By Fire and by Sword (3 page)

Alejandro grinned. “I’m the navigator, and I have a course to plot. Besides, she is in your cabin, not mine.”

“That can be rectified.”

“Oh no, I want nothing to do with this,” Alejandro said. “She asked to see the captain and I brought her to you. You tell her we aren’t going to help her.”

“I am going to help her. If she wants to try another ship, there is a Danish bark anchored here by the name of
Aethelred II.
Take her there. I know the captain, Trygve Fischer. If he is busy, speak to the junior officer, Steen Willemoes.”

“I still think you should tell her.”

“I thought you liked her.”

Alejandro put his hands in his pockets. “I do like her, but not that way. She reminds me of my sisters—a pain in the neck. Besides, it’s obvious someone on Mount Olympus is bored and has decided to have a little fun with the two of you. Now that you’ve been put in each other’s path, I will sit back and wait for the collision and suffer none of the heartache.”

“She isn’t my kind of woman.”

Alejandro laughed heartily. “A woman hasn’t been born that isn’t your kind, Montgomery. You love all of them—some more than others.”

“Do you—”

Alejandro interrupted him. “There is no point in trying to convince me. It won’t work. You gave yourself away when you told me to undress her. If you weren’t interested in her, you would have done it yourself.”

“Observant, aren’t we?” Colin said. “I will tell her, but I want you to row her over to the
Aethelred.
”

“Yes, Captain.” Alejandro whistled as he went below to lay out a course for Copenhagen, and left Colin to decide if he should stick to their original plans for Denmark, or take a little longer by going to France first.

Colin went below and knocked on his cabin door. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, Captain, I am.”

He opened the door and closed it behind him. He took a couple of steps into the room. She was standing a few feet away, in a dark blue gown.

“Where is your navigator?” she asked.

“He is, at the moment, laying out a course to Copenhagen.”

Shouts and the thumping of feet penetrated the cabin. “What is happening?” she asked.

“It has stopped snowing. We are preparing to lift anchor and navigate the firth so we can get out of here, just in case the snow decides to start up again.”

“You still refuse to take me to Calais?”

“I have no choice. However, if you will come up on deck with me, I will have you taken to another ship.”

“There is no way I can convince you to take me to France?”

“I’ve already had too many setbacks. I have a cargo that is overdue in Copenhagen. It would cost me too much time to go to France first. I’m sorry.”

Her face registered disappointment, and he thought he saw a glimmer of hopelessness in her eyes, before she turned away and said, “Very well, I shall gather my things.”

He watched her collect her meager belongings, and wondered not only why a woman of her caliber would be traveling alone to a foreign country, but also why she carried such a small amount of baggage. She did not have much, but what she had was of the finest quality, and her speech and manners indicated she was educated.

But, it was still none of his business, and he pushed the matter out of his mind.

She had her traveling bags in her hands when she turned back to him. “I think I am ready now. Thank you, Captain Montgomery, for your help.”

“You owe me no thanks. I have given Alejandro the name of a Danish bark,
Aethelred II.
She is bound for France. Alejandro will take you there. I know the captain, Trygve Fischer. He is a very upright man. You will be safe, and treated with respect on his ship.” He paused a moment, looking her over, as if he was searching for an answer. “Why are you going to France alone, without much…”

“Please do not ask me that. I must keep my reasons as private as my name.”

“Are you in danger?”

She did not answer straightaway, as if she was
weighing the question, and then all she said was, “Grave.”

“Grave, as in life-threatening?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Does someone have a grievance against you?”

“A vengeful man has threatened my life.”

“This is why you are going to France?”

“Yes.”

“To do what?”

“To protect myself, and that is all I will tell you.”

Colin poured a glass of wine as he thought about her reply.

She focused on the glass for a moment before she said, “Captain, you can’t be thirsty.”

“I am a man who likes to anticipate things in advance.” She held his gaze until he was certain her chin was aching from the strain of it. In case he had forgotten Scots were stubborn, he now had his memory refreshed.

“I don’t mean to sound unappreciative,” she said. “I am grateful for your help in trying to secure other passage for me. It is extremely urgent that I leave Scotland as soon as possible.”

Her voice was low, and damnably arousing, too, with the soft caressing of her Scots burr that went over him like the touch of a woman’s soft hand. Colin gave her a warm, teasing smile. “Perhaps, if it starts to snow again, we will have time to find out just how grateful you are.”

“I’m afraid we would both be in our dotage before that would happen.”

He nodded and offered the glass of wine to her. “Here, I poured this for you. Drink it. It will warm your insides.” He almost found himself wishing he had not decided to send her away. He was certain that before he reached Copenhagen, he would regret his decision to let her walk out of his life so easily. He saw it as a chivalrous move on his part. She was obviously in some kind of trouble and hoping to outrun it. She didn’t need him trying to steal her innocence on top of it.

But, oh my, he was tempted.

Before she took the wine he offered, she put her traveling bags and cape down, and seated herself. He watched her hold the glass between her hands, as she moved it slowly back and forth. Then she began to sip it slowly, and the cabin was engulfed in a quiet stillness.

He noticed, when she finished the last sip, that a slight tinge of color had stolen to her cheeks. She rose to her feet and handed him the glass, then thanked him again.

He placed the glass on his desk, turned, and leaning back against it, he folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with a level gaze.

There was a haunting sadness that clung to her like a vapor, difficult to see, and even more difficult to understand.
Heartsore
would be the way he would describe it.

“Your turn on deck seems to have sobered you,” she said.

“Having
you
in my cabin was much more sobering than any time on deck.”

He saw sadness in her eyes again, as she reached for her meager belongings. “Wait a moment,” he said.

She turned back to him, her eyes questioning. Before she could guess what he intended, he caught her face between his hands and guided it upward, until their lips touched. As he kissed her, his hands slipped around her and he pulled her firmly against him and held her there. She was leaning back, held upright only by the strength of his arms around her, holding her body tight and firm against his.

He knew the kiss was undeniably tender, as his lips moved across hers, gentle and soft, for that was what he sensed she needed. With firm pressure, he forced her lips apart and kissed her deeply and with more passion, intensity and emotion.

He felt the tenseness in her body ease, only to be replaced by a newer, stranger sort of urgency that made her moan faintly, and he almost lost his steel resolve when her arms slipped around him. He felt the exact moment when something in him seemed to connect with something in her, and she was suddenly kissing him back with all the fervor of a woman who had not been kissed for some time…or perhaps one that had never been kissed at all.

He felt as if he could not get enough of her—her body, her skin, her mouth. His hands wanted to touch her skin, smooth and cool as cream. He wanted to comb his fingers through the long, silken tresses of her hair. He wanted to kiss her and keep on kissing her until she melted into him, open and yearning.

He wanted to go further—much further, but he did
not kiss her to seduce her, but because of the sad unconnectedness he sensed about her, as if she was cut off from every place and every person that was important to her.

Wickedly impassioned seconds passed, but they took no notice for desire seemed to hold them captive in an iridescent bubble of rainbow hues, captured by the magic of the moment. It was with a terrible sense of loss that he eased his hold on her and withdrew his lips from hers. As soon as he did, he felt the same sense of deprivation and disappointment he read in her eyes.

With softness that surprised even him, and a smile to reassure her, he traced the outline of her lower lip with his fingers and said, “That is why a woman in possession of a face and body such as yours should never travel alone. Some men find the combination irresistible.”

He had expected her to look sad and wan, but a moment later, he realized she wasn’t as helpless as he first thought. She put her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. He expected her to kiss him with all the gentleness he had used with her, and was completely undone when the kiss was undeniably passionate, and administered with such intensity that it left both of them breathless and wanting more. He was about to take it to the next level, when she broke the kiss.

“That is what happens to a man who kisses a woman and thinks he can use it to teach her a lesson.”

The cracking sound of his laughter was something
he could not hold back, yet at the same time, in the back of his mind, he could not help wondering, who in the hell taught her to kiss like that?

The clanking sounds of the crew making the ship ready for sea, and the call of birds overhead invaded their senses and they both knew this rainbow bubble they were in was about to burst, flinging the two of them back down to earth with the jarring impact of cold, hard reality.

She glanced upward, where the noise on deck grew louder. He knew she must feel a sense of loss, and terribly alone in her uncertainty. He knew she had never taken a journey like this, and if he did not have to be in Copenhagen and if he wasn’t already several days late, he would have personally escorted her all the way to wherever it was that she was going. It was not easy for either one of them, and he knew she, like he, was probably wondering just how did one gracefully go about extracting one’s person from circumstances such as this, and maintain some semblance of dignity.

“If you are ready, I will walk you on deck.”

She gathered her belongings once again, and said, “Well, Captain, I believe I am ready. If you would be so kind as to take me to your navigator, I shall get my journey under way, and let you do the same with yours.”

Colin escorted her topside, and found Alejandro.

It seemed so sudden. One moment she was standing beside him, and the next moment, she was gone, over the side and into the waiting boat.

He moved closer to look down to where she sat, her
flaming curls peeking from her green cape, and her lovely face turned toward him.

The impact hit him like a fist in the gut, and he could not shake the feeling that he’d made a mistake in letting her go…a big mistake.

He cupped his hands and called out, as the boat pulled away from the ship, “How do you plan to protect yourself?”

She flashed him a stunning smile, as bright as a sunny day. “Why, Captain, by the sword, of course.”

Stunned, he watched as the rowboat disappeared slowly, beginning with the bow, and ending with the woman in the green cape, an image that remained in his mind for some time, after everything else was gone.

West of these out to seas

colder than the Hebrides I must go

Where the fleet of stars is anchored and

the young star-captains glow.

—James Elroy Flecker (1884-1915),

English poet, playwright and novelist.

“The Dying Patriot.”

T
he Danish bark,
Aethelred II
, did not have the sleek craftsmanship of
Dancing Water
, but she was clean and well cared for.

A gentleman to the core, Alejandro boarded the ship with Kenna and stayed to introduce her to Captain Fischer, before bidding her farewell.

“I leave you in very capable hands and wish you Godspeed, and a pleasant voyage to France.”

“Thank you for your help, and please convey to your captain my gratitude for helping me procure this
passage, which has helped me avoid a…well, simply tell him I send my thanks and gratitude.”

“I shall tell him forthwith, lovely lady.”

She was sorry the dangerous situation she was in prevented her from revealing her name, or much of anything else about herself. He had been kind to her, and to withhold herself from such kindness was not her true nature. She gave this warmhearted man a smile that she hoped would convey her pleasure in making his acquaintance. “Goodbye, Alejandro Feliciano Enrique de Calderón, ‘most excellent friend of Captain Montgomery.’ I should have enjoyed very much, I think, becoming your friend.”

He took her gloved hand and kissed it. “You are already my friend, señorita. And never say goodbye. Where is it written that our pathways will never converge again? The arrow of fate has already been shot. Who knows where it will land?” He turned and walked away.

She looked over the side of the ship and watched him being lowered down to the rowboat. He stepped into it and turned toward her. “The world is not as big as you think,” he called out, and they rowed away.

She watched for a while, before she asked Captain Fischer if she might remain on deck, then added, “I can be trusted to stay out of the way, Captain.”

“I do not have a problem with that. If you have never sailed before, I know you would find it all quite exciting. I do think, however, that once we are under way, you would be more comfortable in your cabin.”

Captain Fischer guided her to a safe place that was
both out of the way of the crew, and protected from the wind. She would have to admit that Captain Montgomery, in spite of his well-oiled state, did, at least, do a good job describing Captain Fischer, for he did appear to be an upright man, with kind blue eyes.

She knew the moment she saw him that he was unmistakably a man who spent his life on or around the sea. He was dressed in dark blue, with a rather jaunty brown cap that withstood the wind. His face was strong, and covered with a red beard, neatly trimmed. He had been a seaman so long, he seemed to have assimilated its primary substances—sand, water and salt.

The
Aethelred
was still lying at anchor. As the crew made preparations to weigh anchor, Kenna caught sight of
Dancing Water
, no longer riding at anchor, but now under way, her tall masts nothing more than graceful black lines, stark against the white of her sails and the dark gray of a gloaming sky.

She watched as the ship came closer, and she heard someone call out, “Cheerily, men… Cheerily.”

She drew even with them, and Kenna could see a great deal of movement, men scurrying about the decks and others scrambling up the masts, or swinging from the rigging. Just as
Dancing Water
began to sail past, Kenna caught sight of Captain Montgomery, standing at the helm. As if sensing someone was watching, he turned his head and their gazes met.

She raised her hand in greeting, as if to show him she was not in the least piqued, or suffering from wounded pride because he had refused to offer her passage to France.

He brought his hand up to touch the brim of his hat, and as the sloop sailed past, it struck her that little remained of the man she met earlier, for he looked every inch the sea captain now—a man of pride, dignity and determination. Nothing remained of the man with a wild, reckless humor, and for some strange reason that made her just a little bit sad.

She touched her fingers to her lips, recalling the warmth of his mouth upon hers, and then leaning against the rail, she stood on her toes and watched from her place on deck, until
Dancing Water
sailed out of sight, with Captain Montgomery at the helm, on his way to Copenhagen.

Someone called out, “All hands on deck!”

Captain Fischer followed that with, “Weigh anchor and make sail!”

The anchor chains of the
Aethelred
rattled. Her sails began to flap, then filled with a loud snap as the canvas fluttered from her masts, and like a giant bird spreading her wings, she headed south and away from the ship with the magical name,
Dancing Water.

Kenna’s mind seemed to be snagged on the memory of the two men she had met—Alejandro and Captain Montgomery—so different and each unique in their own way. What are the odds, she wondered, that I shall ever see either of them again—a time perhaps, when I did not expect it that we chanced upon each other?

Not very good…

The ship was gone from her sight, and she knew she should do the same with the memory, so she forced the
images from her mind. It was better this way, for if Captain Montgomery had agreed to take her he might have been more to her than just an American sea captain by the time they reached Calais.

It was just as well. There was no time for romance in her life now.

There was no time for Christmas, either, for tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she would spend it on this ship, away from her home, away from her family, on a ship and bound for a foreign country. She was close to crying, when she gave herself a mental shake. She would not allow herself to wallow in her own sorrows. She thought of all the families who were torn asunder after the Battle of Culloden, and how fortunate that her family had suffered no losses there. She had so much to be thankful for. It would be a dishonor to her family, her country, and most of all to herself to feel self-pity.

By the grace of God, she had made it this far, and by that same grace, she would see this thing through to the end, and come out victorious. She would.

Kenna headed toward Captain Fischer. “And where are you going?” he asked.

“I wanted to thank you for allowing me to stay on deck to watch our departure, and now I am ready to go below, if someone could show me where to go. Your crew has been very kind and tolerant. I hope you will tell them that.”

“It is always a pleasure to pass along good tidings, and they will take even greater delight in knowing it came from you.”

The captain called out to a man standing near the wheel. “Steen, I have a pleasant task for you.”

As the officer came toward them, Kenna was thinking she had never seen anyone so tall and thin, and she wondered if when he turned sideways, he disappeared altogether. But he had the kindest pale blue eyes that reminded her of the waters of Loch Lomond.

“This is Steen Willemoes, our junior officer. He will take you to your cabin, but don’t expect him to be as talkative as I am. Steen is what you call a very good listener, and he doesn’t speak anything but Danish.”

Steen did not say a word, and neither did Kenna, until they reached the cabin, and she thanked him for bringing her there, even though he could not understand the words, but at least he would understand her smile.

He smiled back and touched the brim of his hat. His face turned a bright shade of red, and then he was gone.

She opened the door and stepped inside, very happy to see her traveling bags awaited her. She realized she was quite exhausted, and there was really no reason for her to remain awake. She wasn’t hungry. No one spoke English, save Captain Fischer, and his was difficult to understand. She was still embarrassed that when he tried to tell her he was of Dutch Huguenot descent and did not allow drinking, dancing or card playing on his ship, she had to ask him to repeat himself twice.

Her cabin was quite small, crowded a bit with wooden boxes and a large, locked sea chest. Overhead an oil lamp swayed back and forth with the rolling motion of the ship, and filled the cabin with an oily
scent. She heard the ship’s bell strike twice and knew it was the first watch. She dressed for bed, doused the light and, using the light coming though the porthole, crawled wearily into the hammock, only to find herself on the floor a second later.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked. She rose to her feet and gave it another try. Same thing. She was thinking there must be a more clever way to do this. She made two more attempts, and was at the point of sleeping on the floor when her fourth attempt ended successfully.

As it turned out, the hammock was a better choice than the floor, for it compensated for the roll of the ship. The only drawback was, when she awoke the next morning, her nose was bent and poking between the netting at an uncomfortable angle. It was after the noon meal before the imprint from the rope vanished completely from her face.

The next morning she awoke to a knock on the door.

It was the cabin boy holding a tray of hot food and a mug of coffee. She knew it would do no good to speak since he did not know a word of English, which was exactly the same amount of Danish that she spoke, so she smiled and stood to one side, and motioned for him to enter.

He was obviously uncomfortable around her, and as soon as he put the tray on the trunk, he departed with unbelievable haste, tripping as he went out the door.

She picked up the mug of coffee and lifted the napkin to investigate the breakfast offering—a round, flaky roll with seeds, cheese and jam, all of which she ate, down to the last little seed that dropped on the plate.

For the rest of the journey Kenna either slept or occupied her special place on deck, where she watched the men scamper up the rigging in a matter of seconds. She decided climbing aloft was something she would not like to try, for they climbed ladders that leaned backward to get past the platforms, then climbed to the end of the yardarms by walking a rope.

She was beginning to feel like part of the ship and its crew, especially at the times when she observed them do the more menial chores—sweep, scrub, clean all surfaces, and then stand for inspection. She decided that even on a nice, clean ship, with a firm, yet congenial captain, it was a hard life.

Only once were the seas so rough that she thought she might be sick. Captain Fischer apparently noticed the greenish cast of her skin, for he offered her an apology for the rough weather, then said there was a benefit to having such robust weather.

“I cannot imagine what that would be,” she said, while she tried to judge the distance to the side of the ship, in case she had to make a dash for it.

“It’s true. Rough seas are quite good for us.”

“Now, Captain, is that really true, or are you saying that to get my mind away from the condition of my stomach?”

His eyes were bright as stars. “A little diversion now and then is a fine thing, and a good sea captain will do anything to accommodate a lady, but in truth, the waves and wind have helped the ship achieve her maximum speed of seven knots.”

“Seven knots… So, we are making good time?”

“We are making excellent time, my dear,” he said, “and far better than I anticipated. No one in a comparable ship could do better than we are doing right now. If this keeps up, the
Aethelred
will reach Calais sooner than I expected.”

That was welcome news indeed on such a gray, drizzly day.

Finally, after two days of questionable weather, they sighted Calais early on the morning of the third day, but then Captain Fischer said they might face a delay.

“What sort of delay, Captain?”

“If the tide is out by the time we arrive, we will have to wait until tomorrow morning when it is in again, since ships can only sail up the narrow inlet and into the harbor during high tide.”

Fortunately, the tide was in by the time they sailed into a cloak of fog. Thankfully, it cleared by the time they traveled up the inlet and into the harbor of Calais. Now the fog was only a light drizzle, which ended shortly after they dropped anchor.

Captain Fischer kindly invited her to go ashore with him, where he would help her arrange passage to Paris. Strange though it was, her last thought as she pulled her cape about her and left the ship was that Captain Montgomery and Alejandro were a lot colder in Copenhagen.