Cadha's Rogue (The Highland Renegades Book 5) (4 page)

I’m coming, Maas.
The rhythm of those words calmed her heart like the tide.
I’m coming. I’m coming
. In just two nights, she would be with her love once more.

Chapter Five

The new dress itched Valc’s skin and he cursed himself for having long arms. Or for not having been born a woman. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess at all, and Thora’s promise of gold pieces wouldn’t have felt like a Judas weight on his soul.

Upon reflection, he also cursed her destination. The coast of Scotland was often dangerous these days, given the recent renegade war that had spilled into the seas, but he needed the money. He could finally discharge his debt.

Valc stretched down to reach Greta’s box and knocked the side to make sure he had secured it. It didn’t give way and he crossed the ties one last time so it hung from the ceiling, just out of sight.

He would have to wait to deliver it until he’d returned from depositing the beautiful stranger in Scotland—assuming the trip was one way. Of course, it would be better for his pocket book if they went all the way to Scotland, and all the way back.

“I’m here.” The feminine voice shot a jolt up Valc’s back. He tensed before turning to find the stunning face of his strange passenger.

She had changed her clothes and finished braiding her hair, but the deep blue of her simple, snug-cut dress made her look older than he’d first guessed. She’d taken off the apron and shed the old wool she had been wearing. A pack hung over her shoulders and her eyebrows rose in eager anticipation.

Valc almost couldn’t breathe, just taking her in. More so than even that morning’s meeting, he was struck by his body’s response to her. He could feel the race of his pulse, the humming of his blood, the force propelling him toward her.

He’d never felt this kind of draw before and had always laughed at his friends who promised they’d fallen in love with some woman or other upon first meeting her. Love at first sight was not a possibility. Valc shook himself and cleared his throat.

“Very g…” He stopped himself.
Remember to be Greta at all
times. He pitched his voice to mimic the old woman once more. “Very good, then. We should be off.”

Thora stood on the edge of the dock and held out a tiny purse that strained and bulged in her delicate hand. “I’ll pay you half now, and half when we reach Wick.”

Without thinking, Valc snatched the purse, realizing too late that he hadn’t stretched the long sleeves down over his hands. He glanced up at Thora’s face, but she didn’t appear to have seen his hand or his arm. She was too busy pulling the satchel off her back.

Valc stashed the purse inside the folds of his heavy dress and took hold of the deck rail. With such a narrow cog, he hadn’t put up the gangway, and he found himself wishing he had.

He pulled the dress sleeve over the top of his hand and held it out. “Come aboard, then. You’ll have to step on this…”

Before he could give her instructions, she’d walked two steps back onto the dock, then taken a run at the edge and leapt across the water. She landed with catlike ease and took a deep breath.

“Or you could do that.” Valc crossed his arms.

“Never you fear, Greta. I’ve been on a thousand ships.” Thora dropped the satchel and dug around inside it for a long minute.

Instead of casting off and pushing away from the dock, Valc took a cautious moment to admire the round, well-portioned backside that greeted him. She certainly had let her guard down—of course, that likely had more to do with thinking he was a woman than anything else.

Thora produced a strangely long, thick ribbon from the satchel.

“This is perhaps not the best time to be adorning your hair.” Valc barely managed to keep his voice intoned in Greta’s feminine pitch and yanked at the sash across his face, tightening it. “I’ll need your help to make way.”

Remaining bent over, Thora tossed him a playful smile. “This ribbon isn’t for my hair.”

Her hands went to work, double-quick. She slipped her skirts together between her legs and laced the ribbon around them, pulling it up and wrapping it around her hips. Then, each side of the ribbon was laced down one leg, wrapped and looped around itself.

Valc found himself dropping his hands and staring in wonderment as this beauty used an innocuous piece of fabric to turn her long dress into what looked shockingly like a pair of men’s breeches. When she finished, she stood and admired her handiwork. The simple blue dress bunched in a few places, but it so expertly covered every inch of her skin, it was obvious she’d done this before.

Who was this woman?

He should have asked more questions before agreeing to take her on as a passenger, and if he hadn’t needed the money, he might have listened to his instincts. Thora was going to be trouble.

She crossed the deck and began untying the bow line. “Will there be any additional passengers? Or can we cast off?”

Valc realized he was still staring, standing at midship, like some green little boy, and not the seasoned sailor he was. He knew he would need her help, even just to get out into the open sea, but somehow, the thought of letting her do all the work caused his feet to start moving.

“Let’s weigh anchor and be on our way.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the cut of her newly dressed legs and the sway of her body against the motion of the ship. There was a reason that women weren’t allowed onboard. How could a man expect to get any work done with that kind of a distraction around?

He would have to find a way, because the next three days would be sheer and absolute agony if he didn’t make himself think about something other than the way his new passenger filled out her dress.

Cadha enjoyed jumping through the riggings and running across the deck like a real sailor. While she knew the geography of a cog trade ship better than she knew her own home, her father had never really allowed her or her sister to act on their knowledge. The freedom of at last being allowed to do a sailor’s job sent her senses soaring.

Greta didn’t seem thrilled with Cadha’s taking over so many of the jobs, but as an old woman, Greta was more suited to the helm. The ship was bigger than Cadha had expected to hire. Not as large as her father’s trade ships, or the newer, sleeker ship he captained as a privateer, but it handled like a dream. They caught the current quickly and were out of the bay before she knew it.

A solid weight sat in Cadha’s stomach when she saw the spires of the cathedral scraping the sparse clouds. This must have been what it felt like to leave everything you knew behind. All the times she’d watched Papa sail away and wanted to be with him. All the times she’d wished to be on her own, with her love, sailing into the unknown.

This was her chance.

“You shouldn’t be up on that rigging.” Greta’s voice cracked and the old woman hobbled across the deck. “You’ll fall and break your neck, and then where would we be?”

Cadha grabbed the rope and swung out, smiling. “I’ve been climbing around ships since I was born. I promise, I’m not going to fall.”

Greta huffed and straightened, crossing her arms. The movement caught Cadha’s eye, but before she could put her finger on what was wrong, the old woman shuffled back to the wheel, stewing quietly.

“I won’t get the rest of my payment if you’re dead.” Greta’s deep grumble wasn’t quite as quiet as she had perhaps intended.

Cadha slid down onto the deck. “I promise, I know what I’m doing. My father is… was… well, he was a sailor.”

“Plenty of girls grow up with seafaring fathers and think they know their way around a rig, until the wind catches a sail when they’re not watching and the boom drops them in the ocean.” Her gruff fussing made Greta seem older than she likely was—not that Cadha could tell with the woman’s shawl over her face at all times—but she acted like a leathery old sea-marm.

“My father isn’t just seafaring, he’s…” Cadha stopped with her mouth open, feeling the tide of anger rise inside. She hated lying, but Kees’s warning about being free with her name had stuck with her. She could ignore her impulse to tell the whole truth.

She mustered a smile and said, “I know my way around a ship.”

“Just don’t break your neck, or anything valuable,” Greta muttered. “I don’t care who your father is. You’re the one who hired me. No questions asked.”

“Good.” Cadha straightened her sleeves and made to flutter her skirts, but she’d forgotten the trellis of ribbon that stayed them. Instead of the nervous action she was used to, Cadha strode across the deck and to the bow. She noticed Kraaienburg point off their port side, sailing past at a nice clip.

She turned back to Greta. “Shouldn’t you be making more to starboard?”

The old woman grunted. “Whose ship is this, girl?”

“Why would we not go through Amsterdam? Our berth is narrow enough to pass, and short enough to navigate easily.”

“We’re not going through Amsterdam.”

Cadha’s anger tide rolled in again. “But to go by Den Helder…”

“…is the
safest
passage.” Greta’s voice was tight and heavy.

“And the longest,” Cadha finished. She wanted to push the subject, but it was dangerous to speak too much about having been through the narrow slip at Amsterdam. It was a common enough route for pirates.

“That takes us too close to England,” Greta continued, her voice dropping. “We’ll be better off going to Den Helder and staying well clear of land until we’re beyond Aberdeen. The seas aren’t safe everywhere, you know.”

“I just… I never thought we’d be going by Den Helder.”

“Then you shouldn’t have hired me to take you.” The shadow of a jaw set to working under Greta’s shawl and Cadha bit her lip. She didn’t want to anger the woman who was doing what no man would have done—the woman who was letting her run off to Scotland to find her love, unaccompanied and unfettered.

“But it will take another whole day to go up to Den Helder and across the sea,” she offered as her last objection. “I need to be in Scotland as quickly as I am able.”

“You will. I’ve never seen this trip take more than three days, four if the weather turns bad and we have to let the sails down.”

Cadha placed both hands on the deck rail and sighed. Four days there, four days back. That was a different story than two quick nights, which is what she remembered the old woman promising her that morning.

She lowered her voice. “We could make better time going through the inlet and keeping in the lane that runs along the coast.”

Greta’s hand tightened on the wheel. “Best let me set the course, miss. I know where we’ll be safest and fastest.”

It had already been too long since she’d seen Maas. Cadha’s palms slicked. The point at Kraaienburg was already behind them. Their course was set.

Cadha sat against the rail and expelled a long-held breath. She didn’t have eight days. Her father would send a fleet by then, no matter what lies Milla told him. Eight days was too long to be at sea.

Chapter Six

Valc’s nose itched under the shawl as he woke. He made to scratch it, but sat up double-quick. In a dead sleep and not used to the guise, he had about to pull the cover from his face. A quick glance around assured him Thora was nowhere in sight, but the curve of the stern reminded him where he was.

Thora stood at the wheel, keeping watch as he’d instructed. Her face was relaxed and calm, and Valc took a moment to admire her. Her hair had been let down at some point while he slept, and it laid out behind her in the steady wind. She could have been one of the Dutch goddesses from Greta’s stories. By his estimation, her beauty was unparalleled, even among the legends of old.

“Good morning,” she said with a smirk. “You snore like my father.”

Valc’s spine jerked to attention. “I do not.”

“You do. And with almost as much gusto.”

He tucked the last of the shawl into his hood and grunted. “I’m certain I would have been told if I snored.”

Thora’s round, dark eyes regarded him carefully. “Is your husband still alive?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Curiosity.”

Valc turned to the open sea. “I could ask some questions myself, Thora, if there’s room on this ship for curiosity.”

Her features closed and her hands tightened on the wheel. “I was only being polite.”

“Well, I don’t wish to discuss my family, and you don’t want to reveal yours, so let’s just remain strangers.” He walked across the deck and checked all the riggings to make sure she hadn’t loosed or ruined something while he’d been sleeping.

“I’m sorry I asked about your family.” Her voice was suddenly soft and Valc’s hands tightened on the ropes. He hated being rude to her, but their trip was short, so it was best to keep their distance.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. “The sun will be…” Valc turned to the starboard side to point toward the sunrise. But there was no sun. There was light, though. Coming from… where?

He whirled around and found the source of the light, but not where he’d expected it. The peek of the bright heavenly body lay behind them. Valc rounded on Thora.

“What have you done?” He scrambled up to the wheel and found his nautical charts spread on the ground beside, his magnetic compass laid out.

Thora managed to look puzzled as she kept her hand steady on the wheel, but Valc wasn’t fooled. He hadn’t left the charts there, and he certainly hadn’t left out his compass.

His voice dropped without his intention. “I told you to hold course.”

Her chin poked out. “I don’t take direction well.”

“How long?” Valc fisted his hands under the long sleeves of Greta’s dress. “When did you change course?”

She didn’t answer, but Valc saw all he needed to see when he looked across the bow and rested his eyes on the flickering signal fires of old Roman battlements. The all-too-familiar white tower of Scarborough Castle thrust up into the early morning sky, and gray smoke plumed over it.

Was there a chance they hadn’t been seen?

Valc wrestled the wheel away from Thora and spun the rudder around, then thought better of it. Perhaps a sudden turn would rouse the guard’s suspicion. Then again, if they hadn’t been spotted yet, it wouldn’t matter, either way.