how the faint throb of a pulse at her throat became more prominent.

To ease her embarrassment, he said, “No, I’m not married, but I do come from a nice, loving and big family. Does that help?”

“Your parents, are they alive?”

“Yes, both of them. My father, Alexander, is a farmer by blood and a lawyer by vocation. I grew up on the banks of the Potomac River. My parents still live there. My mother, Henrietta, was a Claiborne before they married, so I have a large number of relations on her side. I think you know that my father was born in Scotland, and left there because he fell in love with my beautiful and gentle American-born mother, and he did not get along with his father.”

“Who is Sir Hugh Montgomery, the twelfth Baron of Fairlie, and lives in Caithness.”

“Good memory, you have. As for the rest of my family, I have two brothers. Davidson, who is younger, is unmarried and probably always will be.”

“Why do you say that?”

He laughed. “He is an astronomer and scientist…now, what woman would want to spend the rest of her life gazing at stars and living in a house that smelled of sulphur?”

“Tell me about the rest of them.”

“My brother Henry is the oldest of my siblings. He is a Presbyterian minister, married with four children. My oldest sister, Winifred, whom we call Winny, is married to an idiot, Charles Marcus Prudhomme DeWitt the Fourth, who deserves a whole chapter to himself,
so I won’t go into how he is unequivocally an idiot, just now. They are blessed with three little idiots, and one little angel, who doesn’t seem to belong there—stork error or something.” He chuckled. “My minister brother always frowns when I say that, so I keep saying it just to irritate him.”

“I would have never pegged you as the type.”

“Oh, I was a little hellion in my younger days. My mother prefers the term ‘imp. ’As I was saying, my sister Winny and her husband, Charles Marcus Prudhomme DeWitt the Fourth, live in Maryland, which is not far enough away. My sister Julia is two years younger than I, and is engaged to an Italian count, Conte Andrea Visconti, whom I genuinely like. They will live in Bologna after they wed. And the youngest member of the family, Emma Helene, is busy being distraught because she isn’t being courted, and mourns the fact that she will be an old maid. I might add, she was born beautiful and hasn’t changed, and she is only fourteen.”

Kenna smiled at that. “You are fortunate to have such a lovely family, and even more blessed that your parents are still with you.”

“Yes, I am, and also blessed that they are extraordinarily remarkable parents.”

“You are close, like a small clan.”

“I had not thought of it that way, but it is an excellent analogy, for like clan members, we share a common ancestor, the same last name, and we are headed by a chief. And we stick together…even to the point of tolerating the idiot Winny foisted upon us.”

When she stopped laughing, she asked, “If I were to ask your family to tell me one thing about you, what would it be?”

He smiled, not even having to think about that one. “My parents always said, ‘Colin was born ready to lead others.’ I was told that from an early age I was an organizer. My mother said I commandeered the nursery and held my siblings prisoner, and wouldn’t let them come down to dinner until they lined up and marched, single file, with me in the lead, of course.”

“You did not outgrow it, I see.”

“Apparently not, for I seem to have a natural urge to give structure and direction wherever and whenever. I remember when I was twelve, I tried directing my father’s workers and almost caused a revolt.”

“Where did you get your love of the sea, and why privateering?”

“I think I told you that I grew up on the banks of the Potomac River in Virginia. When I was twelve I had my own sailboat and sailed up Chesapeake Bay, which I thought was wonderful. I forgot to tell my mother, which wasn’t so wonderful, and my father sold my sailboat because of it. I suppose the biggest reason was my uncle, who is my mother’s brother, Henry Clai-borne, is in shipping…
big
shipping. I spent a great deal of time with him and my cousins when I was growing up. I suppose over time I developed a love of the sea, but I like to think I was born with it.”

“Your uncle is a privateer?”

He laughed. “Hardly. He is too dignified for that, and he scolds me severely about it each time I go home.”

“What made you become a privateer?”

He gave her a serious look. “I’m not a full-fledged privateer, you understand.”

“Yes, you are only a privateer when it suits you.”

“Exactly. I only become one when the circumstances arise, as they did today with the French captain.”

“When was the first time?”

“You might say I fell into it. I captained a ship for my uncle and took a cargo to Edinburgh a few years ago. While I was still in Edinburgh, making ready to set sail for home, I was approached by four Jacobite gentlemen who wanted me to take them to France. I agreed, and on the way, we were attacked by a Spanish ship. We won the battle, I commandeered the ship, dropped the crew off in Portugal, sailed her home and gave the ship to my uncle.”

“But,
Dancing Water
doesn’t belong to your uncle, right?”

“No. This sweet little craft is all mine.”

“It is a beautiful vessel.”

“Beautiful and fast. She draws such a small amount of water there is hardly a place she cannot go. One hundred and sixty tons, armed with eight six-caliber brass guns, two howitzers aft, and two six-pound cohorns on the taffrail.”

Kenna looked up at him and intentionally crossed her eyes, and he wanted to kiss her so much at that moment it took every ounce of his resolve to keep from doing it. Instead he laughed. “You know, my father always told us if we crossed our eyes like that, they might get stuck that way.”

“Do you still cross your eyes?”

“No, I never learned how, except by putting a finger up and bringing it toward my nose, like this, and following it with my eyes until they cross. I was the only one in the family who couldn’t do it. Lots of teasing on that one.”

Colin noticed Alejandro signaling to him, and he was sorry to have to end the conversation with her. “Alejandro wants me to relieve him at the helm, so he can go below and play with his maps and charts.” He stood and picked up her hand and kissed it, not on the top, but by turning it over and kissing her wrist. “I have enjoyed this visit with you.”

He noticed the evening sun was striking her in a way that made her look as if she belonged in a holy shrine. “You are beautiful with the sun setting fire to your hair like that. If you continue to tempt me, I may decide to make you my sea wench and sail away with you.”

“I’m not the easiest sea wench to get along with. I am certain you would be returning me in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Don’t tempt me, lass, to prove you wrong.” With a smile and a quick nod, he departed.

After he was gone, she remained sitting on the coil of rope for quite some time, lost in the reverie of her own thoughts…thoughts of Colin…of Durness, her grandfather’s castle, the family she missed, the
comte’
s death, and the new life that awaited her a few miles down the coastline.

And as always, she thought of Lord Walter and wondered where he was right now.

Being back in Scotland was difficult for her, for it was home and synonymous with family. She wondered what new babies had been born, and if her younger sisters were in love, or perhaps married. And her biggest concern, after the loneliness she felt over her separation from them and how deeply she missed them, was would they ever forgive her for leaving as she had?

She realized there were good things that had come out her decision to leave Scotland. The dear face of the
comte
rose up before her, and Josette’s, too, and the
duc’
s, the
comte’
s and the
vicomte’
s, and Alejandro’s. Colin she placed in a class by himself, for her feelings for him were different, and more fragile. She was glad they met again in Kirkwall, and pleased someone of his stature and strength was taking her to Durness.

Alejandro came toward her and seated himself in the spot Colin had vacated. “Tell me, where is your friend, Josette?”

“She is probably as sick as two dogs about now.”

“Do you mean,
mal de mer
?”

“Oh, yes. She was sick most of the way coming from Calais, so she went straight to bed when we set sail. I think I should go check on her.”

“Come back and tell me how she is doing.”

Kenna smiled and put her hands on her hips. “And why should I be doing that, Señor de Calderón?”

His eyes sparkled. “I prefer to keep that a secret from both of you.”

“You best be careful. Josette is not someone you want on your bad side.”

He laughed. “She is only that way because she has not met the man who can love her the way she was meant to be loved.”

“And that man is you, right?”

“Could be,” he said. “But we will have to wait and see.”

Kenna found Josette was just waking up when she entered the room. Kenna could tell by her expression what she needed; she grabbed a basin and handed it to her.

After a few minutes, Josette gave it back to her. “I am dying,” she said, “and I will never get on another ship, which means I cannot return to France, unless I sprout wings. I don’t understand why you don’t get sick.”

“I think I’m too stubborn.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it makes my head hurt. Arrrgghh…” she said, and lay back in the hammock. Kenna noticed her face was a peculiar shade of pea-green.

Colin turned the wheel over to Mr. Porter when he saw Josette come on deck, with a wobbly walk and a pale face.

He stopped to speak to her for a moment, and inquire how she was feeling.

“As if I’ve been run over by a herd of horses, but thankfully the worst is over, I hope.” She glanced around. “Where is Kenna?”

“She went to see about you and did not come back. She must still be in the cabin. I’m going down and will see where she is.”

“You better be glad the
comte
isn’t here. He would have a problem with that, you know. He was quite protective of her.”

“Are you trying to tell me he would not approve?”

“No, only that he would not be quick to decide. Once he sensed your interest in her, he would have to figure out if you were worthy of his trust, or if you were good enough for her.”

“And you? What do you think?”

She drew her finger down the side of his face and laughed. “I think Kenna will make up her own mind, independently, and not based on another’s bias.”

“I cannot ask for more than that, can I?”

She gave him a flirtatious look, then laughed. “I think I feel up to a cup of coffee,” she said, evading his question with aplomb.

Colin watched her go. She had a nice walk…a
really
nice walk, and an even nicer swing to her hips. He shook his head. The man who desired her would have his work cut out for him, in a big way.

He turned around and saw Alejandro was watching her as well. Colin shook his head. Would the two of them be a good combination, or would their hot-blooded ways end up pushing them apart? It was too early to tell, he decided.

Kenna came on deck, and stopped to talk to him. Alejandro caught up with Josette, and soon the sound of his laughter drifted over the ship.