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  She wasn’t going with him. She didn’t have to say the words. “Why are ye telling me this?”

  She turned toward him, her green eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Because this morn when I awoke, I wondered if mayhap I deserved more.”

  Aye, she deserved so much more than God had given her thus far. This time when he reached out to push her hair behind her ear, she didn’t stop him. He held the back of her head with his fingers and drew a half circle around the rim of her dainty ear.

  His gaze fell to her quivering lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her, but ’twas too soon. “Come with me, Robbie. The Yucatán is unlike any land you’ve every seen. It is warm and green all year round. There is much to be discovered, and I want for naught more than to find it with you.” Of course Reid thought of Xitali’s library, but he chose to tempt Robbie with talk of treasure for now.

  Leaves crunched in the timber. A horse snorted.

  Like a startled cat, Robbie jumped backward and pulled the seams of her arisaid tight.

  Reid turned and with his next breath, he realized what Robbie had been searching for. Eoin emerged from the woodland on his beastly stallion whose neck shone slick with perspiration. He dismounted between them, and then scrutinized Robbie from head to toe with heavy-lidded eyes. “Did I interrupt?”

  The man smelled like he’d bathed in sour whisky. Had Reid known the fool spent his eve in a tippling house, he might have taken Robbie and her grandda away last night.

  “We were talking about the expedition.” Robbie’s spine lengthened and her chin raised another inch. “I was on my way to rouse Grandda and gather a satchel of toiletries.”

  She’s going! Reid’s insides danced in jubilation, but he reined in his excitement and held a somber face. He would not gloat. He didn’t care if Robbie was going to spite Eoin. Reid only cared that she was going.

  “Weel then.” Eoin grinned at her and pat her backside. “Make haste. We’ll be waiting.”

  “We?” Both Reid and Robbie questioned in unison.

  Eoin popped an arrogant brow. “Ye must think me a complete dunderheid to trust either of ye to return with the gold. In fact, I think it best if Argyle stayed in Scotland. ’Twill give ye a reason to return.”

  * * *

  The morning had nigh defeated Robbie. Every muscle inside her wanted to push Eoin off Thor and leave his duff in an alleyway, but she didn’t dare invite more attention to their entourage. She’d elbowed him in the ribs several times, hoping she might rouse the ox and free her aching back of his weight. But the drunkard continued to snore in her ear and blow his whisky-soaked breath down her neck. She sighed and pulled the hood of her arisaid close to her face while she guided Thor behind Reid and Lyall through the crowded port of Rosneath.

  A young boy rushed by them rolling a barrel down a narrow boardwalk. Another followed with coils of ropes draped over both shoulders. Gulls cried overhead, but Robbie kept her head bowed and her eyes forward. The wagon carrying the diving barrel drew a few curious stares, and Jax caught the eye of a couple bystanders, but at least Reid’s friend could hide inside his hooded cloak.

  Most were interested in the corpse-like body draped over Robbie’s back. ’Twould take little effort for someone to see the brand on her cheek and name them MacGregors. This was why she hadn’t been in public since she was ten and three, and Eoin was in no condition to wield a sword to defend her.

  She didn’t know what angered her more; the fact that Eoin didn’t trust her or the fact that everyone seemed to share his skepticism. Even Grandda.

  Someday is now, Mary-Robena. Reid can make ye happy, Grandda had said before he hugged her with his crippled hands and kissed her forehead.

  Did no one believe her capable of resisting Reid MacGregor?

  She didn’t want to know the answer to that. S’truth, she wasn’t certain she trusted herself. Reid almost kissed her that morn, and she couldn’t say whether or not she would have stopped him.

  When Reid looked at her, she felt like that giddy young girl awaiting him to come up from the dive and collect his kiss. She nudged Thor onto a wooden landing beside the water and refused to think about that girl. She no longer existed, nor did any of her foolish dreams. Robbie would never marry a king and live in a castle. She would never sleep in a bed draped in eels of colorful silks. And she mustn’t forget the most unrealistic dream of all: she would never be a mermaid who breathed underwater and searched for buried treasure.

  She laughed a little on the inside. That last bit of foolishness had always been Fergus’s dream, but he let her share it. Her throat tightened a little as it always did when she thought of her brother. Fergus would have given his sword arm to go on this expedition.

  Reid stopped in front of her, pulling her out of her musings. He rose up in the stirrups in his tight black breeks, kicked a leg over his steed’s rump, and then dismounted.

  Robbie’s gaze locked on his duff. And a nice duff it was indeed—sweetly rounded into thick thighs.

  Blast it! She slammed her eyes shut, then opened one. Why shouldn’t she look? Eoin would never know. By the time she made the decision to ogle Reid, he was walking toward her. Actually, she would more call his walk a swagger. Neglect on his part to tighten the laces of his shirt exposed the swells of his muscular chest. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and thin red marks covered his forearms. Not so deep they were scars, but scratches. Like he’d dragged his arms through a thorn bush. His polished boots outlined his brawny calves and clicked on the wooden planks in time with a ringing bell in the background.

  “Is something in your eye?” He looked up at her.

  “Nay.” She popped the eye open she’d been hiding behind as a rush of heat warmed her cheeks. Embarrassment? Mayhap. Or was it guilt? Either way, the attraction she had to Reid needed to cease before she boarded his ship.

  Thankfully his gaze left her to study Eoin. “Think we could slip you out without his knowing? We could be at sea before the drink wore off.”

  Robbie forced a disapproving look, knowing the smile she suppressed would only encourage Reid. “Eoin sleeps during the day because we raid at night.”

  Reid snorted at her lie. “He sleeps because he drowned himself in the cups.”

  “And I suspect you’ve never been overcome by the drink?” She didn’t know why she defended Eoin. He certainly didn’t deserve it.

  “I’m no saint, Robbie, but I can assure you, if I had ye in my bed, I’d not be spending my eves tossing back drams o’ whisky with the drunkards.” Reid didn’t wait for her response, which was fortunate because she hadn’t paid much attention beyond the words “in my bed.”

  Why did the man have to say such things? And why did he have to look so perfectly braw? And why couldn’t she remember all the reasons she hated Reid MacGregor?

  A grunt ended the string of questions piling up in her head, then the weight that had been Eoin was wrenched off her back. When she twisted in the saddle, her spine popped in three different places.

  “Holy Christ!” Eoin assumed a warrior’s stance, drew his dirk, and swayed. “I swear on the cross I’ll gut ye down, mon.”

  “Easy, cousin.” Reid slapped Eoin on the back—hard. “Conserve your energy. You’re going to need it.”

  While Eoin gathered his wits and struggled to become familiar with his surroundings, Reid stepped back to Robbie’s left and offered his hand. “Come, m’lady. Your ship awaits.”

  She shouldn’t find humor in Eoin’s suffering, nor should she accept Reid’s offering, but she did both. She set her small hand in his much larger one and when he wrapped his strong fingers around hers, she bit back a giggle that made her eyes water.

  Control yourself, ye wantwit! She dismounted and followed Reid in front of Thor.

  He made a sweeping gesture toward a single-masted vessel tied to the dock. “May I present the Obsidian.”

  Though it had a bow and a stern and even a bit of open deck, Robbie would hardly call it a ship. ’Twas more of
a boat really. Her disappointment would be difficult to hide. “It…is…lovely.”

  “Surely ye jest.” Eoin laughed outright and exchanged a look with Lyall who’d joined them at the dock’s edge. “I dare say your ship might buckle beneath the weight of the diving barrel.”

  “That is the ferry boat, you dunderheid.” Reid raised Robbie’s chin with the tip of his index finger and pointed at a much larger vessel anchored in the Firth of Clyde. “That is the Obsidian.”

  “Oh,” was all she said. ’Twas all she could say really as words failed her.

  “She’s a three-masted carrack, weighing well over six-hundred tons. She’s armed with three cannons on the starboard side and three on the larboard side. It takes a crew of fifty men to row her,” Reid listed the Obsidian’s attributes with a lilt of pride. “She’s named after a warrior fire-goddess who often appeared in the form of a black, clawed butterfly.”

  She could feel his penetrating eyes on her, but before she could comment, Eoin curled his arm around Robbie’s waist and drew her close to his side—a blatant reminder of who she belonged to. “Impressive, cousin. I’m curious about one thing. Is the Obsidian the same ship ye and Uncle Calum fled Scotland on?”

  She felt her eyes widen. Did Eoin feel so inferior that he had to browbeat Reid at every opportunity? At the very least, Eoin could attempt to be amiable. S’truth, Reid abandoned the clan, and she would always hate him for doing so, but now was not the time or the place for a fisticuff.

  “Nay.” Reid leaned in toward Eoin which squashed her between their chests. “I obtained the Obsidian shortly after Da died.”

  “Ye obtained it or ye stole it?”

  “Enough.” Robbie pressed a palm against each of their stomachs and pushed. A rumble of frustration sounded low in her throat. They’d actually made her growl like some rabid beastie. They were the ones behaving like bluidy animals.

  “S’help me Odin,” she grumbled, disgusted with them both, then stepped out from between them and approached Lyall. She inhaled deeply, cocked her head slightly, and smiled. “See that Thor and the other horses get back safely, and if I might trouble ye with a task. Pay Grandda and auld Angus a visit in the mornings. They have difficulty getting going most days.”

  Lyall dipped his head once and bent to Robbie’s ear. “If they kill each other, my offer to take ye to the Highlands still stands,” he whispered and then kissed her scarred cheek. “God speed, lass.”

  5

  ~ DEPARTURE ~

  After hoisting the diving barrel over the rail of the Obsidian, Reid strode across the main deck and gave instructions to the boatswain. “Prepare the launching crew, Henrik.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Captain is it?” Eoin leaned against the rail and spit a hawker over the edge. He scratched a beard that was four, mayhap five, days old. “I hope ye dinnae expect me to refer to ye as such.”

  “I’ll not be referring to you as ‘m’laird,’ so I suspect that makes us square.” Had Reid been holding a chicken by its neck, the head would have shot off. Normally, he wasn’t a violent man, but the day had him thoroughly vexed. Eoin wasn’t even supposed to be here. Reid intended to make the guzzle-guts wish he’d never stepped foot aboard his ship.

  Then he looked at Robbie and changed his mind. As much as he wanted to smash his fist into his cousin’s arrogant mouth, ’twas not the way to earn her respect.

  Eoin hadn’t changed. He was still a pompous arse. He might hold the respect of the clan. He might even be a decent leader, but he wasn’t the leader aboard the Obsidian. On this ship he was naught more than another bilgemate, and that was the powder that would ignite his vanity.

  “Is there aught we can do to assist?” Robbie twisted her hair with one hand and strangled the single satchel she’d brought on board with the other. When she raised her soft green eyes to him, the storm inside him subsided.

  “’Twould be best if you just stay out of the way.”

  Robbie’s brows stitched together, and her lips thickened into a pout.

  God’s legions! He’d insulted her. She wanted to do her part just like in the raid, but what duty could he give her? He looked overhead at the topmen swarming the rigging, some of them Mopán natives, some of them vagrants Reid retained from various port-of-calls. They untied the canvas from the yardarms, which left a mess of ropes dangling onto the deck. “Now that I think on it, mayhap I could use your assistance.”

  She smiled and Eoin rolled his eyes.

  “Tie the lines off larboard.”

  “The left?

  “Aye.” Reid left her to her task and climbed the center mast to assist with the mainsail. Every now and again, he would glance her way to see if she was watching—which she was. If naught else, the launching was an impressive show. Organized chaos at its best.

  Reid dropped from a yardarm and landed beside his first mate. “Good den, Jean-Pierre.”

  “Salut, Capitaine.” The man twirled his thick black mustache and looked down his long pointed nose at Reid. “I trust the fille making a mess of our ropes is your Robbie?”

  “Aye. But dinnae tell her. She does not yet know it.” Reid grinned and clapped the man on the back. “Raise the anchor before the Scots discover I brought a French renegade into their waters.”

  Reid took his position at the helm and gave the signal to the boatswain overhead to hoist the sails while Jean-Pierre assisted five men turning the capstan.

  Canvas snapped like gunshot. The sails filled with a nor’wester gale that hurled the Obsidian into an unsteady quiver.

  Robbie held tight to the rail and gawked at the spectacle overhead. The wind blew her honey-red hair in haphazard directions, but she didn’t bother to control it. Aye, she was impressed. Reid was certain of it.

  Eoin on the other hand had missed the show, as he was spewing his guts over the side of the ship. A wee bit of seasickness should keep the man occupied.

  Reid tried not to gloat, but the task was nigh impossible.

  * * *

  This wasn’t the first time Robbie had seen Eoin green in the gills. The steady to and fro rocking of the ship must have been more than his whisky-soaked gut could take. The sun had just dipped beneath the horizon when she’d left him resting in a rope bed on the deck near the bow of the ship. However, Eoin would undoubtedly rise with the moon, full of spit and piss—which brought to mind a pressing matter she needed to tend.

  Robbie snatched up her toiletries and raised her skirts. Cool wind pushed against her and sea spray misted her face as she followed the polished rail toward the helm.

  “Good den, miss.” A man tipped a three-cornered cocked hat spilling light-brown curls as she passed. She recognized him from the launch but didn’t know his—

  “The name’s Henrik,” he verbalized her unfinished thought.

  “The name’s Robbie,” she offered over her shoulder, then realized how rude she must appear for not stopping. “I’ve a matter to discuss with your captain, but I’ll be back a ten, and we’ll chew the fat.” Grandda had always said that to auld Angus, but Henrik’s face squished up like a withered grape. She didn’t have time to explain Grandda’s expression, so she kept walking—in fact, she more ran to the helm.

  Reid brushed his hands together, chewed whatever he’d been eating, then swallowed, all the while sporting a scowl. “Is something amiss?” He looked over her shoulder and swept the deck with a nervous stare.

  She crossed her legs at the knees beneath her kirtle and searched for words to explain her predicament without turning ten shades of red. “Not exactly.” Pulling the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared at his boot tips and prayed a puddle wouldn’t form at her feet.

  “Robbie?” He raised her chin and the pressure on her innards intensified.

  The skin around her knuckles grew taut as she squeezed the neck of her satchel. “It seems the men have no qualms about relieving themselves over the rail, but I fear I’m not quite so talented.”

 
He laughed and popped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “You had me fretting.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “There’s a privy pot in my cabin. Have you need for an escort?”

  “Nay,” she practically squealed, but had no time for niceties. She rushed passed him and climbed the companionway in four steps, then burst through the cabin door. A low-burning oil lamp provided her enough light to glance over the furnishings; a desk, a bed, a fabric-screened partition. She tossed her toiletries atop the bed and raced toward the partition where she found the blessed privy pot.

  Once she’d tended her needs, she carried the pot through a small door at the rear of the cabin that lead to a narrow balcony where she discarded the contents over a rail. Reid paid her far too much attention as it was. The last thing she needed was for the man to start playing chamber maid.

  She located a basin and washed the day’s dust away, then dried her face with a towel. His towel. A tangy, yet woodsy scent filled her nose and sent tingles over her spine. She rubbed her arms. She was cold, she told herself, refusing to believe the gooseflesh covering her skin had anything to do with his scent.

  She walked across a fur rug to fetch her satchel, but when she plucked it off the bed, she grabbed hold of the corner of a red silk sheet. A matching red coverlet lay twisted across a down-filled mattress tucked securely in its hold. The silk was softer than anything she’d ever slept on. Boldly, she slid her fingers through his bedding, and before she could stop the image, she saw a man tangled within those sheets. His thick muscular calf lay on the outside of the coverlet exposing his hip and the sweet curve of his duff. A muscular arm wrapped around her tiny waist, then the man turned and looked at her with silver eyes.

  Brown. Brown eyes. Eoin had brown eyes.

  Blast it! She snatched her hand out of the silk as if it had scalded her and fanned her hot face. ’Twas bad enough she was imagining Reid naked, now she was naked with him. And how could her nipples be so hard when she felt so hot?

  Without thought, she scurried around the giant wooden berth fluffing the bolsters and making up the bed. ’Twas not proper to have such lust-filled thoughts about a man other than Eoin. Just because Reid bluidy MacGregor looked delicious and smelled delicious and would undoubtedly taste delicious—