“A sword’s wrath, you were almost killed!”
She nodded, still working to calm herself after her near capture.
“Oh, God.” He pulled her to him and kissed her.
She tasted his fear, his vehemence to protect her. Marie returned his kiss and wished everything were different. That she could tell Colyne she loved him. That they could have forever.
The dark-haired stranger gave a victorious laugh. “I have nae tasted a brawl like that since Cádiz a year past.”
Colyne broke the kiss and scowled at the man.
Undaunted, the stranger’s smile widened. “You have hidden out in the Highlands too long.” His brows rose with male appreciation as he studied Marie. “This is the fair Alesia, I take it?”
Colyne muttered a curse, which earned another laugh from the intimidating stranger.
“My lady,” the black-haired man said with an easy calm, as if behind them the wharf wasn’t tangled in a battle of flesh and steel.
Who was he? He’d helped them, so obviously a friend of Colyne’s.
“Lady Alesia,” Colyne offered, his expression far from amused, “may I present to you my friend, Thomas Kirketon, Earl of Logan, captain of the Kincaid.”
“The captain?” Heat burned her cheeks.
The notorious-looking man winked at her. “Did you believe all of Colyne’s friends to be as boring as he?”
Colyne grunted his dismissal.
Muscles bunched as the earl dragged the oars through the water. “The lad does nae understand the thrill found in battle. The satisfaction wrought from relieving English ships of their gold. Or arms.”
She hesitated. “You are a brigand?”
Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “To some, perhaps.”
Unsure what to make of this intimidating yet intriguing man, Marie slanted a look toward Colyne. Under his fierce stare, concerns about the captain and his disreputable endeavors faded.
As they neared the Kincaid, a sailor tossed down a rope.
“Stay here.” With the grace of one long accustomed to moving in the confines of a boat, Colyne stepped to the bow. He picked up thefloating line and pulled them closer as Logan stowed the oars inside the small craft.
With a muffled thud, they bumped against the ship’s hull. Marie glanced back, relieved that the angle of the ship blocked them from the view of any onshore.
A sailor on deck dropped a rope ladder, which clattered against the side.
“Go on,” Colyne urged Alesia. As she started up, he followed. A tremor rippled through him at the memory of how near she’d come to death. Thank God he’d heard her scream.
“That was blasted close,” Logan said, his face flushed with excitement as he climbed on deck following Colyne. The captain studied Alesia with concern. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Oui. My thanks.”
From her pallor, Colyne had his doubts. “I shall tend to her in your cabin.”
“I will join you once we have safely cleared the harbor,” Logan said.
Colyne nodded, then guided Alesia to the captain’s cabin and closed the door. Alone, he hugged her, terrified at how close he’d come to losing her.
Alesia clasped her arms around him, her frantic pulse a testimony that she still relived her nightmare.
“I told you to stay with the bishop,” he rasped. “I had made plans to ensure you sailed to France without danger.”
