Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
M axwell stood, pulled his cloak around him and, cocking a dark brow questioningly, he strode the few paces to the place where Aileen waited, his eyes piercing her.
“Aye, lass. What is it ye wish of me?”
She shivered under his gaze. “D’ye play chess MacNeil?”
His lips moved in a slow half-smile. “Yes. Havenae we two been engaged in a game of chess since we first met?”
She huffed. “Of course, ye answer me question with one of yer own. I have long been hoping tae find someone tae match wits wi’ me over the chessboard. Finn and Séamus have nay inclination fer the game and I hoped that ye, being a man of intellect, might be familiar with the rules.”
He laughed. “As it happens, me grandfaither taught me tae play when I was but a lad. As ye’re offering me yet another opportunity tae best ye, methinks I’ll accept yer challenge.
After casting him a scathing look, she gave a curt nod, turned, and headed along the deck toward her cabin. Maxwell hastened behind her, smiling at the prospect of escaping – for however short a time – from the icy wind and sleet.
The board was on the table, the sturdy carved-bone pieces already arranged. Maxwell reached for the king and inspected it. “This is the same as the set me grandfaither brought with him from Harris. Where did ye get it?”
She shrugged. “Me faither gave it tae me. Mayhap it was stolen from one of yer cousins from Harris.”
He replaced the piece and seated himself at the table. “D’ye never tire of piracy? Dinnae ye long fer a different life? Where there’s nay need fer ye tae risk yer life every day?”
She looked at him with ice in her eyes. “Are ye here tae match yer wits wi’ mine over a game of chess or tae question me about me life. Fer, if ‘tis the latter I’ll ask ye tae leave.”
Maxwell rubbed his raw hands over the brazier, noting how his question had unsettled her. On the one hand, she appeared complacent at the theft of the chess pieces, yet, at the same time she seemed uncertain. There was much to discover about Captain Aileen MacAlpin, but it was clear this was not the time for questions.
“Fergive me lass, I was merely curious.”
She folded her arms, covered as they were in fine kidskin gloves, tucking them at her waist as if withdrawing from him. The few moments of lightness between them had melted away and he cursed himself for his clumsiness in asking the question of her.
He was left with a sense that he had struck a raw place in her soul, one that had been wounded in some way. She’d spoken of a brother who had been murdered and he wondered if that was a key to her swift aloofness.
Is she afraid of whoever the villain was that killed her braither?
Aileen took two pieces, one black and one white, and placed them in a small sack which she spun around several times on the table.
“You choose one.”
Maxwell put his hand into the sack, took a chess piece in his hand withdrew it. It was black.
Aileen gave a gloating laugh. “I get the first move.”
He leaned back in his chair, ankles crossed, lending himself an air of unconcern even though, all the while, he was quietly calculating. “I prefer me opponent tae move first, lass. It gives me more time tae observe them.”
Her smile faded as she concentrated on the board, alternately glancing up at him before she moved one of her pawns forward one square.
He followed with a similar move and then the play commenced in earnest.
As they played, Maxwell kept a watchful eye on Aileen. It was not long before he had the advantage. He was not surprised that she played with a certain recklessness and once or twice made a move that left her vulnerable. Instead of taking the advantage that opened up, he moved his knight in a different direction, enabling Aileen to capture his bishop.
She laughed, crowing over what she perceived as her win.
They played on, each of them protecting their king with calculated moves, Maxwell taking care not to take advantage of Aileen’s vulnerability every time she made an impulsive move. Keeping his focus on his own king he resisted her attacks, warding them off with his own superior moves.
She clicked her tongue. “I dae believe ye have the better of me MacNeil and ye’re holding back.”
He laughed. “Captain, I dinnae ken how ye could think such a thing of me.”
Sitting back in her seat she eyed him with amusement. “There have been times when ye could have taken me, but ye didnae. Other times I see ye’re a canny player and more than a match fer me. Why are ye letting me win?”
He leaned over and in one wicked move he took her king. “Checkmate.” He shook his head, unable to resist a triumphant grin. “Now ye cannae tell me I am letting ye win.”
She groaned. “Och. Ye dinnae play fair, MacNeil.”
“Now, now, lass.” He assumed the air of a stern schoolmaster, restraining his laughter. “If ye’re tae play chess, ye must learn tae lose without blaming yer partner fer nae playing fair.”
She huffed indignantly, glowering at him across the table. “And I suppose ye’ll be demanding a reward fer yer skill?
“Aye, that I will.” He was sorely tempted to demand a kiss as his reward but decided on the next best thing. “Since ye’ll nae grant me me freedom, I’ll have more of that French claret we shared before the storm, if ye’ll drink along wi’ me.”
After giving a reluctant nod, she returned his grin. “I could dae wi’ a wee drop of the claret, now ye mention it.” She opened the cabinet and reached up to the shelf for the carafe, which was still half full of the ruby liquid, and took down their two pots.
“Here.” She handed his wine over and before taking a sip, they raised their mugs in salute. “ Slàinte Mhath . Here’s tae our next game, when I’ll leave ye gasping in me wake like an old worn- out coracle about tae sink.” She took a long draught, giving him a mischievous glance. “’Tis indeed a fine drop.”
Mayhap the wine loosened her tongue, but she was more inclined to talk than he’d seen her before and her charming smiles came readily for a change.
They talked a little about their homes, and she spoke of life on the Isle of Canna, where she had spent her childhood among pirates. Like most of the islanders, he was aware of the stories and legends surrounding the ‘Pirate Isle’ and the danger fer any ships passing too close.
He told her a little about his sister, Raven, and the sweet wean she’d been forced to abandon, and how her return had brought so much happiness to Arne MacLeod, her husband.
Aileen did not miss a word. “And, tell me, MacNeil.” She brushed a fly-away strand of shining hair behind her ear. “D’ye have a sweetheart waiting fer ye back in Barra?”
He studied her, trying to gauge what was behind her question. Was it possible she cared whether he was wed or nae? She’d made it clear that she was behest to Andrew Sutherland, so her words took him by surprise.
“Nay, there’s nay lass missing me in her cold bed this night.” He turned to face her and meet her gaze full-on. “And what of ye? Is the Laird Sutherland lying cold and alone in his bed waiting fer ye tae return tae his loving arms?”
The color fled from her face and for an instant he thought she would fling the contents of her mug over him. Instead, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and gulped what wine remained.
“Touché, MacNeil. I shouldnae have asked ye such a question. ‘Tis nae business of mine who shares yer bed. Just as what ye asked me is nay business of yers.”
“I will take that as aye, Sutherland is yer man.”
She tossed her head and her wild hair flew around her face in a halo of gold and copper. Her eyes darkened. “Ye are wrong. Nay man belongs tae me and I belong tae nae man. Ye may mark that. I will kiss who I will.”
Her green eyes flashing fire, she leaned across the table, cupped his chin in her two hands, and kissed him fair on the lips. He drew back. This was not a kiss of passion but a statement of independence.
Unable to fathom why her kiss cut like a blade to his heart, Maxwell rose to his feet. “Methinks we are done fer this night. Another time we may meet over this board and ye’ll find a way tae best me.”
He bent her a courtly bow and took two strides toward the door. “I bid ye goodnight, Captain Aileen.”
Aileen was on her feet in in instant. “Nay. Nay, MacNeil. I wish ye tae stay here this night.”
He turned to her, eyes narrowed, waiting. There was some satisfaction in seeing her so flustered.
“Perhaps I acted rashly. I’ve offended ye and fer that I beg yer pardon.”
“Aye, lass. Ye offended me. I dinnae wish fer kisses given in temper or disdain. If ye kiss me again, I pray it be with passion that comes from yer heart.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her gaze for a moment. When she raised her eyes, they were as clear and green as glass.
At least she has the grace tae look abashed .
“I invite ye tae stay this night.” She gestured to the space on the floor where he’d slept before. Then she took down the pillow and rug from the shelf behind the curtain. “‘Tis warmer in here than out.”
Taking the pillow she offered, he issued a sighed. “Aye. Ye’re right. On a night like this it would nae take much tae wake up frozen tae death.”
She gave a throaty chuckle and the air between them grew more companionable and mellow at once. He settled on the floor, wrapped himself in his thick woolen cloak, curled under the old plaid rug and did his best to make himself comfortable.
“I wish ye goodnight, lass.”
“And I wish the same tae ye, MacNeil.”
This time it was Aileen who blew out the candles. The curtain was shuffled aside and she grunted as she swung herself into the hammock. After that, the only sound was the banshee howl of the wind and the waves slapping on the hull as the ship rocked them to sleep.
Maxwell woke with a jolt. He sat up, listening, then it dawned on him. The wind that had been their accompaniment for the past two days had ceased its howling and all was quiet. He rolled over, pulled up the rug and attempted to return to sleep.
But it would not come.
Instead of enjoying the peace and stillness, his mind began to whirl. Now that the weather had improved, they would soon set sail again. Each sweep of his oar would bring him closer to Castle Dunrobin and his anticipated encounter with Andrew Sutherland. He still had to find out the reason from Aileen behind Sutherland wanting his brother, yet he understood the man’s motivations were malevolent. His mind wandered into the past. As far as he was aware, there had never been any contact between them, so it was a puzzle to be unraveled. Part of him wanted to reach Dunrobin and understand what the damned laird wanted with Everard.
After spending some time tossing, he decided to give up the unequal battle. A walk in the still, night air might be enough to settle his thoughts and help him back to the land of dreams. He shoved aside the rug and scrambled to his feet.
Not wishing to disturb Aileen, he stole silently out of the cabin and walked toward the ship’s prow. The tide had gone down and the rocks were a mere step away. It occurred to him that if escape was on his mind, with little effort he could step from the ship and with only little further effort, he could be on land. And what next? He had no wish to escape. He would see this journey through and pray his brother would not follow.
If he was honest with himself, he not only wanted to deal with Sutherland and settle the notorious laird’s quarrel with the MacNeils for good, but he was fascinated by Aileen. A woman of contradictions, aloof and charming at the same time. Powerful yet vulnerable.
A longing came over him when he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her. He wanted to experience a kiss like the one they’d shared outside the tavern. She had fired up his senses and he wanted more of her. Plus, he wanted to see the hurt and distrust fade from those cat’s eyes, to see them replaced by the darkness of desire. His heart beat faster at the thought of taking her in his arms.
He shook his head to dispel the foolishness and leaned against the high curve of the prow, his eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. In the distance he spied a flickering light, no doubt from a crofter’s candle casting a dim glow from his tiny cottage. He was considering the peaceful, dutiful, life of a hard-working crofter when he heard someone behind him.
He turned in time to deflect a blow from the stout ebony truncheon, the same club Aileen had used to render him senseless when he first came on board. Only this time, it was Séamus who swung the weapon in his burly arms.
Despite the seaman’s strength, he was no match for a battle-hardened warrior, and in a trice, Maxwell had seized his wrist and twisted it. Séamus grunted in pain and dropped the heavy rod.
Maxwell drew in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, keeping hold of the man’s wrist. Séamus grunted in pain as Maxwell tightened his grip. He experienced little more than a modicum of surprise at the attack. The man had thrown enough disagreeable and suspicious looks his way throughout the voyage.
“What in the name of all that’s holy are ye about, lad?” He had no intention of releasing the man until he’d got to the bottom of what he’d been planning. “What did ye think ye’d achieve by braining me? Were ye planning to toss me to the fishes?”
It was then he saw Aileen standing silently behind Séamus. He squinted, looking to see if she held a weapon and, to his disgust, heard the clink of a chain.
His blood was rising and there was an alarming pounding in his temples. His voice was harsh. “And ye, Captain. Was it yer orders this simpleton was following?” Why, if I wished, I could break both these two nincompoops in half.
“Ye were planning to escape.” Her tone was almost petulant.
He gave a sharp laugh. “If I’d been planning to escape, I’d have been over the rocks and long gone before now, and ye’d never have kent I’d left ye until the light of day.” He snorted. “Did ye think tae chain me again? Did I nay give ye me word that I’d nae escape?”
A disbelieving grunt came from Séamus. “Ye only gave yer word nae tae escape at the market.”
Maxwell gave the man’s wrist another sharp twist. “Ye little bobbin’ churl, I should snap yer wrist. When a MacNeil gives his word that should be the end of it. I’ll nae tolerate yer disrespect.” He lifted his head and peered at Aileen with a snarl. “And that goes fer ye, as much as fer him.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath but was unable to make out her expression. “Mayhap we’ve been hasty MacNeil. But ye must realize there is much riding on us taking ye with us on our journey.”
“Oh? If I was aware of what ye want wi’ me that might make sense. As it is, I have nay patience wi’ ye.”
She seemed to think about this, as there was a pause before she spoke again. “Until I can trust ye, I’ll nae be giving ye our secrets.”
He still held Séamus in an unyielding grip. “Shall I snap yer man’s wrist, or will ye trust me enough fer me tae release him?”
“Release him.”
Maxwell slowly unfurled his fingers from the other man’s hand.
Séamus growled, rubbing his arm. “Ye’re strong, MacNeil. There’s few lads who can best me.”
“Well, remember that if you think of coming at me again.” He turned to see Aileen’s dark shape retreating along the deck, and strode after her. She wouldn’t escape his wrath so easily.
He caught up with her as she reached the cabin, following, as she flung open the door and stepped inside. She took off her cloak, tossed it over a chair and lit one of the candles, the chain still dangling from her fingers.
“And ye thought to tether me again?” His voice held a touch of menace, and she looked up, her mouth a round with surprise. “Dinnae deny it, Captain, fer I see the chain in yer hand.”
With one move he snatched the offending chain and hurled it to the floor while, at the same time, he bent her backwards, pinning her on the table. She struggled, letting out a series of indignant squawks.
“Séamus!”
Maxwell laughed. “Yell all ye like, but Séamus is of little use to ye with only one hand.”
“Ye’re a brute.” Her eyes were dark, gold-flecked, as she glared up at him. “Ye’re enjoying this.”
“Have ye nae learned yet, Aileen MacAlpin, that I can dae wi’ ye whatever I wish and ye cannae stop me.”
His gaze was on her lips and he bent his head as if poised to take her in a kiss.