The Firebrand (13 page)

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“You are a knight. You are a pir--a seagoing warrior who is both admired and feared. And you have been trusted by my sisters to come after me. Do you not see it? You have all the necessary qualifications.”

“To do what, Adrianne?”

“To go after Tiberius
and
save my mother!” She rubbed her palms on her skirt and gentled her voice. “My sisters trusted you to come after me...but--” Adrianne stopped, frowned at him, and then crossed the room, pausing before the hearth and staring into the flames. “But why am I saying this, since none of it matters? You have already rejected my offer.”

“I have yet to hear an offer. You only made a demand before...a demand that still requires some explanation.”

A flash of hope brightened her face. She immediately came toward him, halting a step away. “You will consider?”

“I haven’t said so.”

“Nay, but you haven’t thrown me out of your apartments yet, either.”

She smiled, and Wyntoun realized that Adrianne had no idea of how formidable a weapon her beauty could be. Which made her all the more dangerous, he thought, willing himself to ignore the tightening in his loins.

“If we were to marry this week...” She reached out and put a hand on his arm, clearly with no thought other than to silence any objections he might have.

He said nothing. How could he speak? Her fingers were burning him through the material of his sleeve. He could feel the heat shooting up his arm...into his brain. He liked the feel of that touch.

“If we were to marry right away,” she continued, “then you could still send a messenger north to Balvenie Castle. Rather than being encumbered with me and with an entourage, he could travel the distance in far less time. He could bring the news of our marriage to my sisters. And this messenger can carry word of our plan...of you and me going after Tiberius and our mother.”

She dropped her hand and gave him another bright smile. “‘Tis so clear. They will send back their portions of the map, and we will be on our way.”

He studied her critically. “Just a moment. Though I haven’t met your older sister Catherine, Laura did not strike me as one who would just part with something as precious as her portion of this map, and leave everything to a reckless younger sister.”His comment obviously stung her, and Wyntoun felt a pang of guilt. But he shook it off. “I don’t believe this plan of yours has a chance in hell of succeeding.”

“I disagree.” Adrianne leaned against the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his pose. “Answer these questions for me, Sir Wyntoun. Are my sister and this new brother, William Ross, aware that you are the Blade of Barra?”

“William knows. I would guess that John Stewart, the earl of Athol, knows as well. And I also assume that they have, by now, divulged that to your sisters.”

“And knowing your reputation, they trusted you to come after me?”

“They did.”

“Do they consider you a man of courage?”

“I assume so.”

“And well connected with other Scottish lairds?”

He frowned at her impatiently. “Cut to the bone here, Adrianne.”

She nodded with obvious satisfaction. “‘Tis
you
, sir. They’ll send those maps to us because they trust
you
. They already realize that time is of the utmost importance.”

“I believe I have the trust of William and Athol, but that does not ensure that your sisters feel the same way. In fact, they may have serious misgivings already.”

“On the contrary...because of the bonds of marriage, my sisters will trust you in the same fashion that they trust their own husbands.” She nodded confidently. “You become...family...and as such, you become one who is entrusted with the Treasure of Tiberius. I tell you, it
will
work!”

He remained silent and thoughtful for a long moment, just gazing at her and watching as she returned his gaze. Confidence was written all over her...from the smile on her face to the easy balance of her carriage. He knew she was offering him a way to achieve his goals in a way that would prove far quicker than his own previously laid plans. But there was also a shadow of doubt in the depths of those violet blue eyes. Behind the façade of confidence, and logic, and conspiring together, she didn’t really trust him.

“What is in this for me? What are you offering in trade for my services?”

Hiding a pang of regret, he watched the shadow lift in her eyes. He’d passed her test. Now she
knew
he was the pirate that she wanted him to be.

“I assume goodwill and my family’s gratitude is not sufficient.”

“Hardly.” He frowned at her. “You require my services not only as Sir Wyntoun MacLean but as the Blade of Barra, as well. What do you have that you are willing to bargain?”

The rush of color to her cheeks spoke of her discomfort. “My hand in marriage...I...I could bear you an heir, if you require it...as your family wishes. Of course, that part of the bargain must take place after we have accomplished our goal of moving Tiberius to a safe place...and rescuing my mother.”

“We might never be able to save your mother. You would only back out on your part of the bargain.”

“Nay, I will not. I will bear your children, if...if you require it of me.”

Wyntoun thought himself worse than the lowest born knave for saying it, but he knew it must be said. He summoned up the most scornful look he could muster. “Any woman can deliver a bairn. And I assure you, m’lady, finding a suitable match would not be difficult for a man in my position.”

Inwardly, he marveled at the way she handled the callousness of his remark. Turning to pace the room again, she nodded with understanding and pressed her trembling hands into the folds of the full skirt.

“Then I assume wealth must motivate you.”

He didn’t answer. She would have to make her own assumptions.

“The Treasure of Tiberius...” She paused, a slight tremble in her voice. “Though I have spoken of our duty regarding the treasure, if it comes down to the life of my mother or the safekeeping of Tiberius...then I would prefer to free Nichola and have someone...like you...rather than Henry of England...take the--”

“Is that your decision to make?”

“I’m willing to face my sisters with such a--”

“And face them alone, I suppose.” His voice sounded like steel scraping on bone. “I am
not
interested in any bauble or fortune where the price of obtaining it would include dishonor in the eyes of those who consider me a friend. Those like William Ross and your sister, who sent me to convey you in safety to them.”

She visibly brightened at his answer, but he shook his head and stood up, putting on the pretense of disgust with their discussion.

“‘Tis late,” he said gruffly. “And though you have had the luxury of sleeping for the past two days, I am anxious to--”

“Wait! There
is
something that I can offer you.” She raised a hand to her mouth to cover a smile. “Did Laura tell you about my late father’s ships?”

“Nay, only that all your family’s wealth was confiscated by the English crown.”

“Not all,” she blurted excitedly. “A galleon that belonged to my father did not fall into their greedy hands. You can have it!”

“I have no plans of scouring the coast of England for a ship that may well be sitting at a London quay. You do not know if this galleon of your father’s escaped being seized.”

She shook her head. “I know this ship escaped their clutches. This galleon, recently built for my father, was being kept near the Isle of Man. ‘Tis still there for you, once you help me.”

He eyed her with suspicion. “How do I know your sisters and your mother will agree to give up the ship to me?”

“They will all gladly relinquish their claim on it. Consider what you are willing to do for us. To risk your life...your own ships!” She nodded with certainty. “But if you have any doubts, I will write a letter to my sisters so your messenger can take that to Balvenie Castle, as well. My sisters will give their blessing on the arrangement, mark my word on it.”

He studied her, rubbing his chin and feigning an attitude of veiled avarice. “A new-built galleon, you say.”

She seemed to be holding her breath.

“I guess I could use a galleon.”

She threw herself forward to take his hands, but stumbled, falling into his arms and nearly toppling them both to the floor.

His arms wrapped around her, drawing her up hard against his chest. He dipped his head and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, feeling her arms slip effortlessly around his neck. The soft skin of her throat beckoned to his lips as his manhood hardened at the thought that—despite all the clothing—her body fit so perfectly against his. How exquisite it would be to test that fit when they had both shed these encumbering garments.

Damn, he chided himself, his body was getting ahead of the game. He could not afford to let his guard down, could not afford to lose his focus...no matter how desirable the temptation.

He reached up abruptly and drew her arms from around his neck. As if stung, her face flushed with color as he pushed her an arm’s length away. Whether from embarrassment or disappointment, he could not tell.

“I will go along with this, Adrianne, but there are conditions.” Strangely, it hurt him somewhere close to his heart to see the bafflement in her violet blue eyes. “This marriage of ours, ‘twill be in name only.”

Her gaze dropped. She nodded. “Of course, as you wish it. After our task is accomplished....and you have your reward...I will go away.”

“‘Twould be best that way.” He said the words as much to convince himself as Adrianne. There was so much about him that she didn’t know. But this necessary deception was certain to surface one day. Then, once she learned the truth about what he’d done, her hatred and her anger would cut deep.

The problem was, if they were to give in to their desires, the pain would cut both ways. It was safest for her to go away untouched and with no attachments.

“Annulment,” she said matter-of-factly. “We can request an annulment when we are finished with what we have to do. When we are finished with this...marriage.”

He nodded in agreement but then turned away and went around his desk, putting distance between them. “I know a bishop who will get us the annulment from Rome, but I prefer to keep our agreement regarding this marriage private. There is no reason for anyone else to know that we have no intention of keeping our vows.”

“Of course. I don’t believe my sisters would be so willing to go along with this...this plan of ours if they knew the truth of the matter.”

He wished she would look at him. Nay, he was glad she would not.

He forced his face to remain impassive as he sat down on the chair. “I will give the news to my father and to Mara this night. The wedding could take place tomorrow or the next day.”

She nodded, all the while averting her gaze and gnawing at her lip. She looked as if she were having difficulty breathing, but he did not dare to ask.

“I will arrange for a messenger to leave immediately after the wedding, so if you wish to prepare the letters for your sisters--”

“I will. They will be ready.”

He placed his elbows on the table, his hands in a steeple. He studied her for a moment. Her emotions were lashed down as securely as a hatch cover, but he knew they were just beneath the surface. “Then I suppose we’re finished here.”

“We are!” she whispered softly, rubbing her palms on her skirt and turning to the door. She paused, though, before pulling it open, and glanced at him over her shoulder. “What will you tell them...Alexander and Mara? What will you use as the reason for choosing me as your wife?”

Your loveliness. Your courage. Your wit. The passion that I know you can barely contain within you.

“Your colorful manner of speaking. I will tell them that I have discovered my weakness lies in being cursed at by a wee fiery vixen.”

Adrianne rolled onto her back for the thousandth time and stared up through the darkness at the stout wooden beams of the ceiling. It was no use. With morning only an hour or two off, there would be no sleep for her. Ever since the castle noises had subsided so long ago, her mind had been a bubbling hodgepodge of images and words and empty promises.

Her mother’s letter. Courage leapt off the page, warming her soul, giving her strength for what she was about to do…for what she
had
to do. Adrianne had read the words over and over, a dozen times before going to bed. And then there were the letters from her sisters. The images of Catherine and Laura’s happiness that had come through the words so clearly! What must it be like to be so much in love? To have a husband desire you as much as you desire him? How unlike the disturbing attraction she felt toward Wyntoun MacLean…and the total disinterest he had in her.

Not that she deserved any better, considering the lie she’d given him. A galleon in exchange for his offer of marriage? True, her father had a galleon sitting by the Isle of Man. But what she had failed to tell the Blade of Barra was that the promised prize was no more than a burned hulk of a ship. A worthless skeleton of charred timbers that had caught fire and burned before ever leaving the dock.

Adrianne pushed the covers aside and sat up in the bed. She’d been desperate to get him to agree. Somehow, before this entire ordeal was finished, though, she would have to reimburse him for his troubles. Somehow, some way, she had to make it worth the pirate’s while.

The castle was still quiet when Adrianne washed up and pulled on her dress. Taking a wool tartan from the chest, she left the bedchamber and tiptoed down the stairs toward the Great Hall. At a turn in the stairwell, though, she nearly tripped over a small bundle of blankets. Crouching low, she found Gillie fast asleep.

Adrianne smiled at the familiar sight and pulled the blankets higher on the lad’s shoulders. There had been many a day on Barra when she had readied herself to leave the convent, only to find the boy sound asleep by the door, or in the kirkyard. Always near, always waiting for her to come out, so they could spend the day roaming the island.