A Pirate's Wife for Me (10 page)

"No. I … I am interested." Very interested, although after she made him wait for so long, he would not admit that.

"Then let us drink and eat, and you can tell me about yourself. Afterward, we will adjourn to our room, and there pleasure each other."

By God, when she yielded, she yielded generously.

She inquired about his past, asked why he seemed intent on selling Cenorina to foreigners who wanted to use the islands for a base to raid England, and generally create chaos in the richest country in the world.

He said he was not interested in those things, only that the richest bidder would win. Then, after she plied him with wine and fed him truffles from her own fingers, he admitted he had no loyalty to dear old Britannia. His mother had yielded her all to the romantic dancing instructor, and found herself abandoned and with child. She died in the birthing of Maddox, and of shame, so his grandfather told him. Abandoned to indifferent nannies, Maddox stubbornly survived, so for his fifth birthday his grandfather sent him away to a Norfolk boarding school. Maddox fought his way through years of short rations, freezing cold, and a brutal headmaster with a stout cane and a strong arm until, at the age of seventeen, he graduated with the credentials to be a tutor for young men.

Maddox finished that part of his tale, and Mrs. Cabera begged for more. How had he moved from such lowly beginnings to his present position of power and wealth?

Maddox admitted he had an eye for advancement. His first position was not gained by his teaching credentials. No, at last his mother was of use to him; she conferred upon him a whiff of the upper class. Mr. Carter, a wealthy Liverpool merchant who held high social aspirations, imagined that Maddox Davies, bastard grandson of an English lord, could polish his image. Mrs. Carter was not so naïve, but she was willing to put Davies in the position to teach her sons … and in the position to visit her bed.

When Mr. Carter discovered the affair, Maddox Davies found himself abruptly on the street corner without baggage or wages. Yet ever resourceful, he sneaked back into the house to enjoy one last romp with Mrs. Carter, and to get a farewell gift of coin, jewels, and his baggage. Then he sent Mr. Carter a message demanding a letter of recommendation, or Davies would inform the scandal sheets of his liaison with Mrs. Carter, making Mr. Carter a laughingstock among his colleagues.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Carter complied. The letter arrived with a one-way ticket to the continent.

Mrs. Cabera seemed awed by Maddox's cleverness.

A doubt niggled at him; why was she willing to cast aside her steadfast aversion to him now? Why now was she so interested?

The answer was almost too easy.

Money. Mrs. Cabera was an excessively practical and intelligent woman, and she now realized his wealth would be without measure, and that he would want a mistress. He leaned back in his chair and in the light of the sunset, he looked her over. Yes. The two of them were alike. They would manage well together.

He suggested they go up to the room now.

She ran her hand down his thigh, fetched him a glass of port and asked how he had found his way to Cenorina.

She made talking about himself a pleasure, and he sipped his port and became even more expansive.

Maddox had taken all his ill-gotten gains and left for Spain where, within a year, he was not only broke again, but he had another angry husband after him — and this was no civilized Englishman. This husband was out for blood, so Maddox left on the first ship out of Cadiz, landed in the rough English harbor town of Poole, and at once looked for a position. When the cuckolded Spanish husband arrived with murder in his eyes, it was immediately clear to Maddox that he longed for the solitude of the island kingdom of Cenorina, where he would apply for a position teaching a young man languages, mathematics and social skills. Maddox slipped away under cover of night, arrived in Cenorina, and made a splendid impression by arriving in person to apply for the position. Mr. Carter's glowing letter of recommendation and Maddox's newly-acquired polish and fluency in languages stood him in good stead. Of course, he was delighted when he realized the family was the
royal
family.

In young Prince Taran, Maddox saw the potential for advancement. The lad was spoiled, proud, chomping at the bit for experience with wine, women and song, and Maddox knew those subjects all too well. He tread cautiously at first, testing the waters to see if anyone would notice he taught debauchery to the young prince.

But Queen Sibeol was oblivious to anything but her husband's failing health, and within a few months Davies had expanded the young prince's education to include dissipations that made the lad despised throughout the land. With the king's death, Maddox moved quickly and quietly, securing his position and imposing his rule. By the time Queen Sibeol realized what he had done, she was completely in his power.

Yet somehow she managed to send Prince Taran away. That knowledge had been a thorn in Maddox's side … until the lad came back. Disposing of the arrogant little ass had not only cleared the way for Maddox to rule without fear, but had also given Maddox a great deal of personal satisfaction.

Mrs. Cabera leaned forward and placed her breasts against his arm. "Learning more about you has been a delight."

Yes. She would be a very good mistress, indeed.

He let her lead him up the stairs to his room. He watched as she lit every candle so the chamber blazed with flickering golden light. Then she drew him toward the window, seated herself on the sill, and as he did her, she screamed in lusty appreciation. It was fast. It was wild. It was good.

And when he was done, she pushed him away.

He staggered back, surprised to discover he was unsteady. "Why so abrupt, my love?"

"Get on the bed." She stood in the window, slowly drawing the curtains. "A quick snooze will revive you for another round."

He extended his arm. "Join me."

She began extinguishing the candles. "Of course. Let me prepare."

But when he awoke it was morning, and she stood beside the bed. When she saw he was awake, she placed the bag of coins beside him.

At once he realized he had been double-crossed. But how? If she was leaving him the money… "What are you doing?"

In her usual contemptuous tone, she said, "Here's the payment for the last bid I will take for you."

He grabbed her wrist. "What do you mean, the last? We have four more bidders to visit."

She yanked herself free. "I quit."

He cut a significant glance toward the window, the seat of their mutual pleasure. "Surely you cannot claim you were dissatisfied last night."

"I did what I set out to do, and that is convince Mr. Throckmorton that our alliance is nothing but lust and loins."

"Throckmorton." Maddox's breath caught. He knew that name. He had once tricked Throckmorton, used him to eliminate a problem. Had the man discovered the truth? Did he harbor a grudge? "Why do you imagine Throckmorton is interested in … us?"

"Someone was watching me. Following me. I couldn't shake her."

"A woman?"
Maddox wanted to laugh. "You thought
a woman
was following you?"

"I do not
think
. I
know
. When I managed to turn the tables and follow her, she was having an assignation with a man. I eavesdropped, and heard her give a report of my every movement." Her voice trembled. "Then … I heard your name. Apparently, your actions, and thus mine, have caught Throckmorton's interest. I, for one, do not care to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder waiting for the stiletto to slide into my back."

"You're imagining things." Mrs. Cabera was hysterical.

"Believe what you like. Lucrative as it has been, our association is over. Farewell, Sir Maddox Davies. I hope to never see you again." She caught up her cape, donned it. "You may keep the salary you owe me." She slammed the door after herself.

That was what convinced him. Unless she was running scared, Mrs. Cabera would never, never have walked away from her salary.

Rising, he prepared to escape, to run back to the arms of his one true love — the fortune stashed at Cenorina.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I know the palace."
Sibeol dropped her knitting into her lap. "Before you go, I'll draw you a map. I'll let you know where the most likely hiding places will be."

Cate considered Sibeol, looked down as if thinking, then glanced at Taran.

What conclusions did she draw? Did she realize she faced the queen and the crown prince of the principality of Cenorina? Or did she believe Sibeol was a Cenorinian aristocrat and he a nobleman's son?

He couldn't tell.

The young Caitlin would have blurted out those questions. This Cate kept her own council. "I thank you, Sibeol," she said. "I appreciate any direction you might give."

Sibeol said, "Remember, when you meet Sir Maddox Davies, he will be charming and apparently witless."

"It's a front?" Cate asked.

"Because Davies seemed so dimwitted, the young crown prince ignored signs of imminent trouble," Taran told her. "Don't be fooled. Davies is sly and cruel."

"What is his weakness?" Cate looked to Sibeol as if she would know.

Sibeol answered as if she did. "He thinks he is more intelligent, more cunning, more exciting than any other man on the planet."

Cate smiled. "Then should he arrive before I expect him, all I have to do is convince him I believe it, too."

Taran began, "I don't want you—"

Sibeol interrupted, "That is correct."

Damned annoying females. "Miss MacLean, how do you expect to convince Davies you think he is so…?"

Cate lowered her head. She tilted it. She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled, quirking her full lips a little. At him. As if she liked him, admired him, worshipped him.

For a moment, Taran forgot what he'd asked, why he'd asked, and that his mother was in the room. He was in thrall.

Then Sibeol chuckled.

Cate straightened, got serious, and snapped, "Like that."

He shut his mouth and pretended as if he was unaffected. "Of course. That should work. Now — you must gather the evidence Throckmorton wants. How?"

Cate examined her fingertips, one by one, then rubbed them with her thumb.

Her every movement, her impenetrable confidence fascinated him — and he didn't have time for fascination now.

"Throckmorton told me to collect documents which Davies guarded. If those documents are under lock and key, I'm to open those locks. After perhaps a week, the Cap'n will arrive. I'm to lead him to the documents, wait while he translates them, and if they're the right documents, my part of the mission is finished." Cate's chin stuck out as it did when she got stubborn, and she burst out, "Why do I even need you, Taran Tamson? Why can't I translate the documents? I learned from the same tutor you did. I can read Latin and Greek, French and Italian, and speak English and Gaelic. Tell me one language you speak that I can't!"

He experienced a great, dark satisfaction when he answered, "The language we speak on Cenorina."

"It can't be that different from … all my other languages!"

He wanted to smile at the flash of the old Cate. He missed that Cate, for the more he saw of her, the more he realized she had changed in ways he couldn't yet define. He sensed depths of emotion, sparks of fury, an abundance of confidence, and beneath it all a well of sorrow. He didn't know what caused that sorrow, but he would find out. He would discover everything about her – no matter how many times she shot him for trying.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the twinges in his arm. "On Cenorina, we lived in virtual isolation for a thousand years. You will be able to hold a conversation — our people are seafarers and speak English, Spanish, French with varying forms of ease — but the native language is difficult, and the written language hasn't changed since the monks developed it in the tenth century. It's perfect for use as code. When one of Throckmorton's men got a glimpse at one of the documents, he had no idea what he was looking at."

"I could do it," she insisted.

"You could?" Reaching behind him, he plucked one of the ancient texts from his bookshelf and handed it to her – upside down.

With a sneer at his impudence, she turned it the right direction and randomly opened to a page. She studied the letters. "I can read this!" She mouthed the words, then frowned. "But it doesn't quite make sense. I can't … what …"

Before he could smile his
I-told-you-so smile
, his mother explained, "Cenorina's original language might have been equal parts Portuguese and Spanish. Then in the tenth century, the Norsemen rampaged all the way up and down the French and English coasts, into the Mediterranean, and even as far as Cenorina. Before they departed in the eleventh century, they had left their shipbuilding skills, parts of their language and, it is rumored, more than a little drop of Viking blood in the Cenorina royal family."

"They rampaged through Scotland, too, but they did something very odd to your language." Cate blinked as if the letters weren't in focus.