The Seafaring Rogue

by Sky Purington

  The moment was nearly here.

  A moment he never thought would come.

  “Cap’n!” came a much unwanted voice. “Ye said to let ye know when we were close.”

  “Aye, Magnus,” he roared. He swore his first mate did this on purpose. “And you’ve let me know!”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Magnus agreed as Fraser twirled his tongue around one pert, delicious nipple, enjoying her groan as he prayed his first mate would go away.

  “I think mayhap ye’ll want to reassess the situation,” Magnus continued, dashing his hopes. “The fog’s comin’ in earlier than expected.”

  “’Tis good that,” he growled before he returned to her lips and wrapped his tongue with hers.

  “As is the storm,” Magnus added.

  “Bloody hell,” he growled as he reluctantly tore his lips from hers. He cursed a few more times and hung his head. That unfortunately put a swift end to things.

  After all, the storm was an integral part of his plan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elspeth stood on the helm next to Fraser, impressed by his plan. “Ye got lucky with this weather, aye?” Eyes narrowed on the heavy fog bank they were heading into, she sought out the others, but there was no sign of them. “Douglas’ and Innis’ ships are well and truly hidden.”

  Because of the time of year, cold and warm fronts came together more often in this area, and Fraser intended to use that to his advantage. Not only would Estienne’s two ships be blinded by fog, allowing The Sea Hellions to position themselves favorably, but he was being led straight into dangerous waters.

  “’Twould have been better if the weather held off a bit longer,” Fraser commented, eying his sails before he shrugged, fearless. “But ’twill not be the first time we’ve had to ride out a storm the likes of this one.”

  The sails were being reefed just enough to allow for maneuverability.

  As was pre-planned, when Fraser ordered his men to grab what they could off Estienne’s ships, it wasn’t for what meager loot they could gather but to provide weight on The Sea Hellions’ ships. Now all three hulls were made heavier with evenly distributed, strapped down weight. As it were, speed would soon become less important than keeping the ships from flipping.

  He eyed her curiously. “Are ye ready for this, lass?”

  “Och, aye!” she exclaimed, grinning. If anything had offered her pleasure through the endless darkness over the past few years, it was the thrill of being on the sea during a good storm.

  Fraser chuckled and shook his head. “Mayhap ye’ve gone a wee bit mad after all?”

  “No madder than ye,” she pointed out, well aware his excitement didn’t entirely have to do with finally getting his hands on the enemy.

  “You’ll take shelter in my cabin when it gets bad,” he assumed.

  She shook her head. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  About to remark that he should know her better than that by now, she snapped her mouth shut when he handed her a leather strap with a twinkle in his eyes. “Then ye will at least strap down, aye?”

  He had known all along she intended to remain on deck.

  “Aye, Cap’n,” she assured, her smile as rakish as his as they anticipated what lay on the horizon. A raging storm, death to their enemies and soon enough, a welcome reunion with her kin. She set aside all thought that André might be with them right now. That he might have hurt them.

  “’Twill speak of how well ye all work together if ye pull this off,” she murmured, eager to see his plan in action. “And how well ye sail this ship.” She gave him the praise he deserved. “If ’tis half as good as what ye displayed yesterday we should be just fine.”

  “Aye, lass,” he replied. “The key will be in stealing Estienne away whilst still in the fog.” The corner of his mouth shot up. “Then we’ll give his crew a merry chase through the storm.”

  “So they dinnae have a chance to fire off a cannon, aye?”

  “Aye.” He shook his head. “If they do I can only hope the severity of the storm will mask the sound.”

  Though they were a ways from shore, she understood his concern. Sound could carry on the wind, and they didn’t want André to be alarmed. As far as he knew, Fraser would be sailing into harbor ignorant of Estienne’s presence.

  “I hope Innis takes care,” she said softly as the fog kept thickening. “And remains out of the line of fire.”

  As it stood, Innis should at this moment be sneaking up on Estienne’s ship, set to kidnap the captain out from under his crew’s noses. Once they had him, they would let Estienne’s men know, and the pursuit would begin.

  “Dinnae worry about Innis. He’s a bloody good captain,” Fraser said. “Not to mention, he has a man that can sneak up on a ship undetected and snatch just about anything. Especially in this kind of fog.”

  She nodded, understanding why Innis’ ship was the best choice to keep Estienne on right now. Of the three men, he was the least likely to end the enemy before they put him to good use.

  Time seemed to crawl as they waited.

  The sea was eerily calm, but it could get that way sometimes before gales swept through. Fraser’s crew was impressive as they worked silently, manning the ship with smooth efficiency. It was clear that they were a seasoned group of sailors and worked well together.

  Regrettably, that was not always the case on a pirate ship. She had seen her fair share of men challenge Estienne for his position only to die beneath his blade. As a rule, mayhem was more constant than not in his circles.

  Fraser, however, didn’t appear to have that sort of dissent on his ship. The minor uproar yesterday, of course, was to be expected and had been dealt with. Well, somewhat. The conundrum of whether or not they would find treasure to provide them with was a lingering concern.

  One thing at a time though.

  First, they needed to capture Estienne.

  The minutes continued to tick by slowly as they waited. Rare was the man who could sneak onto a pirate ship and kidnap their captain without his crew being the wiser. Yet Fraser seemed confident, so she had to trust in that.

  “Cap’n,” Magnus whispered, gesturing off the starboard side.

  “Och, just look at that,” she whispered, unable to contain an impressed grin as a man in a skiff rowed by. With a wad of material stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, none other than Estienne sat across from him. When his eyes narrowed up at her, she kept grinning and winked.

  He was in for it now.

  Fraser made a silent signal to his men to pick up speed. His ship was built for battle and Innis’ and Douglas’ for speed, so it was best that he gained momentum now and let them catch up.

  Soon after that, the water grew choppy, and rain began to spit. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the fog ahead. Well aware of how storms could act, Elspeth strapped off, ready to ride it out.

  If this went as planned, there would be little if any battling.

  At least not with men.

  Winds began to gust, and swollen sails lurched them forward as Fraser took to the wheel. What he was about to do was borderline suicidal, but he seemed unfazed by the danger ahead. Rather, zealous confidence lit his eyes as he steered into the waves.

  Moments later, the fog began to clear only to be replaced with heavier rain and darker seas. It wasn’t long before they saw what they wanted to see. Estienne’s ships had done precisely what Fraser hoped and pursued Innis once they realized he had stolen their captain. Estienne might not be any great treasure but sailing into a raging storm to save him beat facing André’s wrath if they didn’t get him back.

  Innis was in the front, the two enemy ships in his wake and Douglas followed from behind. Trapped, they now had Fraser on their right and the shore on their left. But the shore would not be their ultimate fate. That might warn André trouble was afoot.

  Best that none lived that long. After all, dead men told no tales.

  Waves grew taller, and sea spray pound
ed them from every direction. His legs braced and his muscles straining, Fraser held tight to the wheel and steered steadily. The hull creaked and groaned as the ship rocked back and forth. Yet he kept cutting it through the water at an admirable pace considering its bulk.

  What it lacked in speed, The Sea Rogue more than made up for in intimidation.

  It might be storming and the seas rough, but there was still enough visibility for the enemy to see an imposing ship with its broadside guns aimed their way. That meant while they were fighting this storm, they were also preparing for battle.

  Or so Fraser and his crew hoped.

  Because if the enemy were doing what any crew in their right mind should be at the moment, they would be paying less attention to what lay ahead. A death some might say more terrifying than a firestorm of cannons.

  “Coire Bhreacain,” she whispered, peering ahead. Often referred to as the cauldron of the speckled seas the Gulf of Corryvreckan not only possessed dangerous tides but a far greater threat.

  A whirlpool.

  Wave by dooming wave, they grew closer to an especially perilous area, made far worse in this weather. Winds gusted, and the ships lurched, but they plowed on. It would all come down to perfect timing and the grace of God himself. If this wasn’t done with exact precision, The Sea Hellions could very well suffer the same fate as their enemies.

  Chuckling all the while, relish lit Fraser’s eyes as he kept on course, passing between the isles of Scarba and Jura as they approached the whirlpool. She shook her head and met his grin. And he called her mad. But she didn’t blame him. This was excitement at its best.

  The closer they got the louder the roar of Corryvreckan.

  Her heart pounded wildly as they crested a wave and raced in its direction. Nothing matched the sight of such a beast during a violent storm. White and frothing, it bared its rabid and ravenous teeth against the blackened angry sky. It was every man’s worst nightmare. A ferocious jaw of swirling damnation.

  “Aye then laddies ’tis time,” Fraser muttered as he white-knuckled the wheel, put more weight into it and cranked it just enough.

  His words were for Innis and Douglas whose ships were doing the same. Just in the nick of time too. Or was it? Because at first The Sea Rogue dragged, caught in the far outer currents of the whirlpool. The sails whipped and dragged, fighting Fraser.

  Yet he fought right back, laughing the whole time.

  She had never seen anything like it. Where his men should be terrified, they seemed relatively calm, many chuckling alongside their captain as they unfurled the sails completely. They had that much faith in Fraser. So did she for that matter. Unable to help herself, free in a way she had never been before, she tossed her head back and laughed.

  Now, this was living.

  Luckily, or quite expectedly considering Fraser’s easy manner, a hearty gust steered them free just in time. Though for a frightening moment it looked like the others might be lost to them, Innis’ ship finally broke free as did her brother’s.

  Just as they had hoped, the enemy ships had no such luck.

  “Ballocks, just look at that,” she whispered, wide-eyed as the enemy crews lost all control over the ships and they began listing and bobbing precariously. Between the sound of the storm and the whirlpool itself, the terrified roars of men were drowned out as many abandoned ship.

  But it was too late.

  There was no hope of escape.

  The ships began cracking as the heart of the maelstrom ravaged its prey. Masts snapped, and sails ripped as one ship flipped. Soon, still caught in a relentless, hungry clockwise current, its bow dove and its stern flipped up in the air.

  Moments later the other ship, still afloat, rushed past only for the stern of the capsizing ship to snap and slam down on it. A chaotic cluster of jumbled wood, twisted sails, and broken bodies were soon fully consumed as the Corryvreckan welcomed a small army of souls to the ocean floor.

  Though the seas were still rough, the storm dwindled down substantially as they made their way free of the straightaway and into the sound off Argyll. They had done it. Fraser and his fleet had all done it.

  And they had done so without losing Estienne.

  Now The Sea Hellions would stay adrift just offshore and apart from one another, so they didn’t draw unwanted attention. They would wait and watch until they made their next move. One she suspected would prove far more perilous than what they had just faced.

  “Come, lass,” Fraser murmured, untying her strap. “Let’s get ye warmed up.”

  She had been so caught up in the rush of what just happened she didn’t realize she was shivering. Nor did she particularly care.

  “Och, I’m warm enough,” she said absently. Her heart still raced as she wiped a sodden lock of hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand. “’Tis just excitement from the ride.”

  “Ye arenae nearly warm enough,” he murmured. His voice deepened as his hand lingered on her hip. “Nor am I.”

  Her heart began racing for another reason entirely as she met his eyes.

  Drowned in them.

  Once again, they were in that cave in Stonehaven. The promise in his gaze just as intense now as it had been then. Only now there was the added wait. The endless years, weeks, days and even hours that had stood between them finally coming together.

  But no more.

  “Aye, Cap’n,” she whispered. “I think ’tis high past time ye warmed me up.”

  That’s all she got out before he swept her off her feet and the thrill of the ride she had just experienced paled in comparison to what was soon to come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He had waited over two long winters for this moment but had no choice but to wait a few minutes longer. Everyone had been ordered, including the other captains, to keep a vigilant eye to the sea for a while after the enemy’s ships had been sunk. They needed to be sure André and his men had not seen anything.

  Fraser and The Sea Hellions would head for shore in the pre-dawn hours of the following morn when the enemy rested. Then they would strike.

  “Ye remain confident that André would attack now if he saw anything, aye?” he asked Elspeth as he kicked the door shut behind them and set her down.

  “Aye.” She nodded. “He would not lie in wait if he thought his son was in harm’s way.”

  “Good.” He handed her a mug of whisky, and a blanket then pulled some dried meats and cheese out of a satchel he had grabbed on the way. “Time for ye to have some food and drink, as well as get those wet clothes off.”

  “In which order,” she said softly as she stepped closer. As it was for him, her lust for the storm had swiftly turned to another kind of lust altogether. “Because I’m not so sure we’ll do much eating or drinking once—”

  He put a finger to her lips and silenced her. “Clothes first, then food and drink then…” His eyes trailed down her hungrily. “Then far more.”

  They might need to keep an eye out for a bit, but nothing said the time could not be passed pleasurably enough. She made that painfully evident when she proceeded to take her time undressing, her eyes never leaving his.

  “Now that we have some time alone,” she murmured as she peeled off her wet shirt and revealed glistening breasts and tight pink nipples. “Why dinnae ye share with me what ye remember about yourself.”

  “Aye,” he managed, his voice hoarse from arousal as he watched her while pulling off his own sopping tunic. “’Twas…more than I could have imagined.”

  “Aye?” Her eyes piqued with curiosity as she yanked off one boot. “How so?”

  He had long thought about how he wanted to present what he had learned. The remarkable and fantastical truths. Yet now that the moment had arrived, he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

  “Fraser?” Her brows furrowed in concern as she removed her other boot. “Are ye all right?”

  “Aye.” He nodded as he tore his eyes from her and gazed outside while he took off his boots as well. Mayhap if
he didn’t look at her, it would come easier. “Do ye recall what we talked about in regards to my clan?”

  “Aye.” She wiggled out of her trousers. “That they were powerful.”

  “They are,” he agreed. Though he tried like hell to keep his eyes off her, he just couldn’t help himself. Even with her back turned to him, she was too alluring with her wee firm arse and shapely legs.

  “Fraser,” she murmured, eying him over her shoulder.

  He blinked and dragged his eyes to her face. “Aye?”

  “What else did ye learn besides what we already discussed?”

  Right. That. “Blanket first.”

  When she cocked her head in confusion, he gestured at the blanket. “Wrap yourself, so I can think clearly enough to speak, aye?”

  She smiled and nodded, wrapping it around her before she took a sip of whisky.

  “As it turns out,” he continued, removing his drenched breeches. “The rumors of Clan MacLomain are indeed verra much true.”

  “What’s not true?” she whispered, not sounding like herself. As it turned out, she was in the same stupefied state he had just suffered. Slack-jawed, her avid eyes were lustful as she gazed at his nudity.

  “Nay, the rumors of my kin are true,” he corrected, grinning.

  Though tempted to keep her ensorcelled until he had his way with her, they needed to remain focused. So he wrapped a blanket around himself and urged her to sit and eat as he kept an eye to the sea. “The stories shared around campfires about my clan are verra much based on fact, lass.”

  She nibbled on cheese and eyed him with a smirk. “Ye mean about wizards and witches and such?”

  “Aye.” He sat beside her, facing the water. “’Tis truly a mystical clan, Elspeth.”

  He explained things the best he could to someone who only thought stories such as his were fairytales. But all fairytales had some grain of truth and Scotland was richer than most when it came to folklore. While tempted to go into more detail, for now, he chose to remain vague. She would learn soon enough.