Truth told it was the best swordplay he had enjoyed in ages.
As they ducked and swirled around others, the boy not only used the sun to his advantage but various parts of the main deck. With his limber size, he remained one step ahead, maneuvering through things Fraser had to circumvent. He would use rigging to swing around a mast before he caught him in the chest again. Then he’d scramble back and trip a random fighter who would then barrel into Fraser.
By the time he finally caught up with him, the little rug rat had him in a good rage.
Enjoyable competition or not, he was supposed to be watching Estienne’s blood trail down his body from various well-placed slashes. He was supposed to be enjoying the terror in his eyes under Fraser’s torturous onslaught. Yet nay, instead he was getting bested by a twig of a boy that barely seemed winded.
Well, no more.
Enough with this nonsense.
With a mighty roar, he attacked him with everything he had. All the fury and heartache he had suffered. Brutal, methodical, he came at the boy so fast he had no chance. Two strikes later, he finally managed to knock the sword from the lad’s hand. Before he knew what hit him, Fraser grabbed the front of his tunic, brought him to the deck and whipped out his dagger.
Shaking with rage, he wedged the blade against the lad’s neck, ready to swipe, but stopped short. Though he had embraced his berserker and his fury made anything outside of killing hazy, something got through. Something he thought at first must be an illusion as he finally saw the lad’s face for the first time.
The stubborn notch of his chin.
The curve of his cheek.
Most especially, the fire in his eyes.
This was no lad but a lass.
The lass.
He had been moments away from slaying not the enemy but the love of his life.
As he lived and breathed, his rival was none other than Elspeth MacLauchlin.
Chapter Eight
For the first time in two long years Elspeth once again stared into the eyes that had kept her going. Icy pale blue eyes that she always returned to in her endless, haunted dreams. While she wanted to grab onto him and never let go, she knew she could not.
“Ye have to let Estienne go, Fraser,” she whispered as he yanked his blade away and stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. “Ye’ve got to let him go, or my kin will die.”
Thankfully, fighting was still going on around them so Estienne could not hear.
But he could see.
“Estienne and his kin know where ye moved my village and family,” she whispered, trembling as she tried to get through to him. “If he dies at your hand, his father will end them before we make it halfway around Scotland.”
When he shook his head, still mute, she tried to get through another way and growled through clenched teeth, “Do ye ken, Cap’n MacLomain? If ye murder Estienne now, ye’ll murder everyone I care about.” She pleaded with her eyes. “Ye’ll murder Da, Ma, Arabel, wee Greer. All I have left in this world.”
That, it seemed, broke the barrier of his stupefaction because he nodded once.
“Good,” she whispered and swallowed hard, sure to look afraid. “Now you’re going call off your men and leave me behind.”
His eyes narrowed at that, and he finally found his voice. “Bloody hell, nay.” He shook his head. “I’ll not leave ye, lass.”
“Ye will,” she assured, having adapted a very specific tone when dealing with Estienne. One of authority. “And ye will do it right now.”
But of course, Fraser was not Estienne.
His brows slammed together as a scowl ravaged his face. “I willnae.”
“Ye will.”
“Nay.”
“Aye.” She shook her head, kept her eyes cold and said what needed saying. “I dinnae love ye anymore, Fraser. I havenae for some time.”
For a flicker of a moment, his expression mimicked the one he wore when she kicked him in the chest. But he quickly recovered, not convinced in the least as his doubtful eyes narrowed. “Ye just say that to drive me away.”
“I say it because ’tis true.” She frowned, not entirely fibbing with her disgusted response. “I’ve heard about your endless exploits with wenches. How ye might claim to seek vengeance over your long lost love, but it doesnae stop ye from lusting just fine.” Her eyes widened. “And in case ye need reminding, such romping was bragged about long before my supposed death.”
Granted he had his needs and she was supposedly long gone, but still. If she heard another wench rave in port about the dashing Cap’n Fraser “The Rogue” MacLomain and his powerful and verra stiff mainmast, she was going to slit someone’s throat.
Fraser didn’t banter with more words but simply kept his eyes narrowed on hers for another too-long moment before he leapt up. For a split second, it appeared he would indeed leave her, but she should have known better. Instead, he flung her over his shoulder, roared for his men to follow and leapt aboard his ship.
All the while she screamed, kicked and punched, but he deflected well.
“Dinnae do this,” she seethed softly. “My kin is safer if I stay with him.”
“’Tis clear now your kin isnae safe no matter where ye are,” he countered. “So you’re better off with me.”
In a perfect world, yes. But this was not it.
“Stop struggling,” he growled.
“Nay,” she spat. “If you’re determined to be a stubborn swine then I’ll at least make it clear I have no wish to go with ye.”
She screamed Estienne’s name, sure to make the pitch of her voice piercing.
“Ye wee bloody…” Fraser began, muttering more under his breath as he stomped inside, and headed for the captain’s quarters of his ship. Still muttering something about her not knowing what was good for her and that this was no way to greet him, he tossed her on his bed.
Elspeth scrambled after him but not fast enough. In the short time it took her to race his way, he yanked a man by a leash after him and slammed the door shut in her face. She tried to tug it open, but it was no use.
He had locked it.
She flew to the long row of windows that lined the back wall and peered out, desperate to see what was happening. Would he do as she asked? Or would he kill Estienne?
“Please dinnae, Fraser,” she whispered as she leaned her forehead against the pane and closed her eyes. Her kin were at stake. Surely that would mean something. Surely he would be able to see past his rage and do the right thing.
Though she could view little of what was happening on Estienne’s ship, when she opened her eyes again she could see another. Her brother’s ship was pulling up alongside theirs. She put a hand over her mouth, fighting emotion as she stared at it.
Douglas.
How she had missed him. How she had missed them all.
Her eyes slowly drifted around the room as it finally sank in that she was no longer aboard the enemy’s ship. That she was, without question, the safest she had been in years.
That she was with Fraser again.
Like him, the room was very masculine. A large, sturdy oak desk sat in front of the windows and furnishings were sparse but expensive. Tasteful. She inhaled deeply, drawing in his lingering spicy scent before her eyes landed on a painting across from his desk. It was a remarkable likeness of her in a most unexpected position.
Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she gazed at it.
In the portrait, she sat in front of the fire as she had in the cave that night. Her head was bent as she gazed at the ring he had made for her. The one he slipped on right before asking her to marry him. While she remembered feeling a great many things at that moment, the look in her eyes bespoke only one thing.
Love.
The woman in that painting had finally met the great love of her life and saw a future she never expected. A fresh beginning. A chance to start over with a new family and mayhap even have another wee bairn. Funny, until she looked at the picture, she didn’t realize how hopeful she had been. How na�
�ve despite all she had gone through already.
She wiped away a stray tear, turned from the painting and sighed. She had been foolishly hopeful but knew better now. Dreaming of such things only ended in pain. Because there was always someone out there determined to take it away from you.
Her eyes whipped outside again when the ship began moving. Hands braced on the sill, she prayed to God Fraser had listened. That he hadn’t chosen vengeance over her kin. Her heart lurched then stilled as she waited with baited breath.
Was this it?
Was all lost?
Soon enough, they cleared the enemy ship, and she could see.
“Oh, thank ye,” she whispered hoarsely.
Estienne’s ship was in bad shape with shredded sails, but it remained afloat. More importantly, its captain was alive. When Estienne’s gaze found hers, there was no mistaking the masked approval in his eyes. The sinister triumph hidden beneath his purposeful scowl. May God save her soul for her part in that dark conniving look. For aiding such vermin.
She lingered there, watching until the door flung open. Not to Fraser but her brother.
“Elspeth,” he whispered, staring at her, dumbfounded. “Is it really ye, lass?”
“Aye,” she barely got out before he crossed the room, pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly.
“I didnae think ye lived…” he whispered then trailed off.
Accustomed to keeping tears well hidden in front of others, she clenched her teeth, fought a wave of emotion and returned his embrace. Eventually, he held her at arm’s length and looked her over.
“What happened to ye?” Worry and anger knit his brows. “Did they hurt ye?”
“Nay.” She frowned and shook her head. While she wanted to tell him everything, including the urgency of their situation now, she had watched what happened out on the water. She knew her brother could be impetuous if his emotions got the better of him. “I need to talk to Fraser.”
She might be aggravated with him right now, but it was clear he was an excellent seaman and a savvy pirate. And that is what she needed right now. Someone who would think well and act decisively.
“Can we not catch up first, Sister?” Douglas asked. “Ye dinnae know what it’s been like for me… for all of us.”
“We will catch up,” she assured him, making her voice a little firmer. “But right now I need to speak with Fraser. ’Tis important, Brother.”
A heavy frown settled on his face, but he nodded. “Aye, then, Elspeth…but ye should know he’s a changed man. He isnae the Fraser ye once knew.”
“I heard the rumors, Douglas,” she said softly. “I know what he’s become.”
“I’m not referring to the rumors,” he replied. “Half of those were fabricated anyway.” He considered her before he confessed to more than Fraser would likely want her to know. “I refer more so to the bitterness that has eaten at him over time. The need to catch an enemy that forever eluded him…the heartache he suffered at your loss.”
“Aye, but he saw to that heartache just fine,” she muttered.
Her brother eyed her in confusion for a moment before he took her meaning. “Och, ye cannae mean the wenches, aye?”
She shrugged, not about to have a conversation that further entertained petty jealousy.
“’Twas not what ye think betwixt him and the wenches Elspeth,” Douglas said. “Aye, like any man with needs, though he might have enjoyed one on occasion, they were but part of the long game he’s been playing. A grateful part, I’d say, with fuller purses for it.”
She suddenly felt the fool as their eyes held. He was telling the truth.
But of course, he was. This was Fraser they were talking about. No matter how much he might have changed, even in his darkest hour, he would remain noble minded when it came to the innocent. Had he not proven as much in his long pursuit of avenging her? Of seeing her captor brought to justice however ruthless and sinister the reckoning might have been?
Nevertheless, now was not the time to dwell on such things. She had to remain focused.
“I need to speak with him, Douglas,” she persisted.
Her brother sighed and eyed her before he finally nodded.
“Aye, then,” he muttered. “I’ll let him know.”
“Thank ye.” She embraced him again and then began pacing after he left.
Anxious, she tried to sort out how to word things. How to keep her emotions under wrap as she shared information that would surely test Fraser’s patience even further. She had to do it though. For those she cared about. So she breathed deeply several times, straightened her shoulders and reassured herself that he was just another man and that she could handle him.
Yet when the door finally opened, and he stood there, his eyes brooding as they locked on hers, she remembered all too well that Fraser was not just another man. Though she thought it impossible, life at sea clearly agreed with him, and he was even fiercer and more handsome than she remembered.
He wore the MacLomain plaid she had fixed for him, black boots, a white tunic and a bandana wrapped around his head. Bearded now with far more small braids interwoven in his hair, tattoos etched his sun darkened skin. Any gauntness he might have suffered from his illness years ago was long gone. If anything, he seemed more muscular and imposing.
Neither said a word for several moments as he closed the door and they continued eying one another. He had a way of filling a room no matter how large it was. A way of being all around her though he still stood several feet away. For a flicker of a moment, she saw raw pain in his eyes, but it soon vanished, to be replaced with a hardened look that hadn’t been there before.
Douglas was right. He had changed.
But not in some ways. Not in how he felt about her. That had been clear when he, at last, recognized her. The surge of disbelief then joy before she had doused the reunion with harsh words.
“Tell me what happened, Elspeth,” he finally ground out. He remained where he was, his fists clenched, and his body tight as his eyes stayed on hers. “Tell me all of it.”
She would. At least what he needed to know.
So she led with information that would diffuse his anger rather than ignite it. “I was never raped or hurt in any way.”
Hurt beyond repair that is.
“Rather, I was taken by Estienne for a verra specific reason,” she continued. “Of course, because I had knowledge of the stones and treasure but also to see to his wounded father, André. A vicious and dangerous man indeed.”
Fraser remained silent and went to a side cabinet for whisky as she continued.
“I saved André’s life,” she said. “In exchange, rather than give me to his men, he gave me to Estienne. ’Twas more of an indulgence than anything. Someone to make a man out of him, entertain him and heal him if he was wounded.” She shook her head. “For that, I remained safe from Estienne’s crew as well.”
Fraser handed her a mug of whisky, his lips a grim line, his voice low and dangerous. “And did ye make a man out of him, lass? Did ye entertain him?”
“Rest assured, I wasnae his type if ye take my meaning,” she replied. “But aye, I entertained him well enough with my wit.” She remembered all too well the sleepless nights formulating her next interesting tale. Thankfully, she was not new to storytelling. Such a thing had often helped keep her patients’ mind off their pain. “So whether or not I was in the mood, I became someone worth listening to no matter how tall my tale. I made sure to befriend him.”
Or at least keep him mildly amused.
“And this?” He fingered her hat before his eyes slowly roamed down her loosely clad body.
She had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel his gaze. The way it tore down her defenses. How heat fired beneath her skin from one smoldering look.
“This clothing was freedom,” she said softly as she pulled off the knit cap. “After nearly half a year of being tucked away in his cabin, I finally convinced Estienne that I needed inspiration so that m
y stories remained intriguing.” She set aside the hat and raked a hand through her shoulder-length locks. “I needed the sea and life and people to infuse me. I needed fodder for a good story.”
“So ye became a pirate,” Fraser murmured, stepping a wee bit closer.
“Aye, ’twas the only way Estienne would allow it,” she replied. “I was not to entice his men. So I cut my hair, wrapped my chest, dressed appropriately and embraced piratehood as only a young, adventuresome lad could.”
The look in his eyes when they fell to her wrapped chest bespoke a man remembering well what lay beneath the material. Or had almost known. She took a hearty swig of whisky not only to distract him but to soothe her suddenly dry throat.
Changed or not, the man still made her heart race.
“Though Estienne’s crew already knew he had a lass on board, it was still a period of adjustment when I began working aboard the ship,” she went on, trying not to flinch as she recalled those first few months. “’Twas at that time, rumors were spread that I’d been killed. This made wandering eyes less likely to see Cap’n Fraser MacLomain’s missing lass when they looked my way.” She slanted him a look. “Or should I say, see the bountiful loot ye were willing to offer for my safe return.”
“I would have paid anything,” he murmured, his eyes on hers, his focus fully on what she had endured. “Tell me about this period of adjustment ye suffered when first becoming a pirate.”
She should have known he would not let that slip by unaddressed.
“’Twas as it would have been for any lass in such a position.” While tempted to step away because his proximity made thinking difficult, she did not. “But I learned how to handle myself.” Did she ever. It was not only a matter of avoiding rape but even death at times. “No eye contact and certainly no feminine actions of any sort.” She notched her chin, proud of how far she had come. “I learned to sail well, fight better and thieve as good as the lot of them.”
“Aye.” Despite his aggravation, she swore a twinkle lit his eyes. “And I see ye remembered what I taught ye.”
“I did.” He was referring to her initial method when they battled on Estienne’s ship. If she was going to act the novice, do so well. “’Twas good advice and helped me on more than one occasion.”
The Seafaring Rogue Page 7
