The Seafaring Rogue

by Sky Purington

  “The whole of Britannia knew your good cap’n was out for vengeance,” she continued. “That he would stop at nothing to have it.” Deviousness lit her eyes. “So in exchange for my people’s safety, I told André I would make sure Fraser didnae kill his son when he finally caught up with him.”

  She shook her head, sad and remorseful. “Now, however, ’tis only a matter of time before André makes his move on my village.”

  Only Fraser seemed to see the manipulative light in her eyes as she again looked from man to man and sprung her trap. “Now I’m afraid the enemy will get to the treasure before us.” Her brows swept up in resignation. “After all, my parents know where ’tis hidden.” She pressed her lips together, woeful. “And I can tell ye with certainty, that if their bairns’ lives are threatened, they willnae hesitate to share.”

  Chapter Ten

  Several hours later, as they sailed up the eastern shores of Scotland she sat across a small table from Fraser in his cabin. Water slapped the sides of the hull and lanterns swung back and forth as the ship lolled.

  They had just finished eating, and Fraser had barely said a word. Rather, he appeared to be stewing in thoughts she imagined had to do with her swindling his crew into going on a treasure hunt.

  While relieved she had swayed them, her guilt only grew every moment that passed. Was she doing the right thing? Would she be able to come up with a more concrete plan before they arrived? Would she be able to save him?

  “I believe ye think even darker thoughts than me,” Fraser finally said, his voice deceptively soft, his eyes caught in the shadows. Though his demeanor appeared casual enough, she knew he watched her closely. Almost like a predator stalking their prey.

  “My thoughts are my own,” she murmured as her eyes met his. “I willnae apologize for my actions today, Fraser. Ye left me no choice.”

  “Ye gave me no time to leave ye a choice,” he countered. Though frustration furrowed his brow, his gaze was gentler than expected. “Ye assumed I wouldnae let ye risk your life again and you’re right. At least in those initial moments after I knew ye still lived.” He shook his head. “Had ye just given me time, ye have to know I would have done anything for ye, lass. Anything at all.”

  “I know,” she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes now. “I’ve just become used to a certain way of life. A certain type of people.” She clenched her jaw, embracing the unfailing grit she lived by now. “I tend to take what I need rather than wait and let it slip through my fingers.” Her eyes returned to his. “I take what I need so I appear strong, not weak.”

  Silence fell as he considered that. As he likely contemplated what it would have been like to live amongst Estienne’s crew for the past two years. But then she imagined he had been doing that since the moment he knew she still lived. Nay, far longer considering the road he had traveled since they last met. The lengths he was willing to go for her.

  “Though I might not have liked how ye went around me,” he said eventually. “Ye did give me renewed faith in what had to have been a verra dark time for ye. ’Tis no doubt ye earned the respect of all around ye and remained safer with Estienne’s crew than ye might have otherwise.”

  Strained silence settled again before he continued. His voice was lower now, thick with repressed angst. “Yet ye didnae escape completely unscathed.” His turbulent, disgusted eyes stayed with hers. “I cannae tell ye how sorry I am for what ye suffered at the hands of André Du Blanc.” A muscle leapt in his jaw, and he clenched his fists as if eager to strike his enemy. “’Tis a bloody wonder ye survived.”

  It truly was. She would never forget the blinding pain of being whipped. The endless blood. But she had never given up. Not through the long hours when infection set in. Not when she knew full well she was at death’s door.

  “’Twas ye and my daughter that got me through,” she whispered without meaning to. She cleared her throat and skirted around the whole truth. “I taught one of André’s wenches how to care for me. What poultices were necessary.” She offered a nod of acknowledgement. A platonic display of thanks. “And I thought of ye and your strength. It inspired me to stay strong through the worst of it.”

  While in reality, that was true, it went deeper. Far deeper.

  His gaze sharpened at the particular octave of her voice when she mentioned her daughter. His words were measured and careful when he spoke. “’Tis good that thoughts of your wee one helped ye through.”

  It was clear he knew there was more to this than she was saying.

  “Aye.” Though it was hard to speak of it, she found herself sharing more than intended. “’Twas indeed Estienne’s crew that raided my village so long ago. ’Twas his men that killed my husband and took my daughter.” She shook her head. “Even then he took his orders from André who had them raiding villages up and down the coast.” She tempered emotion when it tried to surface. “It was me calling out my daughter’s full name that night that alerted André to our presence there.”

  His expression darkened as she continued.

  “As ye know, after that raid, Douglas and Innis embraced piratehood and swore allegiance to the Devils of the Deep,” she said. “Shaw MacDougall’s name alone made attacking the village again far riskier, so André took a different approach and exercised a great deal of patience.”

  Fraser quickly put the pieces together. “Though the lad didnae know it, André sent Audric to ye with a purpose.”

  “Aye,” she confirmed. “An innocent boy who I suspect never volunteered information to his grandmother but had it cleverly manipulated out of him. Meanwhile, André bided his time, formulated a plan and waited for the perfect opportunity to take me.”

  “Bided his time indeed,” he murmured, no doubt referring to the great length of time that passed between raids.

  “Aye,” she said softly, in no mood to elaborate.

  Though Fraser’s gaze continued to darken hope sparked in his eyes. “And your daughter? Does she live?”

  She swallowed hard and set aside emotions once more.

  “At first André claimed she was still alive and used her survival as a means to force me to find the treasure.” She shook her head. “But even if I had the stones memorized that information was useless without finding the ruins of MacLauchlin Castle.”

  “Because that is the precise location ye need to stand for the stones to lead the way,” he supplied softly putting two and two together.

  “Aye,” she confirmed, detached because she had to be when she spoke of this. “In his rage, he confirmed my daughter’s death to dishearten and demoralize me then nearly whipped me to death so that my physical pain matched that of my mind and heart.”

  His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. “Ye believed him about your daughter’s death then? Truly?”

  “Not at first…I remained hopeful.” She pressed back against emotion yet again, refusing to feel it. She had separated herself from it long ago. Or so she thought. “’Twas the wench that saw to my wounds who verified his words, claiming her own sister had seen to my child before she met an untimely death.”

  Silence fell as he clearly struggled with her news. What she had endured. How unkind Fate had been.

  “I’m so sorry, lass,” he finally said softly.

  “’Tis all right,” she lied. “I had long accepted that ’twas a possibility and found some comfort in knowing it was over for her. That she was finally at peace.”

  The truth of it was the news defeated her, and she welcomed death after André whipped her. She would rather have joined her daughter in the afterlife. Yet something kept her going. Kept her from giving up. Not just the growing need to avenge her daughter but the man she would leave behind.

  Fraser.

  In the throes of fever, she was with him again in her mind. They were back in the cave. Then on the shore. Then she was in his arms when they danced in the village. A constant presence that helped her stave off death, he never left her side. He urged her to keep going. Inspired her
to live.

  Now, look at what she was about to do to him.

  The set-up he didn’t see coming.

  Not yet anyway.

  Her eyes went to her portrait. To the woman she once was. The love in her eyes.

  She would never have done what Elspeth was doing now. She would have never betrayed the man she loved.

  “Ye should do away with that portrait,” she said softly, unable to look at it anymore. “It doesnae portray me verra well.”

  Though it did. At least who she once was.

  “I’m sorry ye dinnae like it, lass.” His eyes never left her face. “I painted ye just as I remembered ye that eve.”

  Surprised, her eyes returned to his. “Ye painted it?”

  “Aye.” He shrugged, humble. “It seems I’m a wee bit artistic.”

  She nodded in agreement thinking of the ring he had made for her. Though tempted to touch it as she always did, she refrained. She didn’t want to give him hope where there might not be any. Yet as their eyes held, it felt like hope was sparking to life anyway. That it was unavoidable and destined despite the wayward paths they had traveled.

  She wondered though…did he have a chance to follow another path? Could he have returned to a better life than piracy?

  Curious, she asked as much. “Have ye remembered more about yourself then? More about your kin and your life before I found ye?”

  “I have,” he replied. “All of it.”

  Truly? Excited, she sat forward and rested her elbows on the table. “And?”

  “Let’s just say ’twas far more than I anticipated,” he murmured. “And that in many ways I was thrust from one curse into another the moment I lost ye.”

  “Och.” She took a swig of whisky and kept eying him. “So who were ye battling? Who left ye for dead?”

  “It doesnae matter now,” he said. “It hasnae for some time.”

  She frowned, not satisfied with that answer. “How vague!” She shook her head. “What of your clan? Have ye gone to visit them? Have ye learned of your position amongst them?”

  “I’ve seen them here and there,” he assured, as evasive as ever. “I am not a chieftain nor am I married.” One brow crawled up slowly. “Which leads me back to a question ye’ve yet to answer, lass.”

  “Ye think to worry about that when ye keep so much from me?”

  “Well, I can either focus on that.” He shifted forward ever-so-slightly, like a panther ready to pounce. “Or I can focus on all that ye continue to keep from me.”

  Hell and damnation, he knew she kept secrets.

  Mayhap even suspected that she was setting him up.

  “I dinnae know what ye mean,” she said.

  “Aye, ye do.”

  “Nay,” she insisted.

  “Aye.”

  “Nay.”

  Their eyes narrowed on one another at the same time.

  “Aye, ye do,” he said, his tone final.

  “Think what ye will then,” she spat then snapped her mouth shut. It was clear her words fell on deaf ears. Whether those words were true or not was neither here nor there. Not when he got her riled up like this.

  Some women might think him especially callous right now considering the news she just shared, but she wasn’t one of them. She knew his heart ached for her and her daughter, but that wasn’t the matter at hand. Nay, his intolerance for lies fueled his current disposition. More pointedly, if she were to guess, the sort of lies that risked her safety.

  Be that as it may, she would not be revealing any hidden truths in her current mood. If ever. The fact she was even wavering on it now frustrated her. She needed to keep a calm, collected mind. Not let him wheedle information out of her.

  Their resolute gazes remained locked as silence fell once again. The lanterns cast his face in and out of shadows, adding to the ominous and unpredictable set of his expression.

  “It may not be now, but I’ll get my answers, lass,” he ground out in warning. “When I do, ye will get yours.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, scowled and muttered, “Ye really have changed, Fraser MacLomain.”

  “As have ye,” he bit back. “Ye wear my ring so ’tis clear ye still love me.” He shook his head, baffled, his temper obviously getting the better of him. “Yet here ye sit lying to me when ye could bloody well be in my bed where ye belong!”

  Where she belonged? As if it were her place to be on her back with her legs spread.

  “And here I thought I belonged on your bloody desk!” she snapped as she launched to her feet.

  He might have her pegged about lying, but she did not have to tolerate his crass words. Though it was the hardest thing she had ever done, she ripped the ring off and slammed it down on the table. “And the only reason I kept this was for financial security lest I found myself in a position only a pretty bauble might get me out of!”

  When she went to storm by him, he caught her elbow. “Where do ye think you’re going?”

  “Out for some fresh air.” She yanked her arm away. “’Tis too oppressive in here.”

  Sure to slam the door as she left, she yanked on her hat out of habit and slumped her shoulders a little as she stepped around coiled rigging and headed for the bow. Though she had made headway with his crew, it was best to remain cautious and not tempt Fate. With that thought in mind earlier, she had seen to the man’s cheek she and Fraser’s blades had nicked. Best that the men favor her rather than start doubting her.

  Flickering lanterns hung port and starboard as an old salt lounged around and played his hornpipe from a platform on the foremast. Others meandered about, some humming along, some tapping their feet as they swigged whisky.

  The moon was wide and full, sparkling over the dark sea as she clenched the railing and tried to calm her emotions. For all the long nights such as this dreaming of the day she would stand aboard Fraser’s ship, she found no satisfaction. Though she knew what she intended to do was for the greater good, so much could go wrong.

  Yet in her selfishness, she had hatched this plan, then the tides had been turned on her. She had been outmaneuvered by André. Outsmarted at her own game. Now she needed to think. To outwit him in return.

  “It is a night of beautiful, yes? Oui?” came Audric’s voice before he appeared out of the darkness beside her. “Qu’on se souvienne.”

  She flinched at his last words. A night to remember? Mayhap under different circumstances.

  “Qu’on se souvienne,” she replied, pretending to agree. “’Tis good to see ye again, my friend.” She offered a warm smile before she embraced him. “Ye have grown much and traveled a different path than intended, aye?”

  He nodded, his eyes worried as she pulled away.

  “I know everything,” she confirmed, determined to put his mind at ease. “And ye dinnae need to be sorry.” She shook her head. He was not to be faulted for his kin’s actions. For André’s greedy ambition and murderous ways. “I agree with Cap’n Fraser and believe ye were innocent of any wrongdoing.”

  Audric nodded, plainly fighting emotion as he slumped with relief. “I am so sorry regardless. I am related to some…” He struggled to find the right words. “Hommes méchants…evil men.”

  “One evil man,” she corrected. “But rest assured, the enemy’s actions dinnae reflect on ye, Audric. Ye arenae anything like André Du Blanc, ye ken?”

  Not to say Estienne was any prize either. He was rotten, spineless and deserving of death. He just wasn’t quite as demonic as his da. Not yet anyway.

  Audric offered a jerky nod, clearly appreciative of her reassuring words. Even so, a frown remained settled on his face as he stood beside her and eyed the sea. “This André will be very unhappy to lose you, yes?”

  “Verra,” she lied.

  “He must be very hateful of the cap’n,” he said. “A man determined to put death to his son.”

  “Aye,” she confirmed.

  “A man who knew your family secrets as well as I,” Audric remarked softly
.

  Her eyes slid his way. “Aye.”

  “A man who knew where you kept those stones.”

  “Ye knew where I kept them too,” she murmured, curious to see where the lad was going with this.

  “I went back for them with a…” he struggled to find the right words again, “in a deep hope I could give them to my kin in exchange for you.” His suspicious eyes met hers. “Yet they were not there.”

  Though he acted the part of someone perplexed, it was clear he was anything but. He had a theory, and she suspected she knew what it was.

  “My brother knew where the stones were too,” she reminded. “And my parents.”

  “True,” he conceded. “But none made it to the cave before me that night.” His voice remained soft. “Only one man was on the shore trying to get you back the eve you were taken. Only one man had the time to get there before me.” He cocked his head. “But I think you already know that.”

  She narrowed her eyes and played dumb. “What are ye trying to say?”

  But she knew. He surmised Fraser had the stones. Moreover, he suspected she was aware of that.

  Instead of answering and continuing a conversation which heavily implied she plotted against Fraser, he approached from a different angle.

  “Have you heard tales of what happened after you were taken?” He stared at the sea again, his gaze hard to read. “Of Cap’n Fraser’s actions?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “He embraced his rage and turned pirate.”

  “Rage was the least of it,” he murmured as his eyes returned to hers. “There was also…” he searched for words again, “a great deep sadness the likes of which I have never seen. A man who seemed to have lost his very soul.” His brows pinched together. “Yet before all else, before the fury that consumed him, he saw to what he knew would be your wishes. Your family’s well-being.”

  “I heard that was Douglas’ doing,” she said.

  “He helped.” Audric shook his head. “But ’twas Fraser who thought with a clear head and got them to safety. Who moved them across the whole of Scotland, setting aside his grief whilst he pacified your sisters and distraught parents.” Sadness reflected in his eyes. “’Twas he who held little Greer every night until she drifted off to sleep, her tears at last dry.”