Chapter Seven
Topside, Coire, two steps behind Captain Rush, scanned the decks for Treva. He told himself it was because this was the first time she roamed the ship without an escort. ’Twas a valid concern. He expected Jonesy to be hovering about her. Instead, found her with Lieutenant Geary, engaged in pleasant conversation.
“Lieutenant,” Rush addressed. “We will be confiscating Captain Fletcher’s cargo.”
“The hell ye will.” Coire withdrew his cutlass. Soldiers leveled their muskets upon him, the fools. Redd and the other two pirates that had been below deck also readied their blades. But Coire held out his arm to stay the rest of his men from arming themselves. Not yet. “That is my haul, captain. I strongly advise ye to reconsider. We will fight for our livelihood.”
“A fatal mistake, boy.”
“Perhaps.” Coire took a step to wipe that superior smirk off the arsehole’s face. Soldiers nearest to him took aim.
“Captain Rush, sir.” Treva stepped between them, her skirts swishing. Coire’s agitation warred with the need to shield her. “Pardon me once again. I am aware my opinion matters naught, but I wonder to the validity of your decision. Surely you do not want any man wounded or lost over the devil’s drink. Would your superiors agree with the justification?”
She turned to Coire. Blast it, he wanted to shake sense into her. “And as a gesture of generosity, perhaps you can give Captain Rush and his men a few barrels?”
Rush’s chin lifted, his jaw tightening. “You have an impertinent mouth, Miss Douglas.”
“Nay, captain. I just have an urgent desire to reach my family in time.”
The naval captain considered Treva for a long, uncomfortable moment. Uncomfortable in that she stood too close while guns were trained on him. He plotted out how he’d have to push her aside and plunge his sword into the soldier to his left first.
“Your negotiation skills lack, but I do find the compromise agreeable.” Rush nodded to Coire. “What of you, Captain Fletcher?”
“Verra well. Three hogsheads, not a drop more.”
The smile growing across Rush’s imperialistic mug meant he’d take more if he wanted. Coire was in the mood for a fight. Perhaps Rush sensed it. But the accord was made.
After the barrels were transferred to Courser, Captain Rush ordered his men to disembark.
“I bid you farewell and a fair breeze from here, Captain Fletcher. It is my humblest hope we do not cross paths again.”
The feeling was mutual. As much as he didna like the man, he respected him. “Luck be with ye, Captain Rush.”
Courser sheared off on a northeast course. As soon as they were at a safe distance, Coire snatched Treva’s arm and spun her for her full attention. “What the devil, woman. Ye could have gotten yourself killed. Dinna ever play war games.” Her mouth popped open to object. “Nay.” He silenced her with his finger pointed in her face. “Dinna ever play war games with me and my men,” he hissed.
She yanked from his grip. “Ye’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
Oh, the cat-claw couldna hold her tongue. “And how long do ye think you would have survived,” he spat back. “My cabin. Now.”
Treva gathered her skirts and marched away. Coire fixated on her retreating backside. He hankered to swat it with as much might as ’twould take to rein in her defiance. He cracked his neck to relieve the tension and handed out directives to seal up the open barrels and clean the spilt rum.
As he checked on their coordinates, Jonesy finally made an appearance, joining him at the bow.
“She’s trouble, capt’n. Through and through.”
This he knew. “Ye dinna feel that way before. Ye come up with that after barging into my cabin?”
Jonesy flushed, though it could very well have been from anger as from chagrin. “You don’t have enough respect for her to have her ridin’ ya St. George?”
“I allowed her to seduce me, Jones. Hear me and heed my words, my business with her is no concern of yours.” Coire scanned the horizon with his spyglass. Ailsa Craig should be in sight soon. Then they would set a northeasterly course to Fairlie.
“You’ve greater reason to not trust her.”
He was the last person in the world that needed reminding to never trust a female. Any female. “And so ye felt it yer duty to warn me. Or do ye have some other design with the lady in mind?”
Jonesy curled his fingers into fists. Coire almost wished the poor lad would strike him. ’Twould give him an excuse to pummel him. Release some building agitation. But he was being an arse. He couldna blame him for pining after Treva. She was a hell of a woman—a vivacious, shrewd, peculiar doxy.
He’d call a truce. “What has ye singing a different tune over the lass? Ye’ve been quite taken by her.”
“I heard her talking to that Lieutenant Geary. Told ’im to direct full attention to Taylough. That the plan to capture the Hanoverian family was not a rumor and would happen within days.”
Coire snapped closed the telescope. Shite! Why would she do that? His gut roiled with the sour upheaval of betrayal. Why was he surprised? Same story, different girl. “Casts a foul light upon her, all told.”
“She also said there was trouble in Glasgow. Don’t it seem odd this lady we pluck from the water coincidentally has all this information on the same rebels we are running arms for?” Jonesy looked over his shoulder. So, his quartermaster didna want the others to know lest they call for her treasonous head. He was still looking out for her even after he caught her duplicity. Did that make him a better man than Coire? Nay. He’d spit on that notion.
“What should we do about it?” Jonesy said.
“Nothing.”
Jonesy’s head snapped back. “What?”
“Our objective stays the same. Ye sneak into Taylough to find Angus. If he’s there, we offload the contraband and get our reward. We can warn him that the British may be onto them, but their plot is no concern of ours. Redd gets word to Glasgow.”
“You’re still going to help her?”
“She got us out of a dangerous complication with Captain Rush.” And he couldna overlook her warning may keep the Hanoverian family from harm. Hurting innocents unnecessarily was something that never settled well with Coire. “It costs us nothing but the use of one man for a few hours. There’s an end to it. If there’s a chance the rebels get handily defeated, we’ll have no arms to run. Say nothing, stick to the task.”
Nay, he didna have to send Redd. He wasna compelled to do this for Treva, either. Treachery cut deep and his scars were tender. All along, the signs were there. Indeed, Coire was wholly convinced the cunning Miss Treva MacDougall was a British spy. How could she not be? She had comfortable relations with the British from a low-ranking guard who set her free to a naval lieutenant. Yet, she was a wanted criminal. Her own clan rejected her, a turncoat. Yet, she was driven to protect them.
How complicated she was. She laid open her fatal weaknesses to him. He knew deep down she had not shared her story of Graer or Dread with another. He alone held that singular status. No matter. Fenella had peeled open her heart to him, too. Shared her innermost thoughts, feelings, fears and dreams with him. Together, they would live out happy, fulfilling lives. Ah, what a naïve, pathetic boy he had been.
At seven and ten, he’d fallen in love—with the wrong girl. His sister, Cait had introduced him to Fenella. She was a bonny, vibrant lass with coal black hair and lavender eyes. She was most happy out of doors and often spoke of going on wild adventures. Together she and Coire explored the forest hills, swam naked in the streams, loved under the winking stars. She enjoyed the quiet of hunting deer with him and laughing as they gathered river mussels while pearl fishing. Often they dreamed of running away. There was a whole world waiting to be discovered. ’Twas a hopeless fantasy.
Fenella had caught the eye of every buck in the region, including his clan’s chieftain who set out to make her his wife. Coire could do nothing as Denys MacAulay claimed her for his own and the love of his life slipped away to another, taking a piece with him. The inevitable union strengthened the bond between families and the added loyalties bolstered MacAulay’s might. At first, Fenella willingly cast Coire aside, not looking back, excited by her new position. After all, MacAulay had brought her with him as he traveled, and she was able to visit faraway lands. Coire’s heart broke further knowing he was not the man to make her dreams come true. But the marriage ultimately destroyed Fenella’s spirit. She was caged and, as she once put it, was expected to be a hen, popping out bairns to care for. She’d been utterly unhappy.
Of course Fenella didna love MacAulay who was fifteen years her senior.
But Cait had. Or, rather, Coire’s older sister loved the idea of being the wife to the chief of a powerful clan and had been pining after Denys long before he was married.
Cait was far too ambitious to be a mere crofter’s wife. No one would stop her from scheming her way into MacAulay’s bedchamber permanently. She would use and destroy anyone to reach her goals, including flesh and blood. Cait had offered a sympathetic ear to Fenella. ’Twas her who suggested Fenella seek Coire out to rekindle her carefree life with him. Not understanding or even recognizing how rapacious Cait was and being blinded by love, Coire had welcomed the chance at making Fenella happy.
And so they lived in stolen moments. He’d whisk her away for horseback riding at midnight, swipe kisses in the gardens, or climb her favorite tree overlooking a hillside of blooming heather.
What a boon it had been for Cait. She’d taken every advantage, creating her own love affair with the laird. Coire had been happy for her, though in hindsight he should have known their arrangements wouldna last. When the time was right, Cait made her move.
Coire had not been one to like surprises, and the trap Cait had laid was a surprise that had blown his life apart. What a young, stupid boy he had been.
He had waited as he often did beneath the yew tree on a starless night for his beloved. Fenella hadna shown, but a messenger had. He’d been summoned to meet MacAulay in his great hall. Coire had been unsettled as the laird was not due to arrive back at the castle for another fortnight. That was what Cait had assured him the day before. She’d even been downtrodden, having not seen her lover in weeks.
A stone had settled in his gut. Something was off, and he feared for Fenella. Each step he took on the worn path to the castle burdened Coire with foreboding and guilt. He just crossed into the courtyard when he was intercepted by Cait. Her face was a mask of dulled shadows and flashing madness.
“MacAulay knows about ye and Fenella. Yer cock has condemned us all.” She cackled. “Well, not all.”
’Twas then he realized just how badly his life was unraveling. Like watching a ship’s anchor cable disappear through the hawsehole in an excruciating funeral pace. “What’ve ye done?”
“Yer such a stupid boy.” She planted a fist upon her hip as she always did when she wielded her authority as his older sister and talked down to him. “I’ve told ye I would not live in squalor. Ye and that whore gave me the perfect opportunity to earn Denys’s trust…and keep his bed warm. Now he wants to be rid of her. And ye will confess to yer prigging his wife.”
He’d been dumbfounded even before the implications of what she said had sunk in. “I’ll never put her in any danger.”
Cait leaned close, a heinous smug slant to her mouth. “Ye will. Ye see, if you dinna, Ma and Da will be banished from home, and ye imprisoned. Winter is upon us. With no home, no clan, no one to turn to, they’ll be forced to wander and beg. Who knows, they might find refuge with the tinkers.”
The depravity of his sister was soul-deep. With Ma’s lengthy illness following a failed pregnancy, she had never fully recovered, leaving her fragile. She’d never survive the rigors of gypsy travel, and especially during the bone-cold months. “Ye’d do that to your own parents?”
“Me?” She straightened, feigning shock. “’Tis ye who’d commit them to their graves. Not I.”
“Ye she-devil.”
“Names do not bother me, brother.” She fussed with the collar of his waistcoat. “Spare yer family. Denys will do no more than ostracize ye.”
“And Fenella?”
She patted his cheek. “Perhaps taking full responsibility will lessen her punishment.”
Cait was as slimy as a snake. But a snake would have been preferable. She nodded to someone behind him and he was seized by two men.
The great hall was full of clansmen crowded along the outer edges of the room, all eyes upon him. Wall torches blazing with their accusing light were the only sounds and it had been loud to his ears. Coire shrugged the men off and came to stand in the middle of the room. ’Twas but a tiny show of defiance, as much as he could rightly get away with. He bowed his head in subjection to the laird sitting on his massive, intricately-carved chair atop a raised dais.
“Coire Darroch Fletcher.” MacAulay’s booming voice had shaken him to his toes. “Ye’ve something to confess? A crime against me?”
He searched the onlookers staring expectantly at him. A hungry bunch they had seemed to him, waiting, watching, salivating as one of their own would fall—pure entertainment. Among those was a pair whose sagging bodies were amplified by their frowns upon their faces. The hope that his parents had held out for was pointless. Cait had sidled up behind them to offer her support and poison their minds.
Coire filled his lungs and spewed his sins. “I have disgraced my name and my laird. I have seduced Fenella Murray MacAulay and led her astray.”
He canna remember now all the false claims he presented, they flowed out in sickening desperation, but he remembered clearly the pain he’d caused his parents and how frightened he had been for them, for Fenella, for himself.
Ma had grabbed her heart; Da had curled back his lips. Their disappointment and shame had been overwhelming. His chest had ached from the pain as both his parents turned their backs upon him. They’d cut him off as if he were a putrid limb. He’d just caught the vanquishing smirk upon Cait’s face as she too turned her back. It had hit him then, his sister had planned this from the beginning.
Pleased by Coire’s groveling and the display of allegiance by his family, MacAulay had nodded.
“To show my benevolence and reward your father’s loyalty to me, I shall offer this one leniency. Yer family may remain under my protection but I denounce ye, Coire Darroch Fletcher, as a member of this clan. Ye have till morn to be out of Malig and off my lands.”
’Twas the best he could hope for.
MacAulay lifted his hand in gesture and two men dragged Fenella in, her feet barely touching the floor. Her face was swollen and red with tears—at least he had hoped it was from tears. She was terrified and clamored to be free with all her might. Instinct had driven Coire to surge forward, but the two bastards that had brought him to the hall nabbed him.
“Husband, please! Dinna do this! I beg of ye!” Her shrill pleas had been heartbreakingly pathetic.
MacAulay stood and snarled down upon Fenella until she shrank. “As for my beloved wife…”
He yanked down her bodice, ripping the fabric, exposing her breasts. Fenella shrieked.
“Get this whore out of my sight.”
“No! Please, Denys, please! He forced me! I swear it!”
Her terror cleaved through him. And so had the accusation. Coire had struggled against the men holding him to no avail. He took a blinding punch to his nose and soon after landed face down in the mire outside the castle walls. He’d been stripped of his plaid. And he hadna put one back on since.
Coire didna know what happened to Fenella, but she was not seen or heard from again. It was widely accepted she was dead. As for him, his grief over the loss of family, home, and Fenella turned to bitter virulence. He found his way to the coast and joined the first ragtag and bobtail merchant’s crew that’d have him. He trusted no one and fought often. By the time pirate captain Joelle Quint discovered him in a wharf alley, his attitude and body had hardened as hard as his heart.
He crumpled to the muck from a sound beating after insulting the wrong brute in the tavern. She’d kicked at his boots to check if he had lived. Quint had been impressed, not by his ability to take a drubbing, but by the venom running in his veins. She’d said a man having lost all was a man of resilience and ambition. Given exposure to the right company, he could become someone who could better control his destiny, someone powerful. She’d had her men pick him up, haul him to her ship, and her surgeon tended to his wounds. Coire had been struck dumb by the fiery beauty. She was a queen amongst her men—strong, wise, unpretentious, and respected for her authority. The captain offered him a chance to join her crew, a brotherhood that lined their pockets while playing Robin Hood games—pirates paid to steal from the greedy and corrupt. Coire had nothing left to lose other than his life. He figured dying a pirate was better than dying in the dregs of a ditch.
Quint had taught him more than how to be a good pirate. She taught him the true meaning of loyalty. He’d found a family among her crew and the brethren that prowled the Caribbean, a clan stronger than the one of his birth.
For all that, he was a man made of one yawning scar. The damage had been done. ’Twas nigh impossible to earn his trust. But goodwill went far. While he didna trust Treva, sending word would help the rebels avoid a defeat. They’d reap the harvest.
The domed crust of Ailsa Craig broke the horizon. By this time tomorrow, Coire will have padded his strongbox, be sailing high from an empty hold, and be free of the siren whose heavenly kisses made him stumble.