By Fire and by Sword (2 page)

The charms of the passing woman

are generally in direct proportion to

the swiftness of her passing.

—Marcel Proust (1871–1922), French novelist.

Remembrance of Things Past
, vol. 4.

W
hat he needed was a woman.

He was, by anyone’s standards, drunk. He had been uproariously, outrageously and gloriously drunk for two days, and if the freezing wind and snow did not let up soon, he would stay that way.

His ship had been dogged by bad luck and bad weather since he left the port of La Spezia, and it left him believing he was long overdue for a change of fortune. To his way of thinking, he’d had more than his share of discomfiture from the elements. And even worse, neither he nor his crew had set foot off the ship for the past four days, all due to bad weather and the
need to keep unceasing vigilance to lessen the risk of damage to the ship.

After each watch, the men hurried below with blue nails and aching wrists, results of the furious wind and the battering of an unrelenting snowstorm. Under such circumstances, everyone on board searched for ways to pass the time. Some whittled. Others wrote letters or played card games. A few even managed to catch up on their sleep.

Colin thought about beautiful women—both those he had known, and those he had yet to meet.

He sat behind his desk with his feet propped on the top of it. A bottle of Spanish wine and a half-filled glass sat a few inches from where his hand rested. He leaned back in his chair and took another drink of blood-warming wine. He had to hand it to the Spaniards—they knew what it took to warm a man’s blood.

His mind went back to other ways of warming a man’s blood, and if he was going to spend Christmas aboard ship, then being with a woman was the best way to spend it. There wasn’t much that could go wrong in life that a little female companionship would not help.

A woman… That was exactly what he needed to take his mind off the abominable Scottish weather raging beyond the fogged portholes. A woman would be a good diversion, and a way for him to pass the time doing something besides drinking himself into a stupor.

In the absence of a real woman, he conjured one up…a true beauty, dark and sultry, with skin dusky as twilight. While he imagined what he would do once he
had this phantom of delight beneath him, his body was ravaged with godforsaken longing that was fast becoming stone-hard desire.

Not the best time for someone to puncture his dreams with a knock at the door.

“Damn!” He stared moodily at the door; the urge to choke whoever was on the other side growing with each breath he drew.

Another knock, this one louder. Alejandro’s voice called out, “You have a visitor, Captain. A
female
visitor.”

Colin gave a snort. A female visitor indeed. “Pity that I know you for a carefree Spaniard of infinite jests,” he called back. “Now, go away and leave me to my wine.”

As far as jokes went, this was a pretty pathetic one—a female visitor in this weather? Was that the best he could do? Colin had never thought Alejandro capable of such stupidity—thinking he would believe something as far-fetched as that. His laugh was hardy enough to stir a gale into being. “Go away and leave me to the humors of wine and spare me yours.”

Alejandro swore he was not joking. “Truly, Captain, there is a woman here to see you.”

“Of course there is. I can see her now, this woman who simply appeared on my ship, in the midst of a snowstorm. How would she look, this daughter of father winter? She would be blond, the pale and pasty English-looking sort, all dressed in white, too shy to speak and frigid as a lover.”

Colin could swear he heard a feminine gasp, and knew it had to be the wine.

After a few more exchanges, with Alejandro trying to convince him there truly was a woman on the other side of the door and Colin steadfastly refusing to believe such drivel, the musical tones of a feminine voice reached his ears.

“Please, Captain.”

Whoever the wench was, she had a slow, husky voice that sent a shiver over him, and set him to thinking what sport he could have with the languid tart on the other side of the door.

Alejandro asked him again to open the door, speaking quite loudly this time.

Colin grinned. He had waited a lifetime for an opportunity like this. “It is open.”

Colin had already decided that it was probably the crew’s idea of a joke, born of extreme boredom. “And where is this insipid, whey-faced English-woman with no bosom and no behind? I have yet to see proof.”

He heard a second gasp about the same time the cabin door opened, and Alejandro ushered a snow-caked bundle into his presence.

The bundle had a voice. “I assumed I would meet an American gentleman. I pray God does not strike me dead for using those two words together.”

His head snapped back and his jaw dropped at the sight of an angelic face framed with a few wisps of coppery curls escaping from beneath the hood of her green wool cape. Hers was the kind of beauty found on ancient Grecian urns. And she was in
his
cabin.

Immediately parts of his body were responding to
the image of the rest of her, which he surmised to be lush and feminine beneath that green cloak.

Alejandro turned to the woman. “I apologize for this clumsy, inarticulate American. He is not normally such a churlish lout. Snowstorms that keep him confined bring out the beast in him.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Colin said.

“You are right, of course.” Alejandro turned to Kenna. “What I meant to say is, Colin is a fine sea captain. His other talents are drinking, wenching and adventuresome exploits, but don’t take that to mean he is not a man of moral excellence and righteousness, for he firmly believes in loving his neighbor, and his neighbor’s wife.”

Colin rose to his feet and ignored Alejandro’s comment, while he directed his words to the woman. “I apologize for my lack of manners. I erroneously thought this was a jest and I played along.”

“I accept your apology, but you might try to remember that ‘he who endeavors to ridicule other people, especially in things of a serious nature, becomes himself a jest.’”

“The
Decameron
,” he said, and saw surprise on her face. “You see, American gentlemen are taught not only to speak, but also to read.”

She smiled and dipped her head in a way to acknowledge his excellent retort. “Your point, Captain.”

Colin turned to Alejandro. “Where did you find her?” He was mesmerized by her eyes…the most unusual golden eyes that were as distracting as her exquisite face. She was a beauty, all right, with coppery,
red-blond hair, skin that belonged on a babe, save for the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She was graceful, well-put-together and tall for a woman, and he had a vision of unbelievably long legs.

Colin could not believe his good fortune to have not only a woman seek him out, but a damn fine-looking one at that. He might be inebriated, but not even excessive alcohol could dull the impact of having before him, the very thing he was in need of. And this one went far beyond even his highly selective taste. Now he knew how Caesar must have felt when Cleopatra rolled out of the carpet at his feet.

“I did not find her. She found me.”

“Even better.” Colin just managed to stay on his wobbly feet while he maneuvered himself around the desk. “She is half frozen and shivering like a wet rat. I don’t know how you Scots do it. Your blood must be three-quarters whisky.”

He pushed the woman’s hood back and a brilliant mass of red hair tumbled down over her shoulders, hiding most of her face.

“So, you have come to see me,” he said, and lifted a red curl, noting it was cold to the touch. She began to shiver uncontrollably. “No, never mind responding to that. For now, we need to get you warmed up a bit and out of this frozen cape, before it starts to melt and gets your clothes wet.”

He helped her out of the cape. What he saw beneath the fine wool made him frown. “Too late to save the dress. It’s already wet. Hopefully, we will have better luck with you.”

He handed the cape to Alejandro. “Put it in a warm place to dry.”

Alejandro draped the cape over a chair near the stove.

Colin observed her. “Your clothes need to come off. I will not be detained in Scotland trying to explain how a half-frozen lass fell ill and died on my ship.”

“Colin, can’t you see she is a woman of breeding? You can’t expect her to remove her clothes.”

“Give me credit for telling the difference between a waterfront doxy and a lady,” Colin said.

“I will not disrobe,” she said, without looking at either of them.

Colin wasted no time in saying, “Oh, I think you will, or I will have Alejandro do it for you. You are, by choice, on my ship, and that puts me in charge. You are starting to shiver and that means your body is chilled below normal. A person can lose only so much warmth, and if you pass that point, what happens is not pretty.”

When she did not respond, he turned to Alejandro, “Damn stubborn Scots. How does anyone deal with them? Look through her traveling bag and see if there is anything dry inside for her to put on. If not, take a shirt out of my chest.”

“I have another gown,” she said.

Alejandro opened her bag and found a blue gown. He offered it to her, but she did not take it.

“What is it to be, then? We leave and you change, or I go and Alejandro does it for you?”

She turned those unforgettable golden eyes toward him and Colin knew she was sizing him up and trying
to determine if he was merely making idle threats, or if he meant what he said.

He was quick to reply with a half-sarcastic smile that was both challenging and bold, and he took obstinate delight in daring her to call his bluff. “I deal harshly with revolt.”

It was almost humorous, the look on her face—two warring alternatives in one small head, held in check by dogged determination. He almost felt sorry for her: so free she seemed, so fettered she was. He would bet his silver-backed brush that she was thinking at this very moment,
If only I were a man…

The desire to laugh in his triumph was so strong; it took some restraint on his own to repress it, although he did deem it wise to let her know who held the upper hand. “He who dares, wins.”

She yanked the dress away from Alejandro.

Colin saw indignation flare hotly in her eyes, and he wisely asked, quickly as lightning, before she could vent her pique: “Who are you, and what insanity brought you out in the midst of such a snowstorm?”

“My name is unimportant. I came here because I want to buy passage to France.”

“And I want to find King Solomon’s mine.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “This is a cargo ship. I don’t take passengers, and if I did, I would not take a female.”

“For what reason?”

“A woman on deck would be distracting to my crew. They are not accustomed to having passengers, and certainly not a beautiful one—who doesn’t have any
business traveling alone. You should go back home before it’s too late.”

“It is already too late.”

There was something about the way she said that…it made him wonder who she was and what sad story she had to tell. But this was not the time to make inquiry. “Where you go is none of my business. All I am interested in is seeing that you leave my ship. I will not take you to France.”

“I see…”

“I don’t think you do. It is nothing personal. I cannot take you because we are not going to France. If this godforsaken weather ever clears, we are going to Copenhagen. We should have been there two days ago. Unfortunately, France is not on the way to Copenhagen.”

“What would it take to change your mind?”

“A beautiful woman in any situation is tempting….”

“Perhaps you have not heard, but we Scots gave up bartering in favor of currency centuries ago. I was referring to monetary compensation.”

She put her hand to her head and he was hoping like hell that she would not pass out. “I am not so heartless to send you out in your present condition. When you are warmed and have had something to eat, I will have someone take you back. In the meantime, we will step outside so you can change…unless you need help, of course.”

Not giving her time to reply, he ripped the blanket from his bunk and handed it to her. “When you’ve put on dry clothes, wrap yourself in this. I am sure you know that more layers will help hold in the warmth.”

Colin opened the door and waited for Alejandro to pass before he said to her, “You have five minutes to cover anything you don’t want to be seen.”

He closed the door behind him with a click.

From the other side of the door, he heard her say, “Barbarian American brute! Who does he think he is, William the Conqueror?”

“She is obstinate as a headache and difficult to convince,” he said as he and Alejandro walked toward the deck. “I hope she doesn’t have a Scots temper to go along with it.”

“Either way, she will be nice until she realizes she can’t convince you to take her to France.”

They stepped out onto the deck, and Alejandro tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Have you noticed that it has stopped snowing?”

The sight of breaking clouds and the red streaks of setting sun working through them did much to improve Colin’s mood and lift his spirits. He tilted his head back. “The ice is beginning to melt on the mast. If it will only stay like this until we can get out of the firth. God knows we have been riding at anchor long enough. Scottish weather—fickle as a woman.”

Alejandro studied the men who were now gathering on deck. “It seems the crew is as anxious to go as we are.”

Colin called out, “Mr. Carlisle, keep an eye on the weather, and weigh anchor the moment you think you can get us out of here and bound for Copenhagen.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“What about the woman?” Alejandro asked.

“Give her another five minutes to dress, and then take her back to shore, or to another ship…one that is going to France.”

“Why do I have to be the one to tell her? Why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I’m the captain.”