Page 35 of Wild Hearts

"Of course you must. Your hands would freeze otherwise," Shannon pointed out.

"How do you know Johnny Raven will meet you tonight?" asked Tabby hesitantly.

Shannon smiled in her slow, secret way. "He comes every night, whether I can meet him or not. When the snow flies, the gypsies move south. They follow the seasons, so I won't see him again until next summer."

In bed, Paris's thoughts strayed upward as they did every night. He had to exercise a will of iron not to climb the staircase that led to his heart's desire. She responded to him best when he kept a small, polite distance between them. He frowned when he recalled how eager she had been for the voyage once she learned their destination was Leith. So again she was going to try to escape him. His body shifted about in the feather-bed until his back found the exact spot it wanted. He lifted his hands behind his head and concentrated on Tabrizia. He smiled to himself as he realized he was enjoying this game they played. He was the hunter, she the prey. He circled her so widely, never closing in to take the prize, savoring every movement of the dance that led to possession.

Above, in her bed, Tabrizia heard the familiar thud of The Mangler as she collapsed against the outside of her chamber door. Damn, why had she let herself become attached to the beast? Her thoughts went from the dog to its master, whom she had heard moving around below her. Her heart skipped a beat. God, if she didn't go tomorrow, she would never be able to tear herself away from him.

The moment she stepped aboard the Sea Witch, Tabrizia experienced a strong déjàvu. The shifting deck beneath her feet, the creaking of the vessel and the cries of the circling terns as they moved out on the tide came rushing back as though they were preserved in the amber of eternal memory. As she turned her head to the voice shouting the orders, the wind whipped her hood away and wreaked havoc with the tumbling mass of red curls. The ship's rail, with the thick rope running along its edge, seemed almost familiar to her senses, as if she had sailed on a ship before. She couldn't resist taking her hand from the fur muff and tracing the rough surface with her finger. A voice close to her ear whispered strongly, "I can tell you are a sensuous creature by the way you breathe in the salt tang as if it were the elixir of life."

As she turned to him, her hair blew back from the perfectly proportioned heart that was her face. He pulled up her hood to tuck in the long, errant tresses, and a sensation of dejavu swept over them both, making them feel it had happened exactly so in another century, as though they had always been together throughout eternity. She swayed toward him. He bent his head, his lips claiming what had always been and always would be his. With a tremendous effort she managed to pull away before she drowned. He excused himself so he could set the sails with his own hands for the short run north.

When he returned to her side, she had regained her composure, and he was content to let her keep a small, cool distance between them. "There is just time to give you a quick tour belowdecks, before we change directions and head west. We'll come back up on deck in time to see Tantallon Castle before we turn into the Firth .of Forth."

The Sea Witch was richly appointed. Polished red mahogany and brass gleamed everywhere. The captain's cabin was lavishly decorated in an Eastern manner. A priceless Oriental carpet set off inlaid Chinese lacquered cabinets. The bed was low to the floor with black, raw silk covers, embroidered. with golden dragons and pagodas. Copper braziers filled with glowing coals warmed the air, which seemed to be scented with sandalwood. In answer to her upraised eyebrows, he admitted, "All plundered from a China clipper that sailed across my gunsights once."

"Do you always take what you fancy?" she demanded.

"Always," he snapped wolfishly, and the blood rose up and stained her cheeks, so intimate was the atmosphere in the cabin.

He moved toward a kettle steaming over a spirit lamp to mix brandy and sugar with the boiling water. "Here, take this up on deck with you: The weather is bracing today."

Back at the rail, she sipped the fiery liquid gratefully.

"Look there, it's Tantallon. We are too far out for you to get a good look. On the way back we will sail in closer to shore so you can see it better."

Her eyelashes quickly veiled her eyes, lest he read in them that she did not intend to make the return trip. She was relieved that he was called away to pilot the ship into the Firth of Forth, and warmed herself with the brandy. She looked up to see the Sea Witch's mainsheet squared, her topsails filled, as the ship came about with the wind.

As they sailed closer to Leith, other vessels became visible. The traffic was heavy, the tall masts too numerous to count. Tabby was fascinated with the bustling port. Sights she had never seen before captured her imagination. The smells were as varied as the sights, with the catch of the fishing boats predominating. When the Sea Witch launched a large rowing boat and the men crowded into it, she feared they would row in for supplies and leave the ship out in the harbor, but with the help of ropes and lines, they tugged the huge vessel into a berth at the dockside. She watched the anchor lowered, the sails furled up, the ropes coiled about stanchions, the gangplank put down.

Paris walked down the ramp onto the dock but seemed to wait there without moving off. She watched him, waiting for just one moment when she could steal away. The wait seemed endless, but in less than an hour, the supplies Paris had been waiting for arrived. When his men started to carry barrels on board, he reboarded the ship to supervise the stowing. Then the men loaded some heavy-looking crates, and while everyone was busy, she slipped silently down the gangplank, stepped onto the quayside and immediately came face-to-face with Troy. He hoisted her over his shoulder like a ditty bag and leaped up the gangplank.

She kicked and screamed with all her might, pummeling her tight little fists into his back furiously. She felt cheated, thwarted and totally ineffectual against these Cockburns. She felt so angry and so helpless, she began to cry, the tears flooding her eyes, the sobs causing great gulps and gasps as she cursed her fate. Her heart sank, and she cursed herself for not using enough caution.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Troy shouted happily.

"Permission granted; Mr. Cockburn;" commanded Paris formally,

"Where shall I stow this last piece, Captain?"

"I don't want the baggage," he answered coldly. "Let the crew have her."

The color drained from her face. "No... please..." she cried.

Paris gently lifted her from Troy's arms. "Lassie, I'm just plaguing ye." He grinned at Troy as if he hadn't seen him in years, and Troy grinned back. They obviously shared some knowledge that made them deliriously happy. Troy looked at the supplies they had loaded, and then back to Tabrizia. "Who was it said you couldn't have your cake and eat it, too?" He laughed.

Paris set her in a sheltered corner atop a thick coil of rope, and tactfully left her to dry her eyes. She resigned herself to the fact that she would be returning to Cockburnspath. Was she truly sad or was she happy that she was returning to his captivity, her escape plan so easily thwarted? Her thoughts were all introspective, so she didn't notice anything unusual in the way Paris and Troy were acting.

On the short run home, Paris came to stand beside Tabrizia. He was elated. His plan had worked smoothly. He had the gold and he had the girl. It lacked only one thing to be perfect. He needed her to capitulate, to accept her fate willingly. He gave her an odd look that mingled pain and pleasure. She thought he was going to speak, but he caught back the words, and a deep scowl darkened his features. He spun on his heels and, with swift, angry strides, joined his men. She was bewildered. She didn't know what he wanted of her, but she felt that without saying one word, she had displeased him. It was best to keep out of his way when he was in one of his angry moods.

Shannon had to restrain herself from going down to the ship. She had sighted the sails an hour past as she stood atop the Lady Tower. Paris hadn't divulged his plans to her, but she was shrewd enough to know he'd try to get the gold without giving up the prize.

Tabrizia came in first, disheveled and windblown from the invigorating day at sea. "Thank you for the muff, Shannon. My escape into Leith was unsuccessful. It seems I fail at everything I attempt."

Shannon smiled sympathetically at the miserable girl. "You'll have to put up with us for a while longer, I'm afraid."

When Paris came into the solarium, his face was so impassive that Shannon learned nothing. But the moment Troy appeared, his face split with a wide, triumphant grin, she knew they had pulled it off.

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